They haven't even made it up the stairs and already Hilda is blissfully lost in the demand of Caspar's fervent kiss. She can taste the wine on his lips and he can surely taste it on hers. Yet he's intoxicating her more than the alcohol ever could. The rapid pounding of his heart pulses against her chest, the percussion out of time with her own frantic heartbeat. The banister digs into her back as he pins her between the wall and his strong chest. One hand is cupped insistently around her cheek, locking her chin in place and urging her mouth to stay interweaved with his. The other presses into the small of her back, forcing her navel flush against the seam of his pants.
Hilda shifts, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, trying to draw him even closer. The fabric of her dress pulls at her hip and even without looking, she's certain that he's stepping on the long flowing train. She forgives him instantly.
It's their wedding night. Tonight, she's more than smitten, she's utterly captivated with him.
Caspar's lips trail to her neck and he sucks a love bite just under her jawline. She shivers and can't stop from whimpering. Hilda tilts her head to afford him better access and her eyes open blearily.
The candles in the chandelier above glow like starlight.
Like the canopy of stars they sat under on the first night of leaving war, friends, and familiar dwellings. For once the beauty of the night didn't hold obscured threats and the promise of morning wasn't uncertain. Wrapped in Caspar's arms besides a crackling fire, she felt safe and certain for the first time in six years. Beyond the horizon lurked adventure instead of conquest, the bliss of living instead of the fear of death.
"Let's promise each other something," he said, nudging her gently. Hilda leaned her head on his shoulder with an inquisitive hum, urging him to continue. "Let's live better than everyone else. The war's over, nothing's holding us back, so… let's just let loose and be true to ourselves. Do what makes us happy, you know? Go wild! Really thrive."
"You must be the only person alive who can make living a competition," she teased, earning from him a bashful chuckle. She snuggled closer and whispered, "Sounds wonderful."
Caspar's hot breath tickles her skin as his mouth lingers over the swell of her breast, tasting her unabashedly. Hilda's hand slides down his back and squeezes his ass. He grunts, bucking his hips into her. His head shoots up to meet her eyes.
"Couldn't wait until we made it to the room, hmm?" Hilda smirks and trails her hand around his hips to the bulge of his pants. Caspar hisses when her fingers press against his erection.
It sparks something feral in him and he leans forward with a leer fixed on her. "You know I've never had much patience," he says, closing in to claim her lips again.
Hilda intercepts a finger between their mouths and he reels back, eyes full of disappointment.
"Now, now, my dear Caspar, have some restraint." He resists but she manages to push him off a few inches. "How about this? I'll race you to the room." Dark, heady eyes flit to competitive amusement and he smirks. Hilda knows full well there's no way he'll step down from a challenge.
He nudges her back against the wall. "You? Racing? What's the catch?"
Hilda glides her perfectly manicured nails up the curves of his biceps and purrs, "Whoever wins decides how we spend the beginning of our first night as husband and wife. If you win, I'll even do things I normally wouldn't. Like..." She brings her hand in front of her mouth. One finger hooks and she languidly licks it from bottom to top, flicking her tongue at the top. She revels in the shiver she feels coursing up his body. Next, she draws her finger into her mouth and sucks, ever so slowly—painfully slow by indication of his held breath—pulling it out. She releases it with a pop. Caspar swallows.
"Perhaps my husband can persuade me to reward him for his victory." She cocks her head. "If he wins, of course."
He scoffs, "I'll win, no sweat. Hope you're ready to dish out whatever I want."
She offers a cute shrug. "It's a deal."
With that she pushes him away with a ferocity reserved for her greatest enemies. Hilda picks up the hem of her dress and rushes up the stairs. The clicks of her heels echo with each step.
A shout berates her "cheating," and she giggles at his chagrin. She can hear the quick plodding of his pursuit and when she reaches the top step, he's right beside her.
He sprints ahead and reaches for the door, but stops abruptly when Hilda cries, "Ow, ow, ow!" Caspar turns, concern warring with skepticism on his face. She clutches her ankle and hops forward on one foot, continuing to whimper. He steps back towards her with caution and crosses his arms. He doesn't look convinced.
"Ah, come on, you're not really hurt." A pause. "Are you?"
"Ouch. My ankle," she whines. "I think I twisted it in my heels."
Caspar stoops down to inspect, and when he's about to take her foot in his hands, she runs off full of laughter. Right before she can wrench the door open Caspar pounces on her, slamming her right against the wood.
"You don't play fair, Hilda," he huffs along the top of her ear. There's good humor in his tone despite the accusation.
She offers a sheepish grin and rubs her foot along his calf. "It's just so hard to run in these. How else could I compete with a swift and fearless knight?"
When the Goneril army returned from Fodlan's Throat, Hilda pushed past the rest of the procession to leap into Caspar's arms, ignoring the blood and dirt coating his armor. He slumped into their embrace, betraying the assurances he spoke.
"I see why you favor him so, my dear sister," Holst boasted suddenly and clapped Caspar so hard on the back he straightened instantly. "A most commendable performance out there! I must confess, I was afraid you would have become a bit rusty since the war."
"Please!" Hilda rolled her eyes. "Caspar never took a break. He'd get up before the sun rose to train every morning no matter where we were."
"Excellent! It shows, indeed." He clapped Caspar on the back again. "If only your diligence would have rubbed off on my sister."
Hilda's heart sunk. An old wound reopened.
Caspar squeezed her. "I think that's unfair," he replied. "Hilda makes really amazing jewelry and sold a ton to merchants during our travels. That took a lot of 'diligence'."
"Pretty sure you could have won fair and square," Caspar states as he reaches around her for the doorknob. "You're still an amazing fighter. Lucky for you, you're also a really charming cheater." The door opens with a click and they tumble into the room.
As soon as they're tucked inside, Hilda pushes him against the wall, standing on her toes to reclaim his lips. Their teeth click together and her tongue bats against his with a renewed, vicious hunger. Caspar reacts just as fiercely, groaning into her mouth. Her fingers glide up his chest and splay out across the breast of his doublet. His heart drums against her touch as she plucks each button free, working quickly down from his neck to his waist.
Caspar's own hands bump against hers as he fumbles over the last few buttons. As soon as the last pops lose, Hilda helps him tug the garment off his shoulders and it's abandoned to the ground. Immediately, she begins on his undershirt.
He breaks their kiss and casts her an amused smile. "Look who's lacking patience now." He weaves his hand under the laces of her dress and pulls.
Hilda raises an eyebrow and swats his hand away. "Are you really going to lecture me about patience?"
"H-hey," he mutters, a bit ruefully. "I know when I should be patient…It's just actually doing it."
"Expert in theory, just not execution, is that how it is?"
"Something like that." Caspar grins before he enthusiastically seizes her mouth, swallowing the gasp that his ardent action shook from her.
Wandering hands attempt to undress her again and she knows he's bound to tear or stretch something if she doesn't intervene. But Goddess, she's paralyzed. Hot breath tickles her skin as his teeth nip her earlobe and tug beligently enough to earn him a feeble whimper. Reluctantly Hilda breaks away, and the air chills the wet marks left in his mouth's absence.
Hilda lifts up her long, pink tresses to reveal the laces of her dress clearly. "Be gentle."
Callous fingers strum down the crisscross of the lace, brushing against her bare shoulder-blade and Hilda trembles. The fabric around her breasts and waist slacks more and more with each of Caspar's clumsy pulls. The task reaps delayed rewards however, and she can hear his breath quicken in frustration. He pulls a bit too hard and there's a rip of shearing fabric .
"Caspar!" she whines.
He smooches an apology onto her shoulder with a mumbled, "Sorry!"
Maybe she should have designed a simpler wedding dress. Maybe she should have made a lot of different choices. Wedding days were supposed to be perfect and…
"Do you think everyone was happy with the party?" she asks suddenly. "I know Mercedes and Lysithea really pulled a miracle for us, but the cake wasn't very…fancy looking. And the bard played the same songs over and over, and—"
A final tug and the bodice gives way completely. "Hey, now. Nothing to worry about, Hilda. Everyone had a good time. The cake tasted great and the music was fun. And besides…" He gathers her against his chest. "You were by my side the whole night. That makes it pretty close to perfect, don't you think?"
"You're supposed to tell me how awful and selfish I was," Hilda sobbed, hot tears wetting his neck as she melted into his arms. "You're not supposed to comfort me."
"I got you. I got you," he repeated soothingly. "Just let it out, Hilda. He was your friend, I get it. Dorothea's gonna be fine. Linhardt patched her up. No one's mad at you."
"But Lorenz—I was in charge of the front lines, I should have…"
Caspar's hold tightened, and although it anchored her wild emotions, she hated herself for how much anxiety it relieved. "It's not as simple as throwing a few blows. It's a lot to take in, I know, and we're all gonna screw up sometime. I'm still gonna be here no matter what."
"You're right," she whispers, leaning into his touch. "It was perfect. Thanks, Caspar. "
He releases her after a final, reassuring squeeze and she slips out of the dress, making sure he watches as she slinks each stockinged leg out. Carefully, she gathers it up and hangs it over a nearby chair.
He's just finished removing his undershirt when she comes back. On a mischievous whim Hilda places her heeled-foot on his chest as high up as she can stretch. The antic takes him by surprise and he blankly stares down at it.
"Could you help me out?" She rotates her foot so the tip of the heel digs into his pectoral.
"Oh. Sure." One of his hands wraps around her ankle as the other slips the shoe off. As he drops the high heel to the ground, he adds in a low almost timid voice, "I should've said this earlier, but you looked really good today." Absentmindedly, he massages the top of her foot. It feels nice after standing all day. She shouldn't complain, but…
It's fun to tease him.
"No other compliments? Just 'good'?"
He shakes his head with a flush and attempts to amend. "Great today! I mean, not that you normally don't—'cause you do! But, uh, today even more, uh, 'wow,' you know?" He groans regrettably.
"Thanks" Hilda giggles, knowing he's trying, and Caspar's cheeks only redden. "You clean up pretty well yourself." She brushes a stray lock of hair from his eyes. "My handsome Caspar."
He waves his hand. "No, uh, that came out really lame. You deserve better than that today." He glances shyly down at her. "You look really beautiful, Hilda."
She switches legs, suspending the other heeled foot against his chest. "Oh, I see. So you like me in just my panties?"
"Heh, yeah—I mean—no! I mean, both are good." His bashfulness earns him more of Hilda's giggles. The other shoe slips off easily and falls to the ground with a small clang. However, Caspar doesn't let her leg drop. Instead, smug confidence re-emerges as he grasps her roughly under the thigh and pulls her flush against him. She loses balance but he steadies her. Unabashed exhilaration colors his tone when he growls, "But I gotta say, I'm looking forward to you with them off."
Effortlessly, Caspar slings up her other leg, lifting her high off the ground. The action startles a shriek from Hilda. Her nails dig into his shoulders and legs clutch around his waist. He looks up at her and his laugh is so pleased, so smug, but it's quickly suppressed when Hilda vengefully captures his mouth with hers.
Caspar grins wide and stupid when they part. There's no warning before he darts and tosses them both on the bed. She shrieks again but this time he muffles it as he eagerly recommences their exuberant kissing. With wet, sloppy, and incessant need, Caspar devours her, tongue sliding against hers, lips sipping hers up over and over. Hilda matches his demand, wanting him now more than ever.
When he finally gives her a recess, she pants hard, struggling to catch her breath. Caspar suckles her bottom lip and his rough hands radiate a blazing heat over her breasts as he kneads them, thumbs brushing against the peaks. Hilda rocks her hips against his groin and it draws a lustful hiss from his throat. He returns the tease with slow, heavy rolls, causing her to moan softly under his rhythm.
Hilda grapples for his hands, prying them off her chest and intertwining their fingers. She wants this to be romantic, she wants to be connected to him, she wants—
Suddenly Caspar stops everything. She opens her eyes and searches for his gaze but Caspar's is fixed on their intermingled left hands.
"Wow," he chortles. "You're really my wife now." He says it with innocent realization—as if it's just occurred to him. Gently, one finger caresses circles over her ring.
Hilda can't help but laugh. "It's been a few hours now." She grins and cups his face, drawing his gaze back to her.
He stiffens defensively. "I know. It's just…we're really family now. I mean…I've thought of you as family for years now, but now it's, I don't know, real."
The congratulations during their wedding banquet didn't seem to stop, but Hilda was happy with the attention. Though, she was taken aback when Holst, tear-stained streaks on his cheeks, suddenly slung his arm around Caspar's shoulder.
"I'm counting on you to take exceptional care of my sister," he boomed, "or mark my words, my axe and I will hunt you down." His inebriated threat fell short as he wobbled uneasily and Caspar scrambled to balance him.
"Holst!" Hilda chided. "Get a grip on yourself! You're acting completely embarrassing."
Caspar looped his fingers through hers and reassured Holst, "You've got nothing to worry about. I'm always gonna protect Hilda."
Holst sniffled as he teetered. "Right, right. The threat was just a…jest! You've proven your character in battle and off… I just-" He rubbed his nose across his sleeve and recomposed himself. "You bring light to Hilda's eyes. I'm proud to call you 'brother' from this day forth."
Caspar blinked, the title slowly sinking in, and then let out a chuckle. Warm, like a hearth.
"I've waited so long to call you only mine." Hilda's lips ghost across his cheek. "My love, my Caspar, my strong and brave husband." She lingers a kiss at the corner of his mouth and she can feel his grin stretch around it.
Hilda wonders if becoming family meant more to him than he'd admit. Caspar cut a separate path from House Bergliez long ago. Yet a bitter regret hung in his words of his father, for no matter what he could never earn the pride—the love—of a corpse.
The thought will have to be considered another day. She's completely distracted when he pulls away from her hands and begins a trail of surprisingly tender and sensual kisses across her chin, down her neck, and over the peaks of her breasts. So sweet they burn, leaving her dizzyingly breathless.
"I love you, Hilda," Caspar whispers with so much sincerity that she can't doubt his affection. Her heart flutters.
"I love you, Hilda," Caspar blurted in one heavy breath and Hilda pulled away from their entwined embrace. Hurt flashed in his eyes and he stammered to amend. "I—don't worry about it. I, uh, just said it without thinking." He gathered his clothes and left Hilda feeling cold.
Caspar didn't lie, but Hilda did, and she convinced herself she didn't reciprocate.
"I love you, Hilda!" Caspar bellowed across the swamp of enemy bodies, trudging slowly through them with a limp and a dripping wound. Every ally soldier trained their eyes on her, and she stomped over to him so embarrassed, so annoyed, so absolutely smitten that he flinched a moment before adding defiantly, "And I know you love me, too." A weight shift and a wince. "I hope."
Caspar read emotions like he read enemy movement, and this time she didn't lie to either of them.
"I love you, Hilda!" Caspar shouted so impossibly loud, louder even than the unrestrained "Whoo-hoo!" he exclaimed after sealing their union. Amusingly, his eyes grew wide with shock when she hollered an equally boisterous returning sentiment.
Caspar was headstrong and free. So was she, and she freely offered him all her love with no deceptions.
"I really love you," Caspar assures, hooking his thumbs around her underwear and tugging them down, garters and stockings following in suit. He casts them all aside with haste.
"Love me enough to indulge me now?" Hilda purrs and cards her fingers through his hair. "I won after all."
"That win...is debatable," he grumbles. Her pout competes with his frown, but he surrenders the fight with an ease never granted to any other opponent. "But yeah, I'm always happy to indulge you."
"I would like my husband's mouth."
Caspar draws his face close to hers. "Oh, yeah?" he says breathless, cyan eyes dark and heady. "Where?"
She sets a finger on top of his head and pushes it down, guiding him to her legs. "I think you know where."
"Oh." He doesn't hide his hesitation.
"What's wrong, Caspar?" Hilda wiggles her hips. "I'm so sweet. Don't you want to eat me up?"
"Sweet, sure...I guess." He knits his brows and this time he doesn't frown, he pouts. "You gotta kiss me after."
Hilda grimaces.
"I kiss you after!"
"Yeah, but, you're not exactly picky with what you put in your mouth." She squeezes her legs around his neck but Caspar easily pries them apart. "All right, all right, I'll kiss you after," she concedes. "There's no way I can resist kissing my husband tonight."
"Holding you to it." He slithers down the bed with a victorious grin and throws her legs over his shoulders.
"Thanks, you're such a sweetheart," Hilda coos, earning an amused eye roll from Caspar. Another lighthearted tease is at the tip of her tongue but it's cut off by a sharp inhale when his teeth unexpectedly graze against the side of her knee. Caspar watches her reaction and nips the same spot. Another bite further up, this time wet and wide. Followed by the shallowest sip of flesh. Then a long draw of his tongue across her skin. He weaves up her inner thigh, a pattern of spontaneous kisses, sucks, and licks in his wake.
She bites her lip as her anticipation grows, heart pounding like a metronome. Caspar's pace is excitingly fast, but infuriatingly unpredictable. Just when she thinks he's done teasing, his mouth flees from its final goal yet again to mark, bruise, and moisten another inch of her. She squirms. Finally his right hand joins, roaming up and down her thigh in coaxing paths.
"Caspar…" Hilda begs, greedy for his touch to grow bolder, and only after another pitiful whine does he finally oblige. Pleasure bolts through her when a rough finger traces the rim of her slit, while his mouth stays busy on the seam of her leg. Hilda hums short and amorous. As if encouraged, his finger brushes her sensitive spot, and she rewards him with a moan. He strums again and again and her nails rake across the bed sheets as she gasps and whimpers.
His hand skirts away, leaving her disappointed. She blinks open her eyes, but immediately squeezes them shut again when the tip of his tongue connects with her clit. Soft and wet, yet searing. Hilda cries and her toes curl under. She arches her hips, but Caspar holds her steady.
He laves burning circles around her sweet spot, wracking her with incomprehensible euphoria. She grasps tufts of his hair, pushing him closer. Caspar grunts. Her nails score into his scalp and he grunts again. She readjusts her fingers for a moment, incapable of a verbal apology, but his tongue pads a more sensitive spot, and she buckles around him, nails digging in yet again and legs hooking tight.
He laps faster, flips his tongue over, squishes left to right, right to left. She tries to commend him, but only an amorous gibberish of vowels tumbles out of her lips.
Caspar's mouth retreats again, and he readjusts his grip on her. He kisses up her navel and then back down. A finger slides inside her and then another. Hilda bucks and her legs clamp even tighter around his neck. He pumps his fingers, beginning a rhythm and his tongue returns to its task. Mumbling incomprehensibly, Hilda rocks into his hand, attempting to match the pace of his own thrusts. The painful bliss swells, and she weaves her hands through his hair, reaching for him as best she can.
Caspar twists his fingers and the spot he hits sends a shockwave. He sucks and she wails.
One more flick of his tongue on her sweet-spot and he looks up with shiny lips. The absence knocks her out of her dream, but it's still hard to understand when he cajoles, "Where are my compliments, Hilda?" His thumb replaces the ministrations of his tongue.
"It's hard to…ahh…think of them when you're distracting…" she fumbles, voice quavering, to explain between pants.
"If you can't think of any, I guess you'll have to return the favor, right?" His finger presses down hard and she gasps.
"W-what favor?" She bucks harder, impatient to feel that burst of elation. She was so close.
"One with your mouth." Blearily, she can see his smug smile.
She twists and pushes his head down. "I was planning on that being a wedding gift for my muscular, tough, and incredibly sexy husband. No strings attached." She clutches the top of his hair. "Please, Caspar!"
His thumb retreats and Caspar nibbles at her clit. She sighs wantonly, a hiccup of gasps at the end. Light kisses draw a circle around the nub before his teeth tug gently on the hood. A third finger slips inside her and pumps.
He prompts, "C'mon, Hilda, I want to hear how loud you can be," right before his wet tongue strokes up. She becomes a mess of groans as he continues, each lick growing more delightfully frantic and unpredictable.
And Hilda gets loud. She whines his name, over and over, pitch an octave higher each cry until she can't form words. Only a multitude of enraptured sounds. At last her arousal surges, bolting through her entire body, wracking every ounce of her with unfathomable pleasure. Caspar licks her through the pulses. She shudders one final time and becomes overwhelmed with a lightweight, warm, and blissful sensation.
"You really…are good at that," she hums, too weary to move when he crawls back up beside her. She's aware it sounds stupid but she's not in a position to be eloquent. She's also aware that she feels so very in love with him.
So in love that when he seizes her mouth in a ravishing kiss, she doesn't care where it just was. "I said I'd hold you to it," he mumbles, briefly breaking apart and then eagerly mashing their mouths together again. Strength slowly returns to her and she weaves her arms around his broad back, gliding her palms over flexing muscle and countless scars.
Hilda's mouth moves to his neck and his to her cheek. She sucks his neck languidly, painting a bruise into his skin. He groans excitedly and she finds another spot to mark lower by his collarbone.
He rasps, "We're both gonna look fresh from a scuff in the morning."
She smooches the last love bite. "So no different than usual for you." Caspar chuckles and she nuzzles her cheek against his.
"'Bout time for my 'present', don't you think?"
"Now?" She gives him an incredulous look.
"Yeah, now!" He flops on his back and pulls her towards him.
Hilda pouts playfully, but then moves to straddle him. She smiles sweetly and kisses him just as sweet. She traces her hands down his muscular chest and abdomen, fanning over the ridges of old wounds, and stops at the top of his pants. The tips of her fingers tuck under the edge. "Aren't you lucky," she purrs. "I'm going to spoil you tonight."
Caspar cups her chin and caresses it with his thumb. "I've got plenty of luck. You're by my side everyday."
Hilda snorts a laugh. "Caspar! That's so incredibly cheesy."
A blush creeps to his cheeks. "Yeah, I guess it is. But I mean it."
She pecks his palm and slides down, slotting herself between his thighs. "Cheesy but cute."
Hilda can sense him watching her, anticipating. She places opened mouth kisses down the curves of his muscles. Slow and meandering, exploring each rise and dip, memorizing his physique. She can hear his heart pounding and feel his increasingly quicker breathing.
By his standards, he's been extremely patient. She's sure he's tortured.
Hilda's kisses reach his clothed lower half. Once again she hooks her fingers around the waistband. A final wet kiss on his navel and she tugs his trousers down.
But only an inch.
Caspar exhales, disappointed.
She smirks and resumes fluttering kisses up his abs. His chest heaves as she loops back in a spiral. Again, she tugs down the trousers. But only an inch farther.
Caspar grunts and breaks. He reaches for the constricting article himself, but she wrenches his hands away. "Nuh-uh. Not yet." A pained look wracks his expression as he settles back down.
She plants her lips on his right thigh, dangerously adjacent to the swell of his erection and pulls his pants down a tiny bit further. He groans louder this time.
Hilda kisses the other leg. Another annoyed groan. Tug, kiss, groan. Tug, kiss, groan.
Finally, Caspar's trousers are at his knees. She draws her mouth to his hard, rigid cock, and glances up under full lashes. His eyes are dark and lustful, scrunched up in arousal, but still locked on her. She parts her lips. He shuts his eyes.
And she blows a puff of air.
He squirms. "Hilda!" Caspar begs, voice raw with want. "Come, on. Touch me. Please."
"Not very becoming of a knight to beg." Hilda flicks her tongue over the very tip of his shaft. He shudders and hisses. She licks it bottom to top, and traces a circle around the slit. Caspar reels up and Hilda places a firm hand at his hip to push him back down. "My Caspar doesn't lose, right?"
"I-I'll only let you defeat me." He's unraveling so quickly and Hilda relishes it.
"Noodly-little-armed Hilda defeated you? The Inferno Caspar?" She nibbles gently, grazing her teeth against the tip. Caspar's hands rub up and down her arms, which are, in fact, well toned.
"I can deal with being defeated by my sexy, tough wife and her sexy, tough mouth." She sips in the tip of his cock and he writhes.
"Well, since you're complimenting me, I suppose I'll have to oblige you." She feigns a sigh. "I don't work this hard for just anyone, you know."
"I know! I know! I appreciate it."
Hilda laps her tongue up one final time and then takes him inside her mouth. Caspar bellows a gasp and flails to bring her closer, tangling his fingers in her hair. She bobs up and down, sliding him in until her lips brush his hilt and then slipping him out midway. Her tongue darts over him in wild patterns while she maintains a constricting suction with every pulse.
Caspar holds her head, sitting part way up, muscles tense. He would deny he'd ever whimper, but he is whimpering. "H-Hilda—fuck!"
She pumps faster, vacuuming her cheeks tighter. Her breath comes out in huffs through her nose. Caspar gasps breathily, curses loudly, and moans unrestricted. Her hand grips around his cock and slides up and down, replacing her mouth, so her tongue is free to lick and flick.
"That's-" Caspar tries but can't complete his sentence as a wavering moan breaks it off.
Hilda's mouth is around him again with squeezing sucks. Her hand matches her rhythm, acting as an aid so she can take shallower gulps.
Caspar moves his hips against her, egging her to take more of him in. Her hair is a mess by his doing and he continues to scrunch it up. She moves faster, sucks deeper, brushes wetter, and wishes he'd come all ready because…
"My cheeks hurt," she bleats, pausing to stretch her mouth, and uses her tongue to massage the inner walls.
Caspar groans in exasperation. "Come here," he urges, flexing his arms around her and dragging her with him as he lies back on the bed. She snuggles into his chest and wraps her arms around his waist.
Her lips ghost above his. "Make love to me, Caspar."
He puffs a laugh. "Isn't that what we've been doing?" He kicks off his pants the rest of the way and hooks her leg over his hip, weaving his top leg over her bottom. He uses his hand to rub his length against her slick center, his breathing hitching with pleasure.
"Oh, you know what I mean."
"Yeah, yeah I do." He snaps up her mouth, passion pouring out in a rough, fervent kiss. Hilda returns his enthusiasm, dragging her nails over the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. One hand holds her in place, and the other guides himself to her entrance. Caspar pushes in part way and swallows her gasp. Tender kisses pepper her cheeks as she adjusts. When she sighs, he thrusts again, hard and throbbing. Another gasp escapes her lips as he fills her. An invigorating arousal consumes her.
She rolls her hips against him. "Love me, Caspar!"
His lips are on her again and he bucks into her with such force that he'd knock her off balance if his grasp wasn't so firm. His rhythm is fast, relentless and intoxicating. Tension revives and coils within her, gripping her with overwhelming raw desire. Hilda kisses with all her passion, rocks with all her strength, and touches with all her admiration.
All her thoughts turn to him. How much she loves him. How she feels so free with him, how he praises the traits so many faulted, how he expects so little yet gives so much. How she can't disappoint him no matter how many times she thinks she does.
How she wants to work harder, love stronger, live freer every day with him.
Hilda climbs her leg higher up his back, and he plunges deeper, thrusting quicker. Heady and breathless, they pant between kisses and nips that grow more and more sloppy. She warbles enraptured whimpers, forming a symphony with his husky and spirited groans.
Caspar's hand slinks between them and finds her clit. Hilda squeals and buries her face into his neck. The pad of his finger rubs burning circles and she shakes, compelling her to buck into him faster, chase the fleeting pleasure. The tension builds and writhes, escalating more and more until it bursts volcanically, the euphoric shock waves vibrating to her toes and to her fingertips that cling to Caspar until her knuckles turn ghost white. The sensation sweeps, stronger than the first time, and she feels like she's flying atop a wyvern, freefalling with a rush of bliss.
Caspar pumps through her climax, and shortly after—as if he had permission to stop restraining himself— he comes with a shudder and a booming moan. Hot fluid releases into her in pulses.
The exhilaration ebbs, replaced by enamored fondness. Hilda and Caspar hold one another, chests heaving against each other as they pant. She opens her eyes to his besotted open-mouthed smile. She leans in and presses a lethargic kiss on the corner of his mouth, which he returns with a deeper, weary kiss.
When they part she snuggles close, clutching him tight. "I love you so, so much, my dear, sweet Caspar." He smiles wider in response.
"Do me a favor and I'll do one for you."
"Huh?" Caspar's head shot up, an incredulous expression warping his features. "That's not how you do stuff."
Hilda huffed a small laugh as she traced a thumb over the newly stitched scar on his abdomen. "The favor is you can't die on me and I can't die on you. How can you protect me if you go and die? And if I die who can cheer you on when you fight?"
His hand cupped her cheek, fingers caressing gently. "Is that all? Easy. Nothing's gonna take me down."
"Keep being stubborn about that, won't you?" A small smile stretched across her lips.
"You too."
She blinked. "What?"
Caspar's classic grin shone brightly. "Keep being stubborn that you're not gonna die for anyone else. I don't want you to die for me. You gotta live for me."
Pink, wide eyes stared at him a moment before she shook her head, amused. "Live better than everyone else, right?" She placed a hand over his and held tight.
"Yeah, but it's only worth it if we're both gonna do it together. Or why put in the effort, right?"
Hilda smirks. "Right," she agreed, sealing it with a gentle kiss.
"Do me a favor and I'll do one for you," Hilda breathes into Caspar's chest.
"Anything," Caspar whispers back.
"Love me forever and I'll love you forever."
A breathy chuckle flutters over her neck. "Is that all? No sweat. Nothing's gonna stop me from doing that."
End.