Private If I Had Wings I Could Fly

You... fucking... devil...

Hunger smoked through Zalan's teeth in a wanton haze of breath that rattled against his ribs.

How it all mixed with the sweet sticky stank that pulsed and pulled and pushed and took. Everything it wanted. Needed more. Filled his every breath with that same vice that whispered and crackled against fat lips that sucked. Against his fingers. Above his head. Through his hair as she tossed and grabbed, thumped and rattled.

God's above and below how he loved it. And his eyes never hid it. Closing only for moments to better feel the shiver run through her. The hitch. The twitch of nerves and the curl of toes.

Pleasure thrummed through his bones. A full throated moan gives sound to his bricked up satisfaction.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

His groans ached the sweeter with every hitch of her breath, and whimper that fell from her lips as he plunged and pressed fingers hooked up to their hilt and felt all the grab and grit of her swollen cunt.

"That's right," Unto her cunt his tongue did press. Wide and flat, and slow. he ran her up from taint to clit.

All his.

He grabbed with clawed digits at her left breast. Peels his lips from their wet work while fingers went on with their fiendish rhythms. Arm pumped behind them to rattle and shake the table with the shifting weight of her. "Sing for me," he says against her heat. Head at rest against her thigh as he grins. Sweat soaked and glowing shameless.

Wider and wider with every rock, quiver, swell, grind, give and squish that met his tingling pads and crooked joints. Against her bone. Against soft and wanting flesh. He puts his tongue to work against the swell of her clit. Paints across its fat head.

S

I

L

K

Again and again. Merciless.

Those eyes of his wide open. Full of all the sin, absolution and damnation she could find there in those pits of jasper flames.

The body demands touches, her skin screams for his. She grins when she hears his words between his slurping. She runs her fingers through his messy, dark hair. Her hips move towards his tongue and mouth. Her body trembled and twitched, she moaned, and pressed herself against him. Her hips pushed against his face, begging for more. Her pulse is pounding in her body and the hard beats are making her dazed.

Her legs shake uncontrollably. Her own desire dripped sticky and shiny between her legs. The feeling was bewildering, she gasps for air. His mouth is warm and wet, she can't stay still, she rubs herself against his face. When he fondles her pussy, sucks her clit into his mouth and kisses it hard, Zalan could feel her getting closer to orgasm as she jerked every time he buried his fingers inside her. Pulsating. "Sing for me," the words rasping against her skin. But no sound came from her throat. The air in her chest tightened like a snare. So her body answered instead. It moved with a rhythm older than any songs, a raw hymn carved in flesh and breath. Each shiver, each arch, each tremor beneath his hands became her song.

She felt it first as a whisper, each letter painted with his tongue. The drag of skin on skin was almost reverent, like a prayer said low and close to the bone. It left no mark the way ink would, but she felt branded all the same. He can feel her falling into pleasure; it is soft, hard, slippery and so damn good.

A jolt went through her body. She could no longer decide what was what, or which was more pleasant. His fingers or his tongue. Her legs shook, and her wet insides cramped around his fingers. Suddenly, he can feel her body stiffen on the tip of his tongue. A stiffness that spreads through the thief's entire body, the blessed orgasm that made her whole body tense tightly in a well-curved arch. Then, twitching and then completely lost in the massive waves of pleasure. Her one hand fumbles the edge of the table, almost like a panicked climber with a broken rope, looking for a good grip. The table jolted with a sharp crack against the earth floor. Half the gear clattered off in a noisy avalanche, daggers, metal tools, and worn leather fell. It's spasming in her whole body. In her supple shoulders. Her back. In her legs. In her wet insides. Her cunt is pounding like a second heart and her pulse is racing at the same time she is hit with ecstasy, violently and hard.

She has never been the poison, but always the poisoned. For a short moment, she doesn't remember whether she laughed, moaned, screamed, cursed or cried. Silk gazed down at him, grey eyes glazed and distant, words tangled deep down her throat. The world tilted, she wobbled, as if trying to steady herself on shifting ground, lips parting to speak. But all that came was a ragged sigh.

“Fuck... that was good.” she managed at last.

What a sweet song she sang. Wave after wave of her music rippling through run of his fingers and tongue. Strings of her legs wound tight about him and up the spine. A pressure that made his head feel about to pop as all the world that was her trembled and shook to whining hot release against those parts of her hallowed hymn.

His tongue's prayers slow over the crest of her swelling crash. All of her gathers up, like a surge that wants nothing more than to crush him in its carnal crescendo. All of her smothers him. Breath choked by thighs and hips and grinding cunt that all grips and holds and shakes against him. Bone to bone. His lips press down and he sucks against her clit as his fingers work up through the clench and pulse of her ribbed walls, there between all the coiled rest of her. His nose deep in the wet bristle and scratch, his beard painted with the intoxicating slickness that feels so much like ritualistic drowning. A ceremony of her scent as much as the hot breathlessness of it all.

Table screeches, gear falls in cold clatter and ring. Sends shivers up his spine that has him shift closer to her, with a shift of legs and feet beneath him. All of him curls with the shelter of her, so wrapped around him. Both her legs about his shoulders, his hand catches hers as it came to slip, holding her up against the table with languid flex as she writhes and twists and squirms.

Parts of him unmade, cock still achingly stiff. He sweetly relents to the panting divinity upon the table. His salvation, a thief named Silk. Rising and falling with breath. Golden like the pale moon light. Not sure, for one sinless moment , where she began, and he came to end. He peeled his mouth away, so aching from it's worship, from her folds, so wide and wet in their throbbing terminus. He rubs his nose in it. Kisses it. So sticky and warm and impossible to quit.

But his embers burn low. His body starts to let go of the smoldering heat that kept him blazing so steady and paced. Lungs heavy with their draw. The cool air of the hide out feeding all the tired parts of him. The rest of the world coming back to candlelit view as a bit of space grows between them.

Fuck... that was good. She says.

His hand still holding hers. Felt her pulse through his bones, and the pound of blood through his veins. His fingers squeeze hers before they come undone. Grabs up the tunic, and works at wiping her down. All tired smile as he takes care of the mess he had promised. "Didn't know you sang so good," he wipes, and plants a kiss against her thigh in it's wake.

The tunic was a crumpled mess in his hands. Sweat-damp, streaked with grime and residues, the musky aftermath from their bodies. He cleaned her with slow passes, careful swipes, like he was tending a relic rather than a thief in a hide-out.

She grabbed the tunic from him and Silk stared at it a second before she pulled it over her head, with the sigh of someone too tired to care. The fabric was clinging to her skin, like it had seen too much. Silk didn’t flinch from the smell. Hers. His. The sour, iron tang of what they'd shared. It clung to her as sure as the bruises blooming where his teeth had marked her.

Instead, she moved to sit on the edge of the table. Rough and sure, she grabbed his jaw in one calloused hand and wiped his face with the other. Deliberate swipes across his beard and cheek, catching sweat and heat. Her thumb brushed over his lip, caught a fleck of sweat from the corner of his mouth.

"Mmm, that’s enough serenades for one night," she muttered. She gave his cheek a pat, more loose slap than caress, and rose to her feet. A tug at his wrist, firm. She pulled him with her, back toward the shelves. Back toward whatever passed for a bed in this rotting little hole.

“Come on. Before you pass out..."

A chuff of a laugh sparks from Zalan's throat as the tunic falls over Silk. Heavy with everything it carried on it. Hiding much of what they'd bared.

One snap of his fingers, and the fucking ugly thing would be done and dusted. Felt enough of it to keep the burn a flash.

But she grabs him. Wicks him down. Quick and sharp. Covering her tracks. Runs her fhumb over his lips and he feels his breath empty from his lungs. Staring at that cloud cover spread so silver across the sky of her eyes.

"Mmm..." She stings him on the cheek. Soft like. But it brings his teeth out all the same. Her hand already sure around his wrist, she pulls him to the shelf. His steps a little clumsy behind her pointed stride. One two, flat footed before they smooth. "... Before you pass out..."

Still smiling, he shakes his head. Nods. Slips his hands from her grip. Runs loose fingers over it. Pulls himself up and onto the shelf easy, once he got through the strain of aching tired. He turns on that same shelf she had peered down at him from. Cuts, bruises, prayers and songs ago. Offers her his hand.

"You ain't getting anxious now, are ya?" impish dare there in the gleam of his eye, and curl of his lip.

Maybe too close to the tender parts. But he'd always been a horrible gambler.

Silk took his hand and hauled herself up beside him, one knee thudding against the wood as the shelf creaked in protest. She didn’t let go right away, just watched his gleaming eyes in the half-dark. She dropped beside him, shoulder bumping his as the shelf creaked beneath them both.

“Anxious?” she wondered, voice rough with dust. “About the job?” Her smirk sharpened as she settled in beside him. Silk tugged the moth-eaten blanket over them both. Then, with a sideways glance: "...or are you just scared I might vanish before breakfast?”

He chewed on the inside of his lip. Sucked on the point of his tooth and sat there a moment, warmth of her fingers still bleeding off of his own grip. The blanket pulled over the two of them. He sparked a low bounce of a laugh.

"About the job..." He parroted as he sidled in under the swirl of dust. A leg popped out to better keep cool. He eyed the old wood above them. Looked sidelong right back at her. Lips split to grin as he wriggled and gave her an easy bump of the shoulder. "I think you're scared of cuddling,"

“Please. If I were anxious, I wouldn’t be here, would I?” Her eyes flicked over to him again, pale and sharp, even in the gloom. That half-smirk of his met her with all its damned charm, and it made something twist in her chest she didn’t like putting a name to.

"I think you're scared of cuddling."

His shoulder had nudged hers. Teasing. Easy. Like it didn’t matter. She should’ve laughed. Or elbowed him in the ribs and called him an ass. She had the sharpness for that, always had. But all her edges felt dulled now. She didn’t answer his joke. Didn’t tell him that yes, she was terrified, not of the closeness, but of what would happen after. Of the cold when it was gone. Of the fact that this meant something, even if they both pretended it didn’t.

Then, wordless, she turned. Twisted herself toward him. Closer. Wedged herself between his arm and body. Into the warmth he gave off like a slow-burning hearth. Her head found his shoulder, and her hand dragged up against the line of his ribs before it stopped, resting there.

So much closeness. Too much of that unfamiliar press of another heartbeat beside her own. A thief's life usually make room (or trust) for this. She'd shared rooms with noisy, snoring bodies in the dark. Her father's gruff sleep across a thin wall. But this? This was deliberate. This was choosing to lie tangled with someone else. How badly some hollow part of her drank it in. She let her forehead rest against the curve of his collarbone, closed her eyes, and let herself breathe in the scent of him.

“Get some sleep, Zalan."

Her heart thumped against his. And all her weight pressed down on him. Light as can be and heavy enough to hold him together. Just seemed to fit. Felt too right to leave any room for breath in his lungs. In those same nooks and crannies of his flesh and bones she gently traced and he set to tangle with.

Legs and toes rasped gentle to warm cool friction. Had him shiver with the truth. Like she would be all the air he needed. Warm as the summer breeze. Didn't matter how hazed her storm cloud eyes looked. How cold and hard. He just needed to breath in enough of her, and she'd carry him off.

Sweet tang of it all swirling in each lungful. Made his head spin closer to dreams. Eyes lulling.

Get some sleep, Zalan

If this wasn't dangerous.

Slow, he wrapped an arm around her. Fingers grabbed soft at her shoulder. His head leaned it's weight on hers. His eyes took in the sight of her. Every hill and valley as his fingers mussed through her hair and he thought on all the stupid things he would do and say to keep her.

"Yeeah,"