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He pulled from one breast to attend to the other, and my toes curled into the towel, body bowing into his as he swirled and sucked and laved at my breast.
I whined as he pulled away, and he tutted when my fingers wouldn't untangle from his hair. My hands were shaking as I released him, and they hovered in front of my breasts.
"Go ahead," Laszlo said. "You won't rub it off. It soaks in quickly."
I groaned as I groped myself, squeezing and rolling my flesh in my needy grip, and the warmth bloomed quicker with my touch.
"How-how long does it last?" I asked through gasps.
"Until you sweat it out," Laszlo said. "Open your mouth."
My mouth was already opening on another moan, but the sound muffled as Laszlo stuck two fingers inside, his talons pressing down on my tongue. I sucked on the digits, surprised by the caramel-sweet flavor of the oil, almost like mead. But of course, lovers would want something that tasted so appealing. I leaned forward, locking my stare with Laszlo's, watching arousal turn the gold of his gaze into a darker amber as I licked and sucked on his digits until his talons tickled at the back of my throat.
The warmth built here too, making my tongue sensitive, aching. As Laszlo's fingers pulled free, I dove forward, abandoning one breast to grab the back of his head, drawing him in for a starving kiss, my tongue thrusting against his. His groan mingled with mine, but his hands were busy between us and he yanked himself away far too soon for my liking.
My cunt was already throbbing as if he'd dressed that spot too, even though he'd painstakingly avoided touching me there. I was dizzy and mindless, too much of me requiring attention all at once. Laszlo reached up between us, gripping my chin with one firm hand to keep my head from tossing as he traced my lips with more oil.
"Laszlo—I-I can't take—Please."
Slick fingers pulled on the lobes of my ears, his palms stroking down my throat, and then he pulled away, taking himself out of my reach.
"Lie back on the bed, dear one," he said.
I'd been about to fall forward, my knees quaking, but I liked his demand so I spun, drunk steps lurching me toward the bed. Everything was warm, hazy, the fragrances of the oils mingling, the candlelight dreamy. I was crawling up onto the bed when Laszlo grabbed one of my feet.
I fell onto my belly, rubbing my breasts against the sheets as he poured a thin line of oil down the arch of one foot, then soothed it over my sole, into my toes.
"Oh, fuck!" The words burst from my lips as I started to grind into the bed, my entire body an unsteady chorus of pulsing sensations. My hands clawed at the sheets, trying to drag myself up to the pillows and brace myself as I spread my legs and twisted my hips down for friction. Laszlo lathered my other foot, and I sobbed as an orgasm rose up to the brink and then shivered away.
"Onto your back, Evanthia," Laszlo murmured.
"This is insane," I rasped, and I could barely gather the strength to lift myself, to toss myself haphazardly to the side. I lifted my head just enough to catch Laszlo set the bottle aside. "Fuck me."
"Not yet."
I growled and he only smiled, picking up a strange tool and bringing it to his fingertips. "Two or three?"
I gaped, and then fell back, flattened with another teasing threat of an orgasm, only for it to be stolen away again. "What?!"
A strange crunching, clipping sound echoed with my gasping breaths, and I sat up again to see that Laszlo had cut away one of his talons.
"No!" I cried, sobering briefly. "You don't have—"
He clipped another away. "Two or three?" he asked, filing the dulled tips to round them.
It seemed a shame, but since he'd already started and I could easily guess his goal… "Three," I murmured.
He rewarded me with a smile and clipped the third, filing it to a tidy, smooth stub. For the first time, he pulled his glasses off his nose and set them aside, and I ignored the needy pound of my body to study this new view of him. There were little indentations on the bridge of his nose I wanted to kiss, and he squinted at me briefly before his forehead smoothed, eyes adjusting.
He dipped one finger into the oil, bracing his left knee on the edge of the bed. Then another.
"Spread your legs."
They were already spread, but I raised my knees, shivering as the soles of my feet throbbed with every brush against the bed. It was as if I could feel every individual thread touching me. My own lips pressing together was a heady kiss.
"I'm already wet," I whispered.
Laszlo dipped his third finger into the oil, and my hips lifted from the bed, arching toward him. "That's nice," he said, smile twitching.
