your light of a million suns burns through people

now you’re here, finally, straddling erling’s hips, your knees braced on either side of him, breath coming fast as you sink down onto him. his hands are splayed broad and patient on your thighs, thumbs stroking little lines up toward your hips, and he’s watching you with that gentle, knowing look, a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.

his blue eyes flick over your face, cataloguing every little whimper, every shudder. he’s shirtless, skin burning with heat under your hands, the scent of him all salt and something fresh, and you can’t help but lean in, nuzzling at his jaw, breathing him in, greedy for the way he smells, the weight of his body under yours.

“long day, huh?” his voice is so low it’s almost a rumble, soft and smug, and you can feel it vibrate through his chest where your palms press. he hums, the sound rich and lazy, fingers flexing against your hips, not forcing, just guiding, letting you take as much as you can. “look at you, sweet thing. so desperate for me you can barely think.”

you try to roll your hips, but you’re so sensitive it’s almost unbearable, the stretch of him inside you making you shudder, thighs trembling as you gasp. “erling—” you whine, voice shaking, “it’s too much, i can’t—”

he tsks, the sound playful, almost pitying, and his hands tighten, grounding you. “oh, i know. look at you, falling apart already. you’re always so dramatic when you need me, aren’t you?” he leans up, kisses the hollow of your throat, his lips soft, tongue tracing a line where your pulse flutters. “you’re not going anywhere. let me take care of you...”

you can barely speak, mouth open and panting, but you manage to get out, “please—just… i need—” and he just hums, slow and indulgent, rocking his hips up into you, making you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. you can feel every inch of him, thick and unyielding, filling you so deep you can barely breathe.

“there you go, love,” he says, voice syrupy, “such a messy girl. i love how you can’t help yourself around me, how you always end up here, whining on my cock, so pretty and needy.” his hands slide up your waist, fingers curling around your ribs, holding you steady as he begins to move you, up and down, slow and relentless, every thrust making you keen, tears prickling at your lashes.

you try to move on your own, rocking down onto him, but every thrust sends a bolt of heat through you so sharp your breath catches, and the stretch is too much, too overwhelming. you whimper, nails scraping at his chest, forehead pressed to his as you pant, “it’s too much, i’m too—” but the words dissolve into a needy moan as he groans, low and so pleased, at the feeling of you squeezing around him.

he just smiles, all dimples and softness, so achingly sweet for a man this size. “yeah? too much for you? i can feel everything.” his voice is syrupy, a gentle, coaxing lilt, coaxing every whine from your lips. “look at you, all shaky... can’t even fuck yourself right now, can you? good thing you’ve got me.”

he doesn’t ask, doesn’t tell—he simply takes over, the shift of his grip from gentle to possessive, fingers biting into your skin just enough to make you gasp as he lifts you, muscles flexing in his forearms, and brings you down hard on his cock. the impact makes you wail, eyes squeezed shut, thighs trembling uncontrollably. “shh,” he hums, lips brushing your cheek, “let me, just let me. you need someone to handle you, don’t you?”

he works you like that, strong hands guiding you up, then dropping you back down, deep and slow, filling you so completely it feels like you’ll break apart. you can’t help but cling to him, arms wrapped tight around his neck, face buried against his throat, inhaling that clean, familiar scent of him—shampoo and sweat and something so distinctly erling it makes you dizzy. his laugh is barely a sound, more a pleased exhale against your ear as his arms flex, drawing you closer, keeping you right where he wants you. his hands dwarf your waist, fingers splayed wide, and when you shake, unable to keep moving, he just tuts, a soft scold.

“oh, baby, look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and honey-thick, the words vibrating through your bones as he hoists you up—effortless, like you weigh nothing at all. “all that whining and now you’re just falling apart on me, huh?” his tone is gentle, so sweet it almost hurts. “thought you could handle it, but you really just need me to take over, don’t you? my perfect little thing, always so sensitive.”

he shifts, one hand sliding up your spine, finding the base of your skull, his palm warm and broad as he gently knots your hair in his fist. you whimper, head tipped back, mouth open as he tugs, not cruel—just enough to make you arch, to bare your throat and chest, to leave you gasping. you can feel the heat of his gaze as he watches you, so greedy, so full of adoration and pure, greedy delight. “that’s it, there you go,” he coaxes, his other hand locked tight around your hip, guiding you down onto him again, slow and deep and relentless.

the drag of him inside you is overwhelming, every nerve set aflame, your body barely able to keep up as he rocks you, making you ride his cock with the easy, controlling motion of his arms; you try to meet him, to do something with your hips, but he’s got you, he’s doing all the work, and it’s so much easier to just let go and let him move you, maneuver you, use you the way he knows you need.

his fingers in your hair tighten, tilting your head so he can press his mouth to your ear, his breath hot as he praises you, soft and smug and so damn loving it makes your heart ache. “such a mess,” he hums, “barely even got started and you’re already coming apart. so greedy for me, so helpless. you just want to be handled, is that it? want me to remind you how good it feels to let go?”

“y-yes—” you choke, words dissolving into a high, needy moan as he thrusts up, impossibly deep, the stretch almost too much, your whole body trembling against him. he’s relentless, but never harsh, every movement calculated, every sound you make drawing another pleased sound from his lips. his praise wraps around you, thick and warm, tangled with teasing that only makes you melt harder for him.

“that’s my girl,” he croons, moving you faster now, hips snapping up to meet the downward roll of your body, your hands flying to his shoulders, clinging for dear life. “taking it so well, even when you’re too full...”

he shifts his grip, sliding his hand from your hip to your ass, squeezing, guiding, lifting you up and down with so little effort it almost feels like you’re weightless. his hand in your hair tugs a little harder, forcing your gaze to meet his, eyes burning with pride and hunger and something impossibly tender. “let me see you, sweetheart,” he purrs, and you fall apart for him, shivering and gasping, every thrust blurring into white-hot pleasure, every touch another reminder of how completely he owns you. his praise is endless, his grip unyielding, and the world narrows to the sound of your moans, the heat of his body, and the perfect, dizzying feeling of being taken care of exactly the way you need.

you can barely breathe through it, every inhale catching in your throat, spilling out as broken sounds against his lips. his hand is still in your hair, holding you right where he wants you, the other locked firmly on your ass, fingers digging in as he uses his strength to rock you on him, up and down, deep and steady.

you’re so far gone you can’t tell where you end and he begins. his chest is a wall of heat against yours, his thighs solid under you, his cock thick and hard, stretching you open over and over until your head is spinning. you cling to him helplessly, nails raking over his shoulders, your forehead dropping to his as your moans turn high and thin.

you gasp, every syllable trembling, “i can’t, i can’t—”

he just hums, soft and pleased, eyes half-lidded as he watches you unravel. “you can,” he says simply, “you always can. my girl doesn’t give up when it feels this good.”

he pulls your hair a little more, just enough to arch your back, to bare your throat as he leans in and kisses along your jaw, your neck, tongue tracing the line of your pulse. the slight sting at your scalp only makes everything sharper, makes you clench tighter around him, and he groans, a quiet, reverent sound that vibrates against your skin.

“so good, fuck, min kjære,” he breathes, his fingers flexing on your ass as he slams you down a bit harder, his cock bottoming out inside you, deliciously deep. you cry out, the sound ragged, and he exhales a soft laugh. “mm, there you go. that’s the spot, huh? poor thing, no wonder you were on edge all day. needed this, didn’t you?”

“yes,” you whine, eyes glassy, tears threatening, “needed you, just—just you—”

“i know,” he soothes, kissing the corner of your mouth. “been needing me all day, huh? now look at you. shaking all over me, so full you can barely think.” his words coat you, syrup-sweet and a little cocky, thickened by that hum in his chest. “you’re doing so well for me, sweetheart. so good. my perfect little thing.”

his hips start to meet the motion of his hands, slow power behind every thrust as he lifts and drops you, fucking up into you from below while he guides you down from above, his control absolute. your body can only follow where he puts you, muscles too weak and mind too foggy to do anything else. every stroke grinds into that tender, desperate place inside you, the pressure winding higher and higher, unbearable and exquisite all at once.

you can feel it building, hot and tight, your toes curling, thighs spasming around his hips. you try to warn him, but all that comes out is a breathless, choked, “erling, i’m—i’m gonna—” before another moan tears itself from your throat.

his eyes sharpen, mouth curving in that slow, satisfied smile that always makes your stomach flip. “yeah? you’re close?” he murmurs, breath fanning your lips. “of course you are. you’ve been ready for me all day, haven't you?” he adjusts his grip, one hand sliding from your ass to your lower back, forcing you down harder as he thrusts up, changing the angle just slightly.

with that, white-hot pleasure detonates through your body, your vision going hazy at the edges as your mouth falls open on a silent scream. your walls clamp down around him so tight it almost hurts, your whole body seizing, every muscle tensed and shaking. you’re vaguely aware of the noises you’re making—high, desperate, almost broken—and the way you’re clinging to him like you’ll fall apart if you let go.

“that’s it,” he groans, voice still maddeningly gentle even as his thrusts turn rougher, chasing you through the peak. “there she is, there’s my good girl.” he holds you down fully on him, grinding in deep, not letting you run from it as the orgasm tears through you, wave after wave crashing, leaving you helpless in his hands.

you try to pull back, too sensitive, hips jolting, but his grip holds you firm, careful and unyielding. “shh,” he purrs, nuzzling your temple, his lips brushing your damp skin, “i’ve got you. i know it’s a lot, i know. just breathe for me. you’re doing so well.”

your legs are jelly, trembling uncontrollably where they bracket his waist. every tiny movement sends aftershocks through you, clenching around him again, and again, until you’re sobbing quietly into his shoulder, overwhelmed and floating. he eases the pace, keeping himself buried deep, rolling his hips in slow, controlled circles that wring every last drop of pleasure from you.

he holds you there, trembling and spent, as he chases his own end. his breathing goes ragged against your neck, his hands tightening on your body as he groans, low and broken. you can feel him pulse inside you, thick and hot, and he buries his face in the curve of your shoulder with a sound that makes your chest ache, so raw and open for you. his hips still, pressed flush against yours, and for a moment neither of you move, just breathing together, his heart hammering wild under your palms.

"come here," he murmurs after a long silence, voice rough and warm. he lifts you off him carefully, like you're made of glass, and rearranges you both on the bed in one fluid motion, pulling you into his chest, his arm hooked heavy and secure around your waist. his nose nudges your hair, breathing you in, and he hums, long and satisfied, the sound rumbling through his whole body and into yours. "my perfect girl," he whispers against your scalp, lips lingering, "did so well for me. always do."

you can't respond, not really, just nuzzle closer, pressing your face into his warm skin, legs tangling with his. every muscle in your body feels like it's been unwound, all that coiled tension from the day finally, blissfully gone, replaced by a heavy, golden looseness that sinks into your bones.