Work Text:
There is something addicting about the noises Omega is making.
Anya is slowly taking her time- hollowing her cheeks, curling her tongue, closing the back of her throat and bobbing slowly down. Down and back up. Her tongue swirls over the top of him before she lowers again. His hands grab at her hair and he nudges farther back into her throat. She breathes through her nose, concentrating on the feel of him in her mouth. The pulse under her tongue. The way he reacts when she sucks lightly and draws him back in. Through hooded eyelids, he watches her, moaning softly in a way that makes her desperate to press her legs together and release some tension of her own.
His sighs are masculine, but unguarded. Slightly higher-pitched than his normally gruff voice, yet still low enough to send bolts of lightning straight to her core. Not quite breathy and a little needy. It makes him sound like he has been starving for her.
She relishes in the way it claws out of him as she answers with a whimper of her own, vibrating around his cock. His lips are parted now- little pants coming faster. A delicious flush has spread across his cheeks and chest, tinting his normally marble skin.
When he moans again, their eyes meet, electricity and intention jumping between them. She releases him with a soft pop just as he pulls her up and along his body, all their planes and angles pressed against each other. Feeling along every fault line ready to crack open. She can never contain the way he makes her feel.
She adores it. It is a possessive thing that grips her when they seek to claim each other. I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine. Simple. True. She is his and he is hers. They have always fit together, by fate and by choice. It is evident in the perfect way she can feel his erection in her hand as she lines him up, teasing him at her entrance before taking him all the way in. Less obviously so, it is there in the way they make room for each other at the hearthstones of their hearts. Come and make this your home.
There are sighs of relief when they join together. It is drugging, the cadence of their breaths and the way their desperate sounds mingle. In concert, they harmonize a song of want and hunger and desire. She keens at feel of him between her legs. He shudders an exhale as she circles her hips over him, grinding her clit on his cock with every sway.
His fingers soon find purchase on her thighs and she arches upward, letting her head fall back. Reverent. Absorbed in the feel of him. He takes the moment to sit up, his heartbeat in her lungs as he presses against her and gently lowers her down. They are chasing friction now, hands grasping, palms cradling, lips teasing. He slips his fingers between her folds and finds her wanting, drawing her out and up and up and soon they are spinning over the edge of each other. Falling with every impetus. Anya’s skin feels too small to hold her and him and their boundless magic. She comes apart, fluttering around him with a cry, contracting and squeezing as he follows her. They are never more alive than in their little deaths at the hands of each other.