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Between his legs, Lumine’s head dips further down again, taking him into her mouth until the head of his cock hits the back of her throat and she can't go any further, and his hips attempt to arch into her, struggling against the force she uses to keep him still. A swish of tongue, then she’s rising again, popping off with a wet sound and opting to use her hand to stroke him off, giving her a chance to rest her jaw. Wanderer is on the rise for his sixth orgasm of the night, his inhuman lack of refractory meaning he can keep going for a great deal of time. She intends to make him do just that.
The saliva coating his length squelches when her stroking grows faster—ah, and now he’s scrunching his face, a clear sign his peak is approaching fast. Lumine feels a twinge of pride, at how she’s able to pinpoint her touches and actions enough to make him come in times short enough he’s definitely embarrassed by. But it’s cute, at the same time. The way his breathing hitches at the barest of grazes from her fingers along his chin, or how his face flushes with color after a kiss grows into anything other than chaste.
That same face is now a raging fiery color, even running down his neck and disappearing beneath the bodysuit he still wears. The material is thin enough that the distinct peak of his nipples stands out, as well as the slight musculature in his torso. He makes a beautiful picture, right here beneath her.
Wanderer comes with a pitchy wine, spilling into her hand, muttering incoherent words as he comes down. She debates giving him a moment of rest before continuing, a reprieve, but the thought lasts only a moment before it’s chased from her mind. Another time, maybe. But today, she’s in the mood for something else.
She brings her once again soiled hand up to her face, licking away the physical evidence of his release, partly for her satisfaction, but really to see the crazed expression on his face as he zones in on the motion, moaning out a weak, “Lumine.”
“Hmm?” she replies, a raise of her eyebrows and a subtle smile feigning twisted innocence. Her hand is clean enough now, so she drops it down to his knee, stroking a thumb along the smooth skin, tongue swiping her lips to catch anything she’s missed.
“You’re being cruel.” The words come out almost petulant, like he’s tired of being played with, toyed with by her.
“Am I?” Looking pointedly back down reveals he’s still hard, engorged and red. “Should I stop, then?”
“No, just—” he doesn’t finish the sentence, cutting himself off with a hiss, but he doesn’t have to. Lumine knows what he wants. She always does.
“Be patient, Wanderer,” she murmurs. Then crawls up his body until she’s hovering over him completely. Observes how his eyes focus on her and nothing else, and how they grow lidded as she dips down, slowly, noses brushing, and when their lips finally meet, his eyes flutter closed, brow knotted. Focused.
When Wanderer puts his mind on something, he gives it his all, focuses on it fully and completely. And right now, she’s the one on his mind.
They kiss for only a brief moment, before she moves to run her lips along his jawline instead, then down his neck nipping a mark into the skin right above where the top of his bodysuit begins. Then pulls back slightly to admire her work. He will keep this mark on him, even in public, she knows, because he’s surprisingly obedient like that.
Before he can protest again, Lumine adjusts so that she’s seated right atop his hips, her neglected cunt finally receiving a semblance of friction as she subtly grinds against his length, and lets out a soft sigh. She’s wound up tight too, after focusing solely on his pleasure for the past few hours. Her clit bumps against his skin, and she pushes down harder, wanting more of that sweet pressure.
“Inside,” comes his immediate demand, like he physically can’t handle the thought of waiting any longer.
Well, he’s waited long enough, she figures, so she adjusts and uses a hand to guide him to where he wants it, taking him in.
It’s a relief, to say the least, as she sinks onto him, the edges of his cock rubbing against her walls, stretching her in an incredibly satisfying way. Something physical for herself at last. When he’s buried fully inside her, Lumine takes a moment to pause, to once again drink in that delicious expression on Wanderer’s face, then starts a slow pace, rising and falling onto him in steady motions, savoring the act.
“Faster,” comes another demand, almost immediately as he props himself up on his elbows, and she almost laughs. He’s so needy in moments like these, but when morning arrives, will act as though he’d never willingly submit to her. As though the only way he’d ever entertain the idea of being intimate with her, is if he is calling the shots.
“Be patient, Wanderer,” Lumine orders once again, this time with added emphasis. “I need my pleasure too, no?”
His teeth clench in what may be intended to be a snarl, but when her hips meet his once again, the expression drops, and he swallows thickly as she continues.
“That’s what I thought.”
It’ll serve to only make him angrier, she knows, but she can’t hold back from saying the words. He spews cheeky remarks to her on a regular basis, thus it only seems right she’s allowed to goad him like this.
Continuing the agonizingly slow pace, Lumine braces a hand along the center of his chest, holding herself steady. Rising and falling, hearing the squelching noises of their fluids combining, of them joining together. Feeling the head of his cock brush just the right spot inside her, drawing a sharp inhale. And above it all, she absorbs the sight of Wanderer’s hazy expression as he rides the waves of soft pleasure without complaining again.
He’s being good, she thinks, so finally, she speeds up, causing Wanderer’s arms to buckle, falling down onto the mattress. Mouth dropping open, expression wound tight, body completely open in a way he never is outside of these moments.
She can sense the heady scent of sex and sweat, and that earthy aroma of his that cuts through it, reminding her that it’s him that she’s doing this with. That they’ve ended up here, after all their past skirmishes, after all their past fights and stolen kisses, and it's surreally good.
He bucks up to meet her motions, driving him even deeper, and a choked noise escapes his throat, rutting into her with increased fervor, seemingly lost to the world in all other ways. Sweat beads at his hairline, turning the strands damp.
It’s enjoyable for her too, but she needs more, so she captures one of his wrists, roughly bringing it between her thighs, a clear purpose in the action. He’s too far gone to take note of it, so Lumine is forced to manipulate his fingers, pressing two of his fingers against her clit, rubbing circles. “Don’t be useless,” she says, “and help get me off.”
And as much as he hates to admit it, he wants to be useful. So with whatever consciousness he retains, Wanderer keeps his hand moving steadily, even when hers drops down.
“Good,” Lumine says, and the word is enough to cause a wrecked moan to rip out of him, free hand clenching the sheets. Power—that’s what this is; the ability to draw reactions from the utterance of a single word, and she relishes it, the self-satisfaction flooding her synapses.
“I’m close,” Wanderer pushes out at some point.
A raise of her eyebrows. “So soon?” Breathy, punctuated with her own soft pants. Then she tilts her head. “To think I believed the former Balladeer could last longer than this. It appears I was mistaken.”
Before he can deny the accusation, hating the idea of seeming weak, she keeps speaking. “But I’ll have mercy on you today, Wanderer,” she murmurs. Continues the motions of riding him, using his body and wringing him of pleasure.
He comes before long, body locking up as he spills inside, his fingers on her clit pressing hard as a result and she bites her lip, forcing herself by sheer will alone to not fall. Wanderer is visibly floating through clouds of pleasure, eyes unfocused and lidded, gazing at the ceiling, yet nothing at all. When he comes down, his limbs turn lax, hand falling from between her legs, flopping uselessly to his stomach. That won’t do, Lumine thinks, so she pulls his wrist once again, returning him to where he had been.
“I still haven’t come, Wanderer.” Lumine gives a small grind of her lips, feeling how he’s still hard inside of her. It will take more than this to wring him dry. “You wouldn’t leave me unsatisfied, would you?”
The swallow is visible in his throat before he replies, a weak, “No.”
She smiles, wide, before replying, “Good.” That word again, just to rile him up further. Then sets a steady pace once more.
Mercy, she had said. But it was a lie.