The House of the Seventh Minuet CXXXIII

**Special note: This chapter is very much NSFW**

Stefan and I took a break from kissing to get cleaned up and changed. That evening was the perfect opportunity to put on my silk nightgown; it was emerald green, with the lace edging and thin straps– it was almost lingerie– and tiny silk flowers. It shimmered in the candles in the light of the candles that we’d lit, and it made Stefan stare at me in awe.

He would have been just as content to come to bed in nothing but his boxer briefs, but I told him that I wanted to have a little something more to unwrap, so he obliged and put on some flannel pajama pants. It was a little funny to see him having a hard time getting them on, considering how excited he was, but it was also sweet to see him wanting to make me happy.

After a while, I had music playing softly, and the only light in the room was from the candles I had lit in various locations. Most of them were plain, but one of them was scented; something that smelled like cologne but had an abstract name like ‘Into the Night.’ When I got back on the bed to go back to kissing him, we started out face-to-face on our sides, but I eventually managed to get on top of him, straddling his waist and letting him massage my hips.

Somehow, knowing that we could go even further together because of Larsa’s gift, being together like that was even more exciting. Stefan’s hands were incredible, strong and needful, but also giving– and I was definitely ready to get everything possible from him. No more waiting, no more holding back.

I made a soft moan when his hands left my hips to squeeze my backside, hoping that it would encourage him to touch me even more. He gripped me and moved me across his groin, and I could feel how hard he was when he pressed up against me. Even still dressed, I knew how eager he was.

“Do you want that?” he murmured as he moved me back and forth across himself.

“Yes,” I gasped, although the small moans I had been making for the past few minutes would have been ‘yes’ enough for both of us.

“It’s all yours,” he told me he gazed up into my eyes, though both our visions were probably bleary with desire.

We had already agreed to take that night slow, to save the rushed flurries of need for a different time. That didn’t make my desire for him go away, though, nor his for me; it just meant that we had to work harder to control ourselves. My body was responding to his teasing and just the way he wanted it to, I was sure. As he rubbed up against me between my legs, I could feel wetness seeping out onto my panties, eager to invite him in. I almost wondered how long it would be before he noticed that he was having that effect.

His hands slid up my sides, and the feeling of the silk pressed against my skin under his strong hands was wonderful. The contrast was wonderful. The desire that filled him, was wonderful. And most wonderful of all was that fact that no matter how aroused he got, he used his strength to control himself, not to take what he wanted. It wasn’t just for himself, but for the sake of being able to protect those he loved. He was kind and gentlemanly, and his strength was shown more when he was helping others, not out of having to prove anything to anyone. He didn’t participate in machismo, believing that it was better left to animals. I absolutely adored that strength inside, with tenderness outside.

Actually, there were so many things I adored about stefan. Now that I’d actually told him that I love him, I can admit to so much more. His musical ability, his voice, the look in his eyes that showed he was intelligent but also a man of reason. That shade of blue, the way they sparkled when he looked at me… The way he suffered no fools, the way he did what he wanted in life, and did it well, but all didn’t make others feel as though they were less. He definitely had a particular Advantage because of how tall he was, and I adored his long hair, especially since he let me run my hands through it and play around with it. I really loved everything about this man.

I was caught up in thoughts of him, my fingers tracing over the lines of the tattoos on his chest, when his hands went even further up. I gasped, nearly squeaking when he filled his hands with my breasts. If he hadn’t had such wide hands, the flesh would have easily squished between his fingers; as it was, he had to squeeze quite a lot for that to happen. Not that I would have stopped him, of course. His strong grip was exactly what I wanted, his squeezing, the desire in how he gripped me, just how my body needed to be treated.

“Stefan,” I breathed, my voice shaky. I wanted to throw off my nightgown– I probably would have let him rip it off just then, but like I said before, we had promised not to do it like that just yet.

He grinned up at me, letting out a long, pleasured sigh as I pressed my hips down and moved across him again. He was hard, solid, and probably aching to be released from the restraints of his clothing. The heat between our two bodies was intense.

I leaned a little bit into his touch, and let him play with my breasts for as long as it contented him. He grinned when he felt the way my nipples peaked under the silk, and rubbed his thumbs over them again and again. I was breathing harder, making little gasping moans as he played. I don’t know how he knew what I liked, but he did it perfectly. Not too hard, not too soft– and it had been so, so long since anyone had done it right for me. Stefan and I were so compatible, he wanting to learn exactly how to please me, being willing to do it just right — which was just what I wanted to do for him.

He tugged one of the thin straps off my shoulder, and I slid my arm out of it. The silk fell away from my breast and was soon replaced by his hand– his warm, just a little bit rough, hand. I gave a happy sigh to encourage the touch, the squeeze. I dropped the other strap from my shoulder to reveal that breast as well, and let him take over keeping it warm. He pinched my nipples just enough to get a squeal from me, but not so much that it hurt. My head was light, my thoughts swimming. He groaned every time I moved across his pulsing erection, and I wanted to make him get louder and louder.

I leaned in even further, locking him in a long, sensual kiss. Our tongues danced together, my breasts rubbed over his chest, feeling the soft hairs there. My fingers ran through his hair, the long golden strands, like so much sunlight draped across my sheets. I needed him. There was no stopping me. I moved so that I was beside him rather than on top of him and slipped my fingers under his waistband. He cried out as my skin touched his, soft contrasting with hard, I squeezed gently to pull back the foreskin, finding the head already soaking with precum. He gave a long, needy whine; it was as though I hadn’t even given him relief earlier.

I didn’t know how he’d gone so long without being with anybody, but at the same time I was grateful that it was me he’d been waiting for. Part of me found it hard to believe that I was really worth holding out that long for, but he seemed so glad that he’d done it, and that I’d finally found the strength to tell him how I felt about him. His hips moved as though of their own free will, allowing him to stroke himself through my hand, unable to resist his need. His free hand grabbed my backside, the other one tangled in my curls of hair, and he gripped me tightly, whimpering my name when he could catch his breath in between kisses.

My own body reacted to his need, my belly sliding against his hips and thigh, wanting to give him what he needed, wanting to get what it needed from him, which was to be filled by him, to let his length pry me open, for our bodies to claim one another. I had no doubt that we would fit together like two pieces of the puzzle. I was blissfully lost in thoughts of becoming one with him, of having been made for him, and him for me. There would be no going back from this, no untangling ourselves from one another, no separating our lives, our breath, our bodies. We hadn’t even joined together yet, but I already knew that I was going to need him again and again, and him me.

“I love you,” I breathed as he moaned my name and let me stroke him. He was so hard, so helpless to resist my touch, so badly in need. I don’t know how he managed to not ravage me himself just then. I suppose having waited me for me for so long, he had the strength to savor the night, to take his time and enjoy every second of what we shared together.

“Leila,” he gasped, barely able to get my name past his lips. “My queen, you rule over my body. Take everything you need from me. Please.”

His body squirmed as though trying to get free of his pants, and I decided that it was time to show mercy and pull them off of him. My thumbs hooked in the fabric and pushed, my hands sliding down his muscular thighs. Once past his feet, I tossed the soft flannel away and knelt down between his legs. He strained to look down at me, almost ready to whine that I wasn’t coming back up for more kisses, but then he realized what I had planned.

“Careful,” he gasped. “It could go at any moment.”

I giggled and grinned up at him. “Even if that happened, I have a feeling you’d be ready for more pretty quickly.”

“Maybe,” he croaked out, only able to get about half the word out before I kissed the tip of his shaft, and he seized up in pleasure. After a long moment, he was able to exhale, though only slowly, trying to maintain control. His hand went straight to my hair, gripping gently yet firmly.

“Wait, please, I need…”

“What is it?” I asked gently, looking up at him.

“If you want to do that, I want to taste you again. Will you…” his cheeks turned even redder. I had an idea of what he was about to ask, and thought that maybe it was something he’d done before, but I found it endearing that this was how he felt about asking me. “We can both do it, at the same time. Have you ever– no, forget I even thought about asking that. Just, if you turn around and kneel over me…”

I moved up his body, letting my silk nightgown slide across his chest, smiling as he shivered at the sensation. I gave him a kiss and shook my head.

“You can ask me anything,” I assured him. “I won’t be angry. I haven’t before, actually. I don’t know why, because I would have, but I guess everyone else I was with… well, we just typically took turns. But I’d love to, with you.”

I adored the look of hopefulness in his eyes as I spoke to him. He was so eager, so excited, and as confident as he usually was, he was nervous. It was sweet, the way he wanted to not upset me, to do everything just right for me.

We kissed for a while. He slid my nightgown up my back, just above my hips, then put his hands into the back of my underpants, squeezing me again, getting more moans from me, getting me to rub up against him again, this time wet silk against his needful erection. He moaned loudly and went back to kissing me even deeper. When he slipped off my panties, I knew I had to be careful not to slide over him, not until we had protection in place. He laid them aside, then went back to pulling my nightgown up my torso, his hands caressing my body. He was breathing hard beneath me, watching me, his eyes full of awe at the sight of me above him, undressed, bared and wanting him. I looked back at him the same way, of course.

I had had a thought then: back when we were still in Tierney Ríocht, when I’d first told him that I loved him and we’d spent those long, beautiful minutes kissing, I probably would have let him have me– or to be more precise, he would have given me what I desired. I was actually glad that Larsa had interrupted us, because the temptation to make love right then would have been too great.

“Come here,” Stefan said as he grabbed my legs, almost commandingly. He turned me around, my knees up near his shoulders. His face went between my legs, and he hummed contentedly at the slick feeling he found there.

“Wow,” he breathed, “you’re already so wet.”

He licked along the slit, just like someone would an ice cream cone that was starting to melt. I moaned, then did the same thing to him. His musk was irresistible, and I was thrilled to know that it was me in specific that got him so excited and hard. We traded licks and kisses and touches for as long as we could stand it, until he grabbed my wrists and made me sit up, no longer close enough to suck on him. He held onto me, keeping me close, so that I was practically sitting on his face as he devoured me. I was a moaning mess, barely able to breathe, my juices running down his chin.

“Stefan!” I begged when I knew I was getting close to my climax. I could tell from this hunger that he would have been more than happy to finish me off while I was on his face, to lick me clean and then make love to me while I was relaxed and lost on bliss. Another day, I told myself, but just then, I wanted him being inside me to be what brought me there.

He let go of my hands and help me turn around and lie down beside him. We stared into each other’s eyes as he caught his breath.

“You know,” he said with a chuckle in his voice, “if there’s not already a saying that hungry men make for happy women, there really should be one.”

“Uh-huh,” I replied, “and what does that mean for starving men?”

He laughed and gave me another kiss. “Should I answer that now, or in a few more minutes?”

I glanced down at his erection and reached over to caress it gently. “Oh definitely later. Right now, I need to feel what you can to do to me with this.”

My words had him whining and sitting up. He was on edge, leaking precum freely; it was time. He grabbed the condom from the nightstand, opened the wrapper carefully, and let me help him position it. I rolled it down his shaft, careful to pull back the foreskin and let it retract back over the latex, completely coating him in a protective layer. His body trembled as my hands went down his length; even that felt incredible to him. Again I felt incredibly lucky to be the one worth waiting for even though it had him on edge, like it was his first time all over again.

He kissed me hungrily as he laid me back down. The pillows felt so soft and comfortable around me, the perfect contrast to his strength and hardness. Stefan knelt between my knees and kissed on my neck, around both my breasts, making me squeal when he suck the nipples, then down my belly. he spoke words of love and affection and devotion as he descended, then kissed and caressed my thighs, down one and up the other, trembling all the while. As he kissed his way back up, his body was even closer to mine, and I could feel his soft chest hairs along my belly, then the muscles of his abdomen. He whispered into my ears how much he loved me, how much he treasured me.

Then I reached between his legs, grasping him, guiding him to where he needed to go. “Please,” I all but begged him.

We kissed, and I pulled him closer. He gasped when he found the wet heat of my opening; it was warm and slippery, and it would be so easy for him to slide all the way inside with just one thrust if he wasn’t in control. He wrapped an arm tightly around me to steady himself, and I grabbed his shoulders. When he finally pushed inside. my body opened up to him, welcoming him, keeping him warm and happy. He let out a long moan, one that spoke of the bliss and relief that he felt now that he could merge with me.

“Leila…” my name trembled as it passed his lips. His eyes met mine and I stared up at him.

“My Viking– my nordic king.” He was so gorgeous, his face framed by waterfalls of golden hair. I was so in love with this man, with everything about him. He couldn’t take me for granted, not even after all these years of knowing one another. The look in his eyes– he was so astounded, so thrilled that he got to be with me.

“I love you stefan,” I whispered. One of my hands moved down to the small of his back, and I gently urging him forward, deeper into me. I rewarded him with a moan of my own, then wrapped my legs around his waist.

He kissed me again, then pulled back just a little before sinking deeper into me. I remembered how long it had felt in the shower earlier, how it was more than I could get down my throat, and wave of excitement flooded me. He was mine– and I his– and he had exactly what it took to please me– both in mind and in body. Stefan was the type who was willing to bring his partner to climax a dozen times before he worried about himself, and even then, he would take care of himself of his partner couldn’t–no matter how badly he needed release. He was a lover and a gentleman first, and he was grateful whenever he was doted on. He was a giver– one with a lot to give, and I welcomed all of him.

Stefan took his time with delving deeper and deeper into my body. Even when I urged how to do more, he steadied himself and moved slowly, deliberately. It felt wonderful. He was desperately hard, the vein pulsing with need as he caressed my inner walls. He moaned and whispered to me about how soft I felt inside, how he loved the way my body embraced him. He was nearly lost in my depths, awash with pleasure and trying his best to make it last. Despite all of his self-control, I knew how on-edge he was, how any stroke could be the one that sent him over.

The deeper he got, the louder I moaned. I was thrilled at being opened like that, pried apart by both our desires. At one point, he grabbed the backs of my knees and lifted them, opening them even wider. He sat up straighter, giving himself a view of his shaft disappearing inside me with every inward thrust.

When he finally got all of himself inside of me, fully sheathed, he stopped moving for a few minutes, focusing simply on kissing me. In a way, I felt that I had captured him, conquered him, and that he was more than happy to have been vanquished. Stefan was breathing hard, trying to resist the urge to thrust in with greater speed, with more force. It would have been so easy for him to make the final thrust it would have taken to climax, but that wasn’t the kind of man he was; that wasn’t his focus. He was happiest when he knew that he was giving pleasure rather than taking it. Although he knew that his length gave him a certain advantage, he wasn’t conceited about itl he wanted instead to show how giving he was.

I was starting to move my own hips under him, to slide my body across him, when he realized how badly I needed that movement. He obliged, pulling back slightly, then pushing in as deep as he could. His tip pressed against my cervix, and he grinned down at me when he heard the resulting cry I gave. I smiled back and begged him to keep going. The effort to keep himself from climaxing as he focused on my pleasure had him breathing hard. He let me guide him, he listened when I asked for more, for him to go faster, for him to put more strength into what he did to my body. I don’t know how he managed to not release everything inside of him as I cried out beneath him, to last long enough that I was louder than the wind blowing fiercely outside. But he did, and the bed shook as he obeyed me.

I gripped his body tightly as he made love to me. I begged him for more, and we shared hurried, breathless kisses in between moments of pure physical pleasure. I could have let him have me for hours, he was so amazing. It felt so wonderful sharing myself with him, having him give himself to me. We both gave and took shared in the joy and ecstasy; we were both so eager to please the other. He seemed to know when my body was tightening up, preparing for a huge release, and he pushed in deeper, as though all of him could have fallen into me if he just tried hard enough. I loved it; I loved all of his body.

“Stefan!” I cried his name as he kept going.

“Stefan…” He was incredible.

“Stefan,” I moaned, getting louder and louder.

And then I screamed his name. “Stephen!” And I clung to him even tighter, refusing to let him move, not letting him pull away even a millimeter.

He kissed all over my face and neck and shoulders as my cries of pleasure floated out, as my body closed tighter around him, spasming, gushing out fluids to make it even wetter inside for him. He seemed thrilled at the heat, the change in texture, thrilled that he had given me such ecstasy, such bliss, that our emerging had brought me to such a magnificent climax. He had worked so hard for me, and it had all been worth it.

I brought his lips back to mine for more kisses, and told him that it was time– time for him to use my body for his pleasure. I felt as light as a cloud as I slowly started to relax around him, letting him move, enjoying the view as his muscles flexed. He was so beautiful, so powerful, and I was what he treasured most. I was what made him excited, the one he wanted to share everything with. I was so happy it was him, and he seemed happy that it was me. How much more perfect could it have been?

He whispered to me as he moved, telling me how wonderful everything felt, how the warmth and wetness made him so happy. He promised to always make me happy, to give me everything, to dedicate his life to me. Well, I didn’t expect him to go that far, but if that was what he wanted, I was happy to have him along for the ride. I wanted to do the same for him, really. We were together, we were in love, and we would do anything for each other.

Stefan cried my name when his moment came, and then he buried his face in the pillow next to my head, moaning loudly into it, because otherwise his cries would have echoed throughout the house. I could feel the twitching and spasming inside me as his release came, as everything he had poured out of him. He clutched the sheets, he pushed in deeper, he shuddered and shook and groaned. This was powerful; certainly more powerful than anything he could have done by himself, and probably more powerful than anything he’d had with anyone else. I hardly even needed him to tell me that.

My beloved Stefan Nilsson was majestic, primal– he was king and conqueror and warrior all at once, but he was also tender and caring and grateful. As his cries died down, he went back to kissing me, telling me how happy he was, how much he loved me. I was happy, too, and it was all because it was him, the man who had promised that we could make music beautiful together for many years to come. He wanted to journey all of Earth me with, and would be right there with me as we explored Tierney Ríocht together.

About Legends of Lorata

Eleanor Willow is the author of the high fantasy series Legends of Lorata, which takes place on a medieval-style world filled with elves, dragons, and faeries. There is also a fourth race, one that is rare and magical: the angelic Starr. Lorata is a distant planet watched over by four deities: good, evil, elemental, and celestial-- and there are plenty of legends about them all! One of the most important ones is the prophecy of Jenh's champion, Loracaz, who is promised to return to the realm whenever evil threatens to take hold. There are currently three books completed, and the first one can be read online. Book four is currently being written, and a fifth will most likely be in the future.
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