"I want to." She kissed him again, lower this time, and felt a tension in his body that had nothing to do with vigilance. "I want to give you something. Will you let me?"
His hand found her hair, fingers tangling in the strands. "You don't have to—"
"I know I don't have to." She looked up at him. "That's why I want to."
For a long moment, he simply stared at her. She could see him processing, waking up fully, understanding what she was offering. Could see the conflict between his instinct to take care of her and his desire to let her take care of him.
"Please," she said softly. "Let me choose this."
"Yes," he breathed. "Always yes. Whatever you want."
A smile spread across her face, warm and real andhungry. When had she learned to smile like that? When had wanting something stopped feeling like shame?
When he looked at me like I was worth wanting back.
She turned her attention to the laces of his trousers.
Her fingers were steadier than they’d been the first time she touched him in the alcove, steadier than when she’d ridden him in his bed. She worked the knots open slowly, savoring the small sounds he made: the hitch in his breath when her knucklesbrushed the hard plane of his lower abdomen, the low rumble in his chest when she tugged the fabric apart.
The trousers parted, and his cock sprang free. The deep green shaft curved slightly upward, veins prominent along the sides, the alien ridges along the underside.
She wrapped her fingers around the base, barely able to circle him fully, and gave one slow, experimental stroke.
Ralvar sucked in a sharp breath. His hips lifted off the furs before he forced them back down, hand tightening in her hair.
"Delia—"
"Tell me if I do something wrong,” she said softly. "Tell me what feels good."
"Everything." His voice had gone rough, scraped raw. "Everything you do feels—"
She leaned down and licked a broad, flat stripe from base to tip, tasting salt and musk.
“Gods—”
She did it again, bolder now, swirling her tongue around the head, catching the bead of precum on the tip and swallowing it down. He tasted earthy, rich, addictive. She opened her mouth wider and took the head inside, lips stretching around the blunt flare, and sucked gently.
Ralvar’s hand clenched in her hair. A shudder rolled through him; his thighs tensed on either side of her.
She sank lower.
The first ridge popped past her lips with a soft, wet sound. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder, letting her tongue trace the raised band while she bobbed shallowly.
He cursed in Orcish, and his hips jerked once before he locked them down.
“Like that,” he rasped. “Just like that. Fuck—your mouth—”
She hummed around him in answer, the vibration making him groan louder. She took more, went to the second ridge now, stretching her jaw wider, and let her tongue explore the textured underside, dipping into each valley, lapping at the smooth skin between ridges.
She pulled back slowly, letting every ridge drag along her tongue on the way out, then sank down again, deeper this time. The third ridge seated against her lips; she breathed through her nose and pushed forward until the tip pressed against the back of her throat.
Ralvar made a broken sound, half growl, half plea. His free hand fisted the furs beside him; his whole body was taut, shaking with the effort of staying still.
“You’re taking me so deep,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Look at you—my perfectkrenna, taking my cock in your mouth like you were made for it.”
The praise lit her up. She moaned around him, the sound vibrating straight through the ridges, and started a steady rhythm—slow bobs, tongue swirling over each band on the upstroke, cheeks hollowed on the downstroke. Saliva slickedhim; it dripped down the shaft, coating her fingers where she stroked what she couldn’t fit.
His breathing turned ragged. His hips began to rock in tiny thrusts he couldn’t quite stop.
