The air around him began to shimmer, like heat waves rising from summer pavement. I watched, transfixed, as his appearance shifted and changed.
The chocolate brown eyes stayed the same. Warm and intense and fixed on my face, watching for any sign of fear or revulsion. But his hair lengthened, falling in thick waves to his shoulders, darker than it had appeared before, catching the firelight like polished obsidian. His frame expanded, muscles becoming more pronounced, his shoulders broader. His skin took on a copper tone that seemed to catch the dim light filtering through the tent, making him almost glow.
He was bigger like this, more imposing. But God, he was beautiful.
My eyes traced over him, taking in every detail. He features looked almost human—remarkably so. But there were differences. A subtle ridge ran along his hairline, barely visible beneath his hair. And his wings—the membranes caught the light, displaying intricate patterns of darker copper veins.
"Ellie?" His voice was uncertain and vulnerable in a way I'd never heard before.
I reached up and touched his face, letting my fingers trail along his jaw, his cheekbone, up to trace that ridge at his hairline. The texture was different, smoother, almost likepolished stone. "You're beautiful," I whispered. "Rickon, you're so beautiful."
The relief that flooded his expression was almost painful to see. His shoulders relaxed, and he let out a breath I hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You're not afraid."
"Not even a little bit." I pulled him down to me, kissing him deeply, tasting the difference in him now. Maybe it was my imagination, but it was something wilder and more intense. "Now, where were we?"
Rickon wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close, and I felt the warmth of his body against mine. The moment our skin connected, a spark of electricity seemed to pass between us. He covered my mouth with his own, his tongue pushing between my lips. He tasted incredible—masculine and wild, intoxicating, and irresistible. My breath caught as our kiss deepened, and I felt my fingers tangle in his thick hair, pulling him closer still.
Rickon was so beautiful. Tall and strong, with broad shoulders and thick muscles that made my hands ache to explore every inch of him. His skin was warm beneath my fingertips, and I felt the rapid beating of my heart against his chest. I fit perfectly in his arms, like I'd been designed just for this. Every contour of his body complemented mine, and I marveled at how naturally we moved together, as if we'd been doing this dance for lifetimes.
I made a deep, pleasured noise that echoed through the tent as I wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor. Rickon moved over me, propping himself on one elbow while his other hand traced the outline of my curves, memorizing every dip and swell. I had taken off my parka and camouflage but still wore the thick thermal shirt and leggings. Too many clothes. Rickon clearly felt the same, giving a grunt of approval as my hands frantically tried to push the fabric away. My shirt went first, then the sports bra. I felt exposed under hisgaze, but the way he looked at me, like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, made heat pool low in my belly. He bent his head and took one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak before sucking firmly, then lavishing the same attention on the other. I moaned, a raw sound of pure pleasure, and arched beneath him, pressing myself more fully into his mouth.
I felt my arousal building, making me dizzy with need. The sensation was overwhelming, sweet, and sharp, and more intense than anything I'd ever felt. I wanted him, needed him with an urgency that bordered on desperation.
"You smell so delicious, please can I taste you?" he asked, his voice raspy with desire.
My eyes met his, my cheeks burning, my body thrumming with want. I gave a small nod, accompanied by one perfect word that seemed to pour from somewhere deep inside me.
"Yes."
He lowered himself between my thighs, settling his shoulders beneath my legs as I felt his breath ghost over my skin, making me dizzy with want. Outside the wind screamed, slapping against our tent with chilly fingers, but inside, in his arms, I was warm.
He pressed a reverent kiss to the inside of my left thigh, and I felt the rapid flutter of my pulse beneath his lips, then another kiss higher up, and another, working his way closer to where I needed him most. My skin felt impossibly sensitive, like every nerve ending was on fire, and I felt myself trembling beneath his lips, my muscles quivering with anticipation. When he finally put his mouth on me, dragging his tongue in a slow, deliberate stroke through my slick folds, I gasped sharply and my hips lifted off the sleeping bag. The sensation was incredible. Sweet and intense and utterly overwhelming, pleasure that exploded through my body and made me groan. He licked meslowly at first, exploring every fold and valley, learning what made my breath catch in my throat, what made my fingers tangle desperately in his hair, what made those little whimpers escape my lips. Then he found my clit and sucked gently, swirling his tongue around it. I mewled with pleasure, my thighs trembling on either side of his head, my fingers tightening their grip in his hair.
"Rickon," I breathed, his name barely a whisper on my lips, and saying it like that, so desperate, so needy, made heat flood through me. The sensation was becoming unbearable, pleasure building and building with nowhere to go. He doubled his efforts, alternating between long, slow licks that traveled the full length of me, savoring every inch, and focused attention on that sensitive bundle of nerves. He varied the pressure and rhythm, and I felt him watching my reactions carefully, learning what made me gasp and what made me arch my back. Soon I was writhing beneath him. My moans filled the small space, growing louder and more urgent with each passing moment, and the sound of my pleasure only seemed to fuel his determination.
Every instinct I possessed wanted him inside me, wanted to feel him deep and complete and everywhere. The need was overwhelming, consuming my every thought.
But there was something about the way he was taking his time with me, worshipping my body like I was precious, that made this feel different from anything I'd ever experienced. He seemed determined to savor every moment, to explore every inch of my skin, to learn what made me gasp and moan and arch beneath his touch. It was overwhelming in the best possible way.
He slid one finger inside me, and I felt how wet and ready I was for him, and he groaned deeply against my clit. The vibration made me shudder. His hand was much larger than a human man's and the stretch was incredible, so absolutely perfect. I could feel every movement, every curl of his fingeras he explored me. He added a second finger slowly, stretching me, curling them deliberately to find that spot inside me that made me cry out his name. My walls clenched hard around his fingers as he worked them in and out with increasing intensity, matching the rhythm of his tongue on my clit, and I felt myself getting wetter and wetter with every stroke. The sounds I made, those desperate little whimpers and moans, seemed to drive him wild.
"Oh God, Rickon, I'm—" My words dissolved into incoherent sounds as he increased the pressure, sucking harder on my clit while his fingers stroked deep inside me, pressing firmly against that sweet spot.
My thighs began to shake uncontrollably, my fingers gripping his hair so tight it had to hurt. I didn't care. I needed more.
"That's it, sweetheart," he murmured against my slick flesh, the vibration of his words making me gasp. "Let go for me."
And I did. I shattered, my back arching off the sleeping bag as I screamed his name—"Rickon!"—my voice raw and desperate and barely recognizable as my own. My body clenched rhythmically around his fingers, pulsing with each wave of my climax as pleasure crashed through me. He worked me through it, gentling his touch as the tremors subsided, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs, my hipbones, anywhere he could reach.
It was the most intense thing I'd ever experienced in my life. Being completely undone like that, vulnerable and open and his.
Outside, the wind howled like a wild thing, battering relentlessly against the tent walls with a ferocity that seemed almost angry. The fabric rippled and snapped with each powerful gust, and somewhere in the distance I heard branchescracking under the storm's weight. But inside our small sanctuary, the chaos of the world fell away. There was only Rickon—solid, warm, real. My skin was flushed and warm despite the cold seeping in from outside, and my chest rose and fell rapidly as I tried to catch my breath.
He crawled up beside me, laying down and pulling me close against him. My body melted into him as he drew one of the sleeping bags over our bodies, cocooning us together as I shivered in the aftermath. I felt my heartbeat gradually slowing against his chest, matching the rhythm of his own. I buried my face in his neck, breathing him in—woodsmoke and pine and something uniquely Rickon.
"Rickon," I whispered, my voice still shaky. My hand found his chest, then drifted lower, my fingers trailing over his abs before reaching the waistband of his pants. "Don't you need to...?"
He caught my hand gently, bringing it to his lips and kissing my palm. "Your pleasure is my pleasure," he murmured, and I heard the sincerity in every word. He kissed me softly, and I sighed against his mouth. "Sleep, Ellie."
