Page 64 of May: Bloom & Bane

His eyes darken. “What a velkíra you are, Eden.” (Good girl)

His finger presses against my lower lip. I part them willingly, and he slides the seed onto my tongue. It tastes like cucumbers, melting almost instantly into a warm liquid that slides down my throat. The moment I swallow, a wave of heat bursts in my chest, blooming outward until my skin tingles down to my fingertips.

He catches two more of the floating, starlight seeds between his clawed fingertips.

“Spread your legs wider for me, Saevúra.”

I press my knees outward against the cool canvas, and he drops to his forearms between my thighs, his face hovering inches from my center.

He bites off the sharp tips of the claws on his middle three fingers. Spitting them aside onto the canvas so he won’t scratch me.

“Ready, ílyen?” (Baby)

He slides one finger inside me, carrying the first seed into my heat. “One,” he whispers.

He adds another finger, guiding another seed deep inside me. “Two.”

He tries to press a third finger in, but my hands shoot out, fisting his hair so hard I can see tiny tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

“Not three,” I gasp, my back arching. “Not yet.”

His breath fans hot across my core as he pauses, two fingers buried knuckle-deep inside me. The seeds dissolve against my walls, sending sweet pulses of heat rushing through my bloodstream. My thighs quiver around his broad shoulders.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he murmurs. “Breathe for me.”

He takes his time, adding more seeds with agonizing care, coating them in my slick before slipping them inside. He watches my face as he curls his fingers, stroking that sensitive spot until my hips jerk helplessly off the floor.

“Seven,” he rasps, his breath coming in raspy hitches. “Eight. Nine.”

I lose count long before he withdraws his fingers. My whole body is trembling, soaked in fertility magic and sweat, my core pulsing around an emptiness that begs to be filled completely.

“That’s it,” he praises, his mouth brushing my inner thigh as he shifts upward over me. “Take all of me, Eden.”

His lips crash against mine, tongue sliding frantically against my own. Golden liquid floods my mouth.

“Sage,” I moan into his mouth. “You’re leaking so much.”

“I know,” he groans, staring down at what he’s done.

I’m completely covered in it. Streaks of shimmering gold are painted across my throat, trickling between my breasts, pooled in the hollows of my collarbones. Everywhere his skin has touched mine, he’s left glowing trails. His palms follow the trails, spreading the gold over my chest until my nipples peak under the slick heat of it.

“The lavásia,” he breathes. “I can’t control it. It’s never been this bad before.”

“I don’t want you to control it,” I whisper, winding my arms around his neck and pulling him back down. “Don’t stop, Sage. Please.”

He lets out a desperate sound and kisses me harder, his hands roaming anywhere they can reach, painting my pale skin in his need. The canvas beneath us is practically dripping in gold.

A throbbing pressure blooms deep in my pelvis.

“Ohhh,” I moan, my back arching off the floor as my thighs squeeze his hips. “S-Sage, something is moving.”

“I know,” he groans, his wings fanning out to shield us in darkness. “I’m making them grow. Do you like it?”

“Yes,” I whimper.

The fullness builds—subtle at first, a gentle stretching heat, before becoming agonizingly intense.

“When this is over,” he rasps, his hips nudging forward, “we are going to have the most obscene piece of art ever created.”