Slowly, the water around them turns to a deep red, as if they bathe in wine. Ren’s eyes flutter closed, fragile lashes pressed to her cheeks. She relaxes in his grip and he nearly bites his tongue in half to keep from pulling her into his embrace. But then she sinks, as if the weight of this forest comes down across the wings of her shoulders, and Basuin winds an arm around her waist.
The movement presses her into him, her breasts against his chest, and he swallows hard. Then, Ren brings her hands up, tracing the line of his shoulders, to wind around his neck. An ache pulses through him like the heaviness of guilt pitting in the bottom of his stomach. It’s been so long—so gods forsaken long—since he’s felt this, the heat is almost welcome in the way of a reminder that this is real. His touch, and her touch, and their closeness, is real.
“Thank you,” Ren says, her voice quiet despite their privacy. “Thank you, Bass.”
He doesn’t trust himself to say anything. Not when her eyes open and reveal such beautiful colors. The rarest onyx, faceted with gold in the glint of the light. Warmth from the red of his magic a glaze over her irises.
Basuin’s gaze traces down the length of her flat nose to the curve of her perfect lips—parted and wet by her tongue.
He doesn’t trust himself, so he hangs his head until his forehead presses against hers, her skin damp but warm. Basuin closes his eyes, and still, all he can think about is how it might feel to kiss her.
Ren’s hand curls around his neck. The other draws to his jaw, cupping his cheek as her thumb paints over a scar embedded in his beard. He shudders a breath he can no longer hold in.
“Can I try something?” He keeps his voice low, quieter than ever.
“Yes,” Ren answers, no hesitation. Basuin’s heart thunders in his chest like it might stop at any moment.
Then, Basuin dips his head and presses his mouth to Ren’s. Soft—softly, taking her lip between his, plush and beautiful. And Ren tips her chin up, meeting his movement, clinging to him in a way that angles them somehow closer than they were before. It feels like sin, her lips against his, but it tastes like magic. Electricity on his tongue when he swipes it across her mouth but doesn’t dare seek entry. Just to feel her.
In the haze of Ren, his hand has slipped into her wet hair to cradle her head. The other grasps at the flesh of her hip as gently as possible. When he finally pulls away, forces himself away, he’s left panting in want for more.
Ren, gorgeous Ren, is staring up at him in the most dangerous way he’s seen. Forget her sharp eyes and her stinging words. Her drawn shoulders and defensive stance. Here, eyes half-lidded and hazy, mouth pink and open as if asking for more, she’s more insidious than anything.
Temptation beckons for him and Basuin is caught by it, leaning down until his nose bumps against hers.
And this time, Ren tightens her grip around his neck and pulls him down until her lips cover his. In shock, he folds, grasping at her waist for purchase, ridding them of any space between their bodies. He wants to feel everything of her.
It makes his breeches tighter and tighter, enough that he shifts his hips away so Ren won’t feel it. Bass holds his tongue between his teeth painfully, but not as painful as the ache running through him.
His hands itch for more. To feel more. And when Ren sighs against his mouth, catching her breath, he needs to hear more of it. He needs to make her sound like that again—it’s such a pretty sound. It drives him insane. Gods, fuck.
“Can I touch you?” he asks, voice ragged. He needs to.
Ren inhales, breath shuttering. “You’re already touching me,” she whispers.
In defeat, Basuin’s head falls to the crook of her neck, spine bent to reach. His mouth is so close to her neck that his breath ghosts over her skin where water beads along her olive pulse point.
“But can I touch you, Ren,” he says, not a question, voice a hum vibrating from his chest.
He can’t see her face, but he hears the sharp inhale whistling through her nose. The way her body stiffens, locks up, enough that Basuin would pull away if she didn’t have such a clutch on him. The fire quiets at her hesitance and a shame sets in that should’ve stopped him sooner than now.
But Ren doesn’t let go, and her voice is a tremble of leaves in the wind when she says, “Yes.” Then, “Please,” in a watery beg he can’t say no to.
Basuin’s hands slide down Ren’s body, following the deadly curve of her, thumb brushing over the soft skin of her breast, until both palms swallow her hips. He walks her backward, the shift of the lake around his legs heavy, mouth leaving kisses where he can. Her neck, where her jaw connects below her ear, her temple—anywhere. Ren’s hand finds the leather tie in his hair and pulls it until it unravels, letting his locks free for her fingers to tangle in.
At the edge of the lake, Basuin finds a rock with the flattest incline and wades Ren toward it. He steadies his hold on her hips and lifts her out of the water to sit on the precipice. Ren’s legs part for him to slot between, and it takes everything for Basuin to focus on her eyes as his breeches start to suffocate him.
His hands fall first to her thighs—he hopes they aren’t too rough. Her skin is silk and spun sugar under his calloused palms and he’s careful to keep his touch light. But Ren makes no protest, her chest rising and falling as she watches him. Her nipples, dusky pink contrasted against her flaxen skin, are peaked from the cold air or the hot arousal he hopes is coursing through her the way it sears him.
Slowly, Bass trails his fingers down to Ren’s knees, then to caress her calves, then all the way until he brushes his touch over her delicate ankles. And when he drags back up her legs, Ren shivers. He can make her do that again. Again.
So he moves to lay a kiss on her knee, and then to her thigh, eyes catching her dark twilight gaze. Her stomach is taut and scarless. Then, a dark patch of curly hair above the apex of her pelvis. And when Basuin finally lets himself look—because gods help him, he’s going straight to the Blacksalt Sea after he brings Ren to her peak—Ren’s core glistens with evidence of the same need making him hard and heavy.
She’s so beautiful. She’s divinity in true form. And he’ll pray. Sa-cha help him, Basuin will pray at her feet like this and worship her.
One more kiss to her inner thigh, close enough to feel her heat. “Can I?” he asks one more time.
Ren nods, her hand running through his hair. “Please, Bass.”
