Disclaimer: Still don't own them
-
-
-
-
-
-
His mouth was so hot, it felt like fire moving across her skin.
His hands gripped her hips tighter, his fingers fairly digging into her skin as he pressed himself into her.
He was so needy. And she loved it when he was needy.
Because he was fit and potent.
Because he was powerful.
Because he was only ever needy for her.
His magic radiated from him and into her with every breath and tilt of his hips, and she accepted and absorbed him greedily, feeling and smelling and tasting him as he filled her.
If someone had told her before Theo that magic had a smell or a taste, she'd have laughed. Too naïve and intractable, that swotty little know-it-all, she'd never have considered that magic could have such dimensions, that it could be so tangible, so individual, so intimate.
Sex with Theodore had always been a magical experience, and in ways it had never been with anyone else. She tingled inside with his presence, and not just in that delicious way between her thighs as he moved between, stroking and grinding her to peaks of ecstasy. Her whole body tingled, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. And when she exploded into orgasm, she could feel those tingles manifest into something greater. In her mind she saw them spark off into him, and she wondered if he felt it. If he tasted it. And if he did, what did she taste like to him?
Was she tart or fiery as she imagined herself to be, or did her magic take on a different aspect for him?
He was heady and woodsy to her, sharp and dark and slightly bitter. He engulfed her senses, challenged her will and endurance, and crackled with life and danger and the lure of the illicit and taboo.
Her very own forbidden forest.
And he didn't know. He couldn't know. She would never tell him.
Not what he meant to her, or what he represented. Of the places he touched and filled and brought to life. Places she never knew existed. Her own darkness and lightness and that foggy area in between that, in his arms, dissipated in revelations of stunning clarity. Who she was, who she wasn't, who she used to be. Who she wanted to be, and who she could only ever become with him.
Succumbing to such rational had come slowly. Painfully. And still she fought with frustrating futility. The thoughts tangled in her head like so many webs, all spun together and twisting toward the same central truth.
A ridiculous truth that she couldn't believe even as it stared her in the face.
He groaned softly as he delivered another powerful thrust, and she reciprocated, holding him tight. Their bodies mashed and writhed, their hands stroked and gripped.
His stormy eyes cut through the darkness, meeting hers with determined passion. He was going to make her cum again, his every thought and movement keenly focused on the task.
And she didn't want to, but she couldn't help herself. She begged for him to kiss her. She was repaid by the half whimper he breathed into her mouth as he kissed her deep and fucked her deeper.
And, gods, had anything ever been as beautiful? Had anything ever been as real and true and certain?
She could feel it in his grip, see it in his eyes, and taste it in the air they shared. His magic. His desire. His love.
She wouldn't say it.
She couldn't say it.
But it didn't matter. One look into his eyes and she knew.
He tasted her, too.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
- - - - -- -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A/N: Winding down toward the end. Anyone still with me? Shall I continue?