He holds my gaze as his hand shifts, as his fingers hook into the waistband of my underwear and slide beneath. The first touch of his bare fingers against my slick flesh makes us both groan.
"God," he breathes. "You're so wet. So ready for me."
His fingers glide through my arousal, spreading it, exploring the terrain with devastating thoroughness. He traces every fold, every ridge, learning my body with the same focused attention he brings to everything else. When his fingertip grazes my entrance, I whimper.
"Here?" he asks, circling the opening with agonizing slowness.
"Yes. Please. Yes."
He presses inside.
One finger, sliding in slowly, giving me time to adjust to the intrusion. The sensation of being filled, even by just this small part of him, makes my inner walls clench. He pauses when he's buried to the knuckle, letting me feel the fullness, the stretch.
"More," I breathe.
He withdraws almost completely, then presses back in with two fingers this time. The additional stretch burns for a moment before melting into pleasure. He sets a slow rhythm, pumping in and out, curling his fingers with each stroke to press against a spot inside me that makes sparks dance behind my eyes.
"You feel incredible," he murmurs against my throat. "So tight. I could do this forever. Could spend hours just learning what makes you moan."
His thumb finds my clit, circling in counterpoint to the thrust of his fingers, and the dual sensation rips a cry from my throat. He swallows the sound with a kiss, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his hand.
The pressure builds. Each stroke of his fingers, each circle ofhis thumb, winds the coil tighter in my core. I'm trembling now, my thighs shaking where they grip his waist, my fingers clawing at his shoulders.
"That's it," he breathes against my lips. "I can feel you getting close. Feel the way you're tightening around my fingers."
He increases the pace. His fingers pump faster, deeper, curling on each thrust to hit that spot that makes me see stars. His thumb presses harder against my clit, the circles tighter, more focused.
"I've imagined this," he says, his voice rough velvet in my ear. "Every night since I met you. Imagined what you'd look like when you came apart for me. Imagined the sounds you'd make. The way you'd feel."
His words push me higher. The tension is unbearable now, a wave about to crest.
"I've imagined it too," I manage, my voice barely recognizable. "Thought about your hands. Your mouth. Thought about you when I was alone."
He groans, and his fingers move faster. A third finger presses at my entrance, a question.
"Yes," I gasp. "Please. More."
He slides the third finger in alongside the others, and the fullness is overwhelming. He stretches me perfectly, fills me completely, and when he curls all three fingers against that sensitive spot inside me, I shatter.
The climax crashes through me like nothing I've ever felt. Wave after wave of pleasure radiates from where his fingers are buried inside me, pulsing through my core, my thighs, my entire body. I cry out his name, and he catches the sound with his mouth, kissing me through the peak, his fingers continuing to move, drawing out every last tremor.
"That's it," he murmurs against my lips. "Let go for me. I've got you. I've got you."
His thumb gentles on my clit as the aftershocks roll through me, his fingers slowing their rhythm, easing me down from the high. But he doesn't withdraw. He keeps his fingers inside me, letting me feel him there, a constant presence as my body slowly stops shaking.
I sag against the wall, boneless, and he holds me up with one arm, his other hand still buried between my thighs. His forehead presses against mine. His breath mingles with mine.
"That," he says quietly, reverently, "was the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed."
I laugh, shaky and breathless. "You're six hundred years old. You've seen a lot of things."
"None of them compare to you." He pulls back just enough to look at me, and the tenderness in his expression makes my chest ache. "Nothing compares to you."
I kiss him. Soft. Sweet. A thank you and a promise all at once.
His fingers slide out of me slowly, and I shiver at the loss, at the sudden emptiness where he was. He brings his hand up between us, and I watch, transfixed, as he examines his glistening fingers in the low light.
He holds my gaze.
