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“Piercing,” he grunts.
I sit up to get a better look. If I stretch the skin with my thumb, I can see a depression, but otherwise, I wouldn’t have known he was pierced. I look for a second hole, and then realize where it must come out.
“Through the tip?”
“Uh-huh. It’s traditional for princes of my house. And, uh, their princesses.”
Remembering that he called me his princess, I raise my eyebrows.
“You’re not pierced anywhere lower than here,” he says, stroking the small jewel in my belly-button.
“No, sir,” I confirm.
“Would you ever consider—?”
I nod. “If you’d do the piercing.”
“Me? I don’t—” He pauses. “I’ll learn. If you want me to do it.”
I’m not a huge fan of the pain of piercing, but if it’s something couples of his house do as a symbol of their union or sommat, then I definitely want him to be the one to pierce me.
“Do you not wear anything through it?” I ask, after we go back to stroking each other.
“I took it out. I didn’t want to scare you.”
“Takes more than a little metal to scare me.”
He grins wolfishly. “I’ll remind you of that. I have a pair of big balls that’ll feel like a hammer on your G-spot and cervix.”
I tip my head to pretend to look at his balls. “They’re notthatbig.”
He curls his fingers inside me, making me jolt and whimper.
“You never get to call anything of mine ‘not that big’ when we’re naked, teddy bear.”
I chuckle. “Yes, sir.”
“Mmm, squeeze down on my fingers. I like the way you grip me when you laugh.”
I follow orders.
He groans and works his fingers against the squeeze. Which drags a moan out of me. He leans forward to sip the sound off my lips, then arches back when I work his tip in my fist.
“Yes, Teddy.”
Again, I feel that shift between us. He sinks so deeply into the pleasure I’m giving him, he gives me control. This time, it feels more balanced as he works me up my own hill, until I’m pulsing my inner muscles as hard as I can against his digging fingers. What he’s doing hurts a little but feels fucking amazing, and I give up trying to decide if I want to beg him to stop or threaten to throttle him if he ever does.
Thank the Mother, he doesn’t ask me to decide. He keeps working me and working me, the cords in his arms knotting and jumping, providing me with a glut of visual stimulus as well as the physical stimulus of his fingers pumping in and out of me. Add to that the chorus of moans and panting whispers filling my ears and all my senses are on fire. I give myself over to everything he’s making me hear, see, feel. The balance shifts between us again as my body slides out of my control, into a crucible of his making where I burn and burn, writhing but not trying to escape the white fire crashing up from my belly through my veins.
Lava spills over my forearm as the see-saw tips again and Darwin succumbs to the pressure and motion of my hand. The release draws a low, soft growl out of him that sets off another set of fireworks shooting up from my belly. He brushes my hand away and pushes me backwards into the pillows with his forearm across my throat. He keeps working his other hand inside me, forcing three fingers deep. I choke on a whispery scream. The motion and the sudden tipping of the see-saw take me by surprise. But I fight off the instinct to buck, to struggle.
This is the moment Darwin needs me to submit. This is the moment where I show him I trust him.
He drinks it in, his eyes blown black as he hovers over me, supporting himself on his elbow while pinning me with his forearm across my neck. I writhe and, when the next orgasm hits, buck weakly under him, but I never try to throw him off. I look up at him, my face red with exertion, my eyes wet and probably bugging a little from the way he’s restricting my air, and trust him to do what he wants to me. To carry me through the pleasure—and yes, the pain—to wherever he wants us to land together.
He forces one more orgasm out of me, the sloppy working of his fingers in me louder than my moans, before he gently withdraws his fingers and collapses at my side. I curl weakly into him. He strokes my hair with sticky, shaking fingers.
“Teddy, are you okay?”
