Lycan's Affection

Conaan let out a small gasp of Eleanor's name as her lips conquered his, sending immense heat to his body. His eyes drifted to a close as she slowly tilted her head to the right, taking the kiss up a notch, her hand resting on his shoulder. He felt as her fingers dug into his skin, but he didn't mind, his body unable to concentrate on anything that wasn't Eleanor.

She was beautiful, and she drove him crazy, the kind of insanity that surpassed nights and days, the kind where she was kissing him feverishly, determinedly, his hand seeking her skin, his lips seeking to conquer hers, but he still wanted more.

He wanted more of those breathtaking kisses, more of that proximity, more of the rush of pleasures that clouded his brain.

His hand moved up to lace between her hair and he brought her even closer, the other hand wrapping around her waist.

He sought dominance like he would seek life, and she gave it to him like she would accept to be dominated.

He felt tame, yet wild, the kind of vortices that pushed him to kiss her even harder, to explore her like he had always needed to, like it was a burning, aching need, and not the instinctive kiss Eleanor had thought it to be.

And she loved every single thing. The feel of his lips, soft yet dominant, the right amount of assertiveness, the right amount of pleasure. She loved the light pressure of his fingers on her waist, and the maddening patterns his fingers drew on the skin of her face.

Pleasure wild enough to make her feel like she was breaking free, yet keep her grounded to the bed, fluid in his arms and nothing but flesh and raw, naked emotions.

But right now, she didn't need to be anything else. Not the woman who ran away, not the woman who came back, not Eleanor. She needed to be nothing more than the woman who was in his arms, being kissed like it was going to be the very last.

Conaan's hand left her waist, his fingers trailing up the right side of her body till he was cupping her other cheek, and just like that, he slowed down.

His kisses became slow, like he wanted to savor every moment before he ran out of breath. Like he wanted her to realize that he was taking her like a man who loved her. Like a man who wanted to take her. A man who fully intended to ruin her for anyone else, and make her forget everyone else.

And Eleanor would be tamed.

Finally, she broke away, but stayed there, the moistness of her lips seeking slightly dizzying, her lips curling as she opened her eyes to his own.

The eyes that were dark held a certian twinkle to them, the kind that she didn't realize could only be there with her kissing him. He held storms behind his eyes, and she wondered if she would drown in them, or come out victorious. She did want to find out.

"Eleanor..." he said, his voice raspy, breathless, deep. It sent the butterflies in her stomach flapping even harder, and she leaned closer to him, like there was any more distance to be closed.

"Don't conceal the things you really want."

His eyes lifted to hers, and he bit down on his lips as his eyes drifted down to her lips again.

"I will not," he answered, closing in first on her lips this time.

It was crazy how kissing the same peraon over the span of seconds felt so different. This one was dizzying, hazy, and she parted her lips, feeling him even where he was not present.

"Conaan," she managed to say, gasping a little into the kiss, submitting herself to him.

It felt like candies, rainbows and flowers, yet like dark clouds, candles, and spicy wine. Her hands hooked behind his neck, and she moved one hand down to caress the nape of his neck.

She craved his taste like a wild fire inside her, and he kissed her like he sought to quench it.

She finally broke away this time, her breaths haggard, her chest heaving fast and hard, her body slightly trembling with the depths of pleasure.

She looked up to him. He was just as torn at the seams as she was, his eyes now opened, but low, like he was avoiding her eyes.

She gave a small smile as she brought her hand to the side of his face and raised it to meet hers. His eyes were dark with the pleasure, and dark with the desires that were yet to be fulfilled.

"Is it...safe to say that I have taken a lycan king's first kiss?" She asked, her fingers caressing the skin of his face.

He swallowed, leaning up to her, reveling in the simple intimacy that came with her forehead brushing his, his hand on the small of her back.

"You can have all of my firsts, Ekeanor."

She smiled, wrapping her arms around him again, moving closer.

"And I have a first to give you too."

He moved a little, so he could see her eyes. They were big, sincere, and he felt his breath stop in his throat.

She said nothing more as she pulled him closer, her body against his serving to quench the thirst she'd awoken. She felt like tales he was yet to weave, tales he knew he would write, even if it took his blood.