This was not what Aria had imagined her deflowering would be.
Lovers in the dark, gentle embraces, impassioned whispers – a need so deep it broke them both.
That is what she had wanted.
This – this was teeth and tongues and slapping flesh.
It was hot and sweaty, it made her burn from the inside out.
There are no words of love between them.
His armor is half on, her dress pushed past her hips.
He has her pinned to the side of a tree, thrusting, thrusting, creator have mercy the thrusting.
Flesh harder than steel and soft as silk pushing at her walls, making her tremor
Thin lips grapple with her own in a fire display
The wet slick slide of tongues against tongues is driving her mad
An ache inside her is building and for the life of her she cannot fathom wanting this to end.
He growls and groans into her mouth, whispers terrible names into her ear.
Hands still gloved grope, pinch, pull and slap at cloth covered breasts
He surges faster when she claws futilely at his armored back
sparks fly behind her eyes when a small bundle of nerves is scrapped by his breeches.
Mother hell, have mercy – her world is falling to pieces and righting itself all at once
She wants more, needs it, can taste it – the feel of him, the ache's disappearance, the surging heat
In that moment, all he and she can do is pant and gasp, wait for it all to start over again – the night is still young.
No, this was not what she imagined her deflowering to be – it was a damn sight better.