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Whisper’s tight control was such that he didn’t slam the door but Wraith could feel the tension in the air as he moved past her. His anger rippled out from him till the air in the little room grew thick and heavy. She ignored him, carefully finishing wrapping the bandage around her calf. The numbing salve was doing its job and she barely felt the wound pulling as she stretched it out, rolled her trouser back down and cooly stood to face the silent assassin.
Anyone that didn’t know him as well as she did would think he was perfectly composed but she could see the tightness around his eyes, the wildness of hair that had had hands running through it, the little twitches of fingers that wanted to take action, any action. He was furious, that much was clear. She kept her own face a mask of neutrality and raised one eyebrow.
“You went without me.” A world of betrayal hidden in his soft, calm voice. Guilt curled a hot hand around her heart but she kept herself from flinching; a blink escaped, nothing more.
“It was simple enough…” she paused. She tried to make herself say the words: I didn’t need you . They stuck in her throat like shards of glass. Her eyes flicked away from him. “I handled it.”
He stepped towards her, disbelief plain now on his face as her gaze felt dragged back to his. He was always careful with her space, respectful, the shadow at her back, the blade in her sheath - but now? He was close, inside her walls, the scent of him everywhere. He flicked his eyes down to her wounded leg then back.
“You were hurt. Wraith…” the air suddenly felt charged, the tension filled with something other than rage. His hand came out and hung between them as though he meant to touch her and lost his nerve. His eyes were soft now, looking at her with something she couldn’t bear. She felt the weight of unsaid words between them, pulling her to the precipice. Below her was chaos and it would be so easy to let him say the words, to throw herself into the maelstrom, to be soft and weak and ready to be ripped apart.
“Wraith, I…”
She stepped back from the precipice and met his eyes with strength.
“Whisper,” she said. “Kiss me.”
She saw the meaning of her words hit him and he dragged in a deep breath. For a second he was laid bare, flayed before her: hope, terror, longing. Then he was on her, quicker than thought. One hand tangled in her hair, one at her waist pulling her against him, all hard muscles and need. There was no softness to the kiss, none of the sweetness that frightened her. His tongue was in her mouth, his hand angling her head for better access, his breath hot on her cheek. This she understood. This she wanted.
His mouth left hers and travelled to her jaw, her neck, kissing and biting, leaving her gasping and clinging onto his broad shoulders as electric shocks ran up and down her spine. His hands moved lower, grasping at her rear, grinding her hips against his. Desire roared through her as he pressed his need into her. He hooked one of her knees and pulled it up, opening her to him, pressing their cores together. It would be so easy to let him take control, to give this to herself and him, to let him love her. The maelstrom sent a curl of dread through her.
“Be still.” Her command was quiet but absolute and he froze instantly, his strong body taut with the battle between want and compliance. Relief, like warm sunshine on her back, as the comforting weight of control settled back into her. She couldn’t give him softness or submission. It wasn’t in her. But she could give them both something else, something to satisfy the hunger but leave her safe.
She threaded her fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck and he sighed, arms pulling her against him again. She tugged sharply on those small hairs. Not enough to hurt, not yet - a warning. He stilled. She felt a dark thrill of pleasure at her power and brought her lips to his ear. “I want you to know that you can stop this whenever you want. Tell me and everything will stop. Do you understand?”
She felt him nod. His hair brushed against her cheek, the softness of it so tender while his body remained hard and tense. Like snowfall on a frozen lake.
“Use your words,” she murmured and licked slowly up the shell of his ear. A tremor ran down his back and gooseflesh appeared on his neck. Below, he twitched against her and she had to clamp down her own desire ruthlessly.
“I understand.” The words were rough, hungry, and she could hear the edge of his control slipping in them. It was delicious. Knowing there was nothing between her and the wild, violent fury at the heart of him but that thin taut whipcord of control. That he fought himself to obey her. That he might lose that fight and what then?
She stepped out of his embrace to look at him. His eyes were raw, unguarded, stark with longing. She smiled at him and let him see the pleasure there at his obedience. A small relaxation, a straightening of his shoulders, his spine.
“Take off your shirt.” It was over his head and on the floor discarded almost before she had finished speaking, leaving him bare from the waist up aside from his arm coverings. “Be still.”
Slowly, so slowly, she stepped forward and began unknotting the ties at his collarbones that held his arm wraps in place. This close she could see the pulse jumping in his throat, the way his breath dragged in and out of his chest heavily, see the slight tremble of his lip as he stared past her head stoically. The knot came loose and his arm wraps fell away.
She ghosted her fingertips over his torso, stroking the lean muscles, the scars a map of every hurt that made him who he was, revelling in the quiet enduring strength she felt under her hands. He was strong. He was a survivor. He was hers. Then she pushed her hand below the waistband of his trousers and took the hot, hard length of him in her grasp and brought her face mere inches from his.
Every muscle in his body tensed and a desperate sound ground itself out from the back of his throat. His eyes went wide, almost fearful, and his hands twitched before his control snapped back into place and he stilled. She watched him put himself back together.
“You will not come until I tell you to.” She kept her voice calm, soft, smooth. She brought her other hand up to his throat and lightly pressed her grasp on his windpipe. “If you do, I will punish you.” She squeezed both hands, just a little, and a moan escaped him. His eyes were lidded, pupils wide as they stared at her helplessly, his full lips falling apart slightly. She felt herself lick her own lips at the sight of him so vulnerable to her. “Do you understand?”
“I understand, Wraith,” his voice sure, wanton, trusting.
“Good boy,” she whispered and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment before fixing on hers in mute appeal. “Undress me.” His hands shot up to the buttons on her waistcoat. “Slowly.” His fingers gentled and she kept her eyes on his, forcing him not to look away as they came undone, one by one. When the back of his hand brushed against the side of her breast she twisted her own hand and brought it up in a single sweeping caress of his length that buckled his knees for a moment before he recovered, with a few hard breaths, to start on the delicate buttons of her blouse.
His eyes drew down to watch her breasts being slowly exposed but she made a warning noise in her throat and he obediently brought them back to her face. She smiled to see the wildness in them and rewarded him with a steady, gentle stroking as her left hand moved to the back of his neck and played with the sensitive skin there.
His nostrils flared and she could see the force of will it took for him to keep his breathing steady as her shirt fell open and he began unlacing her stays. They both had great practice in keeping their outward demeanor calm but she thrilled to see the tiny cracks in his control, the effort he took to do as she bid him even as she scraped at the edges of his composure. His hands were shaking slightly by the time her breasts were exposed to the cool air and never once had she changed the pace of her slow languid strokes along his shaft.
“I know you’ve seen whores,” she breathed and worry flashed across his face. That wouldn’t do. She upped the pace of her caresses, making sure to rub along the sensitive head of him, while her other hand unbuttoned his trousers, freeing him and giving her a better angle. His arms came up to grip her shoulders and she allowed it.
“So you’re not uneducated in these things,” she murmured, cupping his sack with her other hand while she continued to pump him. His head fell forward onto her shoulder, his breathing hoarse now, his shoulders rising and falling with each ragged breath. She rubbed her head against his, craving his weakness at her hands. “Have you ever tasted them?”
His hips stuttered forward at that and his hands spasmed on her shoulder hard enough to bruise, crushing the silk there. “Wraith,” he begged and she stilled, allowing him to recover, drinking in the moment where he almost faltered, almost broke her command, but remained true. Whilst he rested against her, shaky breaths hot against her neck, she pushed his trousers off his hips to pool beneath him and traced lazy circles on the sharp bones now exposed. His skin was soft, so soft there, delicate and smooth. She wanted to lick it. After a moment, his head lifted slightly and he nuzzled into her neck.
She withdrew her hands from him, then, and held her arms loosely at her side. Raising his head, he gave a slight frown and then he understood. His clever hands, calluses rough from sword-wielding, glided over her shoulders, touch so light it was almost worship, pushing down blouse and waistcoat to drop to the rough wooden floor. The stays followed and they stood before one another for a delicate moment.
He dropped to his knees, unlacing one boot, then another as she watched the powerful muscles moving in his back. Steel under silk , she thought and brought one hand round to pet his hair, to remind him he was hers, to feel him under her fingers. When his fingers changed from undressing to caressing her breath caught and she fisted her hand and pulled him up to face her. He stared at her: steady, unrepentant, ready to obey.
Turning her back on him and walking languidly towards the bed, she stepped out of her boots and divested herself of her own trousers. She could feel the heat of his naked body following behind, her shadow, her blade. A wave of tenderness rose up inside her and she thrust it away viciously. She wouldn’t be the one to ruin this thing between them with foolishness that would get them both killed. He was her responsibility. She would keep him safe.
Sitting on the bed to face him, she caught him staring. Not at the apex of her thighs, which she had expected, but at the bandages wrapped around her calf. A frown, the ghost of his earlier rage, and he opened his mouth to speak - dangerous words, no doubt. She opened her legs and stopped those words in his mouth. Laying back, buttocks perched on the edge of the bed, she used her hands to spread herself for him and heard his inhale, sharp and hungry.
“Kneel, Whisper.” She felt him move between her legs, the brush of his skin against her inner thighs as he knelt. She felt his gaze on her core like a physical touch and had to stop herself from shuddering. “Do you know what this is?” She stroked a lazy finger across her clitoris and hissed, arching a little, at the sensation. She was already swollen and sensitive.
“Yes, Wraith,” his voice was low, reverential.
“Then kiss it.”
She had expected him to be quick, brutal, overwhelming like the last time she had told him to kiss her but what she felt was his tongue, slow and strong, drag through her folds and end in a flick to her bud that made her rise partly from the bed in pleasure. She groaned and he echoed her, stroking his hands up her thighs to rest on her pelvis as he brought soft lips to her bud and sucked on her gently. She buried her fingers in his hair as waves of sensation flooded her in time with his suckling and cried out his name.
At that she felt her hips lift as he rose on his knees, strong hands holding her and tilting her so that he could get a better angle. Now the onslaught began as he laved the tender nub with quick hard licks that had her writing in his grasp.
The tide was rising in her. Her inner walls were grasping at nothing and she felt her impatience growing in equal measure with her pleasure. She wanted him underneath her, inside her, moving with her. She tugged at his hair to pull him up to her but it was harder to get his attention this time.
His hands tightened on the tender flesh of her hips and arse, pulling her even closer into him so that he was pressed so close, sucking roughly now so that the pleasure was edged with a pain that threatened to make her come apart right there. Ruthlessly she kept herself together and dug her nails into his scalp and wrenched.
He dropped her and hung from her hand as she sat up, his face shining with her juices, his mouth open and panting, his eyes glazed with lust.
“Beautiful boy,” she whispered and kissed him hard, tasting herself upon him and feeling his arms curl up around her, cradling her like something precious and delicate. Her own hands stroked his face, his neck, his shoulders as she plundered his mouth, showing him how proud she was of him, how much pleasure he’d given her. She heard him give a quiet whine of need and decided she had tortured them both long enough.
“On the bed,” she murmured into his mouth as she broke the kiss. “Lie back.”
He obeyed. He always did.
She crawled up his body, watching him watching her. The absolute trust in his face made her heart turn over but it was too late to think about that now. All she wanted was him deep inside her. Straddling him, she guided his head to her entrance and began to sink slowly down. His hands clenched on her thighs and he threw his head back, neck straining. A groan escaped him.
“That’s it, my good boy,” she encouraged him as she sank onto his hard length. “Don’t come yet, Whisper, my best one, my sweet. Hold on a little longer.” She was seated on him fully now, her own pleasure begging her to move, to ride him hard and ring him out while she shuddered into pieces around him. But she gave him time to get a hold of himself.
When he relaxed and gave a little sigh, returning his gaze to hers, she smiled and gently stroked the hard muscles of his torso. He rubbed his callused hands along her thighs and smiled back. That made something dark and broken twist inside her so she moved, undulating on his cock so that it hit that special spot inside of her that sent a wash of pleasure through her. They moaned together and she threw her own head back now.
With that, she set a steady rhythm, rocking on him steadily as she spoke in a low, intense voice. “Do you like that, my sweet one, my darling boy.” She kept one hand on his stomach for leverage while the other crept up to tease her nipple as she rode him faster. “Do you like me riding your cock, taking you inside me. Do you like me fucking you, Whisper?”
“Oh gods, Wraith,” he ground out. “Yes. Oh gods, yes.”
Her strokes were frantic now as she chased her release, feeling the heat and pleasure building inside until it was like a wild thing. She pinched her nipple hard as she slapped into him, every thrust rewarded with a spike of ecstacy. His hands clawed at her thighs.
“Let me fuck you,” he begged. “Please, Wraith.”
“Yes,” she breathed and he bucked beneath her, matching her savage rhythm. His hands were on her hips dragging her up and down in time so that the force of their thrusts danced along the edge of pain and it was this, this feral untamed fucking that finally brought her release. She felt the orgasm wash into and over her in fierce waves of rapture, breaking her open and cracking her wide as she called out.
“Come for me, Whisper!”
He reared off the bed, flipping them and pounding into her as she rode the aftershocks of her pleasure, her hands running up and down his back, her mouth sucking on his neck. Two times, three times and then his thrusts became wild, irregular and he jerked with his own silent release. She stroked him through it, as he twitched and spasmed, whispering to him how well he’d done, how pleased she was, how good he’d been. That she was proud of him.
When he relaxed, tremouring a with the aftermath, she played a little with his hair, sated and satisfied. He nuzzled at her neck and this time she let him, feeling indulgent. The harshness of the past few days could be forgotten just for a little while. She could rest. Just for a while.
Then he brought his mouth to her ear and said
“I love you.”
And the whole world fell down.