Chapter 3: "Yours with every breath"

Gilmith awkwardly perched on the edge of her marital bed. The maid had just left, having helped her into the light shift which she now wore, and she now sat waiting for her husband. With no idea what she was meant to do, she nervously wrung her fingers over and over; her hands clenched in her lap, her anxiety steadily increasing. Should she get under the bedcovers… or would Istaeron wish to lead her to the bed himself? Should she undress herself now? Or, perhaps, her husband intended to do that? Was there something she was meant to be doing whilst she waited? Thousands of questions filled her mind, fanning the feelings of insecurity and embarrassment.

Gilmith sighed in frustration as she leant forward, her hands cupping her forehead, her elbows pressed uncomfortably onto her knees, but a sound from the other side of the room made her head snap up quickly. Istaeron came through the door from the chamber beyond, carrying a goblet in each hand. Like herself, he had changed out of his clothes and was now wearing a fine robe of a deep rich red.

Perhaps the terrified look was clear in her eyes because Istaeron moved towards her very slowly, as one would do when approaching a cornered animal, and sat down beside her on the bed, gently pressing one of the goblets into her hands.

"To celebrate our marriage," he said gently, indicating the wine.

Gilmith took it gratefully, sipping the heady liquid slowly. It gave her something to wrap her shaking fingers around and an opportunity to avert her eyes to the dark depths within the cup. The silence seemed to stretch on interminably as they both drank. Finally, when Gilmith felt enough courage to look up, she saw Istaeron gaze at her intently, his eyes soft and full of concern.

"You are feeling nervous?" he asked.

Gilmith tried to answer but no words would come. Her breath shuddered erratically as her heart thudded wildly in her chest, the loud pounding of her heartbeat was the only sound that reverberated through her head. She attempted at a trembling apologetic smile before quickly fixing her sight back down on her goblet.

Tenderly, Istaeron's fingers brushed down her cheek, tipping her chin upwards, forcing her eyes to meet with his own.

"I will not ask you to do something you do not wish to do, Gilmith," he murmured. "But I would show you how things can be between a husband and wife. Will you let me show you?"

Gilmith felt her throat tighten. Not from anxiety this time, but from a surge of emotion which his words provoked. He was such a considerate husband and how lucky was she to be able to call him her own. She swallowed hard and nodded in short jerking movements – it was all she could manage. She looked him in the eyes and with a swift exhalation of breath whispered, "Show me. Please."

Istaeron removed the goblet from her hands, placing both dishes on the bedstand. Turning back to Gilmith, he reached out to cup the back of her neck and with the other he stroked a thumb gently over her cheek. He moved towards her slowly, his deep magnetic gaze never leaving her until, finally, their lips met. It was a gentle kiss at first, soft and caressing, his lips just grazing hers ever so lightly. Gradually, as he felt her relax a little, he coaxed her lips apart, deepening the kiss and his ardour.

Gilmith had been kissed by Istaeron before – on one of those very rare occurrences when they had managed to evade her brother's watchful gaze – but those kisses had been in brief stolen moments; kisses that spoke of what could be more than they actually delivered. This kiss was different. She could feel all those promises come to life under the passionate caresses of his mouth: the desire, the longing, the wanting, and most of all, the pent up frustration at having been denied this for so long.

Timidly, Gilmith found enough courage to take the initiative. Sensing this, Istaeron pulled back from the kiss slightly, allowing her the opportunity to tentatively explore his mouth. He tasted of wine and of need, and Gilmith could not get enough of it, intensifying the kiss through her own desire.

But then his lips moved away leaving her feeling momentarily bereft. Instead, Istaeron softly kissed the contours of her face: her eyes, her cheeks, nose, and temples were all gently caressed by the soft brush of his mouth.

Gilmith felt at a loss, unsure of what to do now or how to respond, if at all. As Istaeron continued, seemingly unaware of the tension in her body, Gilmith became more acutely aware of the total silence in the room, save only for their heavy breathing.

Wanting to break that silence somehow, Gilmith attempted to speak. "Istaeron?" she breathed raggedly, her breath constricting in her throat. Desperately she reached for the first thing to cross her befuddled mind. "Why…" She swallowed. "Why did you say I reminded you of the sea?"

She felt Istaeron's lips curve into a smile against her skin.

"Because, my beauty," Istaeron whispered, kissing one eyelid, then the other, "like the sea you are gentle and calming…" His hands slid down to her shoulders, smoothing his palms along her quivering flesh, reverently pushing aside the fabric to bare the delicate skin. "…cool and smooth to the touch…," he continued, kissing across her cheek to the sensitive place behind her ear and his tongue darted out wickedly to trace whirling patterns against it.

Gilmith gasped in a mixture of shock and pleasure. Never had she imagined that such an ordinary place could be so sensitive, or that her body could respond to such caresses as gleefully. Without realising, her hands gripped in his hair, keeping his delicious attention close to her, with a soft low moan escaping her lips.

Istaeron drew away from her slowly, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and partially closed eyes. A satisfied smile lit his face. "Vital, voracious, full of life…"

He slipped her shift from her shoulders and down her arms, his fingers following the paths of her descending neckline until, finally, her torso was bared to his admiring gaze. "And beautiful to behold," he finished, staring openly at her nakedness, seemingly mesmerised.

Instinctively, Gilmith covered herself with her arms. No man had ever seen her like this and suddenly she felt incredibly vulnerable. Istaeron stopped her, lightly grasping her wrists.

"No," he whispered huskily. "Do not be shy. Man and woman were made for each other. I must see you fully, as you must see me."

Gently guiding one of her hands, Istaeron placed the palm on his exposed skin, encouraging her to undress him in the same way. Tentatively, Gilmith pushed the lapel of his robe away, baring more of his broad torso to her sight. Her hand slowly began to explore the contours of his chest. She gazed in fascination at the hard rippling of his muscles, her fingers skimming along the soft curling hair covering his chest. She could feel her cheeks burning, but, glancing at her husband, it appeared that he did not consider her as foolish as she felt herself to be. His expression showed something quite different: satisfaction, or perhaps pride.

Feeling a little bolder, she ran her hands up to his shoulders, echoing his own movements of before, and slid his robe down his arms until, like herself, he was also bare. This time it was her turn to openly stare in fascination.

Smiling at her, Istaeron planted a soft kiss on her lips, before deftly pulling back the bedcovers and slowly guiding her down onto the bed. Reverently, he removed the rest of her night-gown, his palms ghosting over her curves as he did so. He stood up and removed his robe and the rich material fell to the floor with a soft thud.

He towered over her, completely comfortable with his nakedness. His broad, finely-sculpted chest tapered down to his lean hips and muscular thighs, but Gilmith's gaze became caught by the evidence of his desire. She was enthralled, and not a little scared.

But it was so… Surely it could not…

Her thoughts were drowned out as Istaeron joined her on the bed, kissing her softly while his hands gently stroked down her curves, around her waist, down her thighs, helping her become accustomed to the intimacy of his touch. Gilmith felt her body relax, her back slumping languorously into the pillows at his caresses.

Finally pulling back from the kiss, Istaeron cradled her cheek with his palm. "Gilmith, you know there may be some pain?" His eyes sought for hers carefully.

Gilmith nodded in response, still a little breathless.

"I will do my best to lessen your discomfort as much as I can, but I should like you to enjoy this as well. I wish for you to know how our marriage will be." His lips grazed down her neck, then rained kisses deliciously down her body. Gilmith felt her back arch upwards involuntarily, bringing herself closer to the temptation that his mouth was providing.

His lips came back up to capture hers forcefully in another heated kiss. His tongue seeking and demanding set her blood on fire.

So enthralled was she in the kiss, that she did not notice the movement of his hand until his fingers were at her opening, probing, easing into her depths. It felt almost too intimate an act and Gilmith was horribly conscientious of herself. Her muscles tightened in alarm. At the same time she could not help the flush of excitement at what he was doing – thrillingly, intoxicatingly shocking and new. His other hand stroked her hair; his kiss soothed her and his voice whispered reassurances, until her body gradually calmed again. He stroked her, caressed her, slowly gentling her to the unaccustomed imposition.

Once Istaeron sensed she had relaxed, he moved his body to cover hers, taking his weight on his forearms and looking deep into her eyes, his gaze captivating and unwavering from her face. She felt his desire probe lightly at her opening – seeking entry. "Are you ready?" he whispered softly with his eyes still locked on hers.

Gilmith looked up at his beloved face and saw the tenderness and passion etched across his features. She could not refuse him – and she had absolutely no wish to. She belonged to him, she always had, and she wanted – needed – everything he was prepared to give. Reaching out to stroke his face, Gilmith nodded with a faint smile that lit her face.

Istaeron framed her face tenderly in his hands and kissed her softly. "Gilmith," he said simply, as her entered her, his movements slow and gentle.

Gilmith's fingers clenched into his shoulder. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, but not before a little cry had escaped her. There was a sharp burning sensation. Her muscles contracted tightly in indignation at this intrusion. It felt horribly uncomfortable, and for a moment she wanted to push him away, just so it would stop.

But then Istaeron's lips were on her own; teasing, coaxing, soothing. It gave her a focus. Gradually, she felt her body begin to relax as she kissed him back, concentrating all her desire and passion into the kiss.

Fully seated within her, Istaeron broke the kiss and looked into her eyes searchingly. His voice was infinitely tender as he murmured, "I am sorry, my darling. Was it very painful for you?"

"It… a little," Gilmith admitted quietly. "But it does not feel quite so… uncomfortable anymore."

"Can you bear it if I move?" His gaze was filled with so much concern for her that, had she not loved him already, Gilmith knew she would have fallen in love with him then simply for that.

She nodded slowly, meeting his gaze so that he could be reassured by the love and trust in her eyes. He began to move again, and this time it did not feel so uncomfortable. In fact, it actually felt quite nice. His lips found hers once more and she met his passion with her own. Feeling braver, she slowly ran her hands over his back with soft feathering touches, until she reached his buttocks. Boldly, she gripped them lightly. Istaeron made a noise in his throat that sounded a lot like a growl against her lips.

It excited her beyond belief.

The tempo increased. His lips were at her neck, murmuring her name, feeding the frenzied feeling that was growing within her. A warm glow pooled in her stomach, gradually spreading out to the rest of her body, leaving her breathless. She lifted herself to meet him, matching his pace, taking what he offered her and giving herself up to him completely.

Watching him reach his culmination was one of the most wondrous things Gilmith had ever seen. In that moment, he looked exposed and open to her. No longer simply the strong, undefeated warrior, but vulnerable and uncovered to her sight. A deep, primitive sense of satisfaction and tenderness flooded her at the thought that she had done that – she was the cause of this beautiful and powerful man's pleasure as he had called out her name upon his climax. And in that moment came an astonishing and humbling realisation. Yes, she had given herself over to him, exposed – but so had he. This was something they had shared together, equally, and in that there was a wonderful sense of intimacy.

Istaeron kissed her briefly on the lips before rolling onto the bed, pulling her into his warm embrace. Their breathing was heavy and already Gilmith could sense that he was being lulled by the same slumberous feeling that she was.

His arms tightened around her protectively. "Thank you for giving me such a wonderful gift, Gilmith."

She turned to kiss the corner of his mouth. "Thank you for sharing it with me." She yawned, snuggling into his chest. "I love you, Istaeron," she breathed, her eyelids falling heavily as she gradually slipped into sleep.

Istaeron kissed the top of her head. "Sweet dreams, my beautiful wife."