Sorry for the delay, I've been in a bit of a funk lately. Also trying to prepare for Nanowrimo.

So this is pure smut. Had to get a good one in because it's going to be mostly story from here on out (except for some flashbacks, letters, etc). Cullen is on the other end of the butt stuff this time, so fair warning if you're not into that. If you skip this chapter you won't miss anything important story-wise.


Avery walked lazily around the War Table, her eyes wandering over the skin of Cullen's bare body like a beast trying to decide which part of her kill to dig into first. It had taken two more hours for Skyhold to clear out, which meant two more hours of drinking in the tavern while they waited, but they both had been careful not to overdo it, each keeping their eye on the eventual prize. And now they were here, and with pink cheeks and a contagious smile, Cullen had asked if maybe Avery might be the one to take control this time, that she be the one to issue the commands. She could only guess that he might find it a relief not to always be The Commander. After so many years as the leader of a pack, she understood the desire to be relinquished of all responsibility, even if only for a couple hours in the privacy of a bedroom. Or, as it were, a war room.

And somehow, conversely, she'd realized long ago that she could indulge in absolute control with the same sense of relief. There hadn't been many instances of someone — Anders, of course — submitting completely to her, but during those few times it had been like a switch flipped in her mind. She inhabited the dominant role like a second skin, a slightly evolved version of the Avery who plunged head first into battle time and time again on the Kirkwall streets, only it was the form of a person she loved before her instead of someone deserving of her wrath. The first time it happened it had been a little disorienting, felt a little wrong. But Anders encouraged her to embrace it, to experience what it was like to live fully within that dominant piece of herself and to funnel her killer instincts into sexual ones, even if only for a few hours. You don't have to hurt me, he'd said. Just be the one with all the power. She felt it now, and though it had been a while, it was like putting on old, worn down pair of breeches. The hectic world was reduced to something blissfully simple when it was just her and a lover alone in a room, and if Cullen wanted to be under her control, then of course she would indulge him.

But she didn't want to push Cullen too far. Cautious of his past experiences, she eschewed the ties and bindings, accepting his promise not to move his hands from their location above his head, or to open his eyes rather than don a blind fold. Avery was surprised to find the effect even more exhilarating than if he actually was tied up; in this case he could move if he truly chose to, but if he managed to endure the sex that was to follow without breaking his promise to stay put, that seemed a stronger form of control than the forced restraint of some rope and a scarf. She couldn't help but smile a little at the tremendous gift he was offering her, a gift of his complete and unconditional trust, his eager willingness to follow her to places he'd never before been, not that she really intended to take him anywhere terribly dark.

All she really wanted was the same as what she always wanted: to immerse herself in every beautiful inch of him. To touch those places not normally considered during sex and somehow make it seem just as erotic, to treat the entirety of his body like the sexual organ that it was to her. But even if that failed, there was still the more conventional measures to fall back on, as already the most conventional sex with Cullen continued to be impossibly exciting, enhanced by the aphrodisiac of their intense, needful love.

Even just tiptoeing around his body, taking in the expanse of flesh and flaws and skin, was both heartening and instantly arousing. There was something achingly precious about all the little parts of him that never received much in the way of notice: the delicate bones that made up his slender ankles, the childhood scars that trailed up the hard line of his shins to his sharply-capped knees, old injuries not received in battle, but from innocent sessions of exuberant play back when his body was smaller and clumsier. And his hands, usually the givers of such loving tenderness, sat still and curled like gilded wonders, as deserving of their own appreciation as his cock or his lips or any of the countless other parts of him that took her breath away.

It was there that she decided to begin, stopping at the head of the table to lean over and take a finger between her lips, peppering each section of the digit with a kiss before pulling the entire thing into her mouth. She was careful to be silent, to touch as little else as possible before the moment of contact so that the gesture might surprise. His breath hitched in his throat as she sucked on his thumb in the same loving manner that she always had his cock, laying her tongue flat and wide along its length and slowly pulling away, moistening the dry digit before nipping at the pad of flesh just on the inside of his palm. She let her cheek rest for a moment on his hand, closing her eyes and savoring the sensation of the fingers curling up to meet the shape of her face, caressing softly along the line of her jaw. As promised, the placement of the hand itself did not move, but she did, leaning her whole body inward to kiss the soft inner flesh of his wrist, and then bite gently up his corded forearms. His lips were parted and his breathing slow and even, soaking in the blind sensations of her roving mouth. His body was a feast for the eyes, a gloriously erotic picture that sent a warm current of blood directly to her cunt until she throbbed and ached. Avery wrestled with the conflicting desires to take her time, and to try to take all of him at once.

Leaving the salty smoothness of the one arm, Avery crossed over to the other side and repeated the motions, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. Further down his body came the first signals of the reward she sought: the titillating twitch of his awakening cock. She knew from her own experience that kissing down one's arms wasn't necessarily the most sexual of activities on a normal day, but when one is deprived of sight and left at the complete mercy of their lover, contact of any kind can be heightened to a unmistakably sexual intensity.

Next she let her lips linger over his mouth, recalling all their earliest kisses the same as she had so many times already. There was something so intoxicating about being on the verge of a kiss but not fully within it yet, those agonizingly sweet seconds where lips parted expectantly and eyes blurred, the sharp pull of anxious inhalations, the breathless anticipation of finally receiving permission to taste the object of one's love. Cullen's lips continued to part further, his head tilting to receive her in the way they'd both become so practiced, but she only hovered over him, suckling the gentlest of kisses along his lips, letting their open mouths catch the other's bated breath. When his tongue flicked out and connected with hers, she gave in, letting lips and tongues slide into place in a dance that always somehow seemed both familiar and brand new.

Pulling away only enough to lean further in, she kissed his chin and let her mouth carve a trail down his neck, stopping for a moment to kiss his adam's apple, then the base of his neck, until she reached his chest, and found her own unbound breasts brushing against the stubble of his face. He turned to catch a breast in his mouth, suckling hard at her nipple until a bolt of sensation streamed through the delicate network of nerves. She felt a shiver crawl down her back, and stopped a moment to let it complete its course before quickly pulling away.

With her eyes and fingertips she learned him, tracing along all his hidden lines, finding every unnoticed freckle, every divot and depression, every notch where bone met bone, or where muscle curved to hug its frame. He'd never shied away from being seen in the nude, but never before had he been laid out before her in this way, granting her the time and the space to lavish love upon every tiny, secret inch. His frame did not belong to an overly large man; indeed if his skeleton did not carry so much meaty strength one might consider him slight. His elbows and knees were narrow, his hips tapered down dramatically from the bulk of his broadly built up chest. It was the muscle the bones carried that made him seem larger than life, magnified and illuminated by an aura of competence and experience, a man who had seen more than anyone could ever truly know, even she who'd been given the deepest possible access. The mounds of his arms and chest were scarred and his hands rough with callouses, but the insides of his wrists were pale and soft, the skin of his ankles paper thin, the rhythm of his heart tapping gently against the hollow of his throat. She'd already had the thought recently that it was a little terrifying how devastatingly mortal he was. Just soft skin stretched over a hard working life support system, in no way immune to the same swift death that would eventually claim everyone. If only his body could reflect the resilience of his spirit and the strength of his character, and never come to harm no matter how many blows an enemy might level against him. If only he could live forever and never be hurt again.

She brought a glass of water over from the basin in the rear corner of the room and dripped a web of water lines over his chest, urging the liquid to follow the channels that his muscles carved, criss-crossing down his torso and peeking into the nest of golden curls upon which his half-erection slumbered. With the unseen arch of a brow and curl of her lip, the magic came quickly and obeyed her whim, turning the shiny wet lines to a solid crust of ice, and for a moment Cullen stiffened, surprised by the sudden bite of cold. A breath was drawn so sharply between his teeth it sounded like a snake slithering through grass. But the ice melted in only a second, blasted back into liquid form by the constant inferno housed under his skin.

Another drop onto the head of his cock, turned to a frosty crystalline bead and then warmed again just as quickly from an opposing spark. The slow cascade of drips spread in hot tendrils down his shaft, creeping into the nest of curls and pooling into the tightened skin of his bollocks. More hot skeins of water, each individual drop leaving a trail that followed the contours of his skin down a unique path, tickling across him with unexpected new temperatures. It was the heat that brought his erection into its full splendor, the skin around his cock growing tight and shiny as it expanded, the cockhead darkening as blood strained against its confines, filling out a shape that promised to fit perfectly against her palate. She licked her lips but quietly urged herself to maintain restraint. They'd had so much time to taste and to kiss and to love and to fuck, though even that would never be enough. But despite the way her mouth was watering for him, recalling the smooth, clean taste of his most sensitive places, she wanted tonight to be about something new.

First it had been the ice, and then it was heat, but it was always the electric that satisfied most in a mage's sex games, the hot bolts of energy mirroring the internal workings of sexual pleasure, firing off in rapid waves of intensity that spread across the body in precisely the way that lightning streamed in jagged arcs across the sky. The hairline legs of sparking purple crawled up the veins of water, climbing his cock, up over his hips and then his chest, outlining his features in soft flickers of electric light. The hisses issuing from his throat grew deeper and louder, and his cock stood prouder than ever at the tingles she knew were spreading out over him, coaxing his hairs to stand and his nerves to pleasantly prickle.

She knew what he was feeling first hand, having been the recipient for so many years. One of the saddest parts of losing Anders had been the loss of his privately wielded magic. He'd confessed to using it on himself since the first time he knew he had it, and decades of electric sex play had resulted in an utter mastery of the magical orgasm. He could make anyone orgasm almost instantaneously, and indeed there'd been several times in public that one well placed jolt had made her come on the spot. The first time she'd tried to play it off as an extended sneeze. Everyone else looked confused, while Anders only laughed, the wicked glint of that humor she loved so much sparking in his eyes.

"Allergies, I think" she'd shrugged sheepishly to onlookers.

He could also draw an orgasm out into an endless song, a symphony with crescendos and inflections controlled by the movements of his hands in the same way a conductor guided an orchestra through a concerto. The first time he'd done it, she was convinced she'd seen the Maker himself. The cost had been lying back separate from him, and forfeiting kisses and other forms of touch, leaving his hands and focus free to weave her pleasure. It was the magic he commanded behind closed doors that got them through numerous other rough patches, weeks of arguing and disagreements, of Anders convincing himself of some preposterous idea or another that bewildered Avery with its outlandishness. They'd relied on sex to stay connected, and as with healing she became his enthusiastic student. His primary lesson had been simple. Masturbation. It had been the key for him, or so he claimed. "What better way to know how different things feel than to experiment on yourself and experience it first hand?"

She'd only ever attempted that a dozen times or so, but it never felt the same. And the few times it had worked, it had been difficult to keep her magic under control once the orgasm began. She'd burned herself twice with only a slight loss of control, and promptly lost her taste to try again for a very long time. She laughed quietly as she stood over Cullen, admiring the perfect symmetry of his warrior's physique, feeling the deep craving to fill his beautiful body with the greatest, most intense pleasure that it was possible for a human to feel. She supposed it was inevitable now that she was so irrevocably in love that she was considering taking up the study again, honing her skills for Cullen's benefit. But he already seemed quite pleased with the little she'd done so far. And even if she had the time to masturbate as furiously as a teenaged boy, her body was already completely satisfied by Cullen, never needing anything more. Still, the thought of doing for him all the things that Anders had done for her was irresistible.

Avery tried to snap herself out of it. She was losing herself in what, in that moment, could only be fantastical possibility, when right before her in the flesh was the very man she was thinking about servicing. But there were other things she could do, things Anders showed her that required no extra special talent or practice. Finally laying her hands on the insides of Cullen's thighs, she dragged them up the taut flesh, caressing over the beautiful swells of his muscled legs and toward the treasure at the apex, the enticing symbol of sheer masculinity that throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He continued to lay still and quiet, his breath coming evenly if perhaps a little fast, the skin around his neck and cheeks flushed pink with the blood that was surely storming through his body.

With fingers curling under his velvety thighs she drew his legs up, pushing them apart and toward his belly. He obeyed and let himself be flayed open, his breaths now growing sharper and more rapid, and somewhere under her touch she registered a quickening pulse. She couldn't help but smile at the effect every little thing seemed to be having. It felt like she truly hadn't done much just yet, a few kisses, a little touching, a variety of magic, but his eyes were still closed and his cock was ready. He was quiet, patient and accepting, allowing her free rein and moving obediently under her guiding touch.

Her mouth first fell at that creamy stretch of skin between his bollocks and the little bud of his rear. She tongued against the tight flesh, feeling a cone of firmness under the skin, the internal root of his sizable cock. She scored her teeth up to his bollocks and took each one into her mouth, suckling it lovingly while inhaling the mesmerizing musk of his golden curls. Her exhale became a vocalization, a deep release of wordless satisfaction as desire built in her senses and traveled like a warm, slow flood down her chest and into her solar plexus, filling her so full of need she could hardly stand still. It reverberated against the aching center between her legs, reminding her that she too would need some attention eventually.

After several long moments of tonguing his bollocks and perineum she pulled away, climbing down from the table and walking swiftly around to his head again. She kissed him hard, taking his mouth as though she owned it, communicating that fact back to Cullen in no uncertain terms. She plunged deeply in with her tongue until he had to open up wide to accommodate her. He had claimed her once with a kiss, but she would claim him in return, again and again and again, until the power of her love for him eradicated the awareness of anything else.

"Are you ready to come my darling?" Avery asked after she pulled away, leaving his lips reddened and panting for air. He nodded breathlessly.

"I'm going to explore a place you might never have had touched before. If you don't like it, just say stop, and I will. Any time you're ready to stop, I will. But if you give me a little time to warm you up, it's going to feel so good you'll come without my even touching your cock. Without you touching your cock. Have you ever experienced that before?"

It took a second before Cullen shook his head, confirming what she already knew.

His eyes were still pressed closed, arms slung helplessly over his head. Heat and deliciousness radiated off his chest, and she couldn't help but lean in and smell him, drawing deep breaths against his blazing skin while her mouth and other places begin to water even further. Maker's breath, it seemed impossible that any other man could ever be this perfect. Anders certainly had never made her this hungry, this ravenous. Nor Fenris. They'd both had their appeals for sure, and she'd felt a raging lust for them unmatched by anything she'd known before them. But it had been matched now. Matched and obliterated.

"You might even come twice, or three times," she teased. "And after that, once you've had a little break, you'll come again. But inside me."

She trailed her fingers down his chest as she walked away. He might not believe he was capable of such a thing, but her magic would make it possible. It was the little she could do, and yet compared to a non-mage, it could be so much more than enough.

With her hands gripping his thighs again, she urged him to scoot down, until his ass was pulled to rest upon the edge of the table. They'd had to move a few of the iron figures out of the way, and she guided his feet up to where they could sit comfortably upon the tabletop, while at the same time pressing his thighs open to give her full access to the bounty between them. His brows were furrowed, but he obeyed, and she felt the slow jerky release of his thigh muscles as they relaxed into their new position.

She took a moment to appreciate the sight, seeing the flesh and blood image of a man open for the plundering, superimposed over her memory of Anders and Fenris, both poising themselves eagerly for the other. Cullen was as much a man as the two of them put together, and for the briefest, most fleeting of moments, she wished she could manifest a cock for herself, so she could feel him from the inside in the way he way felt her. But the thought dissipated quickly as Avery descended between his legs, her own thoughts blotted out by the deliciousness of his flesh.

Almost immediately her mouth was on him, suckling at the cleavage of his asscheeks before pressing forward to kiss deeply onto the soft opening of his ass. She'd touched him there before, but with her finger only, and she had never penetrated, never needed to. Contact with only the surface so far had been enough to push him over the edge, in those rare, rushed moments where such a push was needed. They'd never discussed his thoughts on his receiving anal stimulation, but based upon the almost instant reaction of his body, and hist complete lack of complaint, he certainly seemed to be opening himself to the possibilities. With her tongue she probed at the softness between his cheeks, dragging up and down the burning cleft, swirling and lapping, losing her place as his body arched and tensed. A low mewl drenched in the sultry notes of sex was rumbling from his throat and it only spurred her on, encouraging her to go deeper, harder. She'd watched Anders and Fenris do this to each other and had studied what it was that they had liked. That attention came in handy now as she tried to replicate what she could, using the pitch of his body's reaction to tune her movements. In fact she'd fervently watched those two do all manner of things to each other, in the hopes that she might glean some special knowledge that could only come from a man working on a body with all the same parts as his own. She knew well enough that there were places that benefited from a special kind of touch, a touch that only someone with those same parts could truly understand. That was evident in the fact that some men still referred to the "mysteries of a woman's body." To another woman there was very little in the way of mystery. And so it probably was with men, too.

Cullen's vocalizations grew as his body tensed and constricted around her, his cock beginning to seep long, clear streams of fluid that stuck to the hairs below his navel. But whatever pleasures a mouth could bring to that part of him, there was only so deep her tongue could go. With more kisses and nips against the voluptuous swells of his ass cheeks, she let her mouth slowly be replaced by her fingers, soaking in the lubrication she deliberately left behind, massaging and circling his entrance as his body continued to writhe. Keeping her fingers working diligently, she shifted into a new position, straightening out her back and her neck, resting against the table at an acute angle, his twitching cock mere inches from her mouth. She could take him that way and end this quickly, but her mind was filled with memories of what magic could do, of numerous nights of watching Anders and Fenris alike as they fucked the open air above them, coming with the force of a raging river without a single finger laid upon their cocks. She would see Cullen do the same, see him twist and curl and come undone, his body imploding with the massiveness of the sensation, his face gorgeously contorted into a picture of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

Already he was bucking against her hand, her fingers slipping and sliding within the layer of moisture her mouth had left behind. His back arched, his throaty groans morphed into needful whimpers, and she decided to move it all along by gingerly dipping the tip of her finger inside him.

It seemed almost deliciously obscene. To be inside a man, in a place not necessarily meant to know pleasure, but which somehow, unquestionably did. There was no mistaking his reaction; it certainly was not one of pain. Surely they could have lived a life without traversing this particular road and never felt worse for it. But exploring new ground would make this night particularly memorable, and if nothing else that was what an encounter in this most intimidating of rooms deserved. With her fingertip inside him she continued to pull slow circles, urging his body to loosen around her, to make room for a deeper exploration. When she worked the entirety of the first segment of her finger inside, his breath grew especially sharp, sounding off tiny mewls of pleasure as his body gyrated against her arm.

"You okay?" she asked, and heard a raspy yes follow quickly in reply.

Over time she slowly worked even deeper still, the depths of him holding onto her finger with a tight, welcoming heat. Surely this is what his cock felt when he was inside her, plundering the sensitive entrance that it had taken her several tries with a patient Anders to appreciate. After what felt like a long adjustment period, her middle finger was buried to the knuckle, ensconced within a secret, forbidden chamber that constricted and thrummed around her. She hitched her finger forward and felt along the upper wall of his flesh, pressing into the softness of him until she located the little patch that she recognized as the spot. That spot would change as his body grew closer to release, growing firm with a round bulge that heralded the expulsion of his fluids. She drew lazy swirls against him, slowly working a second finger within. It would help if he was already close before she fired up the magic again, but she began already to gather the mana within her, knowing that using electricity on the inside of a person required concentration and finesse. He continued to move against her, and she took his cue and began to follow his body, pulling halfway out until his body tensed, and then working slowly back in.. He was gasping, moaning, his hips rocking against the movement of her hands.

"Maker," he whispered. She readjusted again, scooting up so that she was closer to his face and knocking over a metal figure in the process. He seemed loose now, his cock continuing to twitch, his hips bucking, accepting the long, slow strokes as he issued a gentle stream of sighs.

"Look at me," she ordered him. His eyes fluttered open, the amber iris swallowed up by his widely gaping pupils, looking both at her and looking no where, seeing nothing past the sensations in his body.

"Does that feel good?" she asked as she watched him reverently, trying to resist sucking on his lips before he could answer.

He nodded with another heavy exhalation. Based on his breathing, his sighing, his body continuing to arch against her hand, it felt just as she knew it would. It would be a pleasant buzz that vibrated throughout the whole area, tingling into his cock in the same way it always did into her cunt.

Her own sex was throbbing, sweltering, her body begging her for some kind of contact. She realized she needed to finish him off simply so that she could have some of her own satisfaction. She squeezed her legs together, feeling an agonizingly pleasant peal of desire shoot upward and making her groan. It occurred to her that next time she should be taken care of first, so she could take her time with Cullen without her own need interfering.

"Are you ready?" she asked him, grateful to see him nod his assent.

It took a moment to pull her mind away from the desire crashing through her body, to shape the mana into an appropriately soft spark. And with a shudder of excitement she began to release it against him, inside him in a slow, gentle stream. Immediately his breath hitched sharply into this throat while his hips clenched tight, drawing firmly around her. His breathing was increasing, his chest rising and falling more rapidly, his exhalations carrying an uncontrolled vocalization which rang smoky and sweet throughout the room. A little more energy, and then just a little bit more still had him bucking hard again, his cock seeming to tighten, straining up into the air in preparation to come.

"Fuck!" he called desperately, almost choking on the word. His arms began to move, pulling out of their position as his body rocked and arched. As the first spurts of his seed began to land on his chest his whole body curled inward, his whimpers turning into sobs, his face drawn into an expression of such unbearable need that it was all she could do not to pull herself free and climb on top of him to aid him along the rest of the way. Instead she held the current steady, pressing it against the firm bulge that had developed in the place within him, the spot, that special, mysterious spot that for a man mirrored that aching center found deep within a woman. His cock continued to twitch, the swollen skin pink and glistening, the perfect vessel for delivering and receiving a tempest of pleasure. But it was also its own pleasure simply to watch him, to know that this gift afforded to her by the Maker, the gift of magic, could perform such an unexpected variety of miraculous feats. His body shuddered, quivered, reduced to a fluid mass of pure orgasm. She watched in awe as he unfolded before her, his face narrating the arc of his internal experience, his brow taut, his teeth chewing on his lip, his toes curling. He was radiant, divine, the pure embodiment of sex.

Finally he fell back, panting through the intensity of the come down, but she didn't pull away just yet. She waited, knowing that after a minute of letting his body rebound, letting him catch his breath, she could repeat the show. Experiments with Anders had shown that this could be continued for several orgasms at least, though the result of continued efforts was to render Anders completely worthless for the rest of the night. And that would defeat the purpose now. She decided then that two would be enough, so that it caused him no extra strain when she brought him back to an erection after a nice, restful break, hoping still that she might receive her own thorough fucking.

His breathing had slowed, his eyes staring dazedly into the ceiling while his chest glistened with a river of his seed. She waited another moment before conjuring up the current again, watching his softening cock reverse its movement and begin to grow once more. He whimpered a sound that could have been one of pain, causing her to pause.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently, leaning in to brush her lips against his temple. He turned his face as he nodded, breathing jaggedly into the nook of her neck.

"Yes… please… don't stop," he whispered, his voice raspy with lust. With a satisfied grin she continued on, teasing sparks of electricity against his inner walls, bringing his body back into a rocking urgency as she moved her fingers into him, fucking him freely now that he was loose and open. His moans grew sharp, loud, evolving into forceful grunts that encouraged her to unleash just a little bit more.

The second orgasm came like a crash of thunder, ushered in with rapid whimpers, with his hand finally breaking free from where he'd been keeping it and grasping hard onto her neck, pulling her toward him where she met his hot, open mouth. He grunted and groaned against her lips, sucked on her tongue, keened and gyrated wantonly against her thrusting hand.

"Fuck," he growled, a feral emission that sounded more animal than human. Rapidly he clenched again, bearing down against the sensations between his legs as once again his torso coiled, tensing with the crashing pleasure filling his every glorious cell.

When he was done, she felt desperately aroused, practically on the brink of orgasm herself. She extracted her hand gently from between his legs, and pulled away to go back to the water and basin and clean up. As she walked around the room she was shaky, her legs trembling beneath her as though her bones were made of jelly. She could only hope that he'd be up for returning the favor after a bit of a rest. It certainly wouldn't be the first time they'd spent the entirety of the night making love again and again. But the new stamina afforded to him by that blasted lyrium had certain been a force to be reckoned with, and she was sure she wouldn't be left wanting. Even if his cock wasn't up for a 4th go round, Cullen was a giver, generous with his attentions and skilled with his mouth and hands.

She climbed up onto the table and curled herself beside him, stroking at his hair as he continued to daze deliriously into the space above. She laughed gently to herself as she inspected the splatter of his juices. They'd reached an impressive height and distance, and she wondered for a moment just what little remnants of their night they might be leaving behind on the table.

While he recovered she peppered his sweaty face with gentle kisses, gazing down at him lovingly, showing her appreciation for each individual feature of his, same as she had always done, and will always do. That she had somehow earned the love of such a beautiful, magnificent man still seemed almost impossible, and she was content merely to sit in silence and admire him. In time his eyes seemed to find their focus, flicking over to return her adoring gaze with a spark of sheer bewilderment.

"Maker's breath," he sighed eventually. "I can… I can barely even speak." He blinked hard, and let out a quiet laugh. She slipped her arm under his neck and cradled his head close, ignoring the continuing pulsations of her insistently aroused sex in order to continue laying tokens of her love all over his face, his lips, his earlobe.

"You don't need to speak. Just rest for a while, love. It's my turn next."