Strict sexual themes warning for this chapter.
You've all waited very patiently for this, and you have been warned. There is a reason this is rated M.
I don't think it's even close to morning, but I awaken to the sensation of Fyr still cradling me to him, the same way we fell asleep. I don't know if we kept this position all night, but it sure feels like it, judging by my stiff joints. The fire is nothing but coals, giving the very faintest glow, and the air is sharp and cold in my stuffy nostrils.
Shifting a tiny degree to ease the stiffness in my limbs, I freeze when I feel a very different type of stiffness pressing against my thigh. I'm honestly not sure if it's something in Fyr's pocket, or...
A hilarious grin stretches across my face, and I have to stop myself from laughing for fear I'll wake him. My muscles ache, but I don't want to disturb him, so I squirm just slightly, hoping that maybe adjusting will ease this tension—admittedly sexual thanks to his morning wood—that I've created here. This, however, causes friction between my butt and Fyr's lap, and I sense his breathing falter. His warm hand at my stomach twitches a minuscule degree and then tightens and pulls me in against him, and I can't help but gasp as my heartbeat jumps all over the place. There is now absolutely no question what that bulge is, and a deep, pleasurable ache rolls through my lower body in response to it.
I can't tell if he's awake or not, if this was just a sleep-induced instinctual cuddle or the most blatant hint-drop in history.
I let out a breath to clear my thoughts, but it does nothing. All I can focus on is where we are touching and what it's doing to my restraint. His hand is pressing flush against the curve of my belly below my navel, and it feels like it's heating my entire body. His arousal is obvious against me, which does not help me abate my own at all. My thoughts are working me into a frenzy while my body lays still as stone.
It's just morning wood. He can't control it, it happens automatically, and I need to pull myself together and stop thinking so far into it.
I let out a breath through my mouth, eyes wide open now, as there's no way I can feel tired anymore. His hand on me flutters in his sleep, teasing my exposed, sensitive skin, and I can't help but give a whimper of frustration. Is he actually asleep? Or does he know exactly what he is doing?
This is too much for me. He has got to be doing this on purpose.
Two can play at this, I decide, and I arch my lower back just a single degree, grinding against him. This time, he's the one who draws in a sharp breath through his nose, then lets it out in a subtle, short, sleepy groan near my ears.
I grin and do it again.
"Spirits, woman," his voice hitches, which gives me a streak of pride.
I roll my ass against his erection yet again, and he inhales deeply behind my ears, and his giant warm hand flexes against my stomach, then slips over the swell of my hip and grips into my curve. Then he just barely grinds against me, and I give an involuntary whimper of arousal, shuddering under his grip.
His hand slips off of my hip and feather-lightly tickles over my belly below my navel, slipping down underneath the fabric of my underwear so that his fingers begin to tickle along the mound between my legs. I gasp, heat flooding my core, and rock my hips against him again.
I want him to feel further, to slip his fingers along my wetness and touch me, but to my chagrin he gently loosens his grasp on me and lets his hand slip back out of my underwear. He then distances himself about an inch from my body so that I can't feel him pressing against my thigh anymore. It feels like a mile.
I sigh.
"You didn't have to move away, you know." My quiet voice is a stark contrast to the still air.
"I think for your sake, it's the best call right now, Ms. Always-Injured," he says softly behind me. His voice has a rich warmth, so deep I can feel its vibration, and there's an edge of heat to it. It makes me shiver.
"Oh, really?" I smirk, rolling over so that I'm facing him now, with his arm still draped over my waist and my nose almost touching his. I note that my wound from last night is sore, but the potion hasn't yet worn off, so it's barely noticeable. I still can't move the arm on that side quite as normally as I'd prefer.
His sleepy eyes open softly, peering directly into mine, their shimmery silver glow reflecting off his thick lashes. His irises are dilated so strongly that all I see are deep pools of luminescent silver. He blinks slowly, which interrupts me from feeling like I'm falling into them.
"Really," he says resolutely, the hint of a smile tugging at his full lips.
"I disagree. I was very comfortable where I was, and it sure felt like you were too."
"Did it, now?" he can't hide his smile now, but his eyes fall shut again tiredly.
"Yes," I continue with a grin. "And now I'm getting cold without my, uh, seat heater."
"How would you suggest I help you with that, Princess?" his giant hand slips back onto my thigh, brushing the sensitive bare skin of my hip with his thumb. His fingers ever so slightly grip into my flesh, the claw-like nails gently pricking the skin and waking my senses. It quickens my pulse and makes me suck in a quiet gasp.
"Er, th-that's a start," I manage to finally get the words out. "But it's not just there that's cold."
"Hmm," the elf lifts a single brow, eyes opening again and latching onto mine. "I can get you another potion." His hand loops behind my lower back and flattens flush against the skin, successfully warming it as well. He clearly has no intention of actually getting me anything.
"No, I quite like your current tactic here," I shake my head, biting a grin. I appreciate the glow of his eyes; it illuminates his entire face, whereas otherwise I can barely see in the low light of the cave.
His expression first mirrors mine, but then as he finally fully awakens, an echo of what looks like it could be concern flickers across his features. With no further teasing, he carefully sits up and begins to gather his things.
"...You alright?" I ask after a few beats, my voice slighter than usual, and sincere. "I mean, after all that happened. You seem…kinda different."
He seems gentler, too, a voice echoes in my ear, and I realize it's correct. Fyr has never been this attentive. Maybe I should get hypothermia more often.
"Just relieved we're alive," he says sleepily, but I hear guilt dripping from every word, mirroring what I was feeling last night.
I crawl out of bed as well and reach out to him, tugging on his hand so he'll look at me.
"I'm really sorry. I fucked everything up, Fyr. You could have finished this job already if I hadn't gotten hurt. Again. I promised you I'd be careful but did the opposite."
To my surprise, he gives me a kind look and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. I'm thrown by his show of affection, but I like it. He inhales like he has something to say, but holds it and peers at me. His full lips tighten as he visibly gathers his thoughts, and my eyes flick to them, lost in the way the corners curve up at the edges naturally.
"Ava, I…have to confess something."
I raise my brows but stay silent, willing him to continue.
The corners of his jaw pulse as he steels himself. "I brought you along with me because I wasn't ready to let you go."
"What do you mean?" I'm doing my best to react calmly to the fact that Fyr basically just told me he's attached to me. Fyr. Attached. I don't trust myself to handle that information properly.
"Khadgar successfully worked with the people he needed to help you get home on the morning that you and I left Dalaran on this job. I… I was informed, but I didn't tell you: he's ready to send you home. I needed more time, and I panicked and talked you into coming with me on this horrible idea of a job just because I couldn't...I...can't..."
He breaks eye contact. I have no idea what kind of response to give. Am I angry? Is that what I'm feeling right now? After all this work, he whisked me off to a different continent because he couldn't say goodbye?
Can I?
I peer at him searchingly. Compared to now, compared to the vibrancy and excitement and danger, my old life is a nostalgic fog. Painful to think about, as if I'm already mourning its loss. It's as if my subconscious has already made a decision, and that decision involves abandoning everything I know for a chance of having more time with this one person. Not the place, not this world, but this one, single guy.
This just makes me feel even more frustrated. Am I falling for this dude or something? Sure, I really care about him, and sure I find him unbearably attractive, and sure the thought of never seeing him again manifests as physical pain, but…
Holy shit.
It's only now that I realize he's staring at me again in hesitant fear. I'm sure my facial expression is a mess. I don't know what to say to him. I'm torn. I'm not hurt, but I'm not happy either. But that's not for the reason he's expecting.
His big, warm hand slides up and gently cups my jaw, his fingers curling into my hair. It feels good. I have to stop myself from leaning into it.
"I am so sorry," he enunciates. "We will head back as soon as this storm cuts."
I still have no idea what to say. I have no clue how to react to his confession, nor how to make him feel better. I have all these confusing feelings bubbling inside me and have no way to accurately voice them without coming off as crazy. All I know is he's giving me the most exposed side to him, and in the meantime I am realizing, thanks to the absolute trainwreck that is my better judgment, that I might definitely be falling for him. Falling for a seven-foot-tall purple man with ears the size of my feet and an uncanny knack for pushing my buttons.
I flick my eyes to his face. I haven't said a word in response to him yet, and I feel bad; he's so vulnerable right now, a look I've never seen on him.
Just as he opens his mouth to talk, possibly to backtrack on what he's said, I finally respond.
"I'm...not angry," I say, surprising even myself, drawing closer to him so that we're a mere foot apart. "To be honest, I probably would have done something twice as dumb if you hadn't beaten me to it."
Fyr's brows arch as he stares down at me. "That so?"
"Maybe."
"And...why would you have done something like that?"
"...Because maybe I'm not ready to let you go either," the words tumble from my mouth before I can filter. Fyr's pupils dilate like a cat's while I'm talking, their glow intensifying as the corners of his mouth tug upward as I babble. "And maybe I'm, like, also attached to you, and it's clouding my judgment. Because I should really want to go back home and have everything back to normal, but now I'm realizing that the thought of leaving...of leaving you...is more painful than the thought of losing my old life, and that's really fucking with my head right now, and-"
I can't finish my sentence. Fyr, exhaling, leans down to meet me, and my heart stutters as his lips brush feather-lightly against mine, sending electrifying signals through me. In this quarter of a second, he's waiting for me to respond, to reciprocate, an unsaid request. Even now, he wants to know if I want it too. I can barely breathe, entranced by his scent and warmth and breath so close to me.
With nothing left to hold me back, I lean in and crush my lips into his.
He purrs quietly against my mouth and wraps his arms softly around me, deepening the embrace and teasing my lower lip with his tongue. My body responds in full, blood rushing to my extremities as my heart pounds in my ears and the world around me fades.
My mind whirls. Holy shit. I'm kissing the gigantic purple alien who turned my life upside down.
...No, I'm kissing a man. Just a man, who is kissing me back.
Expertly, at that.
His full lips begin to sink against mine in an enchanting rhythm, his beard stubble tickling my chin and lips. He tastes warm and fresh and alive, and I can't get enough of this sensation. Every feeling of desire I've had since waking up with him wrapped around me, since his hands explored my body, is intensifying, my need for him overwhelming every thought in my head. I hum softly into the kiss as it heats, with his hands slipping down my back and gripping the curve of my bottom, crushing his own body against mine.
We continue to explore this new sensation, both of our bodies beginning to relax into one another as we enjoy the moment.
Smiling into his lips, I move to wrap my hands up behind his neck, but a sharp pain stops me, sharp enough to make me break the kiss and hiss inwardly. I feel the ghost of the dagger that had pierced my side digging its way through my pain threshold.
Fyr removes his hands from me immediately. "Are you alright?"
"Y-yeah, it's just-" I feel another jazz of pain and hesitate, "-my side," I groan. The potion's wearing off, and stretching my arms over my head was probably the last thing I should have done.
Goddamn it, I'm swearing internally.
Fyr retrieves a red potion within seconds, uncorking it and offering it to me. I swallow the liquid gratefully and sigh. A few very long, slow seconds of silence pass as we both attempt to recover, our eyes locking and then darting away.
I finally start to relax as the pain ebbs. "You know, I hope those things don't have any lasting side effects or anything, because I've probably had more of those than is healthy since arriving on this planet."
He clears his throat, still working on changing gears from what we were just doing to now.
"I uh, wouldn't worry. I've had much stronger doses much more frequently."
The potion's effects seep in and settle over the wound in my side, and I'm finally able to exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding. My eyes flick to Fyr. He's glued his attention to my injury.
He makes to lift my shirt at the side. "Mind if I check it?"
"Go for it." I watch him unabashedly now, studying his handsome face, the ghost of his searing kisses echoing still on my slightly swollen lips.
He gingerly tugs my shirt up until he can see what he's looking for, and he gives a soft tsk with his tongue.
"We ought to get you to a healer. It's bleeding through. These potions really aren't doing much."
He pulls from his bag a thick woolen sweater, yet again far too large for me, but I don't push a single question when he coaxes it over my head, being careful not to jar my injury as he gently pulls my arms through it. Now I'm in layers, swallowed by a sweater that smells like a strange mixture of lanolin and his familiar pine.
"Why don't I just port us out? I can take us back to Dalaran. As long as you don't mind giving up the chase for Amanda. That merchant will just have to make do on his own."
"Only if you have the energy," Fyr gives me a gauging look before stuffing another item in his pack. "I don't want you stressing your body."
"Well, if I'm not stressing it, you'd better be," I giggle half to myself, even though I know he can hear me.
He turns his head sideways to look at me, muttering under his breath, "Woman, as soon as you're healed, I swear..."
Now it's my turn to let all my rated-R thoughts flick across my expression. He winks at me teasingly and hoists his bag and bedroll onto his shoulder. A frustrated smile slides across my face, and I turn around with a quiet laugh.
"Give me just a moment."
"Really, though, Ava, if this is going to be too much for you, there are other ways-"
Fyr doesn't finish his sentence. In only a couple seconds, I manage to produce a swirling oval portal into Dalaran, confused thoughts of returning home still swirling in my head. But then my body does lose some strength, and my knees quiver just a single degree.
I have no clue how, but Fyr catches that weakness, and immediately he loops a hand behind me.
"I'm good," I walk a step toward the portal.
Again, though, my leg quivers weakly as soon as I put weight on it, and Fyr chuckles.
"Sure, you're fine," he scoops me up easily into his arms, gentle in his hold but firm enough that I accept my fate as he carries me through the portal.
The moment we step through, though, I have a double-take at where we are. This is Dalaran, judging by the decor of the place, which is where we need to be, but I don't think I've been in this particular room before.
"Well-! Er, welcome back," comes a surprised voice to our left, and Fyr and I both whip our heads to see Khadgar, of all people, lounging in a bed with a book in his lap.
This is his room. This is his freaking bedroom.
Oh my god.
I must have thought of Khadgar when I was summoning our portal, and...
Fyr gives me a questioning look, then sets me back on my feet. He doesn't let go of me, just braces me.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" I blurt at Khadgar, who hasn't so much as sat up straighter. He's still just chilling there on his bed in purple and gold pajamas, with his thick book and his reading glasses, peering at both of us with a level of mild surprise.
I limp sideways toward the door apologetically.
He glances at his wrist, which sports a silver watch, then back at me.
"You know, it's quarter-past midnight," he comments, glancing at the way I'm walking, "and it appears you're also injured. I understand you're eager, but I do think tomorrow would be a better time for you to come discuss your return home, yeah?" I know by his tone that I am being teased. He glances at Fyr. "Perhaps you could, you know, help her to a healer? She can't go home in that state."
"Yes, of course," Fyr ushers me gently to the doorway. "Our apologies."
Khadgar laughs to himself and waves it aside.
"Come to the main foyer of this building tomorrow a little before noon. I'll gather the people I've summoned and prepare to get you back where you need to be," he says to me.
"Okay, thank you. Sorry," I echo Fyr as we escape, closing the door behind us, and I exhale hard.
"I can't believe I did that," I whisper frantically.
Fyr's biting back a smile, and he lifts me up again easily, carrying me down a few flights of stairs, through some hallways, and out of a large double doorway that leads into the streets of the city. The night sky is inky black, but soft lanterns light the streets around us. There's enough night life still out right now that the streets are nowhere near deserted, and Fyr weaves us through foot traffic to the nearest infirmary.
"I'm sure I can walk," I reason, but he just shrugs with me still scooped in his arms bridal-style.
"It's faster this way," he says in an almost teasing way. "No offense, but you're very short."
I roll my eyes but bite my tongue. I'm pretty sure he's the freak here, not me.
We arrive in the infirmary. It's mostly empty, so the priests here make quick work of my injuries. They're impressed with Fyr's bandaging and even say it's the best non-professional job they've ever had walk into their station. They clean me up well, knit my skin and muscle back together in a matter of about two minutes, and all but push me off their table.
It's unreal how much better I feel, and how badly I must have felt before the healing to have this much improvement. After feeling crappy for a length of time, I guess you start to forget what it's like to feel normal.
Fyr turns to leave, but I stop him.
"You were injured too," I reason. "At least have them look you over."
"I'm fine," he shrugs me off.
"I can see the cuts on your hands and arms," I argue. "Let them heal you."
He gives me an exasperated look and turns around, shares a couple words with the priest nearest to us, and allows the priest to administer to him a basic healing ward. I can see the reddish, angry welts and scabbed cuts on his forearms begin to fade, and feel better. Some of those could easily have come from the razor-sharp ice explosion I caused earlier.
As soon as the healer is done, Fyr makes to leave again. He seems impatient, and I can't figure out why. But, I follow after him, body now back to a decent ninety-five percent, and after only minutes, I promptly smack into him when he suddenly stops walking at the entrance of our building. Freaking elf and his millisecond reaction speeds making me look like an idiot all the time.
"What?" I ask bluntly, wondering why he isn't moving.
A few beats pass, and he turns and peers at me.
"So, this is...this is it, then," he says, hiding any regret under a veil of encouragement. "We can get your things packed up and ready tonight."
"Er, yeah," I'm thrown off a bit, but entirely distracted by the look he's giving me. He has this lighthearted expression that doesn't meet his eyes. Maybe that's what I look like, too.
He lets me go inside first and follows behind.
We're silent as we walk up to the large suite that we had been staying in. Fyr unlocks it, and I head to my room to gather up my few belongings. I still am lucky to have my purse after all of this time. Not really thinking, I step back and sit onto my mattress, purse in hands, and peer into it.
So many things in here, little artifacts of my life. All untouched. I dig into it and pull out my smartphone. At my touch, its screen gives a gentle glow of a green lightning symbol that means it's charging, and I feel tiny bits of my magic seeping out of my fingers. I sit there staring at it, shocked, feeling like I'm being yanked violently back to reality. How much would I truly be giving up if I never went home?
A shadow in my doorway yanks me out of my thoughts, and I peer up at Fyr's attractive face. He's watching the object in my hands.
"What is that?" he takes a step further into the room.
"It's my phone. On Earth, we can talk to anyone anywhere in the world as long as we have one of these that's working properly."
"And it's...not magic?" he inquires, sitting down beside me and staring at it as it gives the faint green glow on the screen.
"Well, I would say it's not, but... it lit up when I picked it up. Normally its battery has to be charged with an electric current to work. So that's confusing."
"So, like gnomish works, then," he says mostly to himself.
I nod without really knowing what he's talking about, and look back down at it. It says it's already on 4% after only a minute or so of sitting in my palm. I take a leap and press the power button, and it springs to life.
It prompts my pin to unlock it, and I do it without having to think, falling back into the regular rhythm of something that makes sense. It's weirdly comforting. I swipe through the apps on the dim screen, noting I of course have no service, so I pull up my photo gallery.
I find a few selfies where I'm wearing makeup and using filters and grinning into my camera blissfully. There's a picture of my brother at his graduation. Seeing his face gives me a rush of pain. I've gone months and months without seeing my family before and been fine, but now, it's different. It's like mourning a death. My death, though, not theirs, which is even more confusing than anything else. Or maybe I'm mourning leaving this place?
"Your relative?" Fyr's voice is gentle right next to me, and I jump and wipe away a tear before it has a chance to fall.
"Yeah, my brother," I answer quickly. I sniff and lock the phone again.
"You look alike. It will be good to see him again," he smiles at me, misreading my teary eyes.
I don't say a word. I don't know what to say or think about all of this. I can't leave this world and return home like everything is fine and live my life like normal. I have magic here. I'm literally sitting here charging a phone with my bare hands. Everything I thought I knew has been changed now.
I glance up. There's a mirror on the wall in front of us. I haven't looked at my reflection in a long time. I'm... different. I can see the corners of my jaw and chin are far more pronounced, and my collarbones are deeply shadowed. I am a little more muscular. It's bizarre; I don't even look like my pictures much anymore. I look somewhat tired, but my eyes have a stronger spark in them than they ever did on Earth.
My eyes flick to the reflection of Fyr beside me. I've never gotten to see how dramatic our difference is in size; it's shocking. He looks like a giant with me beside him, even with the way he's sitting sort of hunched. I also take note of his body language in comparison to mine. Even though we're just sitting there side-by-side, everything about him says that he's tuned in to me, down to the way he has one arm on the bed halfway behind me bracing him upright, and his eyes are resting on my face. Then I notice the way my knees have relaxed toward him and I'm leaning in his direction.
Yeah. No chemistry there at all, my sarcastic inner voice snorts.
"Ava?" he coaxes. "Let's get your things packed."
I finally turn my head and meet his glance.
"Right. Packing. Sounds good." I stand from the bed and look around. I barely have anything here.
"Er," I begin again, and he stands up and laughs.
"Yeah, I know, not much," he says, "I'll be right back."
He leaves my room. I gather up what little I do have here and stack it all on the bed. Some clothes, a hairbrush Fyr bought for me, random toiletries, my leather jacket, and my purse.
Just then Fyr walks back in carrying his old woven burlap bag and begins organizing the items on the bed into it.
"Whoa, wait," I interrupt him. "You're giving me your bag? The bag you almost killed a guy for like four times?"
He smiles at me. Again, the look doesn't meet his eyes. "Just...something to remember me by when you've gone."
The words send unexpected razors through my heart.
"Fyr," I begin argumentatively, and can't say anything else. There's a lump in my throat now, and my eyes sting. I'm not going to fucking cry right now; that's the last thing I need, dissolving into an emotional mess.
He must have heard the emotion behind that one little word, because he pauses what he's doing and looks back at me, and finally his expression has a hint of fracture in it as well. He bites the inside of his cheek and continues putting my things into the bag, but that only takes a few more seconds, and then he straps it shut. He turns and hands it to me, not making eye contact.
"It's too bad we couldn't send your motorbike back with you," he says with an attempt at humor, and then without saying anything else, he starts to walk out of my room.
I'm still standing there with his - my - bag in my hands, swallowing back tears.
"F-Fyr," I say again, turning toward him. He stops and looks at me. His brows are tight.
"I don't-" I begin, not even knowing where I'm going with what I'm saying. "I don't know if I... I don't want to..."
"You know it will be harder to leave if you stay longer," he says softly, reading my mind. "I'm certain you'll be glad to be home."
Finally, a tear escapes my lid and leaves a hot trail down my cheek.
Maybe I don't want that to be my home.
I feel more comfortable and safe and free with him than I have anywhere else in my life.
But I don't say that.
"God, why is this so easy for you?" I murmur half under my breath.
He freezes, staring at me.
"Easy? Why would you assume this is easy for me?"
"Well-," I balk. "You're just so calm and stoic and assured."
"I just know that I don't want you losing your entire life and family to a rash decision. And that helps me...reason."
"So you're a rash decision, huh?" I tilt my head.
He blinks at me. "Hm?"
"You're the number one reason I want to stay."
"You want to stay?"
I stare at him. I realized I haven't flat out said that until now.
"I..." I flounder. "I mean, of course I want to stay, but..."
"But you have to go home," he finishes for me, offering me a tight smile. "We put it off too long as it is. Get some rest, it's a big day tomorrow."
"What, nothing to say except, 'go to bed'?"
He looks at me in confusion, thrown by my sudden tone. I'm also confused by myself, but not enough to stop.
"I think I'm, like, falling in love with you or something," I practically choke out, adrenaline tickling my nerves. "I'm having this huge fucking crisis here, and you're just so passive about all of it, and it's honestly really humiliating."
He's staring at me now with a look more intense than I've ever seen on him, but he doesn't talk.
I huff in frustration.
"Look," my shoulders fall. "Sorry. I'm probably just... hormonal. Or something. I don't know. You should just go."
"Ava..." he takes a step toward me.
"Sto-op," I groan. "You're gonna get all sympathetic now and that's even more pathetic of me. I'm sorry I said anything."
"I'm not happy about it either, Ava," he says bluntly, which makes me meet his stare. "This is... incredibly unfortunate that we can't have more time together. I... It's not easy for me to say goodbye. If I don't force myself to accept that you absolutely must go back, I might not have the strength to do it. That's why I'm behaving like this. Of course I'll miss you, Light damn it, but we have to be realistic. We both know you have to leave, and we have known all along."
Halfway through his little speech, I've started crying. Like, really crying. I haven't cried like this the entire time I have been on this planet. Every injury and negative emotion I've had here feels like nothing compared to this. If I'd been told at the beginning of all this that the worst thing I'd leave this place with was a broken heart, I'd have laughed.
"I started to think maybe I was never going to go home," I admit. "And it wasn't the worst realization. It wasn't actually that hard to accept. I would be losing my old life, and I was still okay with it, because I knew that I'd be here with you. I knew I would have m-my alien bodyguard, and that made me so h-happy. It was like, it didn't matter where I was; with you, I began to feel like I was h-home."
Fyr's expression begins to change, but I don't get to watch his face, because he reaches out and wraps me into a hug, crushing me into his arms. I give another quiet choke against his torso and cling to him. He doesn't say a thing, just holds me while I cry silently.
Then it's like his restraint snaps, because he tilts his head down, wraps one hand into my hair, and suddenly, he is kissing me.
I make a sound of surprise into his mouth but lean into the kiss, my tears mixing in with the taste of his lips. Our kiss before was more tentative and building, like we had been testing the waters, but this one is entirely different. He works his lips into mine like hes trying to memorize the feeling, mapping my body with his hands, breathing in my scent.
I realize he's kissing me like it's the last time he ever will. Because it is.
This just intensifies my tears to where I almost cannot think straight, and I hate myself for pulling away, but I do exactly that. I let my forehead fall against his chest, give one last sob, and hug my arms around myself and take a couple steps backward.
Fyr's hands fall to his sides, but I know he understands. After a long silence, he turns and leaves my room, leaving the door cracked open. I hear his footsteps recede into the living room, and hear him relax down into a sofa near the fireplace.
I attempt to regain my composure, pain echoing from my heart to my throat, a cold burn that I feel in my entire body. I try to distract myself by changing out of my clothes, but I only manage to put on a thin night slip before feeling the pain disorient me again.
I stumble back and slump into my bed, and I try to reason with it.
I mean... who says me leaving is permanent? If I came here once, it could happen again. Maybe all it takes is some lightning and some momentum. Like Back to the Future, or something.
But some weird, wiser part of me feels the truth: that if I leave, there's a very good chance I will never be back. I will never see this place or it's people again. I will never have him.
Ever since meeting this guy, it's like this entire new chapter of my life has begun. I've gotten to experience so many incredible things that I still can't totally believe actually happened. It's like my life has transcended to something bigger, and I want to find out what it all means. I want to know why I am here, what my place is in this world.
I can't find that out by going back and buying a house, working a normal job and dying at 80.
I want to explore what I have with Fyr.
Especially after this, we would have to be total fucking morons to ignore that there's something between us. Something deep and ancient and true that I don't entirely understand.
I realize now from where I'm sitting that I can see him.
He's sitting in the loveseat across from the fireplace, staring at the flames. The edges of his face are illuminated in the flickering orange light. His shoulders hold tension in them, despite the relaxed way he is leaning his arms over the back of the seat.
I watch him for a long time, losing track of my thoughts. His one hand that rests on the spine of the seat is tightening and then loosening, and I feel like he is wrestling with his inner thoughts as well.
He is so beautiful. I know, I think this a lot, but moments like this really stun me. I'm staring at the profile of his face through the crack in my doorway, in awe of his perfect structure and features, features that pack a great dose of emotion as I see his brows are tightened, eyes ever staring at the flames.
Suddenly, something clicks.
This is our last night. Our last moments to spend together before it's all over. Why in the world should I spend the entire night moping around when it's more than obvious what I want - and what he wants? Years from now, when I'm back on Earth and reminiscing, I don't want to look back on tonight and hate myself for not picking my sorry ass up and going after what I really want tonight.
Bashfulness and nervousness be damned, I need this.
My feet carry me with a mind of their own. Before I really process it, I've tiptoed out of my room to the elf on the sofa. I walk around to face him, standing between him and the fire so that he is in my shadow. My feet sink in to the soft, plush rug.
His bright eyes lock onto mine, but he doesn't move a muscle. I'm standing here in only my underwear and a very thin sleep shirt.
I take a partial step toward him. Do I say something? Or should I just...show him what I want? He shifts minutely when I move toward him, like he's orbiting me.
I make the decision by letting one thin strap of my night slip slide down and off of my arm, and then the other, and the garment slips down my body and onto the floor. Fyr inhales deeply, but still doesn't move. I'm left now bared in only my underwear, body outlined with the illumination of flame, and I watch Fyr's lips part and eyes travel down my body, glowing brighter as they dilate. His chest rises and falls more rapidly.
I take another step toward him, and he sits up completely straight now, eyes not leaving my naked form, battling between my eyes and the rest of me.
His hands twitch forward, but he promptly holds them still, eyes darting up to latch onto mine, questioning and full of want.
I draw forward until I'm standing between where his knees jut out from the edge of the couch on either side of me, and with a rush of confidence, I take his hand and gently pull his palm up, letting it rest on my bare skin just beneath my breast, so that his fingers press into the soft mound as his palm falls against my ribs. The skin is hypersensitive to the deep heat of his hand, and my nipples harden.
He exhales hard, and his hand explores for a short moment before he leans forward, braces me with his other arm, and pulls me into his lap so I'm straddling him.
Without a single word, he leans in and closes his mouth around one of my breasts. My body erupts in sensations, and my head rolls back to the side as I give a soft hum of approval.
His body heat warms me even more than the fire, his searing lips leaving hot trails on my skin as his mouth explores my breasts, and then travels to the crook of my neck. He leaves hot, intense kisses against my skin that make my heart shudder and leap, and then makes his way back to my lips, catching my breath as he kisses me more deeply than ever.
His hips grind up into me, and I feel his arousal between my legs pressing through his pants. With a sudden need, I tug at his shirt impatiently. He sits forward and pulls it off over his head, and I freeze for a moment. I've never been this close to him like this, our naked skin touching everywhere. Every inch of his broad, sculpted chest and arms is at my leisure, and I steal a second to relish in it. His narrow, lean waist and hips give way for a full, muscular upper body with unbelievable power beneath it. Just in the way his muscles flex and jump with the tiniest movements, I'm entranced.
"God, you're fucking perfect," I breathe in a whisper, hands trailing along his chest and then his stomach, fingers tickling the trail of dark purplish hair from his belly downward into his pants. The bulge I'm sitting on gives a slight pulse as my fingers reach his belt line.
"Was thinking the same," he purrs, hands gripping into the soft swell of my hips, and then sliding his hands along my underwear.
I pull suggestively at his pants, lifting myself up from his lap on my knees so that he has access to them. They need to be on the floor, preferably thirty seconds ago.
He obliges, shucking the clothing he has left, and my heart does another flip flop when I process that I now have Fyr underneath me entirely nude, awaiting my next move.
That was easy. I should have done this ages ago.
I glance down at his manhood and feel a rush of excitement. I don't know what I expected. Of course he would have regular male anatomy. Maybe I am also relieved he doesn't have, like, pincers or tentacles down there or something.
Another thing I notice in that split second is that he is...quite large. Of course he is. Any man who's almost eight feet tall and proportionately sized everywhere else would be...that size.
Good lord. If I weren't so turned on right now, I might be genuinely fearful of what this guy's body is capable of.
Still wearing my underwear, I gently lower myself down onto his lap, just a little further back than before. My hand slips down and feels for his member, fingertips brushing the velvety sensitive skin as I find it, and he jumps a little. His hands fall back on my hips and grip into me as I tighten my hold and tantalizingly drag my fingers along his length.
His eyes flutter shut for a half-second before they reopen and latch onto mine, burning with an awakened hunger. He lets me play and explore for what I'm sure is as long as he's capable of doing.
Suddenly he has picked me up and gently lowered me down into the soft, clean golden rug on the floor, and he's on top of me now, lips meeting mine as his body hovers over me and his big arms encase themselves on either side of me. I'm engulfed in his scent, a mixture of pine and an attractive masculine musk that washes over me and makes me feel at home.
Then his lips leave mine and travel down to my neck, trailing to my chest and then my abdomen until they reach my navel, and the sensation of his lips on such untouched areas of my body sends little stimulating shocks through my lower half. His fingers glide along my waist and downward, catching the cloth of my underwear as they go, and tug the garment off and over my feet.
I'm now exposed to him entirely. My heart pounds with thrill as he spreads my legs apart gently, my thoughts going haywire as I feel his hot breath on my thighs. I grant him further access by letting my knees relax to either side of him, and jump when his fingers brush along my inner thighs like feathers and then tickle along the super-sensitive mound between my legs.
I can already feel myself becoming wet, and he's barely done a thing. He takes his fingers, careful not to use his claw-like nails, and spreads me apart, exposing my inner petals. It's all done as if in slow motion, and yet everything is happening so fast, I can barely focus on one sensation before a new one takes its place.
And then his tongue is on me, and I lose all cognitive thought.
I can't pay attention to the sounds I'm making, completely wrapped up in what's happening to my body at his discretion. This is the first time I've ever had someone do this to me, and what little is left of my functioning brain suspects that this man in particular is a special case; every single movement he makes is calculated and perfect, as if reading my mind. Without meaning to, I recall James mentioning something about elves and their 'skills' and immediately understand exactly what he's talking about now.
Fyr is gently, gradually building me up, rising and falling in waves of pleasure, not letting me climax but also not letting me catch a break.
My legs quiver violently as I do everything in my power not to crush his head between them, and I'm relieved he has his strong hands braced around both of my thighs because I am beginning to lose control. My muscles flex and shudder of their own accord. I feel myself break into a sweat as I curl my fingers into his silky purple hair. My heart is thrumming in my ears, breathing erratic. I have no sense of time, but I can judge by how close I am to hitting that edge that time is running out.
Just then, he increases his speed, and I have a mere five seconds before everything washes over me at once, and I finally am launched into the peak of my pleasure. My body comes undone for him, waves and waves of intense euphoria echoing from my core to my fingertips. I have to remind myself to suck in a gasp of air.
Still reeling from the aftershocks, I am barely aware of him coming to rest on top of me again, and he meets my heavily-lidded gaze with an irresistible look of triumph. He nuzzles his mouth against my neck under my ear, kissing the delicate skin.
"I have wanted to do that for a very long time, Ava Warner," he purrs. I feel his resonant voice deep inside me and feel my nerves coming to life again at the sound of it.
I reach up and take the sides of his face, kissing him deeply and curling my fingers into his hair.
His hips rest down against mine, skin against skin, and yet again I'm reminded of how large he is. The narrowest parts of his waist are still bigger than my widest measurements, and he truly does engulf me on all sides when he's over me. I do my best to let him come to rest between my legs, thankful for my decent range of flexibility, and I feel a flutter of excitement and nervousness when the tip of his member slides along my slick folds.
His eyes meet mine, just inches away, their glow pouring into me as I take in his expression. He's waiting for me to make the next move, a look of daring desire waiting on his face.
I reach down between us and line him up with my entrance.
"I'm all yours; just don't break me," I can't help but giggle.
"You are in good hands," he murmurs against my lips, and then flexes his hips against mine as he simultaneously presses a deep kiss to my mouth.
He silences my groan as he enters me, and then he breaks the kiss with a pleasurable groan of his own. It's an incredibly snug fit, but he has sufficiently prepared me to receive him, so all I feel is a satisfying intense fullness and a quiver of something in my lower belly as I feel him twitch inside me as he adjusts as well.
"Spirits," he hisses. "It's, ah, been a while since I've done this. I may not have much in the way of time."
I giggle again, which must flex my lower muscles, because he shudders and gives a shaky breath, then bucks his hips into me.
I gasp.
He buries his face into my neck and begins to sink himself inside me, and I lose myself in the feeling, head falling back and legs wrapping up around his thrusting hips. My hands explore his muscular back and shoulders, fingers curling into his hot flesh as he plunges his hips against me, as gentle as he's capable of being in the state he's in. My heart is pounding in my chest, fluttering erratically as he grinds against my sensitive mound, rough and deep and perfect.
Our connection is so full and complete in this moment I can barely breathe. Each time he thrusts into me I gasp and cling to him just a little tighter, our bodies finally doing what comes naturally after we prevented them for so long. It's better than I had imagined; it's like we truly fit one another. It feels right.
His breathing is turning to short pants, and an occasional groan that vibrates my chest. His muscles are becoming tighter, and I feel him becoming harder inside of me.
I get the feeling he's about to pull out, because his arms start to lift him up from me, and cool air trickles over my breasts which had previously felt the strong muscles of his chest.
"No, stay," I tug at him frantically, "inside me."
I know it isn't smart or logical. But I do not want this to be over. I don't want to stop feeling this connection.
He shudders and freezes for half a second, and I lock eyes with him, pleading. His resolve breaks, and he drops back down and kisses me deeply, driving his hips home and providing that intensely full feeling yet again.
His breath hitches in his throat, and he buries his chin into the crook of my neck again.
He gives a few more irregular thrusts, and then he releases.
I feel an intense pulsation of heat deep in my belly and quick throbbing of his member as he climaxes, and he gasps a heady breath into my shoulder. A wave of pleasure trickles through me from my core, like his warmth is spreading through me, and I relax my cheek against his as he continues to twitch now and then in aftershocks while still inside me.
We remain there for a long while catching our breath. I still cling to him, addicted to the sensations my body is overloaded with right now, and he recovers from his high. I feel his heartbeat against my chest as it slowly returns to a normal rhythm. His member gradually softens, and finally it is time for us to pull apart. He gently removes himself and rolls onto his back, pulling me onto his chest.
I realize he's peering at me when he gently pushes a lock hair out of my face. I give him a lazy smile.
"Why didn't we do that when I first got here?" I mumble. My voice has a husky sound to it.
His breathing is still a little deep. He doesn't say anything, just leans down and kisses my forehead, then lets his head fall back and stares at the ceiling as he holds me.
I can barely hold on for a few more seconds, with his fingers softly caressing my hair, before I doze off.
Helloo readers!
Thanks everyone for your patience, and thank you to all who have followed/favorited/reviewed and read this story! Your support is my fuel.