Gian & Mari

Without releasing him from what she was doing, she glanced up at him and said, "My'm noff fpfffd fu falff wiff mmy mouff ffuu!"

Gian didn't even process what she said, muffled as it was; not past the third word. With an incredulous groan, he dropped back onto the stone ledge, beyond caring what she did. No—he cared, because he *didn't* want her to stop, not anymore. "Oh, gods!"

She didn't stop. Well, she paused for a moment of disbelief, narrowed her eyes in speculation, and experimented with a nonsense sound. At least to his ears, it was nonsense—wonderful nonsense. The vibration of her voice, coupled with the ministrations of lips, teeth and tongue, drove twists of lighting straight into his groin from every point in his body. He thickened, hardened, and caught her head firmly in his hands, showing her how to move up and down on him, around him with the softness of her lips; Mari was an eager student, learning quickly how to suck on him in long, rhythmic strokes. When she swirled her tongue around his pulsing, searing tip, there was no hope of his holding back. With a drawn-out shout of her name, Gian exploded, bucking and shuddering and pulsing under her, arching his body off the smoothed rocks under his back.

It went on and on, especially since she clung unsteadily with fingers and mouth, aggravating his climax with her hungry efforts to contain his seed, until he couldn't give anything more. Numb weakness spread through his limbs, making him vaguely grateful he was already lying on the rock, rather than relying on her lesser strength to support him in the water, as he had done for her. With a last lick and kiss of his relaxing flesh, she released him and leaned forward, bracing herself over his limp body. Gian blinked a couple of times at the cloudless sky overhead, then dragged his focus to her face. She was smiling; not quite grinning as he had when he'd had her in a very similar state just a little while before, but definitely smiling. With more than a hint of smugness, as she licked her lips.

He barely had the strength to groan at that lascivious sight. Any residual limpness in his manhood vanished as it started hardening again, enjoying the sight of her naked body half curved over his. Shifting her weight to one hand, she lifted the other and trailed it through the soapsuds drying on his skin, writing something he couldn't quite see. "You need a bath, Gian…"

Tucking an arm behind his head, he smiled slyly. "Mm… Want to bathe me again?"

Mock-narrowing her eyes, she pulled back and splashed him with a big handful of water. Wincing from the droplets striking his face, Gian lunged upright, making her laugh and quickly retreat. Rather than splashing her in retaliation, he dunked himself under the water, swishing his hands to get all of the soap out of his hair. The tepid temperature of the water restored some of his strength at least, though it did nothing to quench his returning need. When he stood up again, wiping water from his eyes, he caught sight of something white in the shade of the shed. Mari had already climbed out and was now towelling herself dry. Following her, Gian left his discarded clothes, the sponges and the pots for the ssara air-servants to clean up. Snagging a cloth from the shelves, he rubbed his body more or less dry. A murmured cantrip ensured his jaw was smoothly shaved, so he wouldn't give her beard-burn in the next few hours.

When he turned around, she had modestly wrapped her body in a towel. Slinging the damp cloth in his hands around his waist, Gian crossed to her and scooped her up in his arms, eliciting a squeal.

"Gian! Put me down!" The protest was ruined by a laugh, however, as Mari kicked her bare feet and hooked her arms around his shoulders.

"Why should I?" he countered with a grin, striding over the pavingstones back towards the bedchamber. "You're as light as a sword!"

She wrinkled her nose in mock-disgust. "How unromantic."

"Hey, you wanted to be treated like a Knight, from the day I first met you—did you want me to call you a featherweight?"

"Ooh! Bad Gian!" She reprimanded him for the old Academy insult for an inferior fighter, waggling a finger at his face. He snapped at it, catching it carefully between just his lips, then gently bit her finger with his teeth and mock-growled. She tugged her digit free and tapped his nose with it. "Behave, or I won't bathe you again."

"Don't threaten something that would simply deny you pleasure," he countered, shouldering open the wicker door to the bedchamber.

"Confident, are you?" she retorted with a smile, removing the skeptical sting from her words.

Gian used a flick of magic to whisk the bedcovers away and knelt on the mattress so he could place her in the exact center of the soft. "Where you are concerned? Never…and always."

That earned him an arched brow. Pausing in the middle of unwrapping his towel, Gian dipped down and kissed it. She sighed and cupped his jaw, shifting his aim closer to her mouth. Their lips met, sipped, tasted, plundered. Gian removed his towel and flung it somewhere out of range, then, still kissing her, unwrapped her own covering. Even though he had just seen her, he pulled back from her mouth when she was bare so he could see all of her again. Her freckles were thickest on arms, face, and a swath of her chest just below her neck, like a definite dusting of cinnin-spice; elsewhere, they lightly sprinkled her skin here and there, everywhere, even down to the tops of her feet. Lying on her back had softened the shape of her full breasts, but her nipples were still taut with anticipation. Her dark, damp tresses curled over the pillow under her head, matching the dark, damp curls between her legs, and everything about her was ultra-feminine.

She had come a long way from the chattering, gangly young girl he had first met, and had done so in just a few years. Unable to stop himself, Gian glided his hand along her thigh, over her hip and stomach, up to cup one warm breast, savoring the softness of her skin. "You are so beautiful. Mari…"

Lowering his head, he kissed each and every freckle on that pale globe, then worked his way down her belly. There would be more time—he was determined there would be another time, later—for him to kiss the rest of her cinnin-dusted skin. Right now, with the edge taken off his desire, he had time to focus on her pleasure. So he spent some time gently kissing and licking the sensitive skin just above her mound, making her squirm and giggle, then teased her thighs with his tongue. Reflexively, her knees first twitched inward in uncertainty, then outward in welcome as she grew to like the ticklish sensation. Cautiously, expecting her to protest at the new touch, he brought his mouth to her mound and kissed it.

Mari held her breath, but a glance from Gian proved it was merely a sign of her waiting for his next move, for her gaze held no fear or uncertainty, now. {I wonder if this was something Ora-and-Niel told her about, too,} he thought.

It wasn't a time to feel jealous that he wasn't going to be the one to teach her all sorts of new things. And just as well, since he knew he didn't know everything about lovemaking, anyway. So long as he knew a few things she didn't—or could come up with them—and she knew a few things he didn't, it would probably balance out in a wonderful sharing of pleasure. {That's the real prize, isn't it? My driving her wild, and her reciprocating by driving me crazy…which she could do just by breathing.} Gently parting the folds of her labia with his thumbs, Gian leaned in and kissed her, breathing in the scent of soap, roses, and lingering hints of her previous pleasure.

She gasped when his tongue came out to lick at her core. Moaned, when he flicked her pink pleasure sentry; Mari spread her legs wider for more, stroking her fingers through his hair. Moaned and even cried out when he managed to get his lips around her little sentry just enough to suckle her rhythmically. Easing a finger into her, he groaned softly at the feel of her depths turning sultry with pleasure once again; she groaned, too, as he carefully slipped in a second finger, easing her tightness so he could prepare her for him. The scent, taste and feel of her arousal increased his own, beyond the last, lingering shred of lethargy induced in him earlier.

When he was ready—there was no doubt that she was ready, with the way she moaned and writhed, flexing her hips in time with the stroking of his fingers—Gian moved up over her, braced himself on arm and knees, and positioned his manhood against her womanhood. Looking into her trusting, hazel green eyes, he flexed against her, into her just a little bit. She winced a little at the size of the head of his manhood, and he dipped his head, kissing away her discomfort as he held himself carefully still, letting her body grow used to his. It wasn't easy, since the feel of her core clasping him so snugly was incredibly arousing, as was the heady, primal knowledge that he would be her first lover.

Her only lover.

Gian didn't question that possessive thought. She wanted him? She would get him, every last bit of him, and in more ways than one—so much of him, she wouldn't be able to go anywhere or do anything without thinking of him. Starting with the memory of this time, her first time with him. A little more of his weight leaned into her, pushing him deeper into her passion-slick depths. She panted against his mouth, squirming a little from the discomfort. Gian forced himself to still, barely an inch more into her. Distracting her with another kiss, he held himself still from the shoulders down, doing his best to ignore his pounding heart and the desire that burned through him, drugging his racing veins. Again, he kissed her, distracting her, then pushed in a little more. The tightness he encountered was accompanied by a little indrawn hiss from her, so he backed off a little, then kissed her once more, and surged forward.

Marilan grunted, letting out the breath she'd been holding. Involuntarily, Gian's hips flexed once more in the need to bury all of him within all of her. Slick heat clasped his manhood, devouring most of his self-control. Clinging desperately to the thought of her discomfort, he held himself still, evern muscle in his body knotting with the effort to give her time to adjust. Sweat broke out on his skin when her womanhood contracted around him, squeezing his raging manhood with intoxicating pressure from her inner muscles. A sound that could have been a curse escaped him when she did it a more deliberate second time.

She giggled at the expression that accompanied his strangled grunt, earning her a dirty look as he pried his eyes open. "You look so funny, Gian!"

Strangely enough, rather than being annoyed, Gian relaxed at that, letting out a brief laugh. "I imagine I do. Gods, you feel like heaven," he muttered as she relaxed around him as well. He watched her eyes widen as soon as he spoke. She stared mutely up at him with an oddly vulnerable, openly curious expression in her eyes, making him unsure about what she was really thinking. "…What?"

"Tell me what you feel, Gian. Right now," she murmured, curious as she searched his gaze.

"Your softness," he replied promptly, gazing down at her as he did his best to hold most of his weight off of her, keeping his hips still. "Your heat, wet, moist…slick." His eyes drifted shut. "The scent of soap, roses, sex…and especially you." Lowering his head, he nuzzled her throat, breathing deeply, then her ear with a whisper. "The sounds you make when I please you. A burning in my blood, fire and lightning in my loins, an ache in my heart that never goes away," he murmured, lifting his head and looking down at her once again. "Until I look into your eyes, and then I drown. Because I'm… I'm…"

"You're…?" she prompted softly as he trailed off, looking up at him with what he prayed was love as well as trust. He tried to find the words to express how he felt, then finally just fell back to the simplest thing he could say.

"…I'm happy, Mari. Beyond happy," he breathed, drowing in her wide-eyed gaze. It was nothing but the truth, the whole truth, the pure truth, for he couldn't remember ever feeling this way before, in the whole of his previously miserable-to-mediocre life. "My Mari."

A sound escaped her as she absorbed his honesty, somewhere between a moan and a sigh. Sultry heat enveloped him, increasing his pleasure when her body softened as only feminine flesh could, as her hips tilted up to meet his and her arms slid up around his shoulders. Sliding his hand down her side, he caught her leg and urged her to lift it, to wrap her calf around him. The new position gave them both greater contact, greater depth; a mutual sigh escaped both of them at the greater intimacy and pleasure. Dipping his head, Gian kissed her again and gently rocked his hips, determined to go slow, to give her plenty of time to reach her peak. It was just as well the first edge had been taken off his own hunger, for he knew he wouldn't have been able to last much longer otherwise. The last thing he wanted was for him to climax without her, to leave her 'scoured by the winds', as the Sundarans poetically put it whenever they spoke of moments of unfulfilled desire.

Almost grimly, he kept to a steady slow pace, focusing on her breathy moans, her little gasps, the way she closed her eyes, arched her back, and flexed her body up into his, silently demanding more. He gave her more. He gave her longer, deeper, swifter strokes, breathing deep with each stroke, experimenting with different angles and careful gyrations, until she lifted her other thigh, hooking both up over his hips. Giving him full access, and tearing a groan of pleasure from his chest. Driving into her, he clung to her panting moans, staring into her unfocused eyes, destermined to make her come undone before he lost himself in her.

It built in the whole of her body a tight, keening sound that clenched around him, from her core to her chest, to her arms and legs, to even the greedy flexing of her hips and back. Relieved he was doing everything right, Gian drove deeper, harder, just a little bit faster, and with a slight grind each time, since she seemed to really like that; certainly it did the trick after just a few strokes. Her groan became a shuddering wail, her body wracked with her second climax of pleasure. Groaning, Gian let his control slip, pounding into her hard and fast, gripping her hips to hold her still for his voracious thrusts. It swept down from his spine and up from his toes, arcing through his racing hips, and shot through his loins, a heavy, liquid heat that poured into her body. One long pulse that broke up into shorter and shorter ones, rolling through him like thunder, shuddering and jetting and pouring into her in a storm of pleasure. Her moans wrapped around him as surely as her arms clung to his shoulders, slipping from the wail of her climax down into little whimpering sounds of pure satisfaction. As his own passion dwindled, Gian retained just enough sanity to roll them onto their sides, slowing his thrusts, gentling his lust, until they finally came to a stop, save for the panting of their breaths. It was over, save for a permanent urge to start it all over again, as soon as they could catch their breath.

With his Mari.