Breath and Burn [Kaldin!]

[Anonymous]

Blissful sparks rang rampantly through his ears at the contact of a timid, soft kiss.  Cyrus smiled thankfully at Kisa's decision and replied, "Wonderful.  Now, come on."  Striding briskly through the hall and up a spiral staircase, "There's always at least one of the housemaids awake at this hour.  Usually it's Jenny, that poor girl can never seem to find the means to sleep and is usually found preparing tea in the kitchen.  Which, to my guess, that's where the little insomniac is at this moment."  He laughed at his pitiful jest and continued to leap up the swirling steps, passing by two floors.  Cyrus made it in his best interest to keep his graceful swing of leg from leaving Kisa behind, unattended to explore the slumbering halls.

By the time they reached the third floor, tiny shocks of pain began to pierce Cyrus' shin, but they were so small that he excused them without a second thought.  He thrust open the oaken door, which, just as he expected made way for a caliginous vacant hallway.

It stretched as far as any average corridor with several passages that connected to it.  Portraits of sorts hung along the walls of ancestors or scenic views of glens, valleys, rivers, or the likes of simple passersby.  Large, elongated windows unleashed the evening's light onto the gleaming granite floors creating an eerie shadow for all that passed through the illumination.

Beneath the nearest doorway a slit of light came through.  "Ah there must be Jenny now," Cyrus said and burst through the door.  "Jenny!"  The young woman within leaped nigh out of her skin as she dropped the small  kettle she held in her hand.  The spilling of the water within made the milquetoast girl flinch once again.  "Oh, dear girl, I'm sorry to have frightened you so!"

Recollecting her wits, the brown-eyed girl stroked her blond strands from her face and wrapped it behind her ear, "'Tis alright, Lord Cyrus.  You've told me too many times that I shouldn't be up at this hour anyways.  This simply proves you right.  I'll clean this up this minute."  She moved from her stricken spot to grab a clean cloth on the table beside her but stopped when Cyrus' next words interrupted her.

"Please, don't worry about it for now.  There's another matter I must press upon you," he stated moving further into the brightness of the kitchen and motioning Kisa to do the same.  "This lovely lady beside me is Lady Kisa Alberich and she will be staying for the evening only," Cyrus winced as he said this but persisted nonetheless. "Please see to it that she is given a room on this floor and made comfortable.  I believe she will need a fresh nightgown and clean sheets.  Now if you may excuse me, ladies,  I'll have to shed out of these wet clothes."  Bowing to Kisa, he left her side and headed towards his own bedchamber which, appropriately, was upon the same floor, but hidden deep within one of the corridors.

"Aye, sir," Jenny nodded to him as he went out the door.  Leaving the water behind she jumped into action at her ordered duty.  "If you will please follow me, milady," the blond girl spoke, quite accustomed to the brief agendas often distributed by Cyrus.  She'd been in service to the young lord long enough to learn that he was one to always give out concise orders and expected them to be done when told.  Or was that only with her?  She remembered Cyrus often catching her being a gadabout after he'd given her a precise command.  Jenny gave a hearty chuckle at the recollection and strove to break the silence between them.  "Lord Cyrus is quite the affable man, isn't he Lady Kisa.  I'm sure he's been as gracious to you as he is to all of his servants," Jenny stated gleefully.

She broke open the doors to an empty bedchamber, large and glamorous, though as unused as it was.  Three peaked windows stared down at the empty loft gardens below that hungrily soaked in the sheets of rain.

"Beautiful view, is it not.  Even in this time of night," she said.  "Oh my!  Lady Kisa, have you realized how filthy that gown you're wearing is?," she covered her mouth in sheer horror and closed the doors behind her.  Hurriedly, she waltzed toward the large wardrobe and shuffled through the assorted garments within.  Finally pulling out the nightgown of her desire, she thrust it upon the four-poster bed waved her hands about like some kind of lunatic, "Come on, young lady.  Crawl out that despicable dress and change into this nightgown.  I'm sure it'll fit you, it once belonged to Betheda, one of the...uh, more curvy of the household's servants."

~Cyrus' bedchamber~

He could feel the need growing within his psyche as he wrenched off his boots, tossing them to a window side chair.  Obviously he didn't give a care in the world that the muddied footwear ruined a piece of furniture that had been in his family for nearly three generations.  But the emotions rising and burning within were all too poignant to excuse and too mysterious to truly mentally perceive.  It felt almost primal.

The desire -- no, excruciating need to do more than simply kiss Kisa.  Though a maiden he was not, he was racked with the decision of whether or not he should reave Kisa of her born privilege.

[Anonymous]

((Hope you don't mind my semi-taking over Jenny while she's in the room with Kisa! Kisa just needs help getting off all those big heavy gowns she likes to wear. Normally Ana does it, but Ana's not here!

Also, apologies for the MAD LENGTH.))

Kisa was overawed by the display of such ancient wealth; she clung to Cyrus's side shyly and with some embarassment, because, after all, he would one day have to see where she lived, and that was nowhere near as grand as this. The manor was somehow ominous, though, a little dreary or Gothic, and Kisa couldn't help, as Cyrus led her up the staircases and through various parts of the building, of marking places where a more distinctly bright and feminine touch would do some good. It was in her nature; Kisa loved beauty, and all arts came easily to her.

The kitchen! To see someone awake so late was a shock -- then again, they were awake so late, and Kisa had to smile. It was good to see another young woman lived here; Jenny seemed friendly enough and Kisa nodded her head graciously, with a wide grin to belay the formality. Kisa wondered if one day she might be directing cooks in this very room -- if she might, one day, at that counter in the corner, gently slap a little hand reaching surreptitiously for some sweets. The thought took her breath away, she was that happy, and she snuck her own hand out to take Cyrus's and squeeze it, just before following Jenny to her guest chamber.

The thought of being in a guest suite left Kisa a little crestfallen -- but she dared not question why that emotion coursed so strongly through her veins. "Oh, very gracious," Kisa replied with just a hint of mischief. "Lord Cyrus is just quite the man in general." Warmth flooded her body at the thought.

"Oh, my!" Kisa cried softly upon seeing the bedchamber. So large, and airy, and beautiful, and with a staggering view over the gardens; it was larger by her parents' suite at home by far, and Kisa was nearly overwhelmed by the urge to strip off all her soaking wet clothes and jump, nude and happy, into the luxurious downy blankets.

"Thank you, Jenny," Kisa said with a grateful smile. "I should need some help clambering out of this wet thing, though!" Jenny obliged, and after a few minutes the sodden gown collapsed into an ungraceful heap at Kisa's feet, leaving her only in the barest undergarments. Kisa, somewhat shy to undress in front of a stranger, blushed slightly and said, "Jenny, you may leave if you like. I can do the rest myself."

Jenny left, and Kisa did her best to arrange her ruined gown in such a way before the crackling fireplace so that it might dry, but she had little hope for it. That done, she quickly slipped her wet undergarments off as well, and, with a girlish laugh, did just what she wanted to do earlier -- jump right into the bedcovers and curl up under the down-filled duvets naked and toasty-warm. Kisa giggled, stretched out her legs, and then remembered where she was -- and quickly clambered out again to pull on Betheda's old nightgown.

It fit her only all too well. "So that's the sort of women Cyrus likes in the household, hm?" Kisa said quietly with an affectionate smirk. He could not have chosen a better lover than Kisa, in that case; she almost, but not quite, spilled out of the nightgown with her extravagant curves, and for once she looked exactly like the grown and sensual woman she was instead of a curious, innocent child. The sight of herself in the mirror made Kisa go quiet: would he see her like this? Would he still love her, with all the trimmings and fakeries of court dress gone? Would he love the freckles on her cheeks and nose? She ran her hands over her body, getting tangled in the delicate, near-transparent fabric -- this was who she was, this was her, this was the real Kisa -- and suddenly a huge smile appeared on her face. He would still love her. She had no doubt of that.

She perched on the edge of a chair by the fireplace and, firelight flickering over her fair features, began the careful task of unbraiding her hair. Strand by strand, tousel by tousel, her deep, chestnut curls fell in wild abandon down her back, and, after a quick wash of her face, she was ready.

Ready for what? Kisa looked hesitantly towards the door. Did she dare...?

[Anonymous]

[I don't mind at all.  Jenny's an NPC anyways so it doesn't really matter who controls her.

and don't worry about the length.  All the more to read. ^_^]

Cyrus could hardly breathe, a pressure building within his chest.  It was a wonder how he'd never felt like this before.  True, he'd had lovers before, none that he'd hoped to become attached to, and even though he courted each with as much affection as the next he'd never experienced this much need for a lone woman.  One that made his heart content and put out the fire inside him.  I never knew love to could bring about such pure hell! Cyrus reflected rather ruefully, tearing off his soaked shirt and unveiling a lightly bronzed pane of hardened muscle.

He tossed the vile article of clothing to a corner in the room and moved to cool his face at the washstand beside his wardrobe.  It was almost as if he'd become white hot as that of a sun; if so much as a droplet of water came into contact with his skin it would evaporate immediately.  He was scarcely able to realize exactly how much he was perspiring at this moment.  He felt as if he wanted to toss himself out one of the windows and into the hazing rain, but he reckoned he would not survive the fall.  "Damn, what is this woman doing to me!?" He breathed to himself, staring down his reflection in the mirror above the stand.  "Look at me, I'm a wretch!  Lovesick is what I am.  But this -- this is a whole new emotion in me that's potent enough to affect my very being.  I feel as if I'm going mad!  

"Gah!  Why does my whole body hurt in this terrible way?  Why is it that I, a born and bred gentleman, desire my love in this sort of dishonorable and disgraceful way?  Now I can imagine what my father meant when he spoke of 'unbridled passion' for our perfect mates.  I suppose he went through the same process of his need to bed his wife; albeit whether or not she is or simply is to be legally wed to him," pausing in the midst of his soliloquy, he threw water at the heat of his face in hopes that it would at least do something to pacify and desist the inferno inside him.

Leaning one arm against the wall and staring into the mirror, Cyrus dug his fingers into his skin, probing the crevices of his skull.  His hand moved from his cheekbones to his chin, the straightness of his nose, curve of lip, and even the hollows of his eyes sockets, fingering, observing and assessing the aspects of his physical features.  He'd never considered himself a man of mirrors; not by a long shot.  Cyrus had always been modest about the way he looked despite the fact that he'd always wanted to look his best.  And up until now he knew his best had always been modest.  But for what reason now did he wish to make himself more desirable?  To get her to stay, he convinced himself bluntly.  I don't want her to leave anymore than I can help it.

"Well, the least I can do is wish her a good night."  Heading forward towards the door he stopped and realized the little garb he was in, or rather wasn't in.  He bolted towards the wardrobe, found a clean nightshirt and flung it over his head and shoulders, roomy and loose on his torso.  His bare feet made light steps toward Kisa's temporary room before he realized he didn't know where Jenny had housed her.  But something was drawing him in the direction of that which he yearned.  Turning into darkness he followed the innate path like a call of longing.  Quickened steps, rigid steps, steps of obedience to a need necessary for his very life, of which he allowed himself to become a slave to.

Finally he reached the doors, it's intricate carvings breathing stories of conquest of multiples shapes and forms.  Resting his head to the designs, his hands reached for the knobs, but for some reason he couldn't find it in himself to turn them.  Only able to hold them as delicately in his hands as if they were Kisa's own.

[Anonymous]

Should she? Shouldn't she? The door beckoned and what, or rather who, lay beyond it beckoned even more. The burning question made Kisa nearly as hot as the fire that she sat beside, and her face was pink with repressed urges. He would not reject me, Kisa thought. Would he? No, of course not -- a man would have to be out of his mind or uninterested in women to reject this, Kisa told herself firmly, trying to bolster her confidence and bring a smile to her lips. But perhaps this nightgown was too bold, too obviously sensual for a gentleman like Cyrus? Perhaps the sight of her so eager for love would be distasteful to him? Perhaps Cyrus preferred cool women, women that he had to chase instead of women who launched themselves towards their bedroom -- and this nightgown, and Kisa's mood tonight, certainly lended themselves more towards the latter option than the former.

But it was Jenny who had picked this nightgown out, Jenny, who undoubtedly knew Cyrus even better than Kisa after spending years as his servant. She knew his tastes! Then again, Kisa thought, she does not know what has happened between Cyrus and I. How could she? How could she know the pressing ride, the kiss, the embrace, the confessions in the muddy garden?

Or perhaps she did know, knew all along -- perhaps Jenny was Cyrus's true love and Cyrus was only playing with Kisa's heart, or perhaps he brought home sodden ladies so often Jenny was used to it -- perhaps this very nightgown Kisa now wore belonged to one of those past sodden ladies, perhaps it was passed down from slut to slut, and now Kisa was wearing some slut's nightgown and she had to tear it off, rip this choking, humiliating garment off her body and--

"Oh, please," Kisa said aloud. "Shut up, brain. Cyrus would never." And she knew it, too; these were all pitiful excuses meant to keep her sitting here procrastinating longer. Kisa had grown up on a farm -- she knew about sex, the technicalities of breeding, mares and stallions and hogs and sows -- but between a man and a woman? She knew nothing of love, knew nothing of making love. The thought made her body surge with irresistible desire and shake in fear all at the same time.

"All I want to do," Kisa murmured, "is take this silly thing off, wrap my legs around him and--oh." She turned bright red, snickered, and stood, her body suddenly throbbing with heat. "That thought would have given Ana some competition."

There was no other answer. She had to visit him. There was a reason this night's events had happened, there was a reason for the ball, the storm, the kiss and the love -- this was fate, and Kisa knew it. How could she resist destiny? Why would she want to? By the trembling, heavy weight of her limbs, it was obvious that she very much did not want to resist it -- that she was being dragged along by destiny's force, and her own body's force, and Kisa was helpless to do anything about it (and glad of it, too).

Just before opening the door, Kisa took a deep breath, laying a hand on her pounding heart. "This is it, lady," she told herself quietly. "This is the one." And then, unable to resist it any longer, she tore open the door and almost broke into a run -- only to run into the very man she had been seeking.

"Cyrus," she breathed, feeling as if her whole body would melt into fire. "Oh, I was -- I was looking for you..." Kisa was suddenly all too aware of how exposed she was -- of how exposed he was, for that matter, with his long legs and lean lines -- of how their bodies almost touched, but not quite, and of how that small distance between them seemed to thrum and sing with the undeniable tension of desire. She reached to touch his hand, her eyes wide and shining, her mouth open, face flushed and breathing heavily, and a shock of lightning jolted through her body at that smallest contact. Her eyes closed, briefly, as if all these senses combined with the sight of him was a sum too great for her to handle. She burned, and with the last ounce of intelligent courage that she possessed, asked in a low, slow murmur, "Will you -- won't you come in?" There was a pause, the quick pounding of a heart, and every inch of skin on her throbbed. "Please," she added huskily.

It was not much of a question.

[Anonymous]

[Had to make a minor edit]

Cyrus knew what he wanted, familiar with what he felt deep in his heart, and knew what his conscience was begging him to do. Did he really want to rob Kisa of something so precious, so fragile and innocent as the winding wind? All his inbred conduct was screaming at him to wish her a hasty "goodnight", turn around and head back to his own bedchamber. And to make matters worse, his body relentlessly cemented himself to the doorway that appeared so tempting and making his blood rise; a savage, raw compelling insistence. Cyrus was well persuaded to heed this feeling lest it drive him to do something he would regret; indulge into its burning sweet sensations that he seemed to long for, having never experienced them previously in his life.

When the door tore open, Cyrus couldn't help but jump in surprise. Regaining himself, he smiled graciously at her invitation, giving a knowing glance at her charms through the lawn fabric. Continuing into the room he momentarily brush passed her making his blood boil, he nearly melted on the spot. "Thank you, dear," he managed to choke out. Oh great, a fire roasting in the furnace to further add to the perspiration of my skin. Blast, that girl, Jenny! I'd be better off tossing myself into the flames this second than standing here with this scantily clad woman and burn alive with lust!

"Kisa," Cyrus began nervously. He took a trembling hand and pushed back a few rebellious locks of dark brown hair from his moist brow, as well as attempting to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand. "I only wanted to come by to wish you a goodnight. And by the looks of the room Jenny has chosen to give you, you most certainly will have a good night. This is perhaps the most peaceful of all the rooms on this floor. Well, this and my room of course. I'm sure you'll enjoy it thoroughly, a wonderful view overlooking the lust -- I-I mean lush gardens that always catch the sun's first rays for an early morning rise." He hoped, with all his might, that Kisa had not noticed his unintentional slip of tongue. Stupid fool! Mind your words next time!

Ultimately, Cyrus allowed his shuddering legs to drift him towards a chaise lounge in a shaded corner of the bedchamber to a viewer's left of the windows. The ends of his breeches sliding past his knees as he sat on the cushioned seat. At least he was now on a surface that would better help the quivering of his body. It was incontestable, the longing between them, as taut as a noose around his neck.

Staring out the window, he added more to his previous words, "This was once my Aunt Hedyta's room, spent her last days here. She was a very sick woman, but always cheerful to her very last breath, determined to get the most out her life down to the final second. Never a doubt in her mind that it was her time to leave this world when my father had decided to take her to a surgeon. A very promising doctor but to no avail; she ceased to be along the way there." From his voice vanished a somber tone and transformed to one of pride for the beautiful passing of Casseger's eldest sister.

"I can recollect as a wee lad. I would come into her room and she'd say to me, 'Come boy, let your feeble Aunt Hedyta tell you a story.' And that's exactly what she did. She would sit me upon this exact chaise lounge and tell me stories of all sorts. Some were eerie ghost stories, others were heroic adventures that I now suspect came from her own experiences. Wonderful tales they were. By gods, I admired that woman to her last breath. And that's why I believe you will find this room most comfortable," he smiled, then shifted his gaze from the window to Kisa. "I see Jenny has given you Betheda's nightgown. Its quite fitting to your lovely chestnut curls... " And heartachingly alluring curves, he thought plainly. Suddenly once again, the pounding in his chest was the only thing audible in his patient ears.

"S-she's now headmaid up on t-the next floor." Cyrus weakly pointed to the rounded ceiling above his head. He was at her mercy now more than ever, feeling evermore unstable and fragile. Wishing direly that she would approach him closer so that she may quell the fire in his heart.

But that was it.  He couldn't stand to feel this any longer.  Slowly, and quite unsteadily, he moved to stand, his muscles clenching with suppressed fire.  With a staggering gait, he made his way to Kisa's side, shutting the door with a frustrated push and coming closer to her.  Intimately close.  He could sense the longing and desire from her eyes, the need to feel his touch, with just a hint of fear hidden behind the oceans of her eyes.  Cyrus raised his arm, lightly skimming her skin with his fingertips, reaching her shoulder, then to her chin.  He drew his face closer to her's, feeling her quickness of breath, he pressed his mouth to hers.  Without warning, it was as if he was struck with a thousand bolts of lightning.

[Anonymous]

((Sorry for the sort of wait. Restaurant's getting busy))

Kisa stood stock-still, and forcibly kept her hands folded before her in a calm and docile position that was the total opposite of what she felt; her body trembled and burned and felt magnetically pulled to the man before her, but at the same time she was so afraid she could not move a step -- although every step between them was an agony. Instead she watched his lips move and did not try to understand his rambling; she could not concentrate on that, instead could only concentrate on the way her heart beated like a hummingbird's, the way he seemed as nearly overcome as she by the moment.

Kisa was taught as a bowstring; she felt her body arch towards Cyrus in his seat as though they were magnets, drawn to each other by some force greater than any human could forge. She felt as if she could fly to him, or him to her -- why did she fight it? His stumbling words revealed just the same pounding need -- his own uncertainty in the face of such emotion made her smile, just a little, but the feeling of amusement seemed as if it came from a long way off -- the huge waves of heat pulsing deep within her pushed out anything that was not her, or him. Her cheeks burned and her eyes were bright with a ravenous fire. She took a step closer.

It seemed Cyrus had the same idea -- his hand on her shoulder made her gasp, and then shudder, and her eyes closed involuntarily. Kisa resisted and stood taut for a moment, and then with a ragged sigh she fell into his arms with the sweet limpness of surrender. His muscles pressed against her own soft, yielding flesh was almost more than she could bear, Kisa had yearned for it so long, and she would have moaned had not his mouth pressed against hers, and she almost violently pushed into the kiss with all the force she had, her body responding instinctively to the sensation, arms pulling Cyrus wildly against herself without a thought for the bruises she might gain -- there was no room for thought, only for her tongue in his mouth, her fingers in his hair, her hot body moulded against his as if that was what it had been made for -- to feel this, to enjoy this, to feel this destined love of hers push through her heart and into almost violently physical sensation.

With a torn gasp she broke away to breathe, her hair wild and tangled already about her shoulders, her grip on his body so tight as to make her knuckles white with the effort. "Cyrus," she choked out, breath hot and heavy, "we are getting married, aren't we? I mean, this isn't... Cyrus," she tried again. Speaking was so difficult! "We need to get married soon if this..." Kisa did not have to glance over her shoulder towards the bed. Its presence was all too obvious, if only from the way her body throbbed with heat. "You will marry me, won't you?" She breathed the words onto his lips, hardly able to resist the huge desire to dive back into kisses once more -- she had to know the answer, after all. Then again, with his shuddering body so tightly, intimately pressed against her own, Kisa was vaguely certain that even if the answer was negative, that bed only a few steps away would be in use in a few minutes anyway. She was also vaguely aware that she did not care in the slightest.

[Anonymous]

[No problem.  Restaurants have a tendency to get like that from time to time ^_^]

Cyrus had never experience this sort of reaction with a woman before.  A fit of passion so bold yet so delicate that it must have been cultivated with extreme care as he be embraced Kisa to his stalwart frame, her breasts smashing against the wall of his chest.  Yet his hands could not stay in place.  Instead they roamed and wandered feverishly over her body in a gallivant fashion.  Their heated kiss sent surges of electricity through him as if he was a generator of some sort and could offer more energy than the power he gave off this moment.  And, dear sweet heavens, how she made him long to try!  It became slightly knowing of him, they lay hidden in the distorted area between adoration and lust.

His hair lied in a damp destruction on his head, matted to his forehead from his sweaty state.  It felt as if it had been years.  Years of searching and aching for the one woman that made him burn like a candle lit by the sun itself.  An empty, barren age of pining away in what was adoration disguised as love.  He had become so desperate that he pounced on the first hint of exposed emotion towards him only to be spurned when rejected and choosing to wallow in his own misery.  Only then that he decide emotions were best kept under wraps as if they were goods capable of being spoiled or more precious than any amount of gold and jewels.

Cyrus drew a deep breath when she pulled away, fearing he may have died from lack of oxygen if he continued to hold his mouth to Kisa's.  He was only half listening to her words, choosing rather to occupy himself with kissing the balmy flesh of her jawline, trailing to her temple and back again.  Finally he found the means to reply, with the indigenous eloquence that came so easily to a romancer.  "Of course, I will," he began, feeling that the more he persisted to speak the more he came to his senses.  "I wouldn't dream of having you in this way if I didn't want to marry you.  Oh my dear, I would ride to the ends of the earth for you, strive to accomplish any task you set before me, and give you anything you ask for just to have you.  Lest you choose to subject me to nights of hell that'll only worsen with the nights to come."

In between his words, Cyrus gently kissed down to her neck, feeling her palpitating skin beneath the pressure of his lips.  Fair moisture, enough to convince him that she too felt the needs of which he'd become a slave to for far too long.  Her limpness in his arms only compelled him to hold her tighter, but vaguely afraid that he would crush her had his embrace held her closer, realizing all too well the sweet sensation of complete submission.

Control! Control! his mind begged him as his mouth rose back to Kisa's own, welcoming the euphoric scent of her hair.  A wayward hand made its way down her side and desperately groped from her hip to her thigh.  Fumbling to find the right words, he managed to speak, "With all my heart, I give myself to you willingly and unconditionally.  But, Kisa, only if you will have me."  He was hard-pressed not to release his grasp from her but knew he had to or else take her against her will.  

Cyrus' hands fell back from her heated body to his sides; weak kneed he stumbled back a few steps and landed on the bed as if he was defeated by an invincible adversary.  But alas he was, conquered by the trials and temptations of love and fire.  He recognized the sweet surrender evident in her eyes and the meaning of the limpness in her body, but he had to hear an answer.  He groaned at the aching in his loins and clawed at the linen fabric of his shirt.  Forcing himself to sit up despite his growing weariness, he held out his hands to Kisa, hers to take if she so decided.  Complete and utter submission.

[Anonymous]

Kisa's eyes closed and her head fell back, just a little, to better reveal her vulnerable neck to Cyrus's exploring mouth; the words he spoke sounded heartrendingly beautiful and yet she barely heard a word of it. When he left her, she could have cried.

Instead, shaking, Kisa looked down at the man waiting on the bed for her and for a long, long moment let her eyes do what her hands so desperately wanted to: drift up and down his body and truly see just what a prize he was. Mine, she realized suddenly. The thought sent a surge of purely emotional love bursting from her heart. She couldn't help but smile, and her eyes shone. "Of course," she murmured reverently. Her first kiss, her first touch, her first love -- this very night was a prayer.

Another moment passed, a heartbeat, a heady rush, and then with a squeal of laughter Kisa flung herself onto Cyrus and straddled his waist with hardly any reservation, the coarse material of his breeches chafing her bare thighs but she ignored it easily. She pushed him back against the bed with surprising force and another wicked laugh, and followed him down with a dark, wet kiss that sent shudders down her limbs and all thought out of mind. It was base instinct now, nothing more, and Kisa found her hands pushing Cyrus's shirt over his head without any willful direction of her own, her nails scraping against his skin so quickly she was almost afraid she would hurt him -- but no, his mouth was crushed against hers and how could anything as sweet as this hurt?

As if in one of her fevered dreams from the past week, Kisa pressed her body against Cyrus's so hard that her breasts ached, and a ragged gasp burst from her lips. She suddenly broke away to bite at his ear, teasing the lobe with her tongue, and she whispered, "It's about time, don't you think?" She collapsed from her perch on his waist to lie in a tangle at his side, and with one bare leg draped over his thighs she tried to pull his hips tightly against her own. Her hands snaked up from where they fumbled innocently over his body, not knowing any better, to grip his hair and pull his face back to hers -- the touch of his lips sent explosions racing down her limbs and the last coherent thought fled.

[Anonymous]

It seemed ages had passed as Cyrus lingered on the bed, hands welcoming Kisa. But just as the dark fire of her eyes moved to and fro over him, it was as if a hazy cloud had come overhead. The hopeful look in his gaze faded and his hands were slowly turned down, but before he could scarcely realize it, Kisa had toppled him, nearly knocking him off balance, and caught her just in time. This too was certainly a first for him, a woman as vivacious as she choosing to hold herself atop him as if bestriding a colt. Most other men of power wouldn't let their brides be as domineering when it came to bedding them, but to Cyrus it was a trait he found admirable in a woman.

Kisa's fingers tearing at the fabric of his shirt, urging it off him with the flustered eagerness of a young girl and her first love. But I am her first love, Cyrus reminded himself. Thus deciding to be as gentle with her as possible and raised his arms so that she may progress most effectively. He pushed the soaked cloth to the floor as she sunk him down, entrapped with every kiss after hungry kiss. All the while his hands were endowed with minds of their own and delved to her every curve, roving from her hips to her waist and wrapping his arms tightly around her as if meaning to never release her, the gossamer fabric of the nightgown serving only as an unwanted hindrance to the feelings of longing she aroused in him.

Cyrus' heart beat faster now more than ever as she whispered those tantalizing words into his ravenous ears. He chuckled scandalously and arched an eyebrow, "More than you know." Burying his face in her chestnut hair that was left in an abandonment as savage as the manner of which he chose to caress her. He was a surprised by her breaking away from him but followed her nonetheless. Turning to face her, he scooted closer in response to the bare leg that begged him to shattered the distance. His hot hand traveled along Kisa's balmy leg and lightly squeezed her bottom, a spot of laughter hardly hidden as his lips worked its magic on hers.

With a quavering hand, he slipped the nightgown from her shoulders and muttered incoherent words of endearment in her ear, bestowing a kiss alongside her temple after every statement that trailed down to her collarbone, where he hid his face into her skin. Cyrus was all too well aware of the pressure that constrained against his breeches and grunted as he pulled the rest of the nightgown down to Kisa's waist. He made himself content with kissing her shoulders, her collarbone, vulnerable neck, and once again was locked into the moist hollows of her mouth.

He was hardly able to believe himself how a single touch sent burning waves throughout his body. And now, caught in the rapture of a vision in white, a heavenly night that he had been blessed with, being heart-to-heart with the woman he'd waited for his whole life only made him feel as if his entire body had fallen into the blazes of passion themselves. Nothing made sense anymore but this moment in time as Cyrus molded his body to her every curve. Not even time itself could form palpable thoughts and too became lost in its search for a purpose.

And as the rain continued to fall so did he to the feminine strength Kisa had over him, melting as he embraced her softness. The fire that once kindled in the furnace was dying low as it engulfed the last of edible smolderings and they merely became shadows dancing in the enchanted paleness of the moonlight; its soft, manipulating hands weaving the final threads in its spell of seduction.

[Feel free to fade to black and/or skip to the next morning if you like or take simply take it from there.  :wink: ]