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Urianger waits impatiently, hand resting against the smooth bark of the tree he had chosen as his barricade to steady his nerves. Only a small while longer. The thought is directed mostly into his smallclothes; he is painfully hard, but now the end is nigh.
Kirune has been utterly incorrigible. Insisting on traveling separately, barely acknowledging his presence while wearing the most maddening clothing, meeting his eyes with the slyest of coy looks when others attended elsewhere... and one precious stolen moment, sinking with her into cool water in a cave lit by tiny glowing insects. Short-lived bliss in her arms, concluded too soon and not yet repeated. She had invited him the last time too, a hastily scrawled 'I need you now' on a scrap of map marked with a red 'x' to indicate where- a twig cracks nearby, and he stiffens, senses straining.
His wife appears around a nearby shrub, tall heeled boots almost perfectly silent as she slinks slowly through the dense forest. Cool blue light turns her hair nearly green as her tall, leporine ears swivel this way and that, searching for any hint of his presence.
Just a little closer, Urianger prays. He does not trust himself to move as silently as would be necessary to remain hidden, and must therefore wait upon her to move nearer, that he may pounce.
One cautious step, then another, each one bearing her closer to his reach until finally he could reach out and touch her. Still he waits, allowing her one step more, that she shall not escape.
“Urianger? Are you— oh!”
Kirune soft voice cuts off sharply as his lips smother hers, her cry of surprise only serving to grant his tongue entrance. His arms circle her slender waist and she leans against his, hands snaking about his shoulders to hug him back just as tightly as she hums and kisses him back just as enthusiastically.
Without a word he paws at her neck, unraveling the woven shawl she has draped there, then nosing her chin up so that he can suckle her throat. His erection strains against his clothing, begging for any kind of relief, so he grinds against her, backing her up until she is trapped between his bulk and the gnarled tree that had been his refuge.
Far from frightened at the prospect of being trapped, Kirune’s chuckle is warm and drips with knowing sensuality.
“Ah. So all that sassiness was indeed for show. You still want me.”
“Always,” he manages to growl, grazing his lipa against her shoulder. Her skin is delightful, so soft and velvety; he must have more of it, must touch her everywhere. His hands impatiently search for clasps, but alas, there don’t seem to be any… the poncho could be held up with dynamis, for all he can tell.
“Thine aid, I prithee, wife…” panting, he meets her eyes, pleading silently. He can tells she is not wearing any kind of underthings beneath the thick garment, and it drives him wild that he cannot reach her all-important skin.
She smirks, then gives a tug at the front and the whole apparatus drops to the ground, the heavy undergrowth muffling the sound aside from the light tinkle of the round charms, fashioned to look like shiny, brass pel.
Exhaling gratefully he presses her against the tree, one palm flattening her breast, kneading, other hand disappearing down into her trousers, seeking between her legs for the most delicious fruit she reserves for only him. She is soaked, and he groans, feeling a release of his own precum, a hopeful sign of things to come.
“Tease you good, did I?” Kirune swallows hard as he slips a finger inside her smallclothes, rubbing roughly against her clitoris. “You’re always so urgent when… oh gods… when I— Urianger!!”
He cringes slightly at her admonishment. He hadn’t really meant to tear her smallclothes. Not really.
He is not a beast.
But he had needed them off and the simplest expedient was to pull them with him as he sank to his knees and his added weight had caused the side seams to rip through. In approximately the space of a breath, she was almost entirely naked, trousers swimming about the ankles of her boots. And he is kneeling before her.
Grinning, he nuzzles against her soft, furry mound, reveling in the scent of her arousal, a heavy, sweet perfume that reminds him of an exotic dessert and makes his mouth water in anticipation. His thumbs brush against her hipbones, and she shudders, a sharp, needy intake of breath accompanying a subtle arch of her back.
So easy to read. He smiles again, squinting up to look into her eyes, and ask permission. Above him, Kirune beams at him, then nods happily.
"Just let me..." She kicks her foot to the side, trying and failing to dislodge the clothing about her feet, so he takes pity. He carefully guides first one boot, then the other, off so that she can step out of her pants and ruined smallclothes. Then she leans down and kisses him affectionately on the crown of his head, whispering a fond "Thank you, my love" as she smooths his hair.
Then gently she uses that hand to press him down, to his rightful place. His favorite place.
It's fascinating. Smooth. Soft. Slick. Sweet, but with a hint of savor to balance lest it cloy. Some of her is velvet, some satin. All of it is wonderful, and all of it is his to enjoy. And enjoy it he does. He laves his tongue between her plump lips, uses it to circle her tiny clitoris, rolling the bud full of nerves just so until she is panting, then diving down to thrust into her cunt as far as his jaws will allow.
When he can tell his tongue is no longer sufficient, he replaces it with his nimble fingers and returns his focus northward. Two fingers pull back her hood and spread her lips while two others curl inside, silky-smooth arousal beginning to run down his hand as she moans and ruts against him. He can feel the warmth of her engorgement against his lips, her clitoris swelling to demand attention.
Who am I, he smiles to himself, to deny it?
He lets her lead, careful to follow the rhythm she sets as she nears the crest of a climax, a quick flick followed by a long, luxurious grind that gives him ample time to run the gamut of her entire nethers before sucking her pearl into his mouth.
His neck is just beginning to cramp when suddenly both of her feet spring off the ground to and his mouth fills with even more sweetness. She bucks, hard, fist in his hair tugging at his scalp almost to the point of pain.
He doesn't care. He did it again. It will never cease to fill him with wonder and amazement. He adores her. She may tease him, pull his hair, ride his face, ruin his pocketbook, muss his clothes: still he adores her.
Because she is also joy and laughter and peace. Strength and wonder and a will to match the very gods.
And she is his very own precious wife.
He tries to stand but finds that bending at the waist with a member still as stiff as steel puts him off balance. In steadying himself he arises holding her torn smallclothes. He stares at the thin fabric pressed into his palm a moment, then smiles down at her sheepishly.
"Truly, I am most-"
She places a finger against his lips. "Shhh. Don't worry about it." The grin that spreads across her lips is gleefully wicked. "Besides: they were already ruined with how wet you make me." She winds her arms around his neck, then leans in for a slow, lingering kiss.
It takes him until he feels her warm, bare breasts against his own skin to realize she undressed him as well. The way she unhurriedly explored his mouth with her tongue had lulled him, but her nipples brushing his stomach sends levin between his thighs, and before he really knows what is happening they are reclining on the springy groundcover.
Beneath him she melts. He doesn't know how else to describe the perfect way their bodies meld together. Rocking soothingly she spreads her legs to allow him to enter her, draping a calf over his thigh in a gentle hug.
She meets each of his thrusts with her own, eyes locked on his as he tries desperately to maintain anything like a rhythm. It is a lost cause. He barely manages to hilt himself inside her invitingly wet depths before he grunts, back muscles spasming as he fills her. He tries to arch up, but she grabs his face, forcing him to keep that same intense eye contact as he gasps and shudders and pumps his hips, the orgasm throttling him for several graceless moments of primal instinct.
Finally he collapses, head resting on her shoulder and arms futilely pawing at the earth, trying to push himself up and off of her.
"Rest... at least for a little while."
Kirune kisses his ear gently and smooths his sweaty hair. Tendrils have escaped from where he bound it as they always do, but she doesn't seem to mind that her smoothing has very little practical effect. "Be still, and be mine."
He snuggles against her, wishing as his eyes slide closed and sleep begins to steal over him, that they could stay like this forever.