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You are so beautiful,” she says, raising her hand to trace his jaw. And strangely enough, he leans into it and he doesn’t notice until her fingers are about to trace his lips that he grabs her wrist to stop her. This was too intimate, too soft. She seemed to realize it too because she says, “forgive me my prince.” It is lazily said though meaningful but laced with the effects of the wine. He stares at her a moment. Her eyes are dark, her full lips are slightly smiling, admiring her husbands face though he refuses to let her acknowledge it any longer by touch. He feels something, closely related to desire but not as lustful as before, and he wonders if he should indulge himself in it or if it will make him look like a softened fool.
When he decides that perhaps the wine will keep her from thinking so, he pushes his lips to her fingers. He kisses the tips of them, then her palm, then her wrist. And gently, he leaves a trail of kisses on her forearm and up to her shoulder. He leaves even firmer kisses on her neck, as if he wants her to remember them tomorrow. And he leaves the same ones on her jaw and stops to look at her. Her face is furrowed in confusion but her eyes are looking at his lips with want. And so he kisses her with the same gentleness he had on her fingers. It is deep and slow, unlike the heated kisses they shared before. And they kiss for what feels like an eternity, her hands going up to the nape of his neck as if she is afraid that he will change his mind and pull away. But he does not. He gently deepens the kiss even more and climbs on top of her, using his knee to push apart her thighs, with permission not demand. She grants it to him and moves her lips first to his jaw and then to his neck. She feels him breathe deeply, letting her leave kisses wherever she pleases. In one particular spot, where his shoulder meets his neck, she firmly kisses him and this makes him almost whimper and moan, pushing his hips into her. She moans in return and slides her legs behind his back, locking him in.
They continue this, taking turns claiming whatever skin is exposed until Aerion sits up and removes his shirt. She places her hands on his stomach and they roam over the lean muscle underneath and up to his chest. Sitting up looking down at her, he truly does look like one of the gods. He pulls at the laces in front of her gown slowly, letting each one run through his fingers all the way through. She whines, pushing her hips up against him and he lets out a breath before forcing them back down. “Patience,” he says before he continues on with the laces. She is desperate for him to touch her but she obeys and is still as he asks. The gown, at last, is untied and reveals her white cotton gown underneath, that is meant to be covered by the layered dress on top. He can see the curves of her figure underneath it and he decides to keep this one on. He pushes the bottom of the skirt up to her thighs before leaning down to kiss her again. She pushes back into the kiss, propping herself up on her elbows and then pressing her hands against his chest to make him sit up again. This time, she follows him and lays kisses first on his chest, then down to his navel, kissing the trail of silver hair that leads to the strings of his pants. He is watching her and breathing heavily, as if this act alone will make him come undone if he doesn’t focus on pushing it back. Carefully and slowly, she undoes the strings in the same precarious fashion he undid the laces of her gown. He lets out a breathy chuckle, watching her return his torment. When they come undone, she pushes his pants down and goes to take his hard length in her mouth before he stops her, gripping her jaw gently. “No,” he says and leans her back on the bed in the position they had before. Again, she is confused but she does not question him and allows him to lay her on her back.
He looks down at her one more time. Her eyes are now darker than before and her mouth is open just slightly and he almost changes his mind to allow her to take him in her mouth, but decides against it. Her dark hair is fanned out around her like a halo and her chest moves up and down with each heavy breath she takes. “You are so beautiful,” he says, tracing her lips with his thumb. Her eyes widen just slightly, as if the words were what she had always wanted to hear. He leans down to kiss her, slow and deep again, while pushing her skirts all the way up to his hips. He positions himself at her entrance and stops. “Please,” she whispers. He pushes in, not greedily as he often does. No, he pushes in as though he wants her to feel every inch of him bit by bit. Her hands tighten on the upper part of his arm, gripping the muscle tighter and tighter with every move that he enters with. His lips are all over her neck, firmly placing careful kisses all over. When he is completely in, he does not move much her to dismay but she doesn’t make him. He holds his place, his hands carefully placed around her head as if to protect her and his mouth is back on hers again.
The kiss makes her accidentally tighten around him and he lets out a moan before pulling almost completely out and then rushing back into her. She gasps and he does it again. The movements are not aggressive or fast, they are slow, strategic, focused. He thrusts into her the same way over and over while he peppers her neck with kisses again. She feels him in her so fully and everywhere on her and under her finger tips, where his muscles are shifting with every thrust he takes. This alone could make her finish but he suddenly shifts to hit the spot that he knows will make her cry out. And cry out she does. She does so over and over as he thrusts at this new spot in the same pace as before and her nails dig into him now. Her back is arching into him, brushing his chest with her body, and he feels a satisfaction he has never felt before. Despite taking his pleasures however he felt like, this feeling was even better. Knowing that he was giving her a pleasure that was causing her to tremble beneath him, letting out a moan one after another.
And then she says it. “Aerion.” Not my prince. Not lord husband. Aerion. And it makes something in him stir, wanting to ram her into the furs below them until she is screaming it out. Instead, he puts his hands behind her knees to fold her just so and sinks into her at the same spot as before, until his hips are cradled against hers. She arches her back so high she feels she may break in half. The sensation is too much. He is deep, so deep, and he is hitting the spot that feels so good that she is no longer moaning, only gasping for air as he takes each one of her breaths every time he sinks back into her. “Aerion,” she gasps again. “Gods, please.” She does not know what she is begging them for but when he sinks back into her and stops, no longer thrusting only pressing into her so hard she believes he could move her up the bed if he moved his knees. “Do not pray to them, pray to me,” he demands. This makes her snap and she tightens so hard around him, her legs shake. “Aerion, Aerion, Aerion,” she gasps, his name tumbling out of her. Her hands grip the furs beneath them so hard her knuckles are white. And he watches her, crumbling beneath him. The feeling of her convulsing around him feels immeasurable no doubt, but the real pleasure was watching her try to push away from him, trapped under his hands and his hips. He would have let her go of course but her legs are locked so tightly around his back, he couldn’t move an inch. So instead of thrusting he instead grinds into her, pressing into that same spot in little circles, abusing it to the point she is spilling tears. He kisses each one away and she comes on him again and again. “I can’t,” she begs as climaxes for whichever time it was. “Please,” she cries. But her legs are still locked around him and he has no plans to stop.
He digs and digs until at last she is too weak to push him away and instead her hands lay by her and her legs lay open, letting him claim her. She is gasping, moaning, her eyes looking into his, hazed over as if she is under a spell. Though the outside of her body is lying there in gentle submission, she is still tightening around his cock with every couple of circles he places with in her. He buries his head into her neck, resting his forearms beside her head, putting his weight on her and she can only place kisses on the side of his cheek where it is pressed up against hers. She softly places her hands in his white silver hair and he begins thrusting into her a gentle yet quickening pace. She hears him letting out soft moans against her neck and had she any voice left, he would surely hear hers. Instead, he can hear her as she pushes out a breath with every thrust that meets her. His thrusts become more firm, more claiming. His soft moans turn into almost growls, and the grip he has on her hair would be painful if she had paid any attention to it. “Fuck,” he groans and lifts himself up where his hands are either side of her head and she sees the familiar look in his eyes, the lust that curls up in them, the desire of the dragon. She looks into his eyes and gives a small nod, as if giving him permission to become undone. He places a firm kiss on her lips and begins thrusting into her almost violently, letting out a deep “mmm” every time his hips snap back onto hers. She holds onto the furs beneath them and places open mouthed kisses on the wrists that have trapped her beneath them. The wooden headboard is banging up against the wall and the rest of the bedframe is creaking beneath them but he pays it no mind, pistoning his hips into her at a now brutalizing pace. His moans are louder now and filling the room and he feels his body becoming exceedingly hot. He feels he might explode and when he looks down at his wife again, her head is pressed so hard back into the pillow, it could have became one with her. Her body took him despite her limbs being weightless and she arched against him once more letting out a scream of pleasure and clamping down on him. With one last particularly strong thrust, he spilled in her, at a rate that left him breathless and light headed. He crumbled on top of her, holding up his weight up on shaky forearms. He did not pull out immediately in fact, he gave her one or two more thrusts just see to feel her shake beneath him, before pulling himself out. They lay there a moment before Aerion says, “I found that I may love you.” She turns to him and smiles. “And I suppose that would not be with the help of the wine?”