mare lamentorum

#drabble #wolship #felstel #fel #stelmaria #nsfw #ffxiv

Fel is on his knees in prayer.

Making supplication to a being composed of moonlight and mystery, sweet cream and salt brine.

She overwhelms every part of him, each sense honed in on her—and only her—with mathematical precision.

The soft curves of her hips bless his scarred hands, rough calluses rasping over silken flesh. Curious, greedy, his hands wander further, climbing the delicate ladder of her rib cage. He tests the weight of a breast by giving a peaked nipple a gentle squeeze and smiling widely at the resulting catch in her trembling breath.

Her shivering moonstone skin is slick with sweat. He allows his large hands to glide down to her sides to better bring the searing heat of her firmly against his lips.

In his experience, prayers are better received the more fervently they are whispered. He intends to engage in very fervent worship indeed.

Lazily, he swipes of the flat of his tongue across that most sacred part of her, filling his mouth with the taste of starlight, sin, and sea salt. She whimpers sweetly in the back of her throat, tightening her grip in the wild tangle of his ebony hair.

Oh how he loves that sound.

He wants to hear it again. To make her lose control, to cause her to gasp his name in the throes of pleasure. A pleasure that she only experiences because of him.

More than half mad with desire, he lifts one lean, pale leg over his shoulder, glad for the solid presence of the wall behind her. Running his steady hand up the smooth, warm flesh of her inner thigh he's rewarded with a low moan, that soon becomes a sharp intake of breath when he presses two clever fingers gently into the dripping heat at her center.

“Fel...” she whispers, eyes closed in ecstasy.

He works his fingers in and out with a slow rhythm, as steady and deliberate as the tide. The thumb of the same hand rubs circles on her pearl, slick from his attentions and her own arousal.

“Ya so beautiful, Moonbeam,” he murmurs, punctuating each word by sucking a small, vivid red mark into her perfect pale skin.

“Ya smell so good,” he says, inhaling the scent of the lavender perfume she always wears.

The pressure of his thumb increases slightly and she rocks her hips against him, moaning.

“Ya feel so good,” he growls, gripping her haunch tighter to keep her still while his slick finger move faster. She's so wet that each sheathing of his digits causes an obscene squelching sound. His cock swells to an almost painful hardness against his belly.

He ignores it, concentrating instead on bringing her to the very peak of pleasure.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Inside, she flutters. Her eyes open and meet his for a long, lingering moment before, grinning, he lowers his mouth over her pearl again and gently sucks.

“Oh” she breathes, almost a whisper.

But he hears it.

Pressing his lips harder against the sweet wetness between her thighs he continues to fuck her with his fingers. His free hand reaches up to roll a pebbled nipple between thumb and forefinger.

“Oh Fel...” her voice begins to break as her breathing grows wild and unsteady.

The grip on his hair and ears tightens again. Desperate for relief from the building tension, Fel rubs his aching cock against the  silk of her trembling calf.

Circling, sucking, brushing, and rubbing, his clever tongue samples every part of her irresistible heat. She rocks her hips hard into his face but he keeps going, thoroughly undeterred.

The pressure in his belly builds past where thrusting against her leg provides any assistance; he wraps his free hand around his length and pumps experimentally.

A thick haze settles over his brain.

He wants to make her come apart shivering.

He needs to stroke himself until he comes with her, for her, spattering his offering of liquid pearls at her feet.

Frantic, he increases his pace once more, fingers and tongue working in feverish tandem to shatter her, reduce her to a sobbing mess. His hand slides easily up and down his cock, slick with pre cum.

She trembles, stiffening, involuntarily pressing his mouth into her petals with the hand tangled in his hair. Releasing a strained, wordless cry her hips fie an involuntary buck as the fire and silk of her inner walls clench rhythmically on his fingers.

He imagines that it's his length inside her instead of his digits. He pictures burying himself to the hilt inside her tightness before pumping his release into in the heavenly wet depths of her body, then tattooing languid kiss after kiss on her beloved heart shaped face, her pale shoulders, and the delicate column of her throat.

With a grunt he comes, spend pulsing out between his fingers to land in shining white puddles and spatters across the floor, the wall, and up her silken limb as far as her hip.

Her trembling travels the full length of her body, skin of coalesced moonlight shivering, raising goosebumps as though she's chilled.   The motion passes from her into him, magnifying with each kiss he burns on the canvas of her hips and thighs.

Absently, her gentle hand traces the velvet edge of his notched ear.

He shivers again with a laugh, catching her fingers to kiss them, “Can't seem to stop shaking, sprout.”

“Maybe we should go to bed then? Get some rest,” she says, wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

He has a sudden irrational desire to kiss her precisely there. “We're not gonna rest, are we?”

She shakes her head in the negative, the violet curtain of her hair swaying with the motion.

“Good,” says Fel, rising to his feet and moving to pick her up.