Lycan's Affection
Holy Grail

Eleanor wasn't sure how, but she somehow made it from outside, to the foot of the long spiral stairs. She could remember taking this stairs with no problems before, but not now.

Her knees were far too weak, her back pinned to the railing, her fingers digging into Conaan's back. There was no stopping tonight.

She could still feel the rain on her skin, the breathlessness when he dipped between her neck and her lips, like he could not make up his mind which he wanted first. But he could have all of her. They both knew that much.

She felt herself suddenly hoisted, her dress falling back, her legs wrapping around Conaan's waist. His fingers delicately fell onto her bare thighs, still wet from the rain, and she felt her euphoria peak. Her hands dropped to his chest, the single button of the robe he was wearing dropping under her fingers.

She let het fingers trace his skin as he climbed the stairs, his fingers somehow keeping her stable, yet at the same time all around her.

Suddenly, she felt a door open, and Conaan let her down, as if to catch his breath. But she was just as wild for him, and she covered yhe distance, wrapping her arms around him, her lips seeking his like holy grail.

Her back hit the wall softly, and she arched, to Conaan's slow ministrations, his fingers tracing the outline of her spine, sending delirious tingles down to her feet.

"Conaan..." She managed to utter, right before his lips traced down to her exposed shoulders, the sleeve of the dress falling away.

Against the rumbles of the sky, almost like it, she could hear his breathlessness, his hands pulling the sleeve even lower.

She moved forward to him, and his other hand stretched to the wall, keeping them both stable. Eleanor threw her head back, her eyes closing, Conaan's lips leaving small marks on the small bridge just below her neck.

She felt him going way lower, every bit of skin his lips felt tightening, coming alight with the flames of desire. She held on tighter, lest the euphoria drove her completely wild or fluid. All she knew was she wouldn't stay sane in his hands.

Not when he kissed her like that. Not when he knew exactly where to touch her. Not when he occasionally looked up to meet her eyes, not when his fingers traced her lips, like he needed her to gasp hi name more than she already was.

Not gasp. Scream. He needed her to scream for him.

She suddenly moved, standing on her two feet, her hand seeking the opening of his robe. She found it quite easily even in the dark, and she caught hold of both ends, then looked up to him.

He had an encouragement in his eyes, his lips still moist from the kisses with her, half parted with subtle pants of desire.

Making up her mind, she pulled Conaan by his robe, bringing him back to her, her blood rushing in her ears.

It was like an addiction, and she quickly rid him of the robe he was wearing amidst slow, toe curling kisses.

Her fingers quickly sought his skin, her palm flattened against his chest, down to his chiseled stomach. She stopped right at his waist line, then moved further, her hands seeking his back. She read his body like it was an unholy scripture of ebony and sin, and she was a sinner. Hell, she loved to sin.

Suddenly, she felt her dress lightly rip, and a small chuckle escaped Conaan, his hands cupping the small of her waist.

Before she knew it, her legs were around him once more, half of her dress on the floor, and Conaan on the bed so she was sitting on his lap.

She heard as he dipped his head to explore the baser, more sensitive parts of her, and she swallowed, throwing her head back, her hair bounding off.

Like he could see, Conaan's lips stayed right ay her midriff, yet his hands reached for her hair, his fingers lacing in the strands, pulling her back to him.

She took the time to feel him more, fighting a failing battle against the pleasure his lips wer e giving.

She leaned slowly, cupping his face, her eyes meeting his. She had seen Conaan when he was a beast, a monster, she had never seen something so feral, yet so tamed.

Removing one hand from his face, she pushed her hair to her rright shoulder, her skin coming into full view. Conaan could tell for sure where her heart truly was, right here with him, right in his bed.

She kept him there, as she leaned to his neck, her fingers slowly tracing a long outline. She felt his fingers tighten around her waist, and she smiled, dropping even lower.

Her lips brushed the base of his neck, his small sigh an encouragement.

Like a woman on fire, she moved, marking his neck with a long ring of deliciously sinful kisses, causing Conaan to drive recklessly down the edge, falling through, maddeningly, wholly, dragging himself infinitely through the fires of desire.

Her body fit right in his arms, as she moved almost compulsively to a slow rhythm only they could hear, driving the heat and the tempo ten notches higher.

"Stop making me want to die for your love." It was a husky whisper, and she lifted her eyes, meeting his.

He was barely not bursting at the seams, his eyes darting across hers, his chest heaving.

She was half naked just like he was, a bit longer to cross every boundary, but she stayed, wondering if he wanted to stop here, and never explore this sin. Never burn in this fire.

To make certain, she moved instead, her lips taking his, her mouth opening until he could explore every bit of her, till he could tell the last taste she could have. Till he began to taste like her. And she like him.

It was the very last straw, and Conaan pulled her with him pinning her back on the bed, his body hovering above her. She swallowed, but hell, she did not have much time for swallowing, her hands moving at insane speed, like it was the end of the world and they needed to catch this one breath.

"Conaan, please."

He did not reply immediately, the remains of her dress falling away from her with slow rhythms. The rain rumbled outside, but the desire rumbled even higher. The sheets were wet, but the rain was not to blame.

"Tell me what you want."

She gave a small gasp, his hands feeling all of her and filling all of her, yet waiting for her answer.

"Please," She gasped again, her words muffled under her own almost breathless, deliriou gasps. "Please, do not stop."

"Not tonight," Conaan replied.

If there was anything to be taken right now, he would take her, against all odds, and he was taking her fully, wholly.

"Conaan..."

"Does it hurt?"

"No...no, please do not stop now."

"I never had any intentions to stop halfway."

"Make me yours tonight."

"I know. By the end of this, you will belong to me."

"Make me tame."

"Mhm. I want you wild, Eleanor."

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