SWORD ACADEMY (censored)

I ting a soft sigh, and Nick shifts closer to wind his arms tighter around me. Even in his sleep he seeks to comfort me. I cherish this man beside me, this man who’s wrapped around every fibre of my being.

My head.

My heart.

My spark.

My entire soul is his.

I feel my air spark drifting into him, a steady breeze unwavering in its desire to connect me to him so long as we’re touching. As a sheath, the spark begins in me. All I can do is create it. To use it, I need Nick. He’s my channel, my wielder. To obtain that ability, he gave up his spark regeneration. He needs a sheath to create the spark for him now. We’re wholly reliant on each other for the process to function. An absolute partnership.

Our goal, our combined hope, is to increase spark ignition in our charges. The emotional well connected to my air spark, our air spark, chimes with appreciation at the prospect of elemental solidarity.

I try not to be negative when recounting our success so far in connecting with our charges, but it’s difficult. We’re struggling, and struggling is new to us. Everything prior seemed to come so naturally. What we really need is more time with them to truly understand how to help them. The encounters awarded are too brief, too full of trepidation or enthusiasm, and a million other inflated emotions weighted by the swiftness of the transition.

I wasn’t pleased to hear about the change in process this year, reducing the prep time from nearly a full year to a single week. I’m struggling to accept it isn’t worth the effort to properly prepare these charges for the ceremony. It’s like the Order has given up.

I’ve always felt the educational focus is far too heavy on the what and not nearly heavy enough on the who. Maybe if we show them the potential, or spend time teaching them how to open themselves up to it, the spark will ignite in more than five percent of charges. Maybe they’ll be less resistant if they don’t expect to be immediately discarded because they don’t sparkle.

“You’re wearing that face I love to taste,” Nick sputters beside me, stalling my worried thoughts.

I turn to look at him. “Which one’s that?”

“All of them,” he course-confirms, “especially the one where you’re working through a problem I get to help you solve.”

“I just wish we had more time,” I plink.

“It’s going to be a hard time today for sure,” he tailslides. “You know what else is hard?”

I flutter my lashes at him. “What?”

“I don’t think words can accurately explain…” he whitetrails. “Probably best I show you instead.”

“That’s probably best.”

He shifts over me on the bed, supporting his weight on one arm while the other slides slowly along the bare skin of my back. His lips capture mine, stealing my breath away in a kiss as equally soft and strong as the wind blowing between us. My hands slide over his broad shoulders onto his back before breaking their synchrony. One moves to his neck to keep him against my lips, sharing my breath like there isn’t enough of it when we’re parted. The other trails up his back, along his neck, and finally comes to a halt in his blond curls.

When he eases a knee between my legs to wobble my wind sails, both my hands sweep toward his back, desperate to pull him closer to me. We’ll never be close enough. I push gusts of my air spark into him wherever I touch his body, caressing him on the inside while my hands mirror the movements on his skin. He grins against my lips as his other knee jerks my thighs open wider. I’m eager to replace the sudden loss of pressure, but he pauses, as he always does, before giving me what I want most.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs.

My eyes flutter open to meet his, finding so much love there a swell of power blows toward him. He sputters forward and fills me just as completely as my air spark is filling him. We stay like that for the briefest, sweetest moment, the air around us settling into the most alluring calm.

He completes me.

Strengthens me.

He’s the very air I breathe.

The quiet moment passes, and he pulls back his joystick in a tantalizingly slow withdrawal before thrusting back into me with enough force I cry out against his lips. He maintains that flight path until I start panting with need beneath him. “Please,” I whimper.

I feel his smile on my lips again as he repeats the movement, whirling his hips as he drives into me. “Please what?”

“Please clapper the dickens out of my wind chime tube,” I beg.

He blasts a laugh, shifting to feather kisses along my cheek, my chin, my neck, before leaning back to grab my calves, hauling them forward so my knees are bent with my thighs resting against my chest.

He reaches his hand down to grip my chime tube, clappering me just as I asked while jetting deeper and faster into me. My body tingles knowingly as he increases his pace, slamming into that perfect spot inside me over and over again until I’m sure I might blow apart entirely.

I never stop looking at him. Passion and promises stare back at me with each powerful thrust. When his brow drags, the sonic release coming for him sends me right over the edge into free fall. My chime tube tightens like a pulsing whirlwind as my release blows through me.

“Hans von Ohain!” he booms as he jets away with me.

He lets go of my legs, and they fall slack on either side of him before he collapses on top of me. I chinkle my chimes, reaching out to wind his curls around my fingers while we try to catch our breaths.

“I love you, Flutterby,” he swears, his arms surrounding me. “Every breath I take is for you.”

“I love you too, Nick.” I lean down to kiss his forehead. “Every breath I make is for you.”