A/N: Written for Goldenlake SMACKDOWN - at fiefgoldenlake[dot]proboards[dot]com.
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"What are you doing?" Wyldon gasped. Wet fingers clenched and unclenched on the sheets and hard muscles flexed.
"Practicing." Kel didn't purr, did she? His foggy mind could no longer tell. The scrape of her tongue against the scar across his hip made him shudder.
"Pract ... pract ..." Wyldon swallowed and tried again. "You don't need the practice." He put his hands on her head, whether to guide her or halt her he wasn't sure. "I assure you ... you..." He stopped as Kel's head dipped, hissed through his teeth and tried to remember what he was trying to say.
"Didn't you tell me once, 'When you can do it reliably, instead of once or twice, you will have something'?" Kel felt inordinately pleased at finally turning the tables on Wyldon. It was usually her gasping and trembling helplessly beneath his sensual assault. Now it was his turn. "So that means I have to keep practicing."