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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 10 months

Text

“Anything”

Pairing: Meássë x Tulkas

Themes: Smut | Medieval! Ainur

Summary: Meássë returns to explain her actions to Tulkas.

Word count: 2.3k words

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥 | Minors DNI. You are responsible for the media you consume. | 18+ | Rules and tag form here.

A/n: This is a continuation of this ficlet.

Tulkas stood beside the fireplace when she walked into the hall that evenfall. "Come for more, my lady?"

"I have come to explain." Meássë straightened her spine and looked Tulkas in the eye. She was not telling him how his kiss had preyed on her all day. "My kiss was just a means of distraction. That is all. Your kiss... it... it meant nothing to me."

Tulkas, pretending to be wounded, pouted before giving his favorite student a measured look. "Nothing, you say. However, you are different whenever we dine together, if we train, or if I am near you. You are quieter and more likely to listen and rein in your temper. I have not seen that in you when you are with anyone else. Not even your twin."

Meássë had the decency to blush. Tulkas, not wanting to press the issue, took pity on her and said, "Come. Dine with me. We can carry on like nothing untoward took place."

"You are not angry?" She asked, confused. Despite his ready laughter and easy smile, Tulkas had a temper and his pride.

"I am not Makar, my lady," Tulkas replied, and strode to the small dining table on the dais. "I will not hold a lady's refusals against her. I certainly do not believe in taking what is not offered to me freely.”

Meássë blushed again, this time with shame. Still, she followed Tulkas and took her customary place by his right hand. Her lord lifted a little bell by his side and rang for the food.

Tulkas knew how to set a generous table. It was in his nature to do so. Elves came into the Lord's Hall carrying polished wooden trays laden with roast fowl and olives and cheese and beets and greens, followed by little onion tarts and fresh river fish roasted with herbs and apples baked in cinnamon and sugar. Meássë was served generous portions of each dish, but found her usually hearty appetite deserting her. Every time she glanced at Tulkas, she found him gilded by the faint light of nearby candles. His hair was like new gold, and his amber eyes were warm and open. Her gaze drifted to his lips. Meássë blushed and turned away. She remembered how her skin prickled when that thick, coarse beared of his brushed against her cheeks and remembered his kiss, how his lips simply crushed hers, how it set her body ablaze with hunger and need. Thoughts of his lips gliding over her skin slowly seeped into her mind. She turned to face Tulkas again. Her lord was studying her silently and intensely.

"Leave us," he commanded. The elves gracefully curtsied and bowed before leaving the hall and closing the great doors behind them. He turned to Meásse as soon as the doors slammed shut.

"My kiss meant nothing, you say," he observed, drumming his fingers against his cup as he did so. "Then why do you look at me with such burning hunger?"

Meássë felt a flush creeping up her neck. "You imagine things, my lord," she mumbled in a rush.

"Do I?" Tulkas pushed his chair back and rose. He set his cup to one side and inched his way over to her. "Then why are your cheeks tinged in pretty shades of pink? Hmm? Why is your breath ragged? Your eyes too curious for their own fucking good?"

"I..." Meássë's tongue tied itself in knots when Tulkas curled his fingers around stray locks of her hair. "My lord..."

"Your hair," he coos, "How I have often pictured it spread all over my pillows under a spill of starlight."

"You have?" Meássë nearly fell out of her chair in her hurry to stand.

Tulkas grinned in triumph. "Yes," he replied softly before letting go of her wisps of hair. "Many a moment when I lay in bed. I have seen your hair spread out all over my pillows. I have felt your nails raking down my back while I filled you with my cock and my seed. The things I have done to you in my dreams... Words alone cannot describe them."

"You are being impudent now, my lord," Meássë retorted, embarrassed by how easily her body prickled and heated at the thought of him bedding her. "I would be within my rights to strike you and leave."

"I am merely being honest." Tulkas simply smiled and spread his hands. "And as I said before, I do not take what is not given to me freely. If you do not wish to go beyond us sparring and sharing meals, you need only say the word, and this conversation will end here."

Meássë licked her lips and studied him. She wanted to say, "Thank you, my lord, but I must decline," and would have succeeded had her own curiosity not gotten the best of her.

"What do you do to me in these dreams?"

Tulkas did not answer with words. He grabbed her and leaned in, his lips possessing hers. Meássë suddenly found herself unraveling the same way she did when Tulkas kissed her the first time. Her entire body was aflame with raw, unbridled lust. Her eyes flutter shut when she felt him flush against her. Desperate to draw him even closer, she tried to throw her arms around his shoulders. Her attempts were a failure. Tulkas was tall, taller than even her twin. But she did not have to say anything. Tulkas crouched and slipped his arms under her thighs, lifting her up with ease. He growled when she returned his kisses with equal passion.

“Eager!" he laughed into his kiss and set her down on the table. "And so desperate. Will you let me do whatever I want to you tonight?"

Meássë found herself being pulled into a dark tunnel of desire. Tulkas was over her and around her. His kisses were rough, his lips greedy, and his hands gentle, despite being callused after years of fighting and sword use. White-hot jolts of pleasure licked up her spine when she felt them palm her breasts and play with her nipples over the fabric of her tunic.

"Anything," she pleaded, even as she surrendered and her body grew pliant. "You can do anything."

There was a sharp rip. Tulkas had shoved his hand down the front of her tunic and tore it down the center before tugging his own over his head and throwing it to the floor. Meássë whimpered when he drew her back into his embrace and she felt his skin over hers.

So warm, she mused, her mind growing hazy by the fury of his kisses. His skin is so fucking warm.

Tulkas shivered when she slipped her arms around his shoulders, and her nails gouged into his back. "Anything?" He hissed through his teeth. "Wonderful."

He dropped down to his haunches and went to work on her boots. One joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. The other followed not long after. Tulkas rose again and loosened the lacings of Meássë's riding leathers, fully aware her eyes were on him the entire time.

His hair was like a river of gold now, and those tattoos of his—how they gleamed in the light. When they lay in bed, she thought to ask about them, what they meant, and touch every one of them. She could let her lips and tongue glide over them if he liked it. But that was all for later. When he said so, Meássë lifted her hips, and her leathers and small clothes were pulled down her legs and thrown along with the ruins of her tunic unceremoniously to the floor, leaving her exposed. Tulkas took a moment to drink her in: her alabaster skin, her seashell-pink lips, her thick, auburn hair. Then there were her eyes. They were sharp and a vivid green, eyes he imagined himself drowning in.

"You are a vision, my lady," he whispered in admiration.

Meássë blushed and looked away. There may have been others, but no one looked at her like Tulkas did, with eyes filled with reverence. It left her speechless. He gripped her chin, and his mouth opening over hers soon drowned out her thoughts. His kiss tasted of honey and cloves. The sweet, clean scent of him soon filled her with each breath. When he cupped her back her legs slid open and moved up his thighs before resting over his hips. Tulkas growled softly.

"When I take you to bed after this, I am going to fuck you until you cannot walk," he vowed, nibbling the shell of her ear.

"I will hold you to that vow," Meássë murmured helplessly.

"I have dreamed of this," he said as he slid a finger over her slit, groaning when he found her slick and wet and ready for him. He tightened his other arm around her waist while slipping his finger into her hole, sending waves of unimaginable bliss coursing over her entire body. "And not just sinking my fingers inside of you, either. I want to feel you come around my cock."

"And as I said, my lord, you can do anything to me." Meássë was overwhelmed by what he was doing to her. Tulkas was exceedingly skilled, even when it came to giving pleasure. He made her feel like she was drowning and being pulled under the waves repeatedly. And he was so perfect. So utterly perfect. All through the day, all she could think of was his kiss. Now he was before her, making her feel pleasure she had never experienced before.

"Good girl," he whispered approvingly. Tulkas sank to his knees and pressed little kisses over the expanse of her legs. He did not stop until he reached the apex between her thighs. Meássë threw her head back and cried out softly, her hands digging into the edge of the table when he ran his tongue over her cunt again and again. She forced herself to open her eyes. Tulkas would grunt with each lick, his hands gripping hard at her flesh whenever he pressed deeper. She murmured under her breath. Her secret sweetness soon poured onto his tongue and lips and even his beard. He flicked his eyes at her and found her pretty green ones dark and needy and wanton. Meássë sighed and trembled. A sweet tightness grew in her belly. She was close. She could feel it. But it was not enough. His tongue, as sinful as it was, was not enough.

"I need you inside of me," she breathed, her voice hoarse and ragged.

Tulkas did not have to be told twice. He stood up and moved his hands to his belt, tugging down on his breeches just low enough to free his cock after he undid the buckle. Greedy hands moved to her hips. He kissed her again, and Meássë could taste her essence all over his lips and tongue. His beard tickled against her skin just like it did while he was between her thighs. The prickling feeling proved too overwhelming, and she kissed him all the harder for it.

"Desperate little slut," Tulkas laughed softly against her skin. "Yes?"

Meássë, utterly lost in a red haze of lust by now, managed a weak, "Yes."

Tulkas laughed again, taking his time to kiss all over her throat before nipping it with his teeth. Meássë moaned softly when he guided his cock into her velvety core, prodding her open little by little. He felt thick against her walls and she squirmed as he moved inch by agonizing inch. When he filled her completely and started to move, she jolted. Pleasure and pain mingled in a heady mix while she shuddered and sobbed his name.

"You are so fucking tight," he muttered and slid his arms around her waist. The table slowly creaked every time he thrust and bruised the insides of her thighs with his hips. "So tight. And how well you take me. It is as if you were made for me."

"And you feel so good inside me," Meássë could not help but reply. Every time Tulkas found that place that gave her indescribable pleasure, it made her see stars behind her eyes. "My lord."

Tulkas whimpered softly. "Touch me," he urged, desperate to feel her hands all over him. "Please."

It was even better than his wildest dreams. Elegant hands glided over his arms, splayed over his torso and the small of his back, setting him ablaze whoever they touched. Meássë's skin was so soft, like her velvety insides. Tulkas groaned when nails raked through his hair and sinful lips kept seeking his. He grew drunk on it all and was soon lost in her flesh.

"Scream for me," he commanded when Meássë bit back her cries. "I want to hear you scream for me."

"But the elves… your attendants…"

"They will not say a word even if they hear. Let go. I command you to let go."

It was as if a dam had burst. Meássë’s cries spilled free and rattled around the hall. Tulkas thrust even harder, and new jolts of pleasure struck them both. He pushed her onto her back before quickening his already tortuous pace. The new angle he found sent her spiraling. Her back arched every time he drew his hips back and pushed them back in. Meássë had to grab at anything she could to try and keep herself steady. She knocked a glass over in her bid to hold onto something. It fell to the ground with a loud crash.

“Mine," he groaned whenever her walls fluttered and grew tighter and tighter around his cock. "You are mine."

His words undid her completely. Meássë’s body shook as her orgasm ripped through her. Hot flashes of pleasure spread all over her while Tulkas thrust one final time, moaning deeply when he filled her with his spend, his nail digging into her hips. Meássë could not move and lay there, too lost in her own state of bliss to even care.

The world came into focus little by little. Tulkas pulled out of her, leaving her feeling strangely empty. Meássë tried to regain a sense of bearing and soon found herself being carried and covered in something incredibly soft. She opened her eyes. That something soft was a pelt finer than silk. Tulkas crooned sweet words of endearment into her ear while he settled into his chair, keeping her with him as he did so. He brushed his lips over her hair. She sighed wistfully and rested her head against his shoulder.

"Eat," Tulkas said gently, and proceeded to feed her with morsels from his plate. "You had so little during dinner. When you have had your fill, I am taking you back to my bed."

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tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese @wandererindreams

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 8 months

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Day 3 of @silmsmutweek

Pairing: Makar x Meássë | Location: House of Tulkas

Themes: Smut (lemon)

Word count: 3.4K words

Summary: The twins defy laws and accepted convention after finding a way that would allow them to be intimate with each other without the others finding out.

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

A/n: I wrote this from before the twins left to make their own keep near the Halls of Mandos.

Makar always knew he and his twin were not like the others.

From the moment their spirits formed, the ties that bound them to each other were strong. Makar understood this. His sister saw him in a way no one else would. She understood him in a way no one else would. She was the only being who willingly stood by him when he spoke in favor of Melko. No one besides Meássë herself had the power to shield her heart from his.

And that was how it all started. With that bond. Makar sensed it—a slow-burning desire creeping all over him—every time Meássë looked at him or talked to him, or, as he suspected, thought of him. She never revealed her true feelings for him, even when they were alone. Makar understood why. It was against the law and accepted custom to lay with close kin. Despite being gods, the Valar were expected to set an example for the Gnomes and lead the way, as they did in everything.

Makar often scoffed at the notion. Lead the way. Ha! The others can lead the way for the Gnomes. He would keep himself well away from all of it. And he was never one for patience. For the sake of his sister, however, Makar held his tongue. He wanted Meássë to come to him of her own free will. He wanted her to confess to him out of her own free will. Alas, Meássë neither came to him nor confessed to him. She let her feelings for him grow without end. When they grew to the point of always tugging him to her like an invisible rope that had wound itself around him, Makar knew he could no longer wait. He approached his sister after they were done sparring and were alone in the armory.

"I know of your desires," he admitted without judgment. "I feel them whenever you are near me or even think of me. Tell me, do you wish to act on them?"

Meássë turned towards a rack and blushed while she put away her weapon and shield. It was the first time since they had chosen earthly vessels to house their spirits. She sighed and looked away, conjuring a hundred tales. Makar refused to believe her. They were all lies. And his sister could never lie. Not to him, at least.

"Do not try to hide what is plain to my eyes," he insisted. "Tell me, sister, do you desire me or no?"

His twin blushed again, her pale cheeks turning the prettiest shade of pink.

"Tis wrong," she declared after a moment of reflection. "You are my twin. What I feel for you is unnatural. I will learn to curb my thoughts, lest they disturb you more. Forgive me, brother."

"Very well." It had wounded her deeply to say the words, as if a red-hot blade were piercing her heart. The same indescribable pain seared through Makar as well. Still, he accepted her decision, deciding to bide his time till an opportune moment presented itself and he could talk to her. "I will leave things as they are, for now. Now go. Others are coming to train."

Meássë fled into the shadows, silently chiding herself for not having closed her mind to her brother. Once, she deemed such an act unnecessary, thinking she was clever enough to guard her thoughts. She was wrong. Makar knew, and of course he would know. He was her twin, her other half. Their bond was strong. She now understood that it was too strong.

If only she had been more careful and curbed her thoughts! Meássë cursed herself again, this time for letting her feelings for her twin morph into something dark and forbidden. What was worse, she let it happen, knowing full well that if the truth came out, it would lead to her disgrace. It was wrong; she knew that, and yet she also knew no other would suit her. Oh, she could let the other Gods woo her and court her and shower her with a thousand sweet promises, and it would not be enough. None of them would be enough. None of them were him. They arose together and came into the world together. She loved Makar as much as he loved her. She admired him and worshiped him, and cared only for his happiness. Nothing and no one else mattered except for him.

He is lost to me now! And I have no one but myself to blame! Meássë bit her lip and ran down one lofty corridor after another, fighting a losing battle against the tears that welled and stung her eyes. She did not stop until she had reached the safety of her chambers, practically snarling at her attendants and demanding that they leave her be after they prepared her bath. A good hot bath and a cry were needed. Then she decided on her next course of action. She would close her heart and mind to her twin. It was the only way to protect them both, and him most of all.

Days bled into each other. Makar would watch his sister from afar, saddened by how she shielded herself from him. He had reflected on what she said and the implications of her true feelings for him. Perhaps she was right, and it was wrong. Still, the silence between them felt strange and unnatural, even more so than her desire for him. It made him feel alone and cold and empty. He yearned to be near her again and to feel that tug that pulled him to her. This icy distance had to end, he knew, before it drove him mad. So, during the next round of contests in Tulkas's great arena, Makar watched his sister, struck by how much she had changed. Her grief over having to keep away from him gave her a haunted, troubled look. It alarmed him. Makar lifted his cup and drank deep, draining the last of his wine before rising and approaching his twin. The others be damned, he decided. He was going to talk to her and was not going to wait any longer.

"We need to talk, you and me," he stated, and took her hand. "Come."

Meássë had no choice but to follow. Anything else meant rousing the suspicion of those who had gathered to watch athletes compete against each other. She let Makar lead her out of the noisy court and arena and into a darkened grove covered by ancient trees with thick trunks.

"You avoid me now," Makar had observed. "And you have shielded your thoughts from me."

"As I rightly should," Meássë retorted. "If not, suspicion will arise when I make the inevitable mistake and give my true feelings away."

"Suspicion would still arise when brother and sister are no longer seen speaking with each other. To tell you the truth, it feels wrong to be cut off from you," Makar lamented, reaching for her. "I miss you. Is there nothing I could do to change things back to what they were?"

Tears sprung unbidden when she gazed upon her brother's outstretched arms. She could not say how often she had dreamed of being held by those arms.

"You know it is impossible," Meássë sniffed, and walked away from him. It would not do to dwell on dreams that would never come true. She headed deeper into the little grove to get away from him. "Not after you made it plain that you knew. I will not invite shame and disgrace into your head. Now leave me be. I will return to the arena in a little while."

"Leave you be?" Makar refused to hear it. "Not while you are in this state."

He dogged her every step, refusing to leave her alone. He grabbed her hand once or twice, growling in frustration every time she pulled away. Meássë turned back and struck him on the arm when he reached for her a third time. It did not hurt, and he barely even felt it. Makar smirked, the sight of his lips tugging at the corners prickling his twin’s pride. She tried to strike again, and he deflected her blow with his hand. This time, his smirk turned into an amused chuckle. Frustrated, Meássë kicked him. Makar ducked and laughed merrily, rousing her anger. Furious, she lunged at him, knocking him onto the soft grass. Makar laughed still while she tried to overpower him.

"I hate you!" She cried.

"That…little sister… is a lie." Makar huffed and twisted and squirmed and rolled them around until he was on top of her, pinning her wrists to the ground. "You and I both know what you feel for me is far from hate."

The stars shone brightly, their light broken by the leaves. Meássë tried in vain to break free. Her brother was taller and stronger, and a far better fighter. She groaned in defeat, her body growing slack beneath his.

"Finished?" Makar teased, grinning wickedly when she mumbled a soft yes.

More starlight seeped into the grove. This was when Makar truly saw his sister: the alabaster skin, the sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks and upturned nose, the long auburn hair, how her eyes were the color of flawless emeralds glinting in the light. And she was perfect. His sister was utterly perfect—a glorious vision made flesh. Makar sat astride her hips, content to look all over for her for a moment. His gaze slowly returned to hers. His sister was looking right back at him, her eyes ablaze. It was not anger, he saw, but something else. He needed to see more and learn the truth, but for that to happen, his sister had to let him into her thoughts.

"Let me see," he commanded.

Meássë struggled again. "No!"

Makar tsk’d and shook his head. "Hush and let me see." He drew back one hand, bringing it to her cheek. "Let me. Go on."

His twin wanted to refuse, but the determined look in his eye gave her pause. She exhaled, surrendered, and opened her thoughts to his mind’s eye. Makar was exceedingly gentle, probing each memory with great care and sighing in relief when he found what he looked for. His search revealed a great deal: worry and reverence and admiration, and lust and longing, and even hints of something deeper than the love a sister ought to have for her brother. Makar was amazed. Heat bloomed and surged just beneath his skin when her heart called to his in an ancient song only he could recognize. His own began to stir and begged to answer.

Meássë closed her eyes when she felt the softness of her twin’s hand. It felt so good to feel his touch after so long. Dare she try for more? She pressed her cheek against his palm. It was warm. So warm. If her brother did not desire it, he did not utter a word. Makar still listened and watched and probed, sifting through all he could find, his hold on her wrists loosening. She heard his gasp and felt him tremble.

This was the end, thought Meássë. Her brother was surely disgusted by what he saw—what she struggled so hard to keep hidden. His silence certainly spoke volumes to her. She finally opened her eyes, fearful of what she might see. What happened instead was that Makar leaned down and kissed her.

His lips tasted of wine and honey and cloves when they sought hers. Meássë thought she had strayed into a beautiful dream. The tongue that slipped past her lips and flicked against her own convinced her she had not. She yielded easily, moaning when Makar kissed her deeply and softly, letting go of her hands so he could slip his arms around her waist and pull her up with him. He made a strangled sound at the back of his throat, now glad he had surrendered to the entreaties of his heart. Makar sighed wistfully. This kiss was more than what he thought it was going to be—all heat and fire and tenderness at the same time. It made him want more. They knelt beneath the trees and clung to each other while they kissed. A bird flew overhead, the sound of its fast-beating wings breaking the spell that wove itself between them. Realizing that they were too exposed, Makar finally drew back.

"The depths of your feelings for me," he pondered aloud. "No one else has ever..." Makar stopped and looked his sister in the eye. "I need more," he entreated, pressing his forehead against hers, his voice thick and hoarse. "More of what you are willing to give me. This kiss and what I felt in your thoughts were far from enough."

"Not here. And not at the House. Tulkas’s attendants are everywhere." Meássë looked up at him, fear and hope at war in her eyes. "And we are brother and sister. It is wrong. The law—"

"Fuck the law!" Makar growled hotly. "And fuck what the others think. I want you; I will not fight it. But if you are afraid, there may be a way still, at least until we can go off on our hunts, and I can build a keep just for us, away from the wagging tongues of others. For now, we must wait until we are in our chambers, and the others have gone to rest. Is this acceptable to you?"

Another way? Meássë was filled with ravenous curiosity. "I will wait," she decided.

It felt like hours had passed before the games ended and the rest departed for the comfort of their chambers. Makar bid his sister farewell and made his way to his own rooms, and Meássë left for her own. This time she spoke kindly to her attendants, letting them bathe and dress her for bed with nary a cross word. She would smile and let them fuss over her, waiting only until they left before latching the door and shielding herself from the outside world. Meássë padded over to her bed, slipping in between the silken sheets and closing her eyes.

She wandered the silent paths tread by only Gods and Gnomes, those that hovered between true sleep and deep dream. Meássë found herself now in the forests of the Great Lands, beneath starlit skies, a tent already pitched by an unlit fire pit. The world around her swirled and moved, as if she were surrounded by a strange mist.

How?

Makar appeared from the rippling shadows, thoroughly pleased with himself. There is a way, he said, his voice as soft as a kiss. Through bonds such as ours. And the ties that bind us are strong. Do you wish to continue?

In his own chamber, Makar writhed from the crippling pain that had caught him in its grip. He took one deep breath, and another, and another, not stopping until the throbbing ache that had been building slowly ebbed away and he could breathe more freely. He had heard of this act and that those amongst their kind made use of it, though the way was not spoken of to others. He was starting to see why.

Meássë, still in the dream world her twin weaved for them, considered his offer and said, Are you certain you wish to do this?

I am, Makar replied, and approached his sister. The question is, do you wish to continue?

Meássë paused, hesitated. If we do this, she cautioned, There will be no going back.

I know, Makar returned. And I will have it no other way. Now, I ask you again, sister. Is your answer yes, or no?

He was before her now, his molten gold eyes gilded in the light of the stars. Meássë looked around her. The field they stood in was empty of life. It was just her and him. They could do whatever they wished, and no one would be the wiser. Finally, her dreams were about to become reality.

Yes, she answered before long.

Makar scooped her into his arms and kissed her, molding himself to her when she moaned and returning his kiss with equal passion. Her lips were just as petal-soft in living dream as they were in the corporeal world. He paused, his lips just a grain above hers. Her breath mingling with his made him lightheaded and dizzy. He touched her cheek, her hair. Auburn locks slipped around his fingers like silk. Makar would bring each and every one to his lips.

Meássë shivered when Makar kissed her again, her face growing hot when his tongue slipped into the inviting heat of her mouth. His skilled hands were quick to find and undo the fastenings of her robe. Goosbumps prickled all over her when wisps of silk loosened and slipped past her arms to pool around her feet. Makar disrobed himself just as easily. Tunic and breeches and boots joined the robe to form a little pile on soft, fragrant grass. He then swept Meássë into his embrace, pulling her with him as he lay down.

They lay beneath the stars, content in each other’s arms. It was quiet, but the silence was a sweet and comfortable one. Makar brushed the hair out of Meássë’s eyes as the silence stretched between them. He watched her as she watched him. Then he leaned in.

Do you dream of me often? He lilted between kisses.

Yes, Meássë trembled when he kissed the expanse of her throat, her shoulders. Often and always.

Did I touch you like this? His soft, fleeting touch, ghosting over her belly, her breasts, ripped startled gasps out of her. And this? He uttered while his hand now glided over and inside her thighs. How about this?

All of it. And in many other ways.

Including this?

Her back arched even as she sucked in a deep breath. Makar touched her like an experienced lover, teasing her and unleashing a riot of desire with every stroke of the finger. He restrained himself, choosing a gentler approach, his kisses drowning out her mewls and whimpers.

On the next hunt, I want it to be just you and me, he insisted. I want to take you beneath the stars. Will you let me do that? Take you beneath the stars?

Meássë dragged in another deep breath, this time when he moved over her and parted her legs with his. She slid her arms around his shoulders, beneath the thick, auburn hair that often haunted her dreams.

Yes, she pleaded, raising her hips when he gripped her thigh and slowly pushed himself inside of her. That is what I have wanted for a long time.

Good, Makar propped himself on his free elbow and sank his length, inch by slow inch, into her warmth. That is good. I… Fuck…"

He could not bring himself to say anything else. He stole one last glance at her, one final glimpse, drowning in her eyes, before rolling his hips. Makar nearly came apart when Meássë wrapped her legs around his hips, her heels digging into his back, urging him to go deeper. He dipped his head, latching onto her throat without missing a beat. Meássë’s cries spilled free when he sucked down hard with each thrust, her nails leaving little bruises on his skin whenever his teeth scraped briefly over her flesh.

Makar somehow kept his attention on her, his hips rocking at a frantic, erratic pace. Even in dream, he relished the softness of her insides, the heady scent wafting off her skin, and the otherworldly green eyes that were now clouded and darkened with lust. He dissolved into pleasure of the acutest kind, shockwaves gripping his entire being when her walls clenched and pulsed around his cock. He fell apart, crying out her name while he convulsed and emptied his seed. Makar let out another transported whine, this time when Meássë’s orgasm ripped through her and she choked out a sob. He sought her lips again, but with tenderness instead of passion.

Like all good things, their coupling had to come to an end, even in dream. Makar drew away, moving to his side and propping himself on his elbow.

We must part now, he said, albeit very reluctantly. Lest someone comes in search of either of us and finds us in this state. But we can meet like this again, until our next hunt.

As much as she loathed to part from him, Meássë thought his course of action was the safest for them both. Until the next hunt, she agreed. Beneath the stars.

Tags: @cilil

#silmsmutweek #Makar #Meássë #Makar smut #Meássë smut #Makar x Meássë #Makar imagine #Meássë imagine #the book of lost tales #The book of lost tales imagine #Dark! Makar #Dark! Meássë

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