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“Runa,” I call her name.

I’m immediately silenced by my own gasps when her mouth makes contact with my inner thigh, those same soft kisses trailing upward. My entire body is on fire, each stroke of her fingers is a shot of gasoline in the flame. When I feel the flat of her wet tongue press on my clit I fully come undone, nails raking against her skin as I cry out in pleasure.

Runa is unrelenting in the way she dishes it out, holding me in place, sucking and licking, her fingers still moving until all of the pulsing stops. It feels unending, and even then, she starts again, slowly, using my arousal as lubricant to insert a third finger.

“I think you can be louder than that.,” she chuckles. “The crows didn’t even fly away.”

My eyes widen when she lifts up, wiping the glistening cum from her chin with the back of her arm. I shake my head, “W-wait,” I say, stopping her before she can start again.

It’s too late though, with her fingers moving in sync inside of me, magma builds at my core. “I want a turn too.”

I barely get the chance to say the words before I’m a mess again, mewing and pleading under her to release another orgasm from me. She moves her fingers skillfully, slapping the base of her palm so that with every strike, each nerve screams and the build up feels like it’s going to kill me.

I come with my entire body, shaking and seizing as I gush into her hands, the proof of my climax spilling between my legs and onto her face.

Panting between breaths, my embarrassment takes over. “I didn’t know I could do that.” I try to pull away but she grips me tighter, “I-I’m so sorry!”

Runa scowls at first, a confused look showing itself for only a split second before it morphs into amusement. “I’m not.”

Her chuckle is a seductive low rumble I feel at the base of my spine, it gives me confidence like nothing else imaginable. I liftup to my elbows again, panting hard to catch my breath. “Get off.”

She’s shocked at the command, moving with uncertainty to the other side of the bed. I pounce, pushing her to her back and lifting her arms over her head. “My turn.”

Runa melts in my hold, surrendering fully as I set out to worship at her altar. I release her, though she doesn’t move an inch, eyes watching me, unblinking, as I lower myself down.

The first sound breaks through her chest when I exhale just an inch from her slit. The heat of my breath forcing a shudder from her, her knees pulling together to close as she squirms from anticipation. I’m there to stop them though, keeping them apart as I dive between them.

“Shit,” Runa curses, her hand coming down to my head, fingers gripping tight on my hair.

I flatten my tongue to her clit, moving side to side before taking it into my mouth. She squeals, pulling my hair and clenching her thighs around my face.

There’s no feeling of conquest like it, of hearing her soft sighs and moans, her little sounds of pleasure as I bring her closer and closer to her undoing. She cries, her heels dragging on the bed sheets the faster and harder I work toward her pleasure.

She was wet before I started, aroused from just getting me off, so when I rub my fingers through her slit they glide right in. Every ounce of authority and hardness disintegrates from her in that moment, a high pitched whining forming at the base of her throat, growing needily with every thrust of my fingers.

“You’re so wet, Runa.” I’m both in awe and feeling a sense of accomplishment, my own desire for her growing the closer she gets to coming.

She shatters with little effort, gripping and pulling my scalp, grinding against my hand while I fuck her as deep as my fingers can go.

It’s in that exact moment when I look down at her on the bed, eyes all wild and hair disheveled, chest heaving hard with her breath that I realize how easy it is to keep going. How addictive it is to hear her desperation, how all consuming it can be to want to draw out her pleasure.

I never want to stop.

eleven

. . .

Runa

The sun shinesthrough the curtains so brightly, I forget I spent years begging Vewra to buy me blackout curtains so I could sleep past sunrise.You’re supposed to rise with the Sun, she’d say, already knee deep in work at the crack of dawn.

“How do you like your eggs?” Meri’s voice is far too cheerful for this early hour, I groan at the realization that I’ve somehow wound up attached to another early riser.

I’ll never get those curtains now.

“Asleep for at least two more hours.” I tell her, throwing a pillow in the open door’s direction.

She giggles, the sound enough to uplift my entire mood and shift my morning around. Meri stands at the bedroom door, a spatula in hand and a tiny little half apron that only covers the skirt of her dress.