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He pushed you towards the bed. The sheets were cold and rumpled, uncomfortable and just as detached as your desire to forget and use each other. You climbed onto the mattress and knelt facing him, in the pale light of the lamp, surveying his figure from head to toe; Varré still had not lost his shape since the war years, scars wrapping around him up to his calves, outlining a map of his life that you were just beginning to understand. To you, he was attractive. Varré ended up sitting next to you, reaching out to take you by the neck from behind and pull you in for a kiss, which you eagerly and greedily returned.

His hands explored your body not to praise or convey feelings to you, but as if he were searching for an advantage; strong, confident fingers sought your weak spots, and Varré quickly memorized them, repeatedly returning to them again and again — to your nipples, teasingly squeezing them on the fine edge of pain, making you gasp with excitement, momentarily breaking the kiss, to your back, to run his fingers along your spine, slowly and firmly, just the way you liked it. Breaking the kiss, you leaned into his neck, not to leave a kiss or mark on it, designating Varré as yours, but to show, by touching the curve of his neck with your teeth, that you could still leave some kind of trace.

You reached out to untie his hair; it softly fell over his shoulders, and you allowed yourself to look at him before squeezing the roots just like the first time. Placing a quick kiss on your skin again, Varré turned you so your back was against him and pressed you to his chest. His hands, after massaging your breasts once more, slid down, first to your stomach, until one palm remained embracing you while the other found its way between your legs. His fingers firmly traced between your labia — you had been wet for a long time — and glided to your clitoris, starting to bring you pleasure with soft circular motions. It was hard to describe how much you enjoyed it — his hands always made you feel something unusual, even if they didn’t touch you at all. You arched your back, your breath faltering from the growing excitement; with one hand caressing you between your legs and the other paying attention to your breasts, Varré occasionally bit the skin on your neck. He could deny all he wanted that he didn’t need all this, but the speed and strength of his heartbeat relentlessly deceived him, just like his hot, equally ragged breath on your sensitive skin. His hard arousal touched your tailbone, and you moved your hips back to tease him; you regretted that there wasn’t a mirror opposite you, otherwise you would have gladly reveled in his aroused appearance.

He slightly pulled back so that with the fingers of his hand he could comfortably penetrate you. The stretching was delicious and wonderful, his fingers pleasantly filling you, gently stretching you as he inserted and slowly withdrew them. You were eager to feel his dick inside you. When his fingers went especially deep, you couldn't hold back a quiet moan, which made Varré slow down a bit; your voice was too pleasing to hear, and he couldn't hide that he wanted to hear it again, making you moan over and over, he wanted to hear his name on your lips — and he achieved this when he felt you gradually tighten around his fingers, and your hips began to tremble slightly and move toward his hands. Varré knew you were close to orgasm, so he slightly quickened the movement on your clitoris.

“Come on, my lambkin,” he leaned closer to your ear. “You're so close. Finish for me?”

You had to lean on the bed with your hands to keep your balance as a wave of pleasure overwhelmed you — his fingers worked wonders between your legs, you wanted to turn around and throw him on the bed to get what you wanted even more quickly, but all you could do was breathe heavily and clench the sheet in your fists, experiencing the orgasm.

Varré didn't give you a chance to relax and cool down.

“Bend over,” he said, carefully removing his hands and reaching for the place where he placed condoms and lubricant previously. “On your elbows and knees.”

You obeyed. In this position, you should have felt at least a drop of shame... But when Varré slowly began to enter you after a little while, it seemed your pleasure only doubled. His hands rested on your hips, gripping them tightly to the point of pain, and after giving you just a moment to get used to the sensations and making a few slow thrusts, he immediately set a fast rhythm. The collision of his hips with yours created arousing, wet slaps; you arched your back and fervently moved toward him, unable to hold back; Varré, as if intoxicated, watched how you two joined, how your beautiful body moved under him. His mind was empty, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something other than fatigue — perhaps he had made the right decision by agreeing to your adventures.

His hand slid back to your clitoris. Still reeling from the previous orgasm, you gasped sharply from the sensitivity.

“Ah! Varré...”

He squeezed your butt with his free hand, then gave it a sharp slap; you moaned in surprise but quickly realised that you liked it. Continuing to fuck you in this position, thrust after thrust after thrust, he made it clear how much he wanted you, just as much as you wanted him — his quiet, aroused moaning, which he didn’t try to hide, untied the knot of excitement under your belly, and you wanted more, you wanted faster, for him to press you to himself and fuck you endlessly, until you lost your pulse. His fingers, sliding with a wet sound over your clitoris, made you twitch with overstimulation, but the feeling was so sweet that you didn’t resist, letting Varré do whatever he wanted.

He suddenly stopped, making you push your hips back in displeasure, urging him to continue moving.

“Turn over. I want to see your face.”

In bed with him, it felt as if everything was supposed to be just like that, as if you had been together for a long time, even though everything happening was just an arrangement to distract yourselves.

You lay on your back and spread your legs for him. His hair was tousled, and in the dark room, lit only by a desk lamp lonely burning in the corner, he now seemed so close to your heart... Varré eagerly admired the curves of your body, greedily memorizing this beautiful picture before entering you again and leaning over you. Like enchanted, you couldn't take your eyes off his, and as he entered you in a measured rhythm, you reached out to pull him closer, and he obeyed, pressing his strong body against your chest; his face was just millimeters from yours, his long hair occasionally tickling your skin. The movement of his hips was accompanied by your heavy, excited breathing, the friction of hot skin sharply contrasting with the coolness of the room, and you kissed him, and so he responded, as promised, with no hint of tenderness; biting each other's lips, you collided in passion with teeth and tongues, pouring all the accumulated stress onto each other.

How strange it all was, wasn't it?

Yesterday you buried another friend, and today you moan the name of a person you had just recently feared. The realization overwhelmed your body with weakness, but you couldn't hold back the trembling in your body from the pleasure he gave you. Thoughts returned to their old path, and you didn't notice the first hot tears flowing down your flushed cheeks.

You didn't understand whether you were disgusted with yourself or indifferent, but one thing you knew for sure — a little more, and you would reach orgasm again. Digging your nails painfully into Varré’s back, to which he responded with barely a grimace, you tried to return to sweet oblivion, trying to focus on the sensations. Varré quickened, and you knew he was close to climax too.

“Shh,” he whispered softly, kissing your cheeks with unexpected tenderness where tears remained. “Hush, hush, my lambkin. Everything will be alright.”

The pleasure in your lower abdomen was becoming more and more intense, the orgasm approaching like a wave; Varre's fingers glided over your clitoris fast, just the way you needed it, and you arched towards him, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

“Varre..!” you moaned, feeling that just a little more and you would finish.

“Yes, my dear,” you felt him twitch inside you, “Let go.”

A strong shiver ran through your body as you climaxed again; sweet pleasure spread through your body once more, mingling ambiguously with bitterness. After a few more strong, quick thrusts, Varré froze, and you felt him twitch inside you as he too came. You had never seen him like this before… open. Relaxed. Content.

Your knees trembled near his thighs. Red marks remained on the skin — both yours and his. Varré gently ran his palms over your legs, up to your stomach, and, leaning over you one last time, kissed you so, so softly, conveying all his promises.

It’s a part of ch.11 from my fic “Fixed Focus”!! You can read it here: