[Infinity's End] Edge of Tomorrow - Ch 19
Sep. 30th, 2010 11:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
n_wilkinsona/n: *grins* And now, dear friends, I bring to you the NSFW chapter. One which finally, finally, finally has some Gale/Ione action. What we've all been waiting for!
Do enjoy!
Title: The Edge of Tomorrow
Series: Infinity's End, Book One
Summary: Ione makes a difficult decision when her allies call for her imprisonment, forcing her to flee for her life. In the hands of the Theravada, she meets Gale Arlen, rumored leader of the rebels, and learns what it truly means to choose a side.
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22)
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Chapter Nineteen
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Subtlety had never been Ione's strong point. In fact, it was so low on the list of her strong points that it probably had a negative rating. No, she was better suited for diving in head first, slashing shit down, and emerging victorious covered in sweat and blood but sated.
Worse than her ability to be discreet was Gale's ability to read her hints. And far worse than that even was his ability to understand her obvious and direct statements. It was refreshing and frustrating both. It’d been weeks since they’d started this… thing. And if Ione didn't do something about it soon, she was going to hurt someone or something. And that was not going to be pretty.
Sexual frustration didn’t sit well with her. And really, she was already delaying the problem of unrealized arousal on her own far too much. She needed to do something about this. Gale needed to do something about this.
Malcolm, finally released from the infirmary and unmitigated bastard that he was, found it amusing. In fact, he mocked her daily. The traitor!
“You look a little frustrated, Spitfire,” he commented as she wandered into one of the many common areas.
Malcolm was perched on a chair. His sword lay flat against his lap as he scraped a whetstone over it, honing the edge that had dulled during his extended stay in Varos.
Ione dropped down into the empty sofa across from him with all the grace of a burlap sack of potatoes. “Am I unattractive?” she asked the ceiling as if expecting it to care either way. “Am I not a sexy creature worthy of ravishment?”
But it was Malcolm who answered instead.
“Very worthy. In fact, I fully remember ravishing you on many occasions. That thing you do with your mouth’s especially wondrous and should be standard training for any woman,” Malcolm replied with a scrape-scrape of rock over metal. “I don't think your attractions are the problem here though. No man can resist your lack of charm.”
Ione flopped a hand over her eyes. “Gale won't have sex with me,” she whined, thanking whatever god was listening that no one else was in the common room at the moment. Otherwise, she wouldn't be saying these things aloud. Too likely for them to not only get back to Gale but also Kieran, and that one especially would be beyond awkward.
And she was only telling Malcolm because she trusted him with many things, including her own body. He was also the only one here Ione was willing to discuss this with because in all actuality, she was closest to Gale now. But she couldn't very well be having this discussion with him. Fenris was of no help in the matter, and Aponi was conspicuously absent, though Ione doubted she’d be of any help either. She refused to speak to Kieran about it, and though Sabriel was growing on her, Ione couldn't even begin to imagine bringing up this sort of topic. Even if she had the feeling he’d know more about the workings of Gale's mind than anyone else. That only left Antoinette, and she was the backup plan if Malcolm fell through.
Malcolm just chuckled at her. “Again, I doubt it's that he won't.” He tossed her an askance look before he returned to the task at hand.
And really, perhaps it was good that they weren’t sleeping together anymore if he was paying more attention to his sword than her. Either way, this was one of the many reasons they’d never been anything more than friends who occasionally shared bodily pleasures.
“He's not picking up on any of my subtle hints,” Ione lamented then.
“Spitfire, you and subtle haven’t even met.” Malcolm snorted at the mere thought. “And I get the feeling High Lord Arlen isn’t going to get subtle anyway.”
She sniffed, kicking out at the opposite arm of the couch. Ione felt very much like a kid who complained that no one would play outside with her.
“Being obvious isn't working either,” she grumbled.
“Your definition of obvious vastly differs from the rest of the world,” Malcolm returned, lips quirking in a manner that definitely suggested he was laughing at her expense. “Have you said anything direct? Something along the lines of: ‘Gale, I want you to help me break my bed tonight?’”
Ione considered that.
“No,” she admitted slowly.
“‘Gale, I'm ready for you to make me scream your name.’”
Her pout deepened. “No.”
“‘Gale, it's time I introduced you to tab A slides into slot B.’”
Someone walking by the common room heard that last remark, only to squeak and keep going. Yeah, that was liable to get the rumor mill going. Ione was looking forward to that. She couldn’t wait until Sabriel and Kieran heard.
But only after as she figured out this little issue.
“No,” Ione admitted with petulance to her voice. “But I did say my room was cold and it’d be nice if I had something to keep me warm.” She sighed heavily.
“And?”
Ione sank deeper into the cushions. “He brought me another blanket.”
Malcolm burst into laughter. Actually threw his head back and guffawed at her misfortune. Ione thrust herself upwards and grabbed one of the fancy, frou-frou pillows that had undoubtedly been put there by Talya. She chucked it at Malcolm with startling accuracy. He dodged with a shift to the right, and the beaded abomination hit the ground and skittered away.
“It's not funny,” she hissed.
“On the contrary, it very much is.” Malcolm rose to his feet, sliding his sword into its sheath. “It's amusing to see you like this.”
Ione sniffed. “You're about as much help as Fenris right now.”
“He’s a wolf,” he reminded her wryly. “I doubt human mating interests him at all. I doubt he’d even know where to begin.”
She wasn’t reassured by his words. Her posture indicated as much.
“You could stand to offer me a bit of advice. Or something,” she suggested with a wave of her hand. “What am I doing wrong here?”
Shaking his head, Malcolm sat down next to her and patted her on the thigh. “Your problem is that you're treating him like anybody else you've ever met, and it's obvious that he's just a bit different.”
She just looked at him. He held up his hands.
“Okay. A lot different,” her friend corrected. “You can't go about this in the usual fashion. Like I said, I don't think he's not interested. But more that he's too interested.”
Ione considered, jaw twisting to the side. “I didn't know that was even possible.”
“It is...” Malcolm hesitated for a fraction of a second but barreled on, “when you've not had a chance to work out your interest on another person before.”
She gaped at him. Amusement brightened Malcolm's dark eyes, but that had more to do with her than what he said next.
“How much experience do you think your dear-maybe-eventual-lover has, Ione?” he questioned with a nudge to her ribs. “Let me tell you something. Most nobles aren’t like me. Not like my immediate family. They’re remarkably frigid, and friendships like ours are frowned on, especially for the highest class. And Gale Arlen?”
Malcolm shook his head and turned to gaze at the ceiling. Staring at it like he wished it would grow a mouth and have this conversation for him. When it didn’t, he sighed long and deep. He wasn’t the type to be easily embarrassed, but this was a little much. Even for him. He knew Ione very well, but it was entirely something else to air a virtual stranger’s dirty laundry to her, paramour or not.
“He's at the top of the heap, Ione.” Malcolm was still not looking at her. “Higher even than me. I was never the head of a family. Much less the one of the seven greats. They do things differently. So unless he had a mistress or concubine nobody knew about… And really, he doesn’t seem the type at all.” He shook his head again. “Unless he had that, I’m guessing that he hasn’t had anyone. At all. In any sense.”
Ione felt as though the floor had suddenly and irreversibly dropped out from beneath her. She was hardly a teenager. Hadn’t been for a good handful of years. And she’d been experienced by then and had been with men other than Malcolm. But Gale was older than her by at least a few years. And what Malcolm was saying… What he was implying…
“Not anyone?” she questioned dubiously.
“Not anyone,” Malcolm agreed like he couldn’t believe she was being this slow.
“He's...”
Probably a virgin, her inner monologue helpfully supplied. And that just kind of broke Ione's brain. She was used to such a thing being attached to the females surrounding her, the ones who held back for the sake of their soulmate or whatever. She was pretty sure that Raine, pervert though she could be, was waiting for marriage at least. But Ione knew that Ophelia and Hayden hadn’t. They’d waited for love though, for each other. And while Ione didn't begrudge them that, it just wasn't for her. Love had never entered the equation. She liked sex; there was nothing wrong with that. She just liked it. Whether with another person or when she was entertaining herself.
But for Gale not to have been with anybody? That made something inside her soul quiver and die.
Malcolm chuckled at her dumbfounded expression. “I think you get me now.”
It was a statement and not a question. But Ione still nodded absentmindedly. Eyes incredibly wide as she tried to turn this new information over in her head and have it make sense.
“And this all means, if you want something done, you're gonna have to do it yourself.” Malcolm elbowed her in the side. “Trust me, he won't complain.”
Take the initiative?
That wasn't exactly a foreign concept. She didn't really mind. And if it meant finally getting something more than sweet kisses and romantic talks and innocent gropes – all of which were nice in their own time but just not enough – Ione was willing to do just about anything at this point.
She nodded very slowly. Still considering.
“So... stop trying for subtle. Just attack?”
He patted her once on the shoulder, a manly clap more than anything, and climbed to his feet. “Exactly. Now, you go plot out making your man… well, a man. And I'll see if there's someone here worthy of sparring.”
“Ishmael's good. But if I were you, I'd start with lighter fare. Like Grayson,” Ione put in distractedly.
Attack. Attacking sounded good. Ione was good at attacking. In fact, she excelled at it. This wouldn't be so hard.
A devious smile took over her features. She never even noticed when Malcolm dismissed himself. She was too busy devising a trap. It wasn't a very good trap, basic in all its essentials, but it was a trap nonetheless.
Come flood or snowstorm, Ione was determined not to sleep alone tonight. Not that she planned on much sleep.
* * *
She recruited Kieran into her trap, though she didn't tell him exactly why or even what he was really doing. He pressed for information, trying in many ways to bribe her into revealing the truth. But Ione was stubborn and strong in the face of his pouting. And after that, she purposefully made herself scarce. At least to Gale. She didn't want to see him until she was ready.
After that came a flurry of cleaning her bedroom, acquiring the necessary supplies should they prove important, and tapping her foot impatiently as she waited. Ione shooed Fenris off, which he did with an abandoning sniff as he sought out Inari. And as Aponi hadn't returned yet, Ione didn't have to worry about chasing her away.
Then came the waiting, something Ione wasn't good at but resigned herself to anyway. The sun set, night fell, and still, Ione waited. And when the knock came on her door, it made something tighten hotly in her belly. Damn. And she hadn't even seen him yet.
Clearly, her libido was sorely strained.
She rose from her perch with a bit too much eagerness. In fact, she nearly tripped over her own feet, and that’d be just embarrassing. Tugging self-consciously on the robe that barely covered anything and would later reveal nothing to be worn underneath, Ione held her breath and opened the door. She gave herself long enough to recognize that it was indeed Gale – since really, it’d be awful if she did this to say Azriel – before she fisted her fingers in the front of his clothes and yanked him inside. He made a noise of surprise that carried until the hallway, but she didn’t care.
The door slammed shut, only because Ione shoved Gale up against it and covered his mouth with hers. He tasted sweet again and a bit like strawberries, but Ione didn't mind. It made her think of him tasting the fruit with his mouth, a tantalizing drip of pink juice down his chin.
Gale squeaked; there really was no other word to describe it as he submitted to her attempt to swallow his tongue. Ione pressed against him. She was able to feel his heat through the thin cloth of her robe, one hand reaching to tangle in his hair as her other refused to relinquish her grip on his shirt. She didn't want him to get away.
Until she felt something move beneath her fingers.
Ah, she'd forgotten Quetz.
Ione ended the kiss with much reluctance, breathing hot and heavy. Gale looked at her, dazed. His eyes were seemingly focused on her bared collarbone and the dip of breasts that her robe scarcely concealed. Ione, finding him distracted, took the opportunity to tap on the coil of warm flesh around his neck.
“Sorry,” she said as sweetly as she could manage, “but this is a one snake show. No sex if there’s more than that tonight.”
Quetz sluggishly stirred, her diamond head poking out of his tunic. “Just toss me in a warm corner. I'll go right back to sleep,” she murmured with a faint hiss.
Easily done. Ione, with the skill of years of practice, stripped Gale of his overshirt and tossed it in a corner. She extracted Quetz from his neck and lowered the snake to the floor where she proceeded to undulate towards the abandoned garment with a speed never before witnessed. A rustling of fabric later and not even a hint of black scales could be seen. Good enough for her.
Back to the task at hand.
Gale was still staring at her. Blinking. Dragging his tongue over his lips in a fashion that made her want to attack them again. And well, Ione had never been good about resisting temptation.
She tilted his head towards her and kissed him again, gentler this time, dragging her tongue over his lips and coaxing his own out to play. She pressed against his still clothed body and was gratified to feel a stirring beneath the layers. Every hitch in his breathing shot straight to her groin, and she just knew she had to be dripping.
Damn but she wanted him.
Her lips dropped from his, dotting kisses across his jaw and heading for his ears, which she knew for a fact were sensitive. He sagged against the door as one hand curled around her back for support. And inwardly, she crowed.
Participation! How wonderful!
“In case you haven't noticed,” she whispered in a seductive tone and grinded against him. “I'm trying to have sex with you.”
His hand tightened on her back. “I noticed.” He cleared his throat noisily. “Oh, trust me. I noticed.” Gale swallowed, and Ione just had to introduce her tongue to his neck.
He groaned in delight, hips pushing back against hers. By Diana and Kaiyu both, she wanted him. Her nipples had tightened to hard little buds, straining against the fabric of her robe. And he’d hardly touched her! His hand still rested innocently on the small of her back, even though she did her damn best to rub her breasts against his chest and curl her tongue against his ear.
“Touch me,” she demanded, sliding against his hardening length and nearly writhing against him in bliss.
Gale needed no further urging, though his motions were indeed hesitant. He lifted a hand, placed it on her waist, and rubbed soothing circles. She made a sound in her throat, and Gale's fingers skittered upwards, brushing against her ribs before – thank Diana! – cupping her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple, and Ione's teeth closed around his earlobe, trying in vain not to bite him as a moan rattled out of her chest.
“Oh, hell,” he breathed, hand dropping from her back to cup one buttock and pull her forward. He bucked against her as she rocked her hips against his.
The rhythm was off, but it felt so damn good that Ione didn't care. Ione reached for him, but her fingers brushed cloth. In fact, everywhere she rubbed or groped, she felt cloth. This wouldn't do.
She pulled back with much reluctance. Her robe was now askew and gaping, revealing the curve of one breast. Gale stared at it, mesmerized by a perk and pink nipple. He licked his lips, and Ione felt wanted.
“Off,” she said.
“Off?” he repeated with confusion. Gale reached for her again, hand finding the one bared breast. He cupped it gently, feeling the weight and soft skin.
Ione moaned and tried to focus. “Off,” she tried again and gestured towards his clothing, even as heat raced down her spine. “Now.”
Though it’d be really hot at a later time to do this fully dressed, Ione wanted to see all the goods now. She’d been dreaming wetly about what they could be, and her eyes – and hands and tongue and everything else – wanted to see for herself. To taste and touch and memorize because she wanted him like no one she’d ever wanted before. Even Malcolm didn’t get this kind of reaction. But then, he hadn’t been playing hard to get either.
“Off,” Gale repeated. And he was beginning to be like a broken top, spinning and spinning but not getting anywhere.
“Your clothes!”
“Right, my clothes,” he agreed.
But didn't move. He seemed reluctant to remove his fingers from her breast, and Ione didn't exactly want him to let go. But he needed to be naked.
Ah, decisions, decisions.
She moaned helplessly, and the sound somehow reached the logic centers in Gale's brain because he stuttered into action. He removed his hand, leaving her feeling just a bit bare and cold, and reached for his shirt. Only to hesitate.
Ione nearly danced in place. Eager to make it the next three steps to the bed and fall on it. What was he waiting for?
“I don't--” He stopped and sucked in a breath. “I don't know how to make this sexy,” Gale admitted, tugging self-consciously at the collar of his tunic.
Oh, for the love of...
Ione moved forward, putting her hand over his and encouraging him to draw his shirt over his head. It was tossed somewhere behind her; Ione didn't particularly care where. And then, she could see his chest, a finely muscled chest that called to her tongue.
“Worry less about performance and more about feeling good,” she assured him, fingers dipping into his waistband. “Women are pretty much expecting to be disappointed. At least the first few times.”
The look that crossed his face promptly informed her that it had been a Very Bad Thing to say. Open mouth; insert foot. And while she was at it, the ankle, knee, and maybe a bit of thigh. While it had meant to be a reassurance, it had the opposite effect. Yet another example of her inability to make nice with subtlety. Damn but Ione was usually smoother than this. Something about Gale threw her out of groove.
She abandoned toying with his trousers and grabbed his face with her hands, bringing their mouths together. For a second, their breaths intermingled before Ione kissed him, tongue sliding all slippery-sweet over his. She moaned as their lips touched. She’d heard before that when people with compatible magics embraced, it was different. And maybe that explained this, explained the flood of heat that burned in her toes and worked a blazing path through her body.
Or maybe it was just all him. Spastic awkwardness but so sweet.
But Gale was stiff as a board beneath her and not in a good way. Fuck but Ione had really screwed this up. Nerves reared their ugly heads as did performance anxiety. Time for reassurance.
She let go of his face and grabbed Gale's hand, pulling back from the kiss. Her tongue dragged over her lips, breath uneven and more like gasping.
“Trust me,” she murmured. Her eyes focused on Gale's lips, robe barely clinging to the loose tie and falling off one shoulder. “The way I'm feeling right now, anything you do will make me feel spectacular.”
He chuckled nervously, though he tried not to show it. Damn men and their pride.
“I'm finding that difficult to believe.” His tone was light and self-depreciating.
Ione didn't bother with explanation. She just shoved Gale's hand through the gap in her robe until his fingers brushed against her, startling him with the abrupt motion.
“Touch me,” she urged, biting back a moan at the teasing feel of him. “You'll find out.”
It was cute the way the red started across the bridge of his nose and branched out from there. It made her want to lick it, and so she did. Tongue touching the tops of his cheeks. His fingers slid over her experimentally and scratched through carefully tended hair before slipping over her folds. She moaned at the tentative touches, hand dropping to his shoulder to clutch tightly.
Gale's free hand winded around her waist, tightening her against him as two fingers carefully slid inside her, encountering the wetness that already slicked her thoroughly. Ione sucked in a breath, unable to resist the pull of desire. Her lips fell over Gale's again as she clenched down around him. She heard his startled exhale when he encountered her wetness, surprise mixed with the man's urgent desire to bury himself inside a woman.
“See?” She panted against his mouth as her tongue coaxed his out to play. “I'm already like this, and you haven't done anything yet.”
His arm snaked around her, molding her body against his and trapping his hand between them. His fingers continued to toy with her dripping center, driving her to a higher plateau of need.
She shuddered and grinded down on him. “Bed,” Ione suggested against his mouth. “This is... easier on a bed.”
“A bed,” he repeated with a groan. His mouth latched on her throat, teeth grazing against her skin.
“Yessss,” Ione hissed as Gale finally answered the call of instinct.
He curled his fingers and pushed them deeper inside. Ione's hips took a mind of their own, rocking and rolling in tune to the thrusts of his hand. She wanted him inside her; oh yes, she did. She wanted to watch his face dissolve into a lovely haze of pleasure, for his composure to be utterly shaken as he came undone because of her.
And then, Gale did the most amazing thing. He removed his hand from her nethers – a loss Ione quickly lamented – but brought it around to cup her butt. He then proceeded to lift and push her backwards, the remaining three or so steps to her bed. Ione was on fire at his display of aggression, and her fingers scrabbled at his pants as he dropped her down to the mattress with a little bounce. The last restrained breast sprang free, but her robe remained, still clinging to the loops of the sash.
Ione whined, so very frustrated as she couldn't seem to undo the complicated fastenings of his pants. She gave up after several discouraging minutes and planted her hands on his hips, squeezing them. She pressed her face against his clothed groin and the prominent bulge, inhaling his scent, strong even through his trousers. Her warm breath pushed through the fabric, and he humped at her face.
She mouthed him over the slightly scratchy fabric, tracing the lines of his arousal with her lips and tongue, wondering if he tasted as good as he smelled. She shifted restlessly on the bed, slickness pooling between her thighs and demanding relief.
“Help me.” Ione tugged again at his pants and looked back up at his eyes.
Green pools of desire greeted her as he dropped his hands, surprising her with his deft motions as he unhooked the clasps. Ione made a sound of relief in her throat as she tugged down his trousers, and he helpfully kicked off his shoes and stepped out of them. And then, she was faced with his arousal; it greeted her by bopping her on the nose. Ione greeted it by dragging her tongue across the leaking head, letting his taste roll through her mouth.
Gale made a sound that was pure sex. His hands fell on her shoulders, bodily urging her head away.
“Too much,” he gasped before she could even question her skills.
Ah, that Ione could understand. She nodded absently, fingernails dragging up and down his sides. She licked her lips. And then, Gale was there, hands pinning her in as they flattened against the comforter. His mouth fell over hers. Hungry and possessive, tongue laying claim to her like a man starved for the touch of another. Ione simply groaned and clenched down on Gale's hips to encourage more.
He delivered, bending her backwards until she fell against the bed. He followed her down, lips trailing a heated path across her throat to the gap in her robe. His fingers plucked at the pathetic tie, and it fell open, leaving her fully bare. He made a noise of admiration, and his hand found her breast again – much to the delight of his fingers. He squeezed perhaps a bit too roughly, but Ione was a big girl. She could handle it. Teaching later. Right now, she wanted to encourage Gale to feel.
And then – fuck yes – his lips and tongue enclosed around her other nipple, and Ione nearly surged off the bed as her back arched with pleasure. Her legs kicked out, hooking around his body and practically pulling him atop her. His tongue flicked over the pebbled skin, and Ione damn near shrieked, wondering why he had this much of an effect on her. Why she tingled in all the right ways. All he'd managed to do was awkwardly touch her, still blushing all the while.
It took several seconds for Ione to realize that the buzzing in her ears was her chanting his name in encouragement, her heels trying to drag him closer. His lips left her nipple with an obscene sound and dragged back to her mouth. Or maybe that was her hand in his hair; Ione couldn't be sure. Either way his lips were where she wanted them to be and thus followed an awkward butt-scoot backwards as Gale clambered after her.
Finally. They were fully on the bed. And mostly naked. Ione's robe still lingered stubbornly underneath her. It refused to abandon its task of barely clinging to her shoulder and arms, so she let it stay.
They kissed. Over and over, tongues tangling and lips growing red. Ione reached down and grabbed a handful of Gale's backside, dragging him between her knees and higher. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him down against her. Their groins collided, his heated length rubbing against her wet center in all the right kinds of ways.
Ione groaned. Gale groaned. They groaned together. And he did the most amazing thing with his hips. He humped her, just a little, and Ione surged up to meet him with an arch of her own. He slid through the wetness, driving her mad and making her body jerk this way and that. One of her hands clutched to the back of his head, tangling in his blond hair as she turned him for her own purposes. Her tongue attempted to devour his lips and his tongue and his mouth and anything else she could manage to lick.
Gale breathed raggedly, a steady growl building in his chest. His fingers clenched on the comforter as he thrust against her as their bodies found an easy if not quite perfect rhythm. Ione wanted to feel him inside of her, but she didn't think she’d last. She could already feel it building inside, coiling tighter like a snake ready to strike.
Gale wasn't better. He broke away from her lips and buried his face in her neck, panting hot and heavy against her skin. His rhythm became frantic, and Ione rolled her hips against his, something screaming for release inside of her. Her fingers dug into his back; her heels dug bruises into his hips where she urged him against her over and over. The wet sounds of their motions were a perfect counterpart to the squeak of the bed, but these observations were dim on the corner of Ione's mind.
She could only hear her name as he muttered it over and over, his hips churning against hers. His arousal jabbed between her folds. And Ione lost it, fingers tugging at his hair as she arched her back and felt her orgasm wash through her. Her limbs jerked this way and that, muscles tightening, body locked in ecstasy. Ione barely heard when Gale groaned and stiffened, splattering between her legs and the inside of her thighs. He growled and snuffled against her throat, grinding down against her as the last of the tremors shook him.
Hungry, Ione dragged his lips back to hers. She loved the feel of his stuttered breathing as a counterpoint to her own. Their bodies collided, chests coming in contact, and the off rhythm she felt was the result of their two hearts trying to pound through ribcages and knocking against one other despite the layers of muscle and bone. Ione could feel the sweat coating her stomach and back, but she couldn't care less, not when Gale finally released his hold on the bed and dragged his fingers gently through her unbound hair.
Ione practically purred. Her unintentional celibacy was over. And now that the dam had broken, it’d be impossible to hold back the flood. Gale had a taste. He’d definitely want more.
And Ione? She wanted more, too.
Only later. After a nap. And maybe dinner.
The careful petting of her hair slowed and then stopped. Gale covering her became more weight than warmth. And Ione blinked.
“Gale?”
“Mmm?”
That was definitely a sleepy sound.
“You're squishing me,” Ione said. But in all honesty, he wasn't that heavy.
“Mmm,” came Gale's intelligent response.
His chin landed on her shoulder, and she felt his breath puff against her neck.
Ione twitched. “I mean, really, I do need to breathe.”
Her lover – yes, finally! Lover and not just boyfriend – didn't say anything. In fact, he didn't move at all. Ione twisted her neck and looked at him. His eyes were closed.
Her jaw dropped.
Was he asleep? That had to be some kind of record. Seriously, she’d never worn out anybody like this before. Well, except for that one time… But she wasn’t going to think about that right now. Not with his lanky weight pressing down on her and the aftershocks still clinging to her frame. Inexperienced he might’ve been, but he still managed more than some men.
Only to promptly fall asleep afterward.
Malcolm was going to laugh his ass off.
Rolling her eyes, Ione gently eased away her Gale-blanket and crawled out from beneath him. She took a moment to admire his sleeping – and naked, her mind gleefully reminded her – form. He had scratch marks on his back. Oops. They were just a little red. She hadn't made him bleed at least.
Sighing, Ione rose from the bed long enough to remove her robe and drape it over a nearby chair. She snagged a dirty shirt from her laundry pile in the corner and used it as a makeshift towel. Ione checked on Quetz who was happily snoozing away in the corner, completely oblivious to what had just happened, and put the lantern on its lowest setting. The barest of light illuminated the room, enough for her to pick her way across the floor and crawl back onto the bed.
Gale hadn't moved.
Ione dragged a pillow under her head and wrestled her boyfriend – lover now, score! – against her side. He snuggled against her breasts as though they were the best pillows in the world, and she swore she heard a sigh of contentment.
Honestly, Ione felt a bit like purring herself.
* * * * *
a/n: Well, I hope it was all you wanted and more. There's still more ficcage to come. This is not the end yet! And as always, feedback is more than welcome.
Do enjoy!
Title: The Edge of Tomorrow
Series: Infinity's End, Book One
Summary: Ione makes a difficult decision when her allies call for her imprisonment, forcing her to flee for her life. In the hands of the Theravada, she meets Gale Arlen, rumored leader of the rebels, and learns what it truly means to choose a side.
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22)
Chapter Nineteen
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Subtlety had never been Ione's strong point. In fact, it was so low on the list of her strong points that it probably had a negative rating. No, she was better suited for diving in head first, slashing shit down, and emerging victorious covered in sweat and blood but sated.
Worse than her ability to be discreet was Gale's ability to read her hints. And far worse than that even was his ability to understand her obvious and direct statements. It was refreshing and frustrating both. It’d been weeks since they’d started this… thing. And if Ione didn't do something about it soon, she was going to hurt someone or something. And that was not going to be pretty.
Sexual frustration didn’t sit well with her. And really, she was already delaying the problem of unrealized arousal on her own far too much. She needed to do something about this. Gale needed to do something about this.
Malcolm, finally released from the infirmary and unmitigated bastard that he was, found it amusing. In fact, he mocked her daily. The traitor!
“You look a little frustrated, Spitfire,” he commented as she wandered into one of the many common areas.
Malcolm was perched on a chair. His sword lay flat against his lap as he scraped a whetstone over it, honing the edge that had dulled during his extended stay in Varos.
Ione dropped down into the empty sofa across from him with all the grace of a burlap sack of potatoes. “Am I unattractive?” she asked the ceiling as if expecting it to care either way. “Am I not a sexy creature worthy of ravishment?”
But it was Malcolm who answered instead.
“Very worthy. In fact, I fully remember ravishing you on many occasions. That thing you do with your mouth’s especially wondrous and should be standard training for any woman,” Malcolm replied with a scrape-scrape of rock over metal. “I don't think your attractions are the problem here though. No man can resist your lack of charm.”
Ione flopped a hand over her eyes. “Gale won't have sex with me,” she whined, thanking whatever god was listening that no one else was in the common room at the moment. Otherwise, she wouldn't be saying these things aloud. Too likely for them to not only get back to Gale but also Kieran, and that one especially would be beyond awkward.
And she was only telling Malcolm because she trusted him with many things, including her own body. He was also the only one here Ione was willing to discuss this with because in all actuality, she was closest to Gale now. But she couldn't very well be having this discussion with him. Fenris was of no help in the matter, and Aponi was conspicuously absent, though Ione doubted she’d be of any help either. She refused to speak to Kieran about it, and though Sabriel was growing on her, Ione couldn't even begin to imagine bringing up this sort of topic. Even if she had the feeling he’d know more about the workings of Gale's mind than anyone else. That only left Antoinette, and she was the backup plan if Malcolm fell through.
Malcolm just chuckled at her. “Again, I doubt it's that he won't.” He tossed her an askance look before he returned to the task at hand.
And really, perhaps it was good that they weren’t sleeping together anymore if he was paying more attention to his sword than her. Either way, this was one of the many reasons they’d never been anything more than friends who occasionally shared bodily pleasures.
“He's not picking up on any of my subtle hints,” Ione lamented then.
“Spitfire, you and subtle haven’t even met.” Malcolm snorted at the mere thought. “And I get the feeling High Lord Arlen isn’t going to get subtle anyway.”
She sniffed, kicking out at the opposite arm of the couch. Ione felt very much like a kid who complained that no one would play outside with her.
“Being obvious isn't working either,” she grumbled.
“Your definition of obvious vastly differs from the rest of the world,” Malcolm returned, lips quirking in a manner that definitely suggested he was laughing at her expense. “Have you said anything direct? Something along the lines of: ‘Gale, I want you to help me break my bed tonight?’”
Ione considered that.
“No,” she admitted slowly.
“‘Gale, I'm ready for you to make me scream your name.’”
Her pout deepened. “No.”
“‘Gale, it's time I introduced you to tab A slides into slot B.’”
Someone walking by the common room heard that last remark, only to squeak and keep going. Yeah, that was liable to get the rumor mill going. Ione was looking forward to that. She couldn’t wait until Sabriel and Kieran heard.
But only after as she figured out this little issue.
“No,” Ione admitted with petulance to her voice. “But I did say my room was cold and it’d be nice if I had something to keep me warm.” She sighed heavily.
“And?”
Ione sank deeper into the cushions. “He brought me another blanket.”
Malcolm burst into laughter. Actually threw his head back and guffawed at her misfortune. Ione thrust herself upwards and grabbed one of the fancy, frou-frou pillows that had undoubtedly been put there by Talya. She chucked it at Malcolm with startling accuracy. He dodged with a shift to the right, and the beaded abomination hit the ground and skittered away.
“It's not funny,” she hissed.
“On the contrary, it very much is.” Malcolm rose to his feet, sliding his sword into its sheath. “It's amusing to see you like this.”
Ione sniffed. “You're about as much help as Fenris right now.”
“He’s a wolf,” he reminded her wryly. “I doubt human mating interests him at all. I doubt he’d even know where to begin.”
She wasn’t reassured by his words. Her posture indicated as much.
“You could stand to offer me a bit of advice. Or something,” she suggested with a wave of her hand. “What am I doing wrong here?”
Shaking his head, Malcolm sat down next to her and patted her on the thigh. “Your problem is that you're treating him like anybody else you've ever met, and it's obvious that he's just a bit different.”
She just looked at him. He held up his hands.
“Okay. A lot different,” her friend corrected. “You can't go about this in the usual fashion. Like I said, I don't think he's not interested. But more that he's too interested.”
Ione considered, jaw twisting to the side. “I didn't know that was even possible.”
“It is...” Malcolm hesitated for a fraction of a second but barreled on, “when you've not had a chance to work out your interest on another person before.”
She gaped at him. Amusement brightened Malcolm's dark eyes, but that had more to do with her than what he said next.
“How much experience do you think your dear-maybe-eventual-lover has, Ione?” he questioned with a nudge to her ribs. “Let me tell you something. Most nobles aren’t like me. Not like my immediate family. They’re remarkably frigid, and friendships like ours are frowned on, especially for the highest class. And Gale Arlen?”
Malcolm shook his head and turned to gaze at the ceiling. Staring at it like he wished it would grow a mouth and have this conversation for him. When it didn’t, he sighed long and deep. He wasn’t the type to be easily embarrassed, but this was a little much. Even for him. He knew Ione very well, but it was entirely something else to air a virtual stranger’s dirty laundry to her, paramour or not.
“He's at the top of the heap, Ione.” Malcolm was still not looking at her. “Higher even than me. I was never the head of a family. Much less the one of the seven greats. They do things differently. So unless he had a mistress or concubine nobody knew about… And really, he doesn’t seem the type at all.” He shook his head again. “Unless he had that, I’m guessing that he hasn’t had anyone. At all. In any sense.”
Ione felt as though the floor had suddenly and irreversibly dropped out from beneath her. She was hardly a teenager. Hadn’t been for a good handful of years. And she’d been experienced by then and had been with men other than Malcolm. But Gale was older than her by at least a few years. And what Malcolm was saying… What he was implying…
“Not anyone?” she questioned dubiously.
“Not anyone,” Malcolm agreed like he couldn’t believe she was being this slow.
“He's...”
Probably a virgin, her inner monologue helpfully supplied. And that just kind of broke Ione's brain. She was used to such a thing being attached to the females surrounding her, the ones who held back for the sake of their soulmate or whatever. She was pretty sure that Raine, pervert though she could be, was waiting for marriage at least. But Ione knew that Ophelia and Hayden hadn’t. They’d waited for love though, for each other. And while Ione didn't begrudge them that, it just wasn't for her. Love had never entered the equation. She liked sex; there was nothing wrong with that. She just liked it. Whether with another person or when she was entertaining herself.
But for Gale not to have been with anybody? That made something inside her soul quiver and die.
Malcolm chuckled at her dumbfounded expression. “I think you get me now.”
It was a statement and not a question. But Ione still nodded absentmindedly. Eyes incredibly wide as she tried to turn this new information over in her head and have it make sense.
“And this all means, if you want something done, you're gonna have to do it yourself.” Malcolm elbowed her in the side. “Trust me, he won't complain.”
Take the initiative?
That wasn't exactly a foreign concept. She didn't really mind. And if it meant finally getting something more than sweet kisses and romantic talks and innocent gropes – all of which were nice in their own time but just not enough – Ione was willing to do just about anything at this point.
She nodded very slowly. Still considering.
“So... stop trying for subtle. Just attack?”
He patted her once on the shoulder, a manly clap more than anything, and climbed to his feet. “Exactly. Now, you go plot out making your man… well, a man. And I'll see if there's someone here worthy of sparring.”
“Ishmael's good. But if I were you, I'd start with lighter fare. Like Grayson,” Ione put in distractedly.
Attack. Attacking sounded good. Ione was good at attacking. In fact, she excelled at it. This wouldn't be so hard.
A devious smile took over her features. She never even noticed when Malcolm dismissed himself. She was too busy devising a trap. It wasn't a very good trap, basic in all its essentials, but it was a trap nonetheless.
Come flood or snowstorm, Ione was determined not to sleep alone tonight. Not that she planned on much sleep.
She recruited Kieran into her trap, though she didn't tell him exactly why or even what he was really doing. He pressed for information, trying in many ways to bribe her into revealing the truth. But Ione was stubborn and strong in the face of his pouting. And after that, she purposefully made herself scarce. At least to Gale. She didn't want to see him until she was ready.
After that came a flurry of cleaning her bedroom, acquiring the necessary supplies should they prove important, and tapping her foot impatiently as she waited. Ione shooed Fenris off, which he did with an abandoning sniff as he sought out Inari. And as Aponi hadn't returned yet, Ione didn't have to worry about chasing her away.
Then came the waiting, something Ione wasn't good at but resigned herself to anyway. The sun set, night fell, and still, Ione waited. And when the knock came on her door, it made something tighten hotly in her belly. Damn. And she hadn't even seen him yet.
Clearly, her libido was sorely strained.
She rose from her perch with a bit too much eagerness. In fact, she nearly tripped over her own feet, and that’d be just embarrassing. Tugging self-consciously on the robe that barely covered anything and would later reveal nothing to be worn underneath, Ione held her breath and opened the door. She gave herself long enough to recognize that it was indeed Gale – since really, it’d be awful if she did this to say Azriel – before she fisted her fingers in the front of his clothes and yanked him inside. He made a noise of surprise that carried until the hallway, but she didn’t care.
The door slammed shut, only because Ione shoved Gale up against it and covered his mouth with hers. He tasted sweet again and a bit like strawberries, but Ione didn't mind. It made her think of him tasting the fruit with his mouth, a tantalizing drip of pink juice down his chin.
Gale squeaked; there really was no other word to describe it as he submitted to her attempt to swallow his tongue. Ione pressed against him. She was able to feel his heat through the thin cloth of her robe, one hand reaching to tangle in his hair as her other refused to relinquish her grip on his shirt. She didn't want him to get away.
Until she felt something move beneath her fingers.
Ah, she'd forgotten Quetz.
Ione ended the kiss with much reluctance, breathing hot and heavy. Gale looked at her, dazed. His eyes were seemingly focused on her bared collarbone and the dip of breasts that her robe scarcely concealed. Ione, finding him distracted, took the opportunity to tap on the coil of warm flesh around his neck.
“Sorry,” she said as sweetly as she could manage, “but this is a one snake show. No sex if there’s more than that tonight.”
Quetz sluggishly stirred, her diamond head poking out of his tunic. “Just toss me in a warm corner. I'll go right back to sleep,” she murmured with a faint hiss.
Easily done. Ione, with the skill of years of practice, stripped Gale of his overshirt and tossed it in a corner. She extracted Quetz from his neck and lowered the snake to the floor where she proceeded to undulate towards the abandoned garment with a speed never before witnessed. A rustling of fabric later and not even a hint of black scales could be seen. Good enough for her.
Back to the task at hand.
Gale was still staring at her. Blinking. Dragging his tongue over his lips in a fashion that made her want to attack them again. And well, Ione had never been good about resisting temptation.
She tilted his head towards her and kissed him again, gentler this time, dragging her tongue over his lips and coaxing his own out to play. She pressed against his still clothed body and was gratified to feel a stirring beneath the layers. Every hitch in his breathing shot straight to her groin, and she just knew she had to be dripping.
Damn but she wanted him.
Her lips dropped from his, dotting kisses across his jaw and heading for his ears, which she knew for a fact were sensitive. He sagged against the door as one hand curled around her back for support. And inwardly, she crowed.
Participation! How wonderful!
“In case you haven't noticed,” she whispered in a seductive tone and grinded against him. “I'm trying to have sex with you.”
His hand tightened on her back. “I noticed.” He cleared his throat noisily. “Oh, trust me. I noticed.” Gale swallowed, and Ione just had to introduce her tongue to his neck.
He groaned in delight, hips pushing back against hers. By Diana and Kaiyu both, she wanted him. Her nipples had tightened to hard little buds, straining against the fabric of her robe. And he’d hardly touched her! His hand still rested innocently on the small of her back, even though she did her damn best to rub her breasts against his chest and curl her tongue against his ear.
“Touch me,” she demanded, sliding against his hardening length and nearly writhing against him in bliss.
Gale needed no further urging, though his motions were indeed hesitant. He lifted a hand, placed it on her waist, and rubbed soothing circles. She made a sound in her throat, and Gale's fingers skittered upwards, brushing against her ribs before – thank Diana! – cupping her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple, and Ione's teeth closed around his earlobe, trying in vain not to bite him as a moan rattled out of her chest.
“Oh, hell,” he breathed, hand dropping from her back to cup one buttock and pull her forward. He bucked against her as she rocked her hips against his.
The rhythm was off, but it felt so damn good that Ione didn't care. Ione reached for him, but her fingers brushed cloth. In fact, everywhere she rubbed or groped, she felt cloth. This wouldn't do.
She pulled back with much reluctance. Her robe was now askew and gaping, revealing the curve of one breast. Gale stared at it, mesmerized by a perk and pink nipple. He licked his lips, and Ione felt wanted.
“Off,” she said.
“Off?” he repeated with confusion. Gale reached for her again, hand finding the one bared breast. He cupped it gently, feeling the weight and soft skin.
Ione moaned and tried to focus. “Off,” she tried again and gestured towards his clothing, even as heat raced down her spine. “Now.”
Though it’d be really hot at a later time to do this fully dressed, Ione wanted to see all the goods now. She’d been dreaming wetly about what they could be, and her eyes – and hands and tongue and everything else – wanted to see for herself. To taste and touch and memorize because she wanted him like no one she’d ever wanted before. Even Malcolm didn’t get this kind of reaction. But then, he hadn’t been playing hard to get either.
“Off,” Gale repeated. And he was beginning to be like a broken top, spinning and spinning but not getting anywhere.
“Your clothes!”
“Right, my clothes,” he agreed.
But didn't move. He seemed reluctant to remove his fingers from her breast, and Ione didn't exactly want him to let go. But he needed to be naked.
Ah, decisions, decisions.
She moaned helplessly, and the sound somehow reached the logic centers in Gale's brain because he stuttered into action. He removed his hand, leaving her feeling just a bit bare and cold, and reached for his shirt. Only to hesitate.
Ione nearly danced in place. Eager to make it the next three steps to the bed and fall on it. What was he waiting for?
“I don't--” He stopped and sucked in a breath. “I don't know how to make this sexy,” Gale admitted, tugging self-consciously at the collar of his tunic.
Oh, for the love of...
Ione moved forward, putting her hand over his and encouraging him to draw his shirt over his head. It was tossed somewhere behind her; Ione didn't particularly care where. And then, she could see his chest, a finely muscled chest that called to her tongue.
“Worry less about performance and more about feeling good,” she assured him, fingers dipping into his waistband. “Women are pretty much expecting to be disappointed. At least the first few times.”
The look that crossed his face promptly informed her that it had been a Very Bad Thing to say. Open mouth; insert foot. And while she was at it, the ankle, knee, and maybe a bit of thigh. While it had meant to be a reassurance, it had the opposite effect. Yet another example of her inability to make nice with subtlety. Damn but Ione was usually smoother than this. Something about Gale threw her out of groove.
She abandoned toying with his trousers and grabbed his face with her hands, bringing their mouths together. For a second, their breaths intermingled before Ione kissed him, tongue sliding all slippery-sweet over his. She moaned as their lips touched. She’d heard before that when people with compatible magics embraced, it was different. And maybe that explained this, explained the flood of heat that burned in her toes and worked a blazing path through her body.
Or maybe it was just all him. Spastic awkwardness but so sweet.
But Gale was stiff as a board beneath her and not in a good way. Fuck but Ione had really screwed this up. Nerves reared their ugly heads as did performance anxiety. Time for reassurance.
She let go of his face and grabbed Gale's hand, pulling back from the kiss. Her tongue dragged over her lips, breath uneven and more like gasping.
“Trust me,” she murmured. Her eyes focused on Gale's lips, robe barely clinging to the loose tie and falling off one shoulder. “The way I'm feeling right now, anything you do will make me feel spectacular.”
He chuckled nervously, though he tried not to show it. Damn men and their pride.
“I'm finding that difficult to believe.” His tone was light and self-depreciating.
Ione didn't bother with explanation. She just shoved Gale's hand through the gap in her robe until his fingers brushed against her, startling him with the abrupt motion.
“Touch me,” she urged, biting back a moan at the teasing feel of him. “You'll find out.”
It was cute the way the red started across the bridge of his nose and branched out from there. It made her want to lick it, and so she did. Tongue touching the tops of his cheeks. His fingers slid over her experimentally and scratched through carefully tended hair before slipping over her folds. She moaned at the tentative touches, hand dropping to his shoulder to clutch tightly.
Gale's free hand winded around her waist, tightening her against him as two fingers carefully slid inside her, encountering the wetness that already slicked her thoroughly. Ione sucked in a breath, unable to resist the pull of desire. Her lips fell over Gale's again as she clenched down around him. She heard his startled exhale when he encountered her wetness, surprise mixed with the man's urgent desire to bury himself inside a woman.
“See?” She panted against his mouth as her tongue coaxed his out to play. “I'm already like this, and you haven't done anything yet.”
His arm snaked around her, molding her body against his and trapping his hand between them. His fingers continued to toy with her dripping center, driving her to a higher plateau of need.
She shuddered and grinded down on him. “Bed,” Ione suggested against his mouth. “This is... easier on a bed.”
“A bed,” he repeated with a groan. His mouth latched on her throat, teeth grazing against her skin.
“Yessss,” Ione hissed as Gale finally answered the call of instinct.
He curled his fingers and pushed them deeper inside. Ione's hips took a mind of their own, rocking and rolling in tune to the thrusts of his hand. She wanted him inside her; oh yes, she did. She wanted to watch his face dissolve into a lovely haze of pleasure, for his composure to be utterly shaken as he came undone because of her.
And then, Gale did the most amazing thing. He removed his hand from her nethers – a loss Ione quickly lamented – but brought it around to cup her butt. He then proceeded to lift and push her backwards, the remaining three or so steps to her bed. Ione was on fire at his display of aggression, and her fingers scrabbled at his pants as he dropped her down to the mattress with a little bounce. The last restrained breast sprang free, but her robe remained, still clinging to the loops of the sash.
Ione whined, so very frustrated as she couldn't seem to undo the complicated fastenings of his pants. She gave up after several discouraging minutes and planted her hands on his hips, squeezing them. She pressed her face against his clothed groin and the prominent bulge, inhaling his scent, strong even through his trousers. Her warm breath pushed through the fabric, and he humped at her face.
She mouthed him over the slightly scratchy fabric, tracing the lines of his arousal with her lips and tongue, wondering if he tasted as good as he smelled. She shifted restlessly on the bed, slickness pooling between her thighs and demanding relief.
“Help me.” Ione tugged again at his pants and looked back up at his eyes.
Green pools of desire greeted her as he dropped his hands, surprising her with his deft motions as he unhooked the clasps. Ione made a sound of relief in her throat as she tugged down his trousers, and he helpfully kicked off his shoes and stepped out of them. And then, she was faced with his arousal; it greeted her by bopping her on the nose. Ione greeted it by dragging her tongue across the leaking head, letting his taste roll through her mouth.
Gale made a sound that was pure sex. His hands fell on her shoulders, bodily urging her head away.
“Too much,” he gasped before she could even question her skills.
Ah, that Ione could understand. She nodded absently, fingernails dragging up and down his sides. She licked her lips. And then, Gale was there, hands pinning her in as they flattened against the comforter. His mouth fell over hers. Hungry and possessive, tongue laying claim to her like a man starved for the touch of another. Ione simply groaned and clenched down on Gale's hips to encourage more.
He delivered, bending her backwards until she fell against the bed. He followed her down, lips trailing a heated path across her throat to the gap in her robe. His fingers plucked at the pathetic tie, and it fell open, leaving her fully bare. He made a noise of admiration, and his hand found her breast again – much to the delight of his fingers. He squeezed perhaps a bit too roughly, but Ione was a big girl. She could handle it. Teaching later. Right now, she wanted to encourage Gale to feel.
And then – fuck yes – his lips and tongue enclosed around her other nipple, and Ione nearly surged off the bed as her back arched with pleasure. Her legs kicked out, hooking around his body and practically pulling him atop her. His tongue flicked over the pebbled skin, and Ione damn near shrieked, wondering why he had this much of an effect on her. Why she tingled in all the right ways. All he'd managed to do was awkwardly touch her, still blushing all the while.
It took several seconds for Ione to realize that the buzzing in her ears was her chanting his name in encouragement, her heels trying to drag him closer. His lips left her nipple with an obscene sound and dragged back to her mouth. Or maybe that was her hand in his hair; Ione couldn't be sure. Either way his lips were where she wanted them to be and thus followed an awkward butt-scoot backwards as Gale clambered after her.
Finally. They were fully on the bed. And mostly naked. Ione's robe still lingered stubbornly underneath her. It refused to abandon its task of barely clinging to her shoulder and arms, so she let it stay.
They kissed. Over and over, tongues tangling and lips growing red. Ione reached down and grabbed a handful of Gale's backside, dragging him between her knees and higher. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him down against her. Their groins collided, his heated length rubbing against her wet center in all the right kinds of ways.
Ione groaned. Gale groaned. They groaned together. And he did the most amazing thing with his hips. He humped her, just a little, and Ione surged up to meet him with an arch of her own. He slid through the wetness, driving her mad and making her body jerk this way and that. One of her hands clutched to the back of his head, tangling in his blond hair as she turned him for her own purposes. Her tongue attempted to devour his lips and his tongue and his mouth and anything else she could manage to lick.
Gale breathed raggedly, a steady growl building in his chest. His fingers clenched on the comforter as he thrust against her as their bodies found an easy if not quite perfect rhythm. Ione wanted to feel him inside of her, but she didn't think she’d last. She could already feel it building inside, coiling tighter like a snake ready to strike.
Gale wasn't better. He broke away from her lips and buried his face in her neck, panting hot and heavy against her skin. His rhythm became frantic, and Ione rolled her hips against his, something screaming for release inside of her. Her fingers dug into his back; her heels dug bruises into his hips where she urged him against her over and over. The wet sounds of their motions were a perfect counterpart to the squeak of the bed, but these observations were dim on the corner of Ione's mind.
She could only hear her name as he muttered it over and over, his hips churning against hers. His arousal jabbed between her folds. And Ione lost it, fingers tugging at his hair as she arched her back and felt her orgasm wash through her. Her limbs jerked this way and that, muscles tightening, body locked in ecstasy. Ione barely heard when Gale groaned and stiffened, splattering between her legs and the inside of her thighs. He growled and snuffled against her throat, grinding down against her as the last of the tremors shook him.
Hungry, Ione dragged his lips back to hers. She loved the feel of his stuttered breathing as a counterpoint to her own. Their bodies collided, chests coming in contact, and the off rhythm she felt was the result of their two hearts trying to pound through ribcages and knocking against one other despite the layers of muscle and bone. Ione could feel the sweat coating her stomach and back, but she couldn't care less, not when Gale finally released his hold on the bed and dragged his fingers gently through her unbound hair.
Ione practically purred. Her unintentional celibacy was over. And now that the dam had broken, it’d be impossible to hold back the flood. Gale had a taste. He’d definitely want more.
And Ione? She wanted more, too.
Only later. After a nap. And maybe dinner.
The careful petting of her hair slowed and then stopped. Gale covering her became more weight than warmth. And Ione blinked.
“Gale?”
“Mmm?”
That was definitely a sleepy sound.
“You're squishing me,” Ione said. But in all honesty, he wasn't that heavy.
“Mmm,” came Gale's intelligent response.
His chin landed on her shoulder, and she felt his breath puff against her neck.
Ione twitched. “I mean, really, I do need to breathe.”
Her lover – yes, finally! Lover and not just boyfriend – didn't say anything. In fact, he didn't move at all. Ione twisted her neck and looked at him. His eyes were closed.
Her jaw dropped.
Was he asleep? That had to be some kind of record. Seriously, she’d never worn out anybody like this before. Well, except for that one time… But she wasn’t going to think about that right now. Not with his lanky weight pressing down on her and the aftershocks still clinging to her frame. Inexperienced he might’ve been, but he still managed more than some men.
Only to promptly fall asleep afterward.
Malcolm was going to laugh his ass off.
Rolling her eyes, Ione gently eased away her Gale-blanket and crawled out from beneath him. She took a moment to admire his sleeping – and naked, her mind gleefully reminded her – form. He had scratch marks on his back. Oops. They were just a little red. She hadn't made him bleed at least.
Sighing, Ione rose from the bed long enough to remove her robe and drape it over a nearby chair. She snagged a dirty shirt from her laundry pile in the corner and used it as a makeshift towel. Ione checked on Quetz who was happily snoozing away in the corner, completely oblivious to what had just happened, and put the lantern on its lowest setting. The barest of light illuminated the room, enough for her to pick her way across the floor and crawl back onto the bed.
Gale hadn't moved.
Ione dragged a pillow under her head and wrestled her boyfriend – lover now, score! – against her side. He snuggled against her breasts as though they were the best pillows in the world, and she swore she heard a sigh of contentment.
Honestly, Ione felt a bit like purring herself.
a/n: Well, I hope it was all you wanted and more. There's still more ficcage to come. This is not the end yet! And as always, feedback is more than welcome.
