#gloomedhands

she's on her fours, here, dakara behind her, his face pressed against her back. their noticeable but not extreme size difference was enough to make her feel as small and warm as she wanted - needing all five of her senses used in this moment, needing to be known with no other pretense. his hands are warm and firm as they palm her breasts, the smacking of their bodies together an audible sound and music to her ears. the smell of sex in the air complemented the taste of sweat on her lip and the lingering flavor of his cock, once in her mouth. 

she needed this, to feel every inch of him plunging into her - to be handled by someone who knew what he was doing, someone she didn't have to teach the ropes to. there have been very few people who have known to handle nesta d'angelis in a way such as this - but dakara is a quick learner. nesta can appreciate that in a man.

still, it isn't enough - there is something about all of this that is missing, something that doesn't take away from her needs or her enjoyment, but something that would push it over the edge. something that would allow her to lose herself like this, lost in him and the sex they were creating. the thrum of the bard on the bottom floor of the inn creates a rhythm that shakes the floor underneath them. there, she thinks. that's it.

nesta grabs him by the arm, pulling him off of the bed- they go tumbling into the floor. this bumps some elbows and some knees, and they separate, nesta now on her back and dakara atop her. her chest rises and falls as she looks up at him, eyes frenzied, desperate, some semblance of terrible need that can't be quelled just yet. she looks up, eyes making contact with her own reflection. her eyes widen, elated, and she grins, pointing to the mirror.

" there, " she tells him, breathless, pointing at the mirror. " fuck me against that. fuck me like you were, like you want to break me, please, dakara. please. " nesta d'angelis is not one to normally say please, the need swelling in her body as she and dakara make their way over towards the mirror, and she laughs, overjoyed, as her chest is pressed against the reflective surface, breasts squished against their own mirror image, and dakara's chest is pressed against her back, his cock sheathed inside of her again, just as she demanded. a slow, sensual moan fills her, and she whines - each of her senses stimulated again, here; this time, the fifth joining them.

she feels his hands against her body, wrapped around her waist, fingers idly pressing against her clit, or the warmth of her mound, or the inside of her thighs. it's paired with the sound of their skin smacking together; with the new addition of their closeness, nesta can hear him cursing in what she believes is undercommon, his sonorous voice warm against the shell of her ear. the smell of their sex hasn't left them yet, the lingering musk of their passion between them, and finally, the taste -- instead of it being an echo of their previous foreplay, though, nesta is graced with his fingers, damp with where he has touched her, and accepts them into her mouth, tongue pressed against the undersides as she licks her essence off of his warm, callused digits. and finally - fuck, finally! - she can see him in the reflection, fucking into her with a need that matches her own, his face tucked into the nape of her neck, his breath hot on her skin.

she pushes herself off of the mirror, parallel to it, and she watches herself be fucked by him, her own expression twisting into this and that - and for a moment, but a split second, they make eye contact in the mirror, the heat of his gaze seemingly intense in the mirror, fogging up with the aftereffects of their sex. she groans around his fingers, leaning her head back, brow furrowing.

yes. this is what she needed, something beyond a quick fuck yet not holding the same kind of expectations that she might have with someone else. dakara gives her exactly what she needs, and sometimes - exactly what she wants. in return, she gives him her entire body to play with, to use as he wants, to take his frustrations and his needs out in. this is their arrangement; this is their design. 

he pulls his fingers out of her mouth, and nesta fucks back against him, those dampened fingers now reaching for her clit, working mischevious circles into it while nesta scrunches her face closed - he looks at her in the mirror, here, seeing every angle of her like she is a specimen on display. nesta enjoys the unintentional voyeurism - in another life, they fuck on a stage for the enjoyment of others and the eroticism of having an audience, but here and now, nesta is more than content with the private viewing he gets by way of letting her ride his cock.

she goes to say please again, to ask him for more, but his body is intentional with how his free hand comes to eclipse hers, his strokes deeper, harder, faster - silently, he tells her that she doesn't have to beg. her head falls back, and she whimpers, placing wet, lazy kisses on his jaw now that he's in control of the give-and-take. she's numb, lost to bliss, and dakara moves his other hand to brace against the mirror, his soaked fingers streaking lines of ecstasy down the reflective surface of the mirror, smudging their reflections in the most delectable, raunchiest way. the shapes his fingers make are unintentional, the way the digits twitch against the sensation of her body on his, an abstract, trembling scribble that translates into a need for orgasm. nesta sees it, her grin widening, eyes lidding. her own hand comes up to smear it, to draw his attention back to her.

" do it, " she whispers against his skin, her own body on fire, " cum for me, dakara. give me exactly what you know i need. you've done so well already; you've seen how wet i am, how good this feels-- i--i--i--"  

she cries out against him, wailing softly as the band beneath them in the tavern reaches the climax of their song, and he bites down onto her shoulder, filling her up with exactly what she needed. they both collapse forward, leaning against the mirror, nesta's mouth now claiming dakara's in a wet, sloppy kiss that lasts for what feels like forever. eventually, they both come up for air, and nesta's smile matches the one of the woman in the mirror.

" feel better? " dakara asks, and nesta laughs, a wordless nod leaving her.