Flying High (E)
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Sara
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It was well into the night when the seat of Imperial power crept over the horizon. She first mistook the glittering lights for a cluster of stars rising into the night sky, only to realize that something was just a touch off. Too steady, too bright, and far too dense. Steadily, with each powerful beat of Fanlah’s wings, the city of Emperor Aydrian revealed itself to her.
The outer edge was a maze of twisting spires. Hundreds of reed-thin buildings rose from the jungle canopy, shining white limestone reflecting the light that spilled from stained windows of every shape and color. A frozen wave growing taller and taller the further one looked into the city, until eventually their height rivaled any building Sara had seen on Earth, stretching a thousand feet or more above the distant ground. Despite their prodigious height, however, they were stick-thin, most barely a few dozen yards across, giving the impression of vast needles stabbed straight into the soil.
She could see the city’s history at a glance. Architectural styles ebbed and flowed from street to street, illustrating a smooth gradient of untold years. Some buildings featured wood heavily in their construction, trunks ten feet in width banding the floors or serving as cornerstones to the reedy skyscrapers. Other buildings tipped left or right, age causing them to slump so far aside that magic could have been the only thing keeping them from collapsing. Countless bridges flew between the structures, from spindly ropes to grand iron spider’s webs, each lit heavily with a teeming array of multi-colored lights.
As they flew into the city, passing over the shortest of the buildings, Sara realized she couldn’t see the ground at all. The buildings sprouted straight up from the canopy, not a single patch cleared enough to allow sight of the ground below. The trees here were different, too, she noticed. They lacked the vibrancy and density of the outer jungle, more closely resembling varieties of thinly-leafed oaks and spruces. The air, too, she realized, was cooler than she’d expected.
A uniquely beautiful city, Evie mouthed silently. I’ve only seen its like in your Illusions.
Pretty damn impressive, yeah, Sara admitted. Can’t wait to find out why it secretly sucks ass.
Must you be so pessimistic?
Do you really think it’s just gonna be a nice little paradise town? Want to make a bet about it?
Evie pursed her lips. I think I will turn down that wager.
Sara snorted.
Fanlah flapped again, throwing herself higher, soaring neatly over the tallest of the elven buildings. The further into the city they drew, the more weathered the architecture became. The exterior city had been a rigid grid, razor-edged towers aligned in neat rows. Deeper within, age began to show. Sara saw towers that curved around themselves like a woman trying to look at her own back, others tipped so far to one side that they had begun to lean on their neighbors. Opening her magical senses, she found herself almost blinded by the kaleidoscope of energies swirling around her. There was so much energy wound through the soul of the structures that the stone and wood which composed them were almost useless. It seemed as if one could have simply walked upon the enchantments themselves, so densely tangible were they.
“We are nearly there!” Devi called, shouting over the wind. “We will be landing in the city’s heart! Clothes more appropriate for the climate have been prepared for you!”
The hell does that mean?
Sara leaned to one side, braving the brutal winds for just long enough to get a glimpse ahead.
The city was… descending? The towers were shrinking in size, stone artifice steadily replaced by more and more wood, and yet the land itself was also sloping downward at quite a pace. The trees, though growing just as frequently, had sparser and sparser leaves, until Sara could see the glowing cobblestone pathways that ran between the buildings.
The air was definitely colder, she decided. She had to tuck herself out of the wind once again, hugging herself closer to Fanlah’s boiling-hot hide, for all the good it did her through her armor. Down below, the last of the towers disappeared, replaced by…
Snow?
Curious, Evie noted.
There weren’t many buildings left at all. Fanlah began to descend over fields of, unbelievably, footprint-studded snowbanks. Sara saw dots walking from miniscule structure to miniscule structure, dressed in heavy cloaks and thick furs. What constructs there were had been reduced to two-story homes, torches blazing in the night, helping melt small patches of snow that had accumulated on their steeply-slanted roofs. Though she caught only bits and pieces of the designs as Fanlah slipped quietly past in the night, Sara could see that many of the homes had support beams made of white ivory. Bent tusks two or three times her height framed the home’s walls, secured to mud-daubed logs by nothing more than straps of ancient leather. In a few places there were campfires outside the homes, cloaked figures warming their hands against the heat.
What the fuck is this? Sara asked Evie.
If I had to hazard a guess, she replied cautiously, it is a very, VERY old city.
Fanlah spread her wings for a glide, tilting into a gentle downward spiral. Sara saw where she was landing on the second loop: a patch of ground without snow, ringed by shining torches and a few smatterings of warmly-dressed onlookers. A carcass the size of a bull was roasting over an open flame raised by a small cabin, one person slowly turning the chunk of meat on a massive spit.
Fanlah landed far more gently than she had in the camp. Her wings flared wide, legs stretched out to absorb the shock of impact. Sara was barely jostled as the wyvern came to a soft landing, hardly stirring up a cloud of snow from the bare ground.
“Welcome,” Fanlah announced, craning her long neck around to address her guests with a smile, “to our Emperor’s ancient home. I hope you are not too taken aback by the temperature. It is something of a tradition to surprise new visitors, you see.”
“It’s a pretty damn big surprise,” Sara agreed, reaching down to unbuckle her leg straps. Her thighs were aching from the long flight, but she wasn’t going to show it in front of Mayaran. “So that’s mission accomplished there. I’m guessing it’s all this magic in the air doing the work of keeping things cold?”
“I know precious little of the realm’s nature, I’m afraid. This land has been frozen for longer than any can recall.”
“Huh.” Sara hopped out of the saddle, hitting the ground with a crash of clanking armor. For once the thick steel and thicker cotton gambeson beneath wasn’t suffocatingly hot. “Is this where you live?” She asked Fanlah, indicating the circle of cleared snow. “Seems pretty damn humble for someone as important as you.”
“It is a place to stay when I wish to be near the center of society, I suppose.” She shrugged humbly. “My kind have little need of shelter, save to satisfy our vanity. I will likely return to one of my other dwellings in the outer city before the night is over, however.”
“Damn well better,” Devi huffed, tugging her flight coat closer around her with a shiver. “I hate this cold and you know it. I couldn’t care less how traditional it is, it’s miserable.” She nodded to Sara and Evie, then to Borek and Mayaran, who were still disembarking. “I’m going to the house over there to keep warm. Those folks walking up will let you know what’s what, I’m sure.”
“By all means,” General Borek said. “My thanks for your aid in our journey.”
“Fanlah did most of the work!” Devi called over her shoulder as she hurried off to the small cottage. “Hardly needs me at all, these days!”
As the wyvern rider disappeared through the doorway, Fanlah sighed, deflating slightly. She shook her head.
“I worry for her, sometimes. She speaks increasingly often of how little I require a rider. That I no longer require her guidance. Her mother’s death has had a poor effect on her, I worry. She could live for another century or more, yet she already seems to think she must prepare me for her death.” Fanlah’s wings shuffled, drawing in close to her torso. “Hopefully it is but a temporary bout of poor thinking.”
“Her mother’s death?” Mayaran asked, head cocked. “Devi is a century and a half old, no? If her mother was human, how could she have lived so long?”
That caught Sara’s interest. Mayaran was showing honest curiosity, maybe even a touch of empathy. To an elf, Sara supposed, the idea of a parent dying of old age must be a very strange notion.
“A complicated affair,” Fanlah replied. “Her mother had a single elven grandfather on her father’s side, with a great-grandmother that was also elven, having born a child with a catfolk man. Such an odd ancestry is what caught the eye of her father, in fact.” Fanlah smiled with her eyes in that odd way that seemed unique to wyverns. “Truth be told, it is what piqued my interest in Devi as well. She is a woman of many worlds. No matter what she says, I value her input as a rider greatly.”
“I see,” Mayaran hummed, folding her robes about herself. “An interesting tale indeed.”
“Quite. Though I would advise against asking her about it.”
It was then that the waiting observers arrived. About a dozen of them walked up, breaking through the waist-high snow with several trunks and chests hung between them. They wore thickly furred clothing, firmly stuffed with all kinds of wool beneath the hairy exterior, and Sara could barely glimpse their faces through their heavily lined hoods. One man, walking ahead of the others, raised his hand in greeting.
“Honored guests!” He called. Purely human, Sara’s Blessings noted, and rather elderly. He came to a stop before their little gathering. “On behalf of the Adjutants, we welcome you, General Borek.” He bowed sharply, then turned to Mayaran, bowing deeper. “And on behalf of the Honored Elven, we welcome you, Mage Mayaran.” He turned to Fanlah then, bowing so far Sara got herself ready to catch him in case the old man fell face-first into the dirt. “And as always, we rejoice upon your return, Magnificent Fanlah. Imperequs has already been informed of your arrival, and your dwellings are being prepared as we speak.”
“Excellent. I thank you.”
Finally, the man turned to Sara. She had a brief, fleeting hope that he might greet her reasonably, but nonetheless braced herself for whatever idiocy he was about to pull.
With a click from both hips, the old man knelt, putting his forehead all the way down to his knee, as if in supplicant prayer. His voice took on a quavery, awe-struck tone.
“And you, Divine Chosen, Herald of Emotion’s Pantheon. Your domain befits you well, for the news of your arrival shall fill the hearts of our people with the greatest of joys. To be in your presence is an honor that will follow my bloodline for centuries past the end of my life, a gift to all my ancestors, and still I find myself selfish enough that I am most grateful to have been graced by your countenance. It is a delight defying description to be before you, Sara Brown.”
Alright. Here we go, I guess.
“That’s sick dude,” Sara said, stumbling up to the man as if her legs were still wobbly from the flight. She reached down and snatched his hand with the speed of a snake, shaking it so hard that she dragged him involuntarily to his feet. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder as she pumped his arm up and down enthusiastically. “This here’s one of my wives, Evie. Dunno how I managed to land her, but I did. You got a wife? Kids?” Sara leaned around him, still shaking his hand vigorously. “Ooh, what’s that? Buncha clothes in those boxes? Hope so. Evie’s not dressed for this weather, like, at all. Neither am I, really. My nips are like fucking daggers right now, I swear to god. Gonna have to polish the scratches off the inside of my armor or some shit.” She kept shaking his hand even as she raised her other in a wave to the men and women behind him. “How’s it going? Hope y’all weren’t waiting too long out there for us! Looks cold as fuck!”
With a wrenching motion, the old man finally managed to tear himself free from her grip. He held his bruised wrist with his other hand, smiling wanly.
“I see that the tales of your preference for, ah, familiar forms of address, were no falsehoods. I’ve heard much of the eccentricities shown by Chosen. It is a pleasure to see such tales realized with my own eyes.”
Sara smiled cooly at him, frustration building. He was the worst kind of brown-noser: someone with genuine faith. “Well, y’know, just how I am,” she shrugged. “Don’t like seeing anyone bow down in front of someone, even if they’re bowing to me. Just kinda pisses me off, y’know?” She stepped around the man as her Blessings caught wind of a second group of people trudging through the snow, hauling up yet another crate of goods. “Hey!” She called, cupping her hands around her mouth so that her voice carried far into the snowy night. “Y’all need help with that? I’ll be right there!”
And with that, Sara set off at a jog, a bow wave of snow leaping ahead of her as she struck the thigh-height drifts. She reached the figures in the distance quickly, finding them to be little more than children who were struggling with another large chest of goods. She took their burden out of their hands before they could utter a single protest.
“Hey, go get warm over by those torches, alright? I can see y’all are shivering, so that’s a Chosen’s order. Let me know if you’re hungry or anything, too. I’ve got rations in my bags that you can snack on.”
Evie approached the baffled old man, beginning her usual apologies for Sara’s behavior. Sara ignored them both as she set the box she’d pilfered down in the cleared circle of snow, heading out to grab another pair’s burden before she could get dragged back into any conversation.
I’ll do my best to be polite while I’m here, she promised herself, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be anything other than myself.
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“Sell,” Sara said, handing the shirt to Evie. She dug in the crate for a moment, pulling out a wooden dagger that, running her thumb along the edge, felt sharper than any steel. “Hurlish,” she announced, handing it off.
The pristine cabin that Sara had been provided an hour ago was already a mess, dozens of random objects piled haphazardly across the space. The crates that had been carried up upon her arrival were the product of the capital’s elves and their subjects, untold throngs of people excited enough about Sara’s arrival to prepare an absolute avalanche of gifts for her. She and Evie had been sorting them out from the moment they’d arrived, working out a rough estimate of how much coin they’d make from selling the handiwork of the fabled elven craftsmen.
“Sell,” Sara announced, wadding up a dress made of silver chain and tossing it into a corner piled high with similar garments. “Shit, how many dresses do they think I need?”
“I doubt they coordinated their gifts to avoid doubling up, dear,” Evie said. She unsheathed another small dagger, this one made entirely of some kind of ivory or bone. Its surface was so thoroughly etched with intricate religious symbols that it looked like a pruney old man’s skin. Evie tossed it into the pile of ornamental weapons that were awaiting Hurlish’s evaluation, sighing. “If only they’d understood that we had no need of their unenchanted weapons. None are superior enough to Hurlish’s work to be worth replacing our equipment.”
“They’ll still sell for a fuckload, I bet,” Sara pointed out. She spun another blade on her knuckles, trying to find its balance point. It was one of the weirder ones. A knife made of stone, no more than six inches long, yet sporting the strong curvature of a naval cutlass. Why give it that shape? Fuck if she knew. She flung it at the wall over the weapons pile, impaling its tip in the ancient wood.
The cabin they’d been provided for accommodation was a lot like the gifts. Ostensibly primitive, with wood and fur furniture that belonged to a book about cavemen, yet secretly opulent. Sara couldn’t open her magical senses without getting flashbanged by a noxiously thick aura of enchantment. Every square inch of the building was awash with energy, turning the simplest of homes into something that would have turned Earthly billionaires green with envy. The straw-stuffed bedding was the softest thing Sara had ever felt, as if gravity itself had forgotten she existed when she laid atop it, and it was complimented by a furry hide blanket that, no matter what she wore or how she lay, always kept her body at the perfect temperature. A wooden planked table by the fireplace had stiff chairs that seemed to conform themselves to her ass, threatening to trap her in their welcoming embrace for the rest of eternity. Three stacked logs had been burning in the hearth when they arrived, yet they showed no signs of degradation after an hour of crackling furiously. The windows were frosted and fogged, a light snowfall visible outside, yet she couldn’t feel a single puff of cold air wafting from their surface.
It was surreal. Impossible perfection turned it into an otherworldly space, almost dazing her, as if she were going to wake up from a dream at any moment. She’d never known she could be so comfortable it became disconcerting, yet here she was.
“When’s the meeting again?” Sara asked, tossing another wad of clothing into the ‘sell’ pile.
Evie flipped open her notebook, scanning down a page. “We are to arrive for an audience with the Emperor at noon, meet for approximately an hour and a half, then have a private meeting with the Adjutant, who wishes to speak on difficulties he has encountered implementing the democratic process. Following this, there is to be a social gathering in the inner city ring, where you will be General Borek’s guest of honor.”
“But we don’t have anything until noon?” Sara clarified.
“Not at the moment, no.” Evie closed her notebook with a click, slipping it down her shirt. “What are you planning now?”
Sara grinned.
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Chona
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Chona wasn’t sure what was more embarrassing: the fact that her heart leapt in her chest when she heard the door swing open, or the fact that she was proud she managed to avoid throwing herself off the bed and sprinting for Tinvel. Neither was flattering.
Her heat was fading. After a terribly awkward letter sent home to her mother (and the even more mortifying response), she’d learned to notice the signs. Her feverish body temperature had begun to cool over the last few days, reducing the volume of foamy sweat she built up in Tinvel’s absence, and the ache that sat in her lower belly wasn’t half as strong, even when it had been hours since she’d last mated.
Mated. That had once been an odd word to her. She would’ve thought it was too clinical to describe what people did in bed with one another, but now she didn’t think there was another word that fit the practice in the right way. What they’d been doing wasn’t sex. It certainly wasn’t making love. It wasn’t even fucking. But mating? Grinding into her partner, breath huffing and skin quivering, all five limbs wrapped around Tinvel as she dragged him into her body over and over again, seeking not her own release, but his? Yes, mating was the word for it. Nothing else worked.
“How are you feeling?” Tinvel called. She heard a basket of food being set down, but didn’t lift her head from her nest of bedding and clothing.
“Better,” she answered, rolling onto her back. Still naked, of course. That had been one of her favorite parts of all this. Not having to wear clothes for days on end had been such a relief. Even if she ended up with sweat-stained fur every time Tinvel was out of the house for more than three or four hours, at least she didn’t have to wear those damn cloth chains. She lifted her head a touch off the pillow, watching him shed his raincloak.
“How much better?” He asked. He was stressed, she could tell. Angry. He was like that a lot, these days. Her heat couldn’t have come at a worst time.
“I think it’s almost over,” she said, almost plaintive, trying to reassure him. “I’m a lot more…” As he threw his raincloak aside, revealing the stains of grease and rain that had his shirt clinging to his body like a second skin, she found herself stuttering. “More… Well, I was going to say focused, but...”
“Not all the way there yet, huh?” He tossed his shirt over his head, then shoved off his pants. Their new routine. It was something her heat-drunk libido had been very fond of. “That’s good to hear, still. We’ve got work to do. Soon.”
“I know, Tin. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
She winced. When her heat had started, he’d been saying it wasn’t a problem, or wasn’t her fault. Now he was accepting the apology outright. Not a good sign.
“Anything you need to do right now?” She asked, trying to hide her hopefulness.
“No,” he said, breathing out. “Nothing right this second, thank the fucking gods.”
He walked up to the edge of the bed and, ignoring her precisely-stacked piles of bedding and clothing, tipped forward, crashing face-first onto the mattress.
She was on him before either of them knew what had happened. Her tail, both arms, and both legs, all wrapped around him nice and tight. She shoved her face into his bare shoulder, taking a long, reassuring breath. It was as if she’d been trapped in a smoking building for hours, chest burning from lack of oxygen, only to suddenly spring through an open window and take a lungful of the wonderful, beautiful open air.
“It’s still not done yet,” she mumbled against him apologetically. “Trying. Really am. Promise.”
“I know.” He did what he could to pat her back, though it wasn’t much. She had him wrapped up from head to toe. “Give me a minute before we start, okay? I just wanna relax.”
“Okay.”
She felt her gut twist at the thought, but she clenched her jaw, silencing the impulse. She would wait. She owed Tinvel this. She’d been so useless, so much of a burden, and he’d just… accepted it. Helped her through the mess. She needed to pay him back.
They lay together for a time. Not all that long in the grand scheme of things, maybe ten or fifteen minutes, but that was an eternity to her heat-addled brain. Finally, when she was leaking down her thighs and practically trembling with the effort to restrain herself, he let out a soft chuckle, freeing his arms so he could roll them both over, his bare chest above hers.
“Okay,” he said, laughing at himself, “maybe I’m not that patient either. Are you ready?”
“No.”
“No?”
Without warning, Chona looped her tail around his waist and pulled, timing it with a shove to his shoulder. Tinvel let out an undignified yelp of surprise as he found his back bouncing off the mattress, Chona now over him.
“My heat’s almost over,” she said between thick, foggy breaths, struggling to recall what she’d planned to say, “but almost doesn’t mean it is over. And you’ve been too goddamn nice to me. I want to make you feel good, Tin.”
His incredulity was obvious on his face. “What? Did you think all this hasn’t felt good for me?”
“You’ve been doing the work,” she explained, even as she grabbed him by the hips, shoving him along the mattress. Her tail went over his shoulder to his back, lifting him up so that he was sat against the far wall of her pillowy nest. “I beg and beg for it, and you give it to me. It’s time for me to do something for you.”
“That’s- I mean, not that I’m against the idea, but Chona, you don’t have to-”
She dragged herself onto his lap to silence him, letting the heat of her sopping core slide along his cock. Half-hard, even after all this. Tits mashed up against his chest as they cuddled naked for hours, and still he was only half hard. She’d really put him through the ringer.
“Just… let me do this for you, okay?” She put her arms over his shoulders, letting them dangle there, holding herself back so that he could get a good look at her. Even after all they’d done, it was still a bit hard to do. Putting herself on display for him. Letting his hungry gaze rove across her body, not shirking away from it or trying to hide herself. She let him keep staring at her tits as she spoke. “I want you to tell me what feels good, but that’s it, alright? You don’t have to… to think about anything. Just let me handle it. Promise?”
“Uh. Okay. I promise?”
She could tell he was confused. She probably would’ve been able to explain things better if it wasn’t for the racing pulse running through her body, but as it was, she decided to just start it off.
Chona rubbed herself against his cock. Slowly, steadily, smearing her slick arousal across his shaft. He hissed a breath in through his teeth, hands falling to her waist, curling just far enough that she could feel his fingernails through her fur. Just like she’d asked, though, he didn’t try to drag her around, or lift her, or do anything at all. He just kept his hands on her hips, his lidded eyes watching her move.
Between her tits in his face, the slow grind against his cock, and the little gasps she let out that she knew he loved so much, he was hard as steel in a few short moments. She lifted herself off him then, letting his cock leap up into the air, throbbing with his pulse.
She wanted to watch it. Maybe it was her, maybe it was her instincts, but for whatever reason, she wanted to look down at it, to see if it was ready, to watch the little bit of clear precum dab at its tip. She wanted to bend down and feel it, maybe give it a few caressing touches, make sure he was going to keep it inside her until the end. It was what she’d done so often, all throughout her heat.
But she didn’t. She kept her head level, her eyes locked on his. Her tail snaked around the base of his cock, holding him still for her, and still she kept looking right ahead, keeping eye contact as her hips descended, splitting herself open on his cock.
He never broke eye contact. Even as his fingers clenched and he made his own beautiful little noise of pleasure, he kept looking at her. They both shivered as their bodies blended, the cool world beyond burnt away by their mingling heat.
In the end, Chona was the one that closed her eyes first. She couldn’t help it. She let out breathless moans and tiny curses as she sank on him, feeling every inch in exquisite, agonizing detail. The crown of his cock, the way it slowly spread her open until she reached the ridge, her squeezing cunt collapsing down as she reached past to the shaft.
It was so good. It always was. She didn’t want to admit it, but even that first time, before her heat had even begun, she’d loved the feeling of it. The thick, pulsing underside to his cock, the soft skin that slid against her twisting walls. The way she could feel his heartbeat in her. Why did no one talk about that? The fact she could feel him thumping in her. It was the best. She could feel his excitement for her, could feel his blood rushing faster as their bodies joined. Maybe other people couldn’t feel that. That had to be it. If they could, they’d talk about it just as much as she wanted to.
When her hips hit his lap, they both let out a soft, sweet moan. Hers high-pitched and whining, his gruff and gratified.
“Tin,” she whispered.
“Y-yeah?”
She opened her eyes. Found his face. And brought him into a kiss.
They met one another softly. Not awkwardly like those first few times, nor desperately, like they had throughout most of her heat. Comfortably. Familiar. Both of them already parting their lips, tongues flicking forth, dancing and teasing at one another. She tilted her head to one side, grabbing his chin with one hand to guide him where she wanted him.
And then she began to move her hips. Not up. Not in a bounce. Just… forward. Grinding forward, keeping herself impaled on his cock, deep enough that it felt like he was stirring her entire body. Her kiss trembled, tongue losing its coordination for a moment, but that was nothing compared to the sound he made.
He groaned into her. A low, hungry noise, one that she felt in her chest. It was so good. She loved it. She wanted to hear more of it.
She drew her hips back, stirring his cock around again, but this time she made sure to clench down, squeezing for all she was worth.
Tinvel responded like the finest tuned musical instrument she’d ever heard. His fingers twitched and curled on her hips, chasing after her, obviously fighting the impulse to grab and hold her. A shiver raced up his body from head to toe, a delightful vibration that did as much for her as she seemed to be doing for him.
Still kissing him, tongues still playing against one another, she repeated the motion. So different from their mating throughout her heat. Slow and deliberate, a luxurious grinding, one that allowed them to savor every moment. She could feel the head of his cock grinding against her inner walls, shifting this way and that, and she basked in the way his shaft kept rubbing against her with every inch, a slow friction that was, surprisingly, just as good as the frenetic pace they set so many other times.
When she felt him begin to tremble, his whines and moans pitching upward, she slowed. She didn’t stop, she wasn’t that cruel, but she slowed, drawing out what she knew was coming. Even as her instincts screamed at her to keep going, to force a climax from him with a furious, desperate pounding, she resisted. She kept kissing him, pushing him back into the blankets, until their bodies were molded and stuck to one another, sweat and fur and skin and breathy gasps all that was left in the world to her.
He was so close. She could feel it. She knew that feeling so, so well by now. The heavy twitching of his cock. The way he bucked against her, his balls tightening up, his eyelids fluttering and blinking even though they were both kissing with their eyes closed.
Chona shifted her body around. Her tail curled around and beneath his thighs. She took her arms off the tops of his shoulders, instead wrapping them under his armpits, locking them together as close as they could be— and giving her the most possible leverage she could manage. Only then did she break the kiss for the very first time, pulling her head far enough back that she could meet his dazed, needy eyes. She took a deep breath, muscles tensing, every last inch of fur on her body raising in a furious blush.
“I love you, Tinvel.”
With all her strength, she shoved herself down on him, every limb working to bury his cock deeper than it had ever been before. She threw her hips forward, slamming herself against his stomach, her breasts against his chest, her tongue back into his mouth as she took him for everything he was worth, kissing and grinding and crying out all in one moment. His cock was sent grinding against every inch of her walls, her body, filling her up until it felt like there was gunpowder burning away in her head, a fiery delight that she chased with all her might.
He had no chance. She felt him twitch, throb, and then, and then-
Her world burst into stars. The first splash of his seed in her brought with it a delirium unlike any other, heightened by the moment of true, honest confession into something that made all her heat-driven climaxes look like pistols next to a cannon.
She shuddered around him. Hugged him and cried out, burying her moans in his mouth as she said the words over and over again, maybe out loud, maybe in her own mind. She felt his cum pouring into her, every spurt of it, every rising lash of ecstasy that sent fire thrilling through her veins. She shuddered, spilled herself on him, babbling insensibly into the air as she kept him deep, deep, deep in her core, giving him everything she had as waves of orgasmic joy kept her clenching down with every fresh, addictive pulse of his cock.
When it ended, Chona was sagging against him, limp and spent. Aftershocks rolled through her occasionally, little shudders that made them both wince as their too-sensitive bodies tried to cope with the waves of pleasure. Her head was on his shoulder, his hand was laying on the base of her tail, and she realized that, at some point, she’d grabbed a fistful of his hair. She let that hand go limp, falling to the mattress beside her.
“I,” he croaked, “love you too, Chona.”
The last bit of tension she’d not known her body had disappeared with a puff. She let out a little delighted giggle, then began to fall sideways, his cock slipping out of her.
He caught her. Brought her back up, so they were hugging again. And began to pat her back, slowly and steadily.
“Even if you’re probably not gonna remember saying that,” he half-whispered, “I love you, too.”
“Mm?” She blinked her eyes open, looking at him. “Whaddya mean?”
“What?” He glanced at her.
“What do you mean?” She repeated, now with slightly less of a numb mouth. “That I’m not gonna remember it?” She licked her lips, feeling another rush of blushing fur roll over her. “That was the first time I said I loved someone. That’s not gonna be something I forget, y’know?”
“O-oh. Uh…” Tinvel rubbed the back of his head. “That’s… okay. Yeah. You’re not, like…”
“Like?”
“Nothing. Um. Yeah.” He cleared his throat, looking her firmly in the eyes. “I love you too, Chona.”
“Good,” she huffed, closing her eyes as she put her head onto the hollow of his neck once again. “Kinda bullshit that it was so much easier for you to say than it was for me, though.”
“I… had some practice.”
She snorted. “Really? You were practicing saying that? Are you serious?”
“Guess I am,” he said with a shrug. He switched from patting her back to stroking it, fingers raking down to comb her fur. “And you are, too, for once.”
If that meant something more than it seemed on the surface, Chona was going to have to investigate it later. Sleep was coming for her quickly, and after a climax like that, it wasn’t negotiable. Wrapped up in her mate’s arms, she was out before she knew it.