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Aloy awoke as she often did, burrowed against the heat of Kotallo’s body. He lay with his back to her, his head pillowed by his right arm. The furs of their shared bedroll were pulled up to his shoulders against the mountain cold, and Aloy’s head was almost entirely buried under them. Warmth and contentment washed through her. She pressed her forehead to the space between his shoulder blades and placed a soft kiss there, and he shifted and mumbled something quietly, still dreaming. There was something about this stoic and fearsome warrior soft and soundly asleep beside her that made Aloy smile to herself. Aloy stretched and rolled to her other side, nestled her back firmly against his under the furs, and dozed back off to sleep to the sound of his breathing.
The pressure of his hand across her stomach woke Aloy next. It was not unusual for his touch to wander over her body in the quiet moments before he came fully awake, and Aloy stilled, curious where his hand might venture next. She knew from experience that if she woke him now, he would retreat, apologies ready on his lips, but their relationship had progressed so slowly these past weeks, and the twin sparks of desire and curiosity kept Aloy motionless and silent under his questing hand. Kotallo’s fingertips trailed along the muscles of her abdomen and over to her hip, then meandered down to the elastic of her sleeping shorts. He slipped the tips of his fingers under her shorts and dragged them across the soft skin on the underside of her stomach. Before she could stop it, Aloy’s breath caught.
She could tell the moment Kotallo came awake when his breathing shifted and his hand stilled. “Forgive me,” he murmured sleepily and began to withdraw his hand, just as she knew he would, but Aloy caught it in hers and pressed it back against her skin. She was tired of waiting and wondering, and those twin sparks had grown to a small flame in her belly.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
Kotallo did not move or pull away. She could feel his breath in the hair on the back of her neck. Outside their shelter, Stone Crest was stirring, and Aloy could hear the voices of Sky Clan around a cooking fire not far from where they lay. The thin boards of the shelter’s walls offered them privacy only from prying eyes, but sound carried easily through. Finally, she felt his voice as a puff of breath in her hair.
“Are you sure?”
When she nodded, she was sure her hair tickled his face. “I want you to,” she said, determined. Her hand over his, she guided him back under the fabric of her shorts.
A burst of laughter came from outside the shelter. “You will have to be quiet,” he whispered, “or they will hear you.” He pressed his palm against her skin and eased it slowly down.
“I’m surprised that bothers you,” Aloy replied. She tried to sound teasing, but her breathlessness betrayed her.
“It does not,” he said plainly. When his questing fingers met the coarseness of hair between her legs, she froze against him. The onset of her uncertainty annoyed her. Less than a moment ago she had been determined to continue this, but the unfamiliar presence of his hand under her shorts was quickly unraveling that resolve. “If you want me to stop, you need only ask,” he whispered into the hair on the back of her neck.
She shook her head stubbornly. “Don’t stop.”
Kotallo shifted closer to her and dipped his hand further, cupping her sex in his broad palm. Aloy knew this hand. She had watched him use this hand to fasten his armor. She had memorized the way it looked wrapped in sky blue cloth and curled around his blade. She loved to watch it punctuate his words while he spoke of machine hunting, or of Tenakth culture. More recently, she had started to learn what that hand felt like tangled in her hair, flexing against her skin, or trailing under her armor, and the thought that he might use that hand to discover still more about the contours of her body left Aloy dizzy. He held his hand there, not moving, only waiting, giving her time to adjust to the feel of him against her most private place.
Aloy sighed and let her eyes drift closed. The weight of his touch was unfamiliar, but the warmth and scent of him around her soothed her nerves and she relaxed gradually under his palm.
Kotallo waited until the tension began to seep from her frame, then slipped just the tip of his middle finger between her folds. He did not want to overwhelm her, so dragged the tip of his finger back and forth from her opening to her bud, but did not stroke it. She tensed again, uncertain against him, and he pressed a soothing kiss to the skin behind her ear. “Talk to me Aloy,” he murmured, “tell me how you feel.”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” Aloy admitted. She pushed the hair back from her face absently but kept her eyes closed tightly.
Kotallo huffed a quiet laugh. “You don’t need to do anything.” He stroked her entrance with just the pad of his middle finger and felt her begin to grow wet under his hand. Kotallo bit back a groan and teased a small circle there.
The sound of his groan sent heat to where his finger played against her, and she shuddered. “I’m not very good at doing nothing,” Aloy reminded him in a whisper. She had thought the sensation of his hand on her skin would consume her thoughts, but her uncertainty pattered through her mind, distracting her from the tip of his finger nestled between her folds. Should I stop talking? Should I talk more? Do I look at him? What do I do with my hands? She inhaled a shaky breath and attempted to exhale her trepidation.
Kotallo pressed another gentle kiss to the back of her neck through the loose hair there. Her thoughts were so loud in their small, quiet space that he could almost hear them scampering across the wooden floor and up the thin walls, and he frowned to himself thoughtfully. Caught between her body and the fabric of her shorts, his hand flexed. He needed more space, he decided, better access to her, so he might learn her body and find what it took to make her stop thinking and fall apart. He withdrew his hand from her shorts and her eyes flew open. “Why are you stopping?”
Tugging the fabric of her shorts down and away from her stomach, he said against her hair, “I only want to take these off.”
She nodded and reached under the furs to pull the shorts off her hips and kick them to the foot of the bedroll. A new wave of shyness rose in her chest at her nakedness and Aloy squirmed uncertainly against him. Aloy caught hold of the furs of their bedroll and positioned them around her mostly naked body, as though they would in some way preserve her modesty. I’m being ridiculous, she thought to herself, this was my idea. An exasperated sigh escaped her, and she screwed her eyes shut.
Kotallo caught one of her hands in his own, untangling it from its white-knuckled grip on the fur, and pulled it over her shoulder to where he could ghost reassuring kisses across her knuckle. “Look at me Aloy,” he urged against her hand. Aloy forced her eyes open and shifted so she could meet his gaze over her shoulder. Holding her eye contact, Kotallo flicked his tongue across the peak of her knuckles in the way he knew would make her eyes widen and her lips part. When she gasped, he grinned knowingly and did it again, dragging the tip of his tongue deliberately along the back of her finger to its tip, which he drew into his mouth and sucked on gently. Just as he had hoped, Aloy’s mouth parted into a silent oh as she watched him, and a pretty flush of desire began to creep unbidden up her neck and along her jaw.
Watching Kotallo suck the tip of her finger in the low light of their shelter was enough to drive all anxiety from Aloy’s mind. He knows exactly what he’s doing, damn him, she thought, but could hardly bring herself to be annoyed when he released one finger and repeated the slow ascent of his tongue up the digit adjacent. His knowing smirk creased the white paint around his eyes as he watched her desire war with uncertainty. It should have annoyed her, but instead it made her heart stutter and her breath catch in her chest. This was want, she realized, the knowledge of it unfolding down her spine and making her bold. She took his hand once more in her own, dragged it over her shoulder and back under the furs, and pressed it firmly to the expanse of skin between her hip bones. “I’m alright, I want this,” she assured them both.
This time, Kotallo moved slowly. He splayed his hand wide against her skin and pressed down, using the tips of his calloused fingers to ease the tension from her.
“What should I do?” she whispered, and he hummed thoughtfully.
“Close your eyes,” he instructed into her hair. When she did, he rewarded her by trailing his lips along the shell of her ear. “That’s good Aloy,” he said softly. “Relax for me. Let me make you feel good.”
Aloy licked her lips and nodded. “Ok, if you…” she started, but her voice trailed off when he slid his hand to the soft skin at her hip and suckled the lobe of her ear. “Or that,” she breathed.
Kotallo released her ear with a huff of laughter. “Am I to assume then,” he murmured, ghosting his lips along the soft skin under her ear, “that you like this?” He flicked his tongue across the freckles there and grinned when she squirmed.
“I am not answering that,” she grumbled back, but her breathlessness and the flush spreading down her throat and across her shoulders told Kotallo everything he needed to know. His pleased chuckle rumbled against her back and the sound of it made her smile reluctantly to herself. “You’re impossible,” she laughed, quietly enough that her voice would not carry beyond the confines of the shelter.
“Perhaps,” he replied, “but I have heard no complaints.” His hand drifted steadily lower.
The soft pressure of his calloused fingers sliding from her hip down to the soft skin of her inner thigh made her sigh, and she tried to relax again despite the flood of anxious thoughts that threatened to dance to the surface of her mind. This is Kotallo, she reminded herself, if I want him to stop, he will.
As though he had read her mind, Kotallo’s voice came again from behind her. “How do you feel?” He massaged soothing circles into the taut muscle of her inner thigh. Under his careful attentions, Aloy was feeling less and less like she might flee the bedroll at any moment, and more and more like she would be consumed in a flame of anticipation if he did not return his hand to where she wanted it, and quickly.
“It’s good, I’m good,” she breathed. “Just, can you keep talking to me?” Her voice was low and shy. “It helps.”
“If you like,” he said. His lips ghosted along the shell of her ear. “What do you want me to say?”
Aloy frowned, her eyes still closed, and shook her head. “I don’t know. Anything.”
“Very well.” Kotallo’s hand slid more firmly up the inside of her thigh and applied gentle pressure there. “Spread your legs for me, lover.” She tentatively let her legs fall apart. “That’s good,” his voice was hushed on her neck. He used the pads of his fingers to massage the muscle of her thigh. “Your skin is so soft,” he whispered, trailing his palm up the inside of her splayed leg. “I have imagined what it might feel like to touch you here,” his hand drifted further until it brushed against the wiry hair between her legs, “and here.”
Aloy’s voice was little more than a sigh. “You have?”
Kotallo slipped his fingers once more between her folds and felt for the wetness at her entrance. “I have,” he hummed, “since Salt Bite, when I had you shaking above me, but we were interrupted.” On the last word he pushed the tip of his finger past her entrance and curled it inside her.
“Oh,” she gasped at the gentle intrusion. It felt strange, to be breached by his stroking finger, but the press of it against her inner wall was more immediate. The tension it built within her was better than she had imagined, and the knowledge that he had any part of that elegant hand inside of her made stars dance before her eyes. Aloy brought her hand to her mouth to stifle the soft moan that threatened to escape.
“If you will have me again, I will make sure it is in a place where I can hear you properly,” Kotallo promised low, curling his finger and stroking up into her again, and again. Her hips canted of their own accord, arching up to meet the stroke of his questing finger, and she sighed. How can he sound so calm when I’m unraveling? Aloy thought, but Kotallo withdrew his finger, now wet with her want, and placed it firmly against the hood of her pearl. The passing tendrils of thought fled her mind.
Outside, a Tenakth youth laughed, only feet from their shelter. Aloy startled and her eyes flew open, the cocoon of bliss that Kotallo had built around her threatening to crack apart just as quickly. Could they hear her? Did they know? She moved to pull away, but Kotallo pressed the mound of his hand against the skin of her stomach to hold her firm.
“Don’t worry about them Aloy,” he whispered. “Focus on me. Listen to the sound of my voice.” He began to rub small circles against her hooded bud, and she shuddered. “Just like that lover. There is only you and I.”
Aloy took a deep, calming breath and let her legs fall further apart. He captured her ankle between both of his and used it to spread her legs further under the furs, talking quietly to her as he massaged that slow, deliberate circle against her clit, not hard or fast enough to overwhelm her but steadily and soothingly, until her hips began to move mindlessly in time with his hand.
The sound of Kotallo’s quiet voice and the whisper of his lips on the shell of her ear were delicious and distracting, and the unhurried motion of his hand between her thighs was building a restless pressure inside her that she did not recognize. Aloy concentrated on it, trying to both make sense of it and to ignore the chatter of voices outside. A small frown creased her face.
“You’re still thinking too much, Aloy,” Kotallo said, his voice like gravel. The sound of him so affected, even while his movements remained so controlled, sent a shockwave of heat down her spine.
“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do,” she whined. Kotallo changed his approach, stroking her clit with several careful swipes of the tip of his middle finger, and Aloy gasped. Her hips bucked under his hand.
“You’re supposed to feel,” he breathed. He repeated the motion and hummed his approval when her hips followed the stroke of his finger. “That’s good, chase your pleasure.” He pushed down lightly with the pads of several fingers and rubbed a broad circle over the swelling point of her bud. “I want you to help me find what you like.”
“How will I know?” she gasped.
Kotallo laughed quietly. “Your body will show you Aloy. You simply need to clear your mind and let it happen.” He continued his broad circles, letting her hips absently chase his hand, before shifting his position so he could rub the pads of three fingers back and forth across her clit, coaxing the center of her pleasure from beneath its protective hood. She gasped sharply and arched her back. “That’s good Aloy, take what you need.” He repeated the drag of his rough fingers and her leg, the one not trapped between his own, kicked restlessly against the furs.
“Kotallo, what…” she gasped but he stroked across her again and again. It was like nothing she’d ever felt, the pleasure of it so sharp and urgent that her whole world narrowed to the point where his hand met her body. There was only the delicious pressure of his fingers on either side of her clit as he trailed the pads of his fingers over her. He slowed the movement of his hand, and she whined, but bit the sound off quickly when she realized he wasn’t stopping, only watching for the precise moment when her hips bucked, and her lips parted.
“Ah, it’s like this,” he hummed, and pressed two fingers more firmly against her, one on either side of the swollen center of her pleasure. Aloy could feel her desire now, seeping messily from her body and down her thighs, but Kotallo had pushed her past the point of embarrassment. Her bud captured carefully between two fingers, he rolled it in a tight circle.
Aloy shuddered under his hand, harder and more urgently than she had all morning. She grabbed him by the wrist in her surprise but made no attempt to stay his hand when he repeated the motion, settling into a gentle rhythm that drew her body taut as a bowstring against him. Aloy tossed her head restlessly and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. It was so good, so intense, and she couldn’t decide whether to beg him to stop or urge him to continue.
“How does it feel?” Kotallo murmured into her hair, the sound of his voice anchoring her against the waves of unfamiliar pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her.
“Kotallo, I don’t, I can’t,” her hips stuttered, and she squeezed her eyes closed. “What is this?” she gasped.
Kotallo shifted to dip his fingers into her wet and Aloy flushed, her embarrassment threatening to creep back up her spine. Kotallo pushed it aside with four whispered words.
“So wet for me,” he groaned, and the sound of desire in his voice made her skin burn still hotter until she thought she might combust, taking him, their bedrolls, and the flimsy walls of their wooden shelter with her in a blaze of need. When he returned his fingers, now slick with her wet, to either side of her sensitive flesh and resumed their tight circles, a breathy moan that Aloy did not expect tore from her throat.
Kotallo ghosted his lips along the outer shell of her ear. “Shhh lover, or they will hear you.”
Aloy whimpered and bit her lip. “I thought you didn’t mind if they heard me,” she replied, amazed at her own coherence under the ministrations of his wicked hand.
“I don’t mind,” he replied. His hand never stilled, only stroked her higher and higher with those two sinful fingers. “I would have you sing your pleasure for me so the whole of Stone Crest might hear you, but I don’t think that is what you want.” His voice was pitched so low that she felt it rumble through his chest and along her back and she gasped at his words, her mouth going dry at his casual confidence. “Is that what you want Aloy?” he asked her, teasing.
She could barely focus on his question through the haze of the steadily growing pleasure that his practiced touch was building between her legs. How does he know how to do this? she thought but decided just as quickly that she did not want to know.
“Answer me Aloy,” he breathed into her hair, and why did the sound of her name from his lips sound like something forbidden?
“No,” she gasped.
“I thought not,” Kotallo replied easily. His hand was relentless on her bud, his fingers still pressed to either side of it, rolling it endlessly between them. Her hips followed his hand, and her body trembled against the peak of pleasure that he was coaxing ever higher in her.
“Kotallo,” she whimpered. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Do you feel it building?” She nodded, wordless, and he groaned softly. “Don’t fight it, lover. Relax, let it overtake you.” He pressed an adoring kiss into her hair. “You are perfect like this,” he breathed. “You are doing so well.”
“I don’t know if I can…” she moaned. Her nails carved half-moons into the paint on his arm where she clung to him. I will wear those marks with pride, he thought.
Aloy’s whole body was trembling, her toes curled and her eyes screwed shut. In the light slinking through the cracks of the shelter’s wooden slats, he could see that the flush of her pleasure spread up her neck, over the shell of her ear, and across the freckled skin of her shoulder blades. The muscles of Kotallo’s core were beginning to ache from holding himself upright enough that he could reach around her, and the stump of his left arm throbbed where he lay on it. His cock was hard and weeping where it rested, ignored against his inner thigh, but he pushed the concerns of his own body aside. He longed to lay her on her back among the furs, to gaze upon her fully when she came apart for him the first time, but it had taken so long for her to unwind under his touch, and he was loathe to interrupt her steadily climbing pleasure. Next time, he told himself, and placed a tender kiss against the crease of skin where her throat met her ear.
Aloy tried to cling to her thoughts, to grasp them one in each hand and weave them together until she could make sense of what Kotallo’s careful touch was doing to her body, but they untangled and unwound just as quickly. There was only the sinful ministrations of Kotallo’s hand and his rough voice in her ear. The pressure building in her was coaxing her upward, towards a summit that felt like too much, that was too good. She thought she might shake apart if she climbed any higher, and she rolled her head restlessly against the hard line of his collar bone. Wouldn’t he stop? Wouldn’t he see that she couldn’t take anymore and relent? But he didn’t, his fingers on her clit still stroking her ruthlessly in those tight, deliberate circles. “Kotallo,” she sobbed through the hand she held over her mouth, as her pleasure built still higher.
“That’s it Aloy.” His voice was nearly breathless on the back of her neck. “Do not retreat from it. Let it take you.”
She was helpless to do anything else. The pressure and heat drew her still higher and held her momentarily aloft, poised on a precipice that Aloy did not recognize but could not retreat from, until suddenly, with another pass of Kotallo’s fingers, something snapped within her, and she fell. With her last remaining thread of coherent thought, Aloy bit down on her hand as she tumbled over the other side of her peak, shaking and sobbing.
Aloy falling apart against him was the most breathtaking thing Kotallo had ever seen. “Like that Aloy,” he whispered reverently, “just like that.” He stroked her through her orgasm until the shuddering of her body subsided and she collapsed onto the bedroll, then withdrew his hand and wiped it on his shorts. Aloy lay still for a moment, until her breath steadied, then extracted her hand from her mouth and rolled towards him. Her eyes were wide with wonder and blown out with pleasure, her pale skin still patchy and flushed. Kotallo had never seen her so beautiful.
“What did you do?” she gasped.
Kotallo laughed gently and closed the space between them. He kissed her for a long moment, drinking down her sighs, until the ache of what remained of his left arm became too much. He rolled onto his back and pulled her tightly to his chest. She came willingly to him, burying her head under his chin and sighed in contentment.
“Did you enjoy it?” Kotallo asked against the top of her head. He felt her nod. “Good, I’m glad. Would you like to do it again?”
Aloy pulled back from him, her eyes wide, nearly frantic. “Right now?!”
Kotallo threw his head back and laughed, certain the people walking past the shelter would hear him but unbothered by the thought. The easy sound of his laughter made her smile even while she blushed in embarrassment. “No, lover,” he chuckled, pushing the sweat-damp hair back from her face. “It doesn’t have to be right now,” he grinned mischievously at her, the paint around his eyes creasing in humor, “unless you would like it to be.”
Aloy squeaked and buried her flushed face back under his chin. “Maybe not right now,” she said into his throat. Kotallo chuckled again and combed his hand through her hair, tucking a loose strand behind her ear.
“Not right now then,” he acquiesced, and she huffed against his skin.
They lay together for some time before she spoke again, her voice muffled where she pressed her face against his skin. “What about you?” she mumbled.
Kotallo pushed the heavy weight of her hair off the back of her neck and massaged the soft skin there. “This morning was not about me, and I am more than satisfied,” he assured her.
She pulled back and considered his face. The wrinkle of her nose and the crease of a frown between her brows made his heart swell with fondness. There were several flecks of white paint on her cheek where she’d pressed it to his neck, and the sight of it stirred something possessive in Kotallo. “You mean you enjoyed that?” She blushed red at her own boldness but did not look away.
Kotallo cupped her jaw and scrubbed a speck of paint from above her lip. “I enjoyed that very much,” he murmured, and the heat of his voice made her desire spark again. She licked her lips, and he watched the path of her tongue, enamored by the sight of pink slinking across pink.
“What did you, I mean,” Aloy’s words felt too personal, and she stumbled over the awkward weight of them.
“What did I like about it?” he supplied, and she nodded, relieved that he had saved her from her own awkwardness.
But Kotallo was unphased. His hooded eyes were dark as he considered her. If she wants to hear me say it, I will tell her the truth, he thought. He closed the distance between them and brushed a soft kiss against her lips. “I liked that you trusted me with your pleasure,” he murmured. He brushed soft kisses above her lip, where he had smoothed away the fleck of his paint. “I liked the way your body shook against mine.” With a single kiss to her jaw, he whispered, “the sounds you made when I touched you, the way you struggled to remain quiet under my hand.” He moved down her throat and she tilted her head back to allow him access, “and the way you moaned my name when you came apart for me.”
“Kotallo…” she whispered.
“Like that,” he agreed, “but desperate.” He nibbled the star-shaped acid burn scar above her collar bone. “I cannot tell you what it means to me that no other person has seen you this way,” he confessed against her skin, his voice low and reverent, “that I am the one you choose to share your body with.” His kisses were little more than light brushes of his lips to her fluttering pulse. “You are a gift, Aloy. I will treasure the sight of you flushed and trembling in release for the rest of my days.” Above him, Aloy sighed.
“I wasn’t sure if I would ever, I don’t know – want? – someone enough to let them do … that,” she admitted, and her tentative words took hold tightly around his heart.
“There is so much more I could show you, if you would let me,” he said against her skin. Her finger traced the shell of his ear and she exhaled shakily.
“I’d like that,” she whispered.
Suddenly the sharp growl of Aloy’s stomach broke the quiet reverie of their shelter and she laughed, covering her face with her hands. “Not right now though, I guess,” she giggled through her fingers. Kotallo laughed and shifted to let her up.
“There will be time,” he assured her.
Kotallo stood, stretched, and began to fasten the pieces of his armor to his chest, regarding her while she did the same on the other side of the small shelter. His eyes followed the graceful line of her arched back as she reached behind her neck to fasten the ties of her Utaru armor, and the firm crease of muscle along the back of her arm where it bent over her shoulder. Kotallo closed the space between them before he realized that he had moved, catching her around the waist and turning her toward him. The resin-soaked strands of her armor creaked as he dipped her back and caught her mouth in a searing kiss. Aloy giggled into the kiss and tossed her lean arms around his neck, careful of the spikes that adorned his chest plate.
When he pulled back from her next, she was smiling blissfully. “You make it difficult to want to leave,” she admitted, and he grinned. Her words swelled his chest with pride and desire.
“As do you,” he murmured. He released her and dragged his eyes down her armor-clad frame with the sole intention of making her blush. His wandering gaze caught on the frayed frond of her tasset and he frowned. “What happened there?” he asked.
Aloy glanced down at the offending frond and an annoyed scowl danced over her brow before she could catch it. “I happened,” she said vaguely, and shrugged. “It needs to be repaired, but I don’t know how to fix it.”
Kotallo considered her thoughtfully. The bulk of her armor hugged her slim hips and the span of her chest, and the cloth wraps that she wore under her boots, red like blood against snow, wound their way enticingly up to the middle of her thighs. But the delicate grass that made up the tasset and shoulders of her armor was thin and light-weight, designed for stealth and ease of movement, rather than warmth. They were in Sky Clan territory now, traveling ever further into the mountains, and he worried that, even while the Utaru termed it "Winterweave," her current gear would not suffice against the ice and snow. Perhaps he would see about getting her a Tenakth set, if she would wear it. The thought of her in Sky Clan colors made his blood surge and he resisted the urge to strip her of her armor and drag her once more into the warmth of their bedrolls. Instead, he caught her small hand in his and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.
Aloy’s stomach growled again, somehow louder than before, and he chuckled. “Come on, let’s find some breakfast before you waste away. I have plans for you that do not involve you fading to dust.” She laughed and the sound of it bolstered him. Surely there was nothing they could not do together, he thought. With her laughter in his ears, the uncertainties of their future seemed a distant concern, blocked from view by the walls of intimacy that they had tentatively begun building around themselves. He lifted the heavy cloth of the entrance and gestured her through into the cloudy morning.