In answer, I kissed him again, pouring all my feelings into it. Milo responded eagerly, his initial nervousness giving way to genuine passion. His hands explored tentatively, moving from my hair to my shoulders, then cautiously lower, as if seeking permission with each touch.
I shifted on the couch, guiding him to lie back as I moved over him. "Is this okay?" I hovered above him. My bad knee took a backseat to this.
"More than okay," he nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "Much more than okay."
The blanket had fallen to the floor, and the skeleton at Milo's feet had discreetly turned to face the wall, giving us privacy in its own strange way. I smiled at the gesture before turning my attention fully back to Milo.
I kissed him deeply, letting my body settle against his. He was surprisingly solid beneath me, his lanky frame hiding more strength than I'd realized. His hands found my waist, holding me gently as we kissed, each touch growing more confident.
"Maybe we should move somewhere more comfortable?" I suggested between kisses. "The bedroom?"
Milo nodded, his eyes dark with desire despite the nervousness I could still sense in him. "Lead the way."
We made our way to my bedroom, pausing frequently to kiss against walls and doorframes. By the time we reached the bed, we were both breathing hard, caught up in the momentum of our shared desire.
"You're sure about this?" I asked one more time, hovering over him.
Milo reached up to touch my face, his expression open and trusting. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
That was all the confirmation I needed. I kissed him deeply, then sat up to pull my shirt over my head. Milo's eyes widened as he took in the sight of my body, the blue prophetic markings glowing softly in the dim room.
"You're beautiful," he breathed, reaching up to trace one of the markings with gentle fingers. "So beautiful."
I helped him out of his shirt next, revealing pale skin marked with intricate tattoos that I hadn't known were there. Necromantic symbols mixed with more personal designs covered his chest and arms, telling a story I wanted to learn every chapter of.
"Look who's talking," I smiled, running my hands over the artwork on his skin. "These are amazing."
"Protection wards, mostly," his voice caught as my fingers traced a particularly intricate design over his heart. "And a few memories I wanted to keep close."
We took our time undressing each other, each new revelation met with soft touches and whispers. Milo's nervousness gradually gave way to wonder and desire as we explored each other's bodies with increasing boldness.
When we were finally skin to skin, I guided his hands, showing him how to touch me, where I liked to be caressed. He was a quick study, responding to every gasp and sigh with eager attention. His necromancer's hands, so skilled with the dead, proved equally talented with the living.
"Is this good?" he watched my face intently as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot.
"Perfect," I gasped, arching into his touch. "Just like that."
I returned the favor, learning his body with dedicated attention. Every sound he made, every twitch and shiver, I cataloged carefully, building a map of his pleasure. When I finally took him his cock in hand, his reaction was beautiful, eyes wide, lips parted in surprise and delight.
"Winter," he moaned, his hips lifting involuntarily. "That's... oh god..."
"Still okay?" I checked, not wanting to overwhelm him.
"More than okay," he nodded frantically. "Please don't stop."
I had no intention of stopping. I continued my exploration, bringing him to the edge before easing back, wanting to prolong this first experience for him. His necromantic energy responded to his arousal, creating a soft purple glow that mingled with the blue of my prophetic markings where our skin touched.
"I want to feel you," he finally gasped, his hands gripping my hips. "All of you. Please?"
I nodded and I positioned myself above him, our eyes locked together as I slowly sank down, taking him inside me inch by inch.
Milo's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. "Oh," he whispered, the simple syllable containing worlds of feeling. "Winter."
I stayed still for a moment, letting him adjust to the sensation, letting myself adjust to the fullness. When I began to move, it was with deliberate slowness, savoring each reaction that crossed his expressive face.
"You feel amazing," I leaned down to kiss him as I rolled my hips.
His hands found my waist, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence as he began to match my rhythm. "So do you," he gasped against my lips. "Better than I ever imagined."
