#petruo

Auruo turns his head as he wipes his hand on a towel. Petra stands aside and allows him a better view of the Christmas tree the squad had set up earlier that month. It’s a beautiful pine tree with bristles of a deep, verdant green. Despite being in a different room, Auruo can smell the aroma of crisp pine needles that’s only accentuated by the smoke coming from the fire burning in the hearth. Tinsel strung against the branches sparkle against the fire light and simple tin ornaments shine brightly despite the dying light.  

Even though the fire is not nearly as bright as it was at the beginning of the night, Petra gestures for Auruo to join her near the tree. She grabs a blanket that had been left on a nearby end table and pulls it across their laps, scooting over so that their thighs are touching. She notices Auruo staring at her and she only shrugs.  

“It’s cold,” she tells Auruo, but he wonders how that can be when his leg burns against hers even though they’re separated by two layers of fabric.  

“You’re cold?” Auruo repeats. He can feel his throat drying up, the fire consuming him from the inside. As the embers glow in the hearth, flames grow deep in his belly. The fire inside of him can only be quenched with distance and ignorance, both of which are impossible for him when it comes to Petra. Close proximity will only make the flames inside of him grow. Auruo is aware of this, yet he finds himself closing what little distance there is between the two of them. His legs entangle themselves around her, and his arms find their way around her waist. She cannot see his face from where she sits now that he has situated himself behind her. He doesn’t have to make up an excuse about why his face is engulfed in flames, but he’s sure she can feel his heart thumping against her back and he’s not sure he can come up with any reasonable explanation without giving himself away entirely. Even now as he speaks to her, his lips quiver as he asks, “Is this better?”  

“It’s better,” she hums. Petra’s hands envelope Auruo’s, her fingers caressing him almost tenderly. Her touch lights a trail of fire across his skin. She speaks in a voice just above a whisper. “We should probably wait until the fire dies out.”  

“Right,” Auruo murmurs. Like Petra, he keeps his voice low even though there isn’t a reason. Everyone else is upstairs in their rooms. It would be impossible for the Captain and their comrades to hear them even if Petra and Auruo were to speak at a normal volume, but it seems wrong to speak louder than the crackling fire in front of them.  

Neither one reaches for the poker to spread out the embers. They choose to let the fire die out on its own. Their gazes linger on the flickering flames in front of them, but their minds are wandering elsewhere.  

When was the last time they were able to be alone together? If they aren’t training or heading out to dangerous expeditions, they are cleaning the castle or tidying the grounds. Whatever private time Petra and Auruo have together, it’s never enough. They’ll take whatever few seconds they can get, sneaking little glances or touches behind the backs of their squad mates or in dark corners of the castle out of their Captain’s watchful gaze, but they never get beyond kisses and hasty hands underneath their half-unbuttoned shirts.  

Tonight seems a little too good to be true. The scene is set perfectly — entangled together and warmed by the flames burning in the hearth — and Auruo would be impatient if he didn’t love watching the way the glow of the fire illuminates Petra’s cheeks. He can see the flush of her cheeks grow even as the fire turns from orange to bright scarlet to a dull red as his hands begin to rub at her sides. Her hands wrap lightly against his wrists, guiding him at first but the expanse of her body is one he’s all too familiar with by now. As his touches grow heavier, fingertips dragging against the fabric of Petra’s uniform almost painstakingly slow, so does Petra’s breathing. Her eyes begin to flutter as his hands traverse from her breasts to her waist to her hips and then back up again.  

Although he can only see the side of her face, Auruo marvels at Petra’s parted lips, how they’re the same flushed pink as her cheeks. He reaches up with the back of one hand to brush against her cheek. It’s hardly a touch, but he can feel her burn against the skin of his knuckles. Knowing that she’s burning up at his slight touch, the way he’s burning up just by being in her presence, fills him with an overwhelming desire to cover her with kisses but he manages to resist and only presses his lips against her collarbone, hard, and he relishes the broken breath that escapes her lips. 

“Are you warm enough yet?” Auruo asks, his lips still against her skin. 

“No,” she whispers, and Auruo is about to wrap his arms around her tighter but Petra twists around until she’s turned around completely. Hiding the flush of his face from her is impossible now, but she’s more focused on unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers fumbling to undo his uniform.  

With one hand against the small of her back, Auruo steadies her against him. His other hand pulls his shirt out of his trousers and hurries to undo the rest of his buttons while his mouth continues to press kisses against whatever inch of Petra’s skin he can reach. He’s vaguely aware of buttons falling against the rug and others clattering against the floor but he doesn’t open his eyes to see where they’ve gone. He’d much rather focus on the weight of Petra in his lap and how her legs are wrapped around his waist.  

Her own hands travel against his abdomen, her finger tips leaving a scorched path wherever they travel. Perhaps it’s because they’ve always been rushed that her touch is clumsy and rushed, but Auruo understands her desperation. He wants to worship every inch of her, wants to show her just how strongly his desire has burned for her for so long. Still, this is different from the hasty make out sessions behind the stables or in darkened hallways, and so Auruo resists from moving too quickly.  

Auruo rubs the fabric of Petra’s collar against his thumb and forefinger and looks at her. He traces the edge of her collar with a finger and watches her shiver as it travels down her clavicle. A similar shiver runs down his own spine. He plays with the top button of her uniform. “Can I?” he asks. He doesn’t finish answering the question before Petra begins nodding.  

“Please,” she practically begs, and Auruo has to bury his face against her shoulder to muffle the moan that comes from his mouth.  

He’s as haphazard with undoing her shirt as he was with his own, fingers shaking in anticipation. It’s difficult to concentrate when Petra is pressing kisses against his cheeks and forehead and when she grinds her hips against his so desperately. He still wears his trousers, but there’s no mistaking his want threatening to burst through the fabric. He’s sure he’s lost a few buttons on Petra’s shirt too and he mumbles an apology of being so messy before stopping to marvel at the sight of her: her ginger hair in disarray, her cheeks flushed with lust, her lips swollen from desperate kisses, her neck blossoming with love marks he had placed on her only seconds ago, the swell of her breasts as she takes each shaking breath, and her lithe waist quivering as she tries to find satisfaction with her hips against his.  

It was never enough before, the stolen kisses and the fumbling hands underneath their clothes as they hid the shadows. Auruo isn’t sure how he had managed before. He wants her so desperately now, and he’s sure Petra has been just as impatient by the way she searches for sweet friction against him.  

He buries his face between her breasts and presses his lips between them over and over and over again. The unexpected kisses make Petra gasp in surprise, but she pulls one hand behind his head and pushes his face towards her so he takes it as permission to continue. He kisses and sucks at the soft skin of her breast, swelling even more as he hears the gasps and moans that escape Petra’s lips even though she tries hard to suppress them. He helps Petra out of her shirt and she frees herself from her brassiere. It’s perhaps the first time she’s bore herself to Auruo like this, but he wastes no time in reveling in her beauty. He won’t allow her a moment of shyness. He cups one breast in his hand, circle her nipple with his thumb until it becomes a hardened nub under his touch. He leans down, taking her other nipple in his mouth and teases it with his tongue.  

Petra writhes under his touch, her desire growing just as dangerously as his. Her hips rock desperately and so he allows her to find relief against his thigh. His other hand teases between her skin and the band of her panties. His fingers caress her hip as he continues to play with her, teasing her slowly with his mouth and planting more love marks against her breasts. It’s only when she grabs his hand and guides him down the front of her pants that Auruo finally grants her the relief that she so desperately seeks. 

“I’ll go slowly,” Auruo whispers to her, and Petra nods back at him with a fevered gaze.  

He teases her entrance, his finger already damp as it circles her lips. She’s still rocking her hips, still seeking friction or something that will ease her desire, and so Auruo presses the tip of his finger into her entrance, pushing himself inside gently and watches her shiver as she feels him inside her. He curls his finger inside her slightly as he strokes her. Gently at first but then picking up the pace when he sees the way her cheeks are flushed with desperation, the way she rocks her hips because she wants more. He plunges in a second finger and presses his thumb against her clit. He’s clumsy in his haste, but she’ll take whatever relief she can get. Her moans become louder, more broken, as he strokes inside of her. His thumb circles her clit with more urgency than before. The more he circles, the more desperate she becomes, the more she leans into his touch. Her back is arched, breasts heaving as her body begs and shivers for more, offering herself to him. 

“Auruo, please,” Petra pleads and her fingers fumble to undo the front of his trousers, but her desperation has made her uncoordinated.  

Sweat glistens against his forehead and Auruo has to wipe it away with the back of his arm. “Are you sure?” he asks, worried that he’s taken it too far too fast. His strokes begin to slow, but Petra’s legs wrap around him even more tightly. 

“I want it to be you,” Petra tells him and the way her voice trembles only further ignites the flames of desire that threaten to consume him. Her fingers still shake as she undoes the button of his trousers and pulls down the zipper. “I’ve always wanted it to be you. So please-”  

Auruo hisses when she pulls out his cock, throbbing with want as she holds him. She strokes him clumsily and he moans brokenly against her shoulder.  

“Can I?” 

“Yes.” 

She cries out when he pulls out his fingers, immediately feeling the loss of him. Not wanting to have her wait any longer, Auruo pulls Petra’s pants down below her knees before finding his place between her legs. The tip of his cock teases against her entrance and she shakes underneath him. He eases himself in gently, pressing kisses against Petra’s cheeks as he slips in inch by inch. He can feel Petra, overwhelmed by the size of him but wanting desperately to have every inch of him inside of her. He whispers praises against the shell of her ear until she’s taken him in his entirety.  

Even as the embers die, his own body fills with heat. The warmth engulfs him and he wonders how the castle has not gone down in flames. Flames of desire turn from a fiery red to a blazing white, fueled by moans of ecstasy that Petra is no longer able to suppress. Auruo’s own elated utterances mingle with hers as their bodies move together as one. When the heat becomes too much, when he feels just as he is about to overflow, Auruo pulls out and lets his love spill against her thighs and Petra shivers and gasps at the loss of him. 

They collapse against each other, sticking against each other skin to skin.  

“We should clean up,” Auruo murmurs. His head rests against Petra’s breast, the thud of her heartbeat like a metronome lulling him asleep. “We should go to sleep.”