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Then rising again, just as fast, when Coen pulled his fingers out.
He touched my bottom lip, painting me with myself, then bowed down to suck the taste of me back in. I whimpered into his mouth, moving my hand faster around him until his face was just as strained and taut as the rest of him.
“I want all of you, Coen Steeler.”
My wavering whisper wasn’t just regarding this, but I’d have to say the words—my answer—more directly later. In the moment, my back arched, pleasure skating across my vision as Coen drove himself all the way into me.
We moved in tandem, like the sea tumbling in and out, back and forth. And maybe the sea was moving a little more, because while my real hands scrabbled at the blankets on either side of me, my Object Summoning ones hooked onto the ship itself, grasping for any kind of anchor in the star-flecked void Coen was sucking me into.
As we rocked, the ship rocked harder, my magic pushing and pulling. The overhead tilted to and fro, and I heard distant running footsteps, shouts—
“Don’t you dare stop,” Coen ground out.
I wouldn’t have been able to stop if I wanted to. The more he pounded into me, the more the ship rocked as violently as my hips did. And the more we tilted this way and that, the more his hands were on me, pinning me in place, making sure I didn’t slide off the berth.
The pressure of him stamped me all over. My shoulders. Breasts. Hips. And then lower, putting pressure exactly where I needed it.
The world tilted the same moment I tumbled over the edge of the abyss.
His arms shot out, clutching the bedframe to keep us steady. I buried my scream into the crook of his neck. He cried out too, veins straining in the muscles of his arms, spilling all of himself into me.
My magic released the ship. We slammed back down, dwindling into a gentle sway. The running footsteps overhead and shouting stopped.
“Otla a bre veraken,” Coen said, staring down at me in awe. In such a drunken haze that I wasn’t even sure he’d realized it was Sorronian that slipped out.
I smiled up at him, understanding it anyway. He’d spent enough time teaching me the language that I knew veraken meant storm, but not the kind you feared. The kind you revered. The kind you wanted to witness forever.
“Neh qubo otla tirrigo niemperra de.” I want to witness you forever, too.
Or at least, that was what I thought I said back.
Coen laughed, his face so open and carefree that my heart clenched. “I never thought I’d hear the day you told me you wanted to bend me over, but I’ll take it.”
“Ugh. I thought tirrigo meant ‘to watch or witness’?”
“Virrigo,” Coen corrected with a kiss to my forehead. “Tirrigo is a bit more vulgar, but again, I’m not complaining.”
He crawled up beside me, cradling my body next to his. Both of us were still breathing hard, each of our inhales and exhales braiding together. Somehow, traces of that heavenly-smelling oil he’d massaged into my back had gotten all over the both of us, our skin gleaming next to each other.
My smile slipped when I noticed a fleck of blood I’d missed on his clavicles.
“What village are you tackling next?”
I hated how we couldn’t actually virrigo each other forever. Not with us still forced to pretend we were on opposing sides of the war.
“Wasteon,” Coen answered. “Dazmine and Terrin just went through there and claim they’ve got a good number of people convinced of Jagaros already.”
I swallowed. “When?”
“Next Friday. That’s when they’ll be protesting.”
“Hey, that’s the day of the Element Wielder ball!”
My voice came out cheery, but part of my heart sank. Even though I knew Coen couldn’t show his face at the Institute, I’d halfway hoped he’d show up anyway. That we’d be able to dance at least once.
Coen’s focus sharpened on me. “You’re going?”
I nodded. “All the other pre-elites will be there, so I figured it’s a perfect time to listen in on them all in one place. See if I can hear anything of value.”
