Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

On the way upstairs to my study, I offered up another story from my many past lives – one that I knew would please her, feed her thirst for these fragments of history - my history - which I’d hitherto been so reluctant to impart to anyone, no matter how close we’d become.

My wife.

I let the power and rightness of the notion slowly sink into me. As we climbed the stairs, the urge to touch her, hold her, the need for physical contact, was almost painful. But I still didn’t trust that she had willingly, knowingly submitted to the institution of vampire marriage, that she understood what it was to be my mate. I refused to take advantage of the desire that I could plainly see she felt and to use that fleeting, momentary impulse to entrap her into this life. Her consent had to be with the full knowledge of what she was agreeing to. She could still walk away.

But if I was being honest with myself, I knew it was myself I didn’t trust. I wouldn’t be satisfied to merely touch her hand, or to hold her in my arms, or even to sweep her up right now and take her to bed - though God help me, that idea occupied my nearly every waking thought. The strongest urge of all, the one hardest to manage, was this insatiable curiosity. The urge to know her, as deeply and as well as she knew herself, in every way it was possible to know someone, was near debilitating. Only drinking from her heart vein would satisfy that craving. To hear her thoughts and feel her emotions from the inside. And how could I trust myself with that? It was impossible.

I chattered away, almost mindlessly, pretending that a monumental shift hadn’t finally occurred that had reoriented my wretched, endless life around this fragile, courageous mortal. I watched her relish the details of how I’d first bought Vesalius’ tome on anatomy and my thoughts on it. Her eyes sparkled as she listened, her witches’ glaem faintly pulsing, ever so incrementally building in intensity with every hour that passed.

It took my breath away. I would never be worthy of her love, of this vibrancy, vitality and light.

When we reached my study, she settled herself happily into the armchair by the fire, leafing through my old volume. I tried not to stare - I knew full well that she could tell when I looked at her. I occasionally managed to get away with it, generally when she was wholly consumed with what she was reading. The Vesalius tome was a good distraction, I thought greedily, drinking in the sight of her. Being without her for the few days I was in Oxford had made me agitated and restless to a degree I’d never known before and her presence was the tonic. I could no longer deny that this was indeed the mating instinct, binding me to her.

On the pretence of answering emails, I sat at my desk, my laptop forgotten in front of me, watching her, just as I had the first time I took her to the Old Lodge where she’d sat at my desk, absorbed in one of Godfrey’s old alchemical manuscripts.

She looked up once or twice but I’m ashamed to admit, I made use of my vampire instincts to look away well before she caught me, feigning absorption in my screen. As her eyes grew heavy, she yawned, stretching before glancing around. I quickly looked back at my screen, silently admonishing myself.

“I’m going to take a bath,” she announced.

“I’ll be up shortly,” I replied, not trusting myself to meet her eyes. She turned and left the room.

As she made her way up the stairs, I leaned my head back against the headrest and stared at the ceiling, following her progression across the room. I closed my eyes, listening to her footsteps and the rumple of her clothes as she shed them. And her heartbeat, the steady soundtrack of every activity.

She pushed open the bathroom door and padded to the bath. One foot, then the other and the gentle splashes that signified the displacement of water.

And then she lowered herself into the bath with a groan of pleasure that ripped right through me. I shot to my feet, moving to the door at the kind of speed I never let her see for fear of frightening her, of opening up the chasm of difference between us. At the door to the staircase, I stopped, gripping the frame, resting my forehead against it and trying to calm my pounding heart.

The desire to hear her make that sound again, to hear her other sounds of pleasure, to be the one responsible for them, was slowly unravelling my mind, making my muscles ache with the effort to hold me where I was. My cock throbbed, straining against the fabric of my trousers as I let out a shuddering breath.

I tried to focus on something else, anything else, staring at my fingers as they gripped the door frame. My knuckles and fingertips turning even more impossibly white.

I lurched forward, climbing the stairs, forcing myself to slow down, forcing myself to move at a human pace. At the door to my sleeping chamber I stopped again, bowing my head, listening to her calming exhales. Her scent was becoming stronger already, I couldn’t enter the room feeling like this without frightening her.

I needed to stop and think. I took a deep breath and relaxed a little.

I reached back through the layers of desire gripping my heart and fixated on the foundation desire of curiosity. It was, after all, just an insatiable curiosity that I was faced with. I wanted to know  her. How could I do that and guarantee her safety and her freedom? Sex, in this state, was out of the question. With a weary, disappointed sigh I remembered the old fashioned practice of bundling, prevalent in these parts in the Middle Ages. Truthfully, the last time I’d partaken in the practice, I’d been human - with Blanca. I’d never bothered with the archaic, fussy practice since being reborn. Taking what I wanted, I thought bitterly, had been all too easy, every time. I’d never cared enough to check myself, even when I’d fooled myself that my actions were a result of a passion borne of love.

But I reasoned that I could do it again, that this situation warranted it. To find out her fears and desires, the minutiae of them, all the better to please her with later. This promise satisfied both my better self and temporarily placated the beast inside me that ached to take and to possess. I breathed a shaky sigh.

I’ll just wait here for her, I thought, staring at the bed. Our bed.

My cock throbbed again at the thought of us in it, and the things we could be doing. I gripped one of the bedposts, willing myself to calm down.

I was starting to feel somewhat seasick from oscillating between the visceral, physical need I felt for her and my vain attempts to reign it in with reason and logic. The very real threat of compromising her safety and freedom, from me, by my hand, was the ominous and sickening undercurrent to it all. But I couldn’t tarry this way forever.

Buying time, I changed quickly into my pyjamas, going through the motions of the previous night.  Behind the bathroom door, Diana sighed contentedly.

She wants this too, I reasoned inwardly. It can be her decision.

I agreed hurriedly, the restlessness creeping in already, making me increasingly desperate to see and hold her. It can be her decision, I chanted, it can be her decision.

I knocked quietly, then pushed open the bathroom door. Diana sat up in surprise, staring at me, before sinking back into the water, holding my gaze.

God, her scent. It was even better than I’d imagined, her bath warmed willow sap and honeysuckle scent irresistibly laced with a blooming plume of raw desire. Her eyes followed me as I walked over to the stack of towels, grabbed one and held it out along my arm.

‘Come to bed,’ was all I could manage.

For a few seconds, Diana looked up at me guilelessly. I waited. Her scent plainly betrayed what her face would not, the initial bloom of desire now filling out the space, magnified by the heat, assaulting my senses.

Finally, holding my eyes, she stood, naked and gleaming, the warm water rushing down her body in cascading rivulets. The explosion of her desire-laden scent as she emerged from the water and sight of her perfect, naked body was nearly my undoing. I stepped back to let her out of the bath, wrapping her in the towel as she held my gaze. I quickly let go and stood back. Her decision, her decision, my conscience chanted.

With her gaze fixed on me, she let the towel fall. The internal roar of victory of the beast within me was deafening.

I finally let my eyes drop to explore her body, her neck and shoulders, her toned arms, full breasts and gleaming torso, and lower still, to the apex of her thighs and her long athletic legs. All places I looked forward to exploring with hands, fingers, lips and tongue later. I detected a faint shiver run through her body and remembered again her description of my gaze feeling like “ice growing under my skin”. My resolution to bundle suddenly crumbled. I hurriedly renegotiated with myself - what was allowed, what wasn’t. The voice of doubt, of danger and of fear was fast fading into the background.

With a rush of relief, I pulled her toward me, breathing in her scent at close range, running my lips over her neck and shoulders, as my hands revelled in the feel  of her hair falling over my fingers and the soft, firm skin of her back under my palms. And her warmth, her warmth. I was drowning in it.

“ Dieu,  you are beautiful,” I said truthfully, “and so alive.”

Everywhere I touched, my scent clung to her, marking her. Our scents mingled, her desire and mine blending together in an intoxicating fusion. And yet, instead of being overcome by desire as I feared, the rising panic I’d felt downstairs ebbed away, that same powerful sense of calm and rightness from earlier in the evening in her company taking its place.

I sighed in relief, the cold fist around my heart loosening it’s grip a little.

I could wait no longer, my lips finding hers, my tongue swiping tentatively across her lips, waiting for her to let me in. Instead, she tugged at my t-shirt, her warm fingers running along my abdomen and around my waist. The pleasure was so sudden and so intense against my cold skin that I shuddered. Rather than let me in, her lips curved into a smile against mine. I pulled back, feeling oddly off balance. What had I done? Had I misread her cues?

“It feels nice, doesn’t it, when your coldness and my warmth meet?” she said, her blue eyes alight with mirth.

I laughed in relief. Her fingers still gripping my shirt, I lifted my arms, letting her pull it off, eager to feel her warm body against mine. She started to fold the shirt carefully but I pulled it out of her hands impatiently, tossing it into the corner.

“Later,” I grumbled, pulling her towards me.

Our bodies touched, warm and cold, and the sense of completeness blossomed. The sensation was beyond exquisite. It was Diana’s turn to laugh - I smiled at her joy, our arms wrapped around each other. Her fingers were doing delicious things to my spine, sweeping up and down, waves of pleasure building till I could bear it no longer. Palms against her back, I lowered my lips to her throat, to the thrum of life moving below the surface, revelling in her gasp, it’s own captivating music, wanting more.

I ventured lower still, my lips sweeping over the curve of her breasts, to suck first one, then the other nipple into my mouth.

To my satisfaction, her knees were softening as she swayed, and she reached down to my waist to steady herself.

She needn’t worry, I thought to myself greedily, I’m never letting go.

Her hands travelled round, to the draw-string on the front of my trousers, tugging gently but insistently.

Her decision, her decision,  my mind chanted.

I pulled away far enough to look into her eyes. I needed to be sure that she was sure. But her eyes were aflame. Holding my gaze, she tugged and pushed them down over my hips.

“There,” she murmured, “now we’re even.”

“Not even close,” I said with a grin, stepping out of them.

She finally broke my gaze and took in a sharp breath as her eyes swept over me, biting her lip. I bit back my own smile. I knew that it was just an effect, a lure, this vampire body. We are beautiful to our prey as a snare, and no one lives as long as I without being aware of its impact and feeling a certain detachment from it. But in this moment, to see and feel and smell the uptick in her desire at the sight of me, as I had with her, was gratifying in the extreme.

No matter how ill-founded that gratification may be,  my conscience whispered.

It’s her decision,  I countered.

I shrugged the feeling off and took her hand, leading her to the bed. Sweeping the covers aside, I lifted her onto the bed and followed her in. There was a moment of stillness as we lay facing each other. I gazed at her, taking a moment to marvel again at her power over me.

At that moment, her expression suddenly changed, her hands pulling the sheets up to her chin, covering her body from my view.

I frowned, rising up on one elbow. “What’s wrong?”

“A little nervous, that’s all”

“About what?”

“I’ve never had sex with a vampire before”

My mouth dropped open. In all my mental preparation and self coaching, I hadn’t counted on her thinking I would push her to beyond where both of us were comfortable. “And you’re not going to tonight either.”

It was her turn to be surprised. The sheet dropped from her chin as she raised herself up on her elbows. “You come into my bath, watch me get out of it naked and dripping wet, let me undress you and then tell me we’re not going to make love tonight?”

I winced internally.  I want to, so badly, I wanted to say. You have no idea how much. But that would hardly help matters right now. My control was hanging on by a thread as it was. 

“I keep telling you we have no reason to rush. Modern creatures are always in such a hurry. Call me old fashioned if you like, but I want to enjoy every moment of our courtship” And I found I meant it - my resolve suddenly forming. I wanted to take my time. To explore every inch of her, build her pleasure up slowly, and then watch her unravel in my arms over and over again. How quickly could I make her reach her climax? And how long could I draw it out? What did she like, and how? I looked forward to finding out things about her and her mind and body that even she didn’t know. Fifteen hundred years of experience had to count for something.

I reached out pulling the sheet down over her breasts to her waist, tugging it yet further. I let her feel my gaze on her skin, hard and then soft. She suddenly reached for the covers, attempting to pull them back up but I was well ahead of her. I yanked the sheet further down, pulling it off her entirely, my eyes following its progression. Goose flesh formed on her skin in the wake of my gaze, a ripple running down her body.

She found her voice at last.

“Courtship?” She cried indignantly. “You’ve already bought me flowers and wine. Now you’re my husband, or so you tell me.”

Flowers and wine,  I chuckled inwardly to myself. As if that constitutes even a fraction of the kind of experience I’m planning, the kind of experience she deserves.

She reached out and flicked the sheet off my body instead, her heart beat stopping for a moment, before taking off again at a gallop. Again I couldn’t help the gratification that followed.

“As a historian, you must know that scores of weddings weren’t consummated immediately.” I decided to test the theory of my gaze on her body further. My eyes drifted down to her hips, sweeping over her thighs before focusing on their apex for a hard, timed second. I glanced up into her eyes. She shivered, her heart thumping erratically. I smiled. “Years of courtship were required in some cases.” 

To my endless fascination, the goose flesh settled, her skin taking on a dewy lustre, minuscule beads of perspiration forming between her breasts and down the centre line of her abdomen. I stared, my mouth suddenly dry. I hadn’t even touched her yet.

She ploughed on valiantly. “Most of  those courtships ended in bloodshed and tears” she said pointedly. I grinned and reached for her, unable to resist any longer. I ran my fingertips over her breast with feather light touches.

Yes,  I celebrated silently when she gasped. I hummed in appreciation.

“I promise not to draw blood, if you promise not to weep.” I said. I was practically giddy with excitement over the potential laying ahead of us.

Her head rolled back a fraction as her eyes closed, reacting to my touch, before snapping open again and staring at me shakily.

“Prince Arthur and Catherine of Aragon!” she called out in triumph. “Did you know them?”

“Not Arthur, I was in Florence. But Catherine, yes. She was nearly as brave as you are.” Diana’s eyes glittered, full of questions. It seemed she couldn’t turn off her historian’s brain long enough to enjoy herself. I shifted closer, running the back of my hand down her arm. Before she could formulate the questions I could see bubbling to the surface, I said, “Speaking of the past, what does the distinguished historian know about bundling?”

A half smile crossed her lips as she turned on her side, running one finger along my jaw. “I’m familiar with the custom. But you are neither Amish nor English. Are you telling me that - like wedding vows - the practice of getting two people into bed to talk all night but not have sex was dreamed up by vampires?” The fire in her eyes was back.

“Modern creatures aren’t only in a hurry, they’re overly focussed on the act of sexual intercourse. It’s far too narrow a definition. Making love should be about intimacy, about knowing another’s body as well as your own.” I dropped my lips to her shoulder, running my tongue over the curve. Her words formed more haltingly as a result.

“Answer my question,” she insisted, “did vampires invent bundling?” Her finger reached for my jaw again, drifting along my chin.

“No,” I murmured, nipping at it gently. “Once upon a time, we all did it. The Dutch and then the English came up with the variation of putting boards between the intended couple. The rest of us did it the old-fashioned way. We were simply wrapped in blankets, shut into a room at dusk and let out at dawn.”

She was still campaigning. With a frown that was just hanging on, she said sternly “That sounds dreadful.”

I sighed. It was time to step my efforts up or we’d be arguing all night, and I had other plans for my time with her. I shifted my gaze down to her legs, running my eyes from her ankles up her calves, knees and thighs, lingering on her hips . Gooseflesh quickly followed in its wake. She began to squirm but I reached out and with a firm hand, held her down by her right hip, stroking the flesh under my thumb. “Matthew,” she began.

“As I recall,” I continued, “it was a very pleasant way to spend a long winter’s night.” My eyes drifted across, with another cold, focussed glance at the apex of her thighs. I glanced quickly up to catch her reaction, her eyes shuttering briefly, and lips parting in a breathy exhale.

“The hard part was looking innocent the next day.” I grinned.

I followed the trail of my eyes with my hand, stroking up from the instep of her feet and ankles up her calves, knees and thighs, stopping a couple of inches before the apex before floating them back up over her navel. Her heart was beating erratically once more, I noted with satisfaction.

It seemed Diana was tired of arguing too, as she suddenly leaned forward, landing her open mouth on my collarbone while her hand snaked down my own stomach. My breath left me in a rush, and I snatched her hand away before she made it far enough that I’d be begging her not to stop.

But I’d released her hip to do so, and she used the opportunity to close the distance between us, pressing her body against mine, thigh to shoulder. My cock grew harder still, throbbing between the press of our bodies, as I felt for the first time, the wetness between her legs briefly touch my thigh. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to bring my reactions back under control, as she tipped her face back to look me in the eye with a satisfied hum. “I’m sure sleep was involved. No one can talk all night.”

“Ah, but vampires don’t need to sleep,” I said, determined to move the focus back onto her and her body, both of us grappling for the upper hand. I ducked my head quickly and landed a kiss below the curve of her breast.

She ran her fingers through my hair, grabbing a fistful and using it to lift my face to hers. “There’s only one vampire in this bed, is this how you imagine you’ll keep me awake?”

“I’ve been imagining little else from the first moment I saw you” I confessed. The things I’d imagined doing to her from before we’d even spoken had haunted me and my thoughts for weeks. She was pleased by that, her skin flushing a delicious shade of pink as she bit back a smile.

I lowered my lips to the curve of her belly just below her navel, flicking my tongue out to taste those fine beads of perspiration I’d seen appearing earlier. Her  back arched, lifting her off the bed to meet my mouth. I smiled at her eagerness, turning her onto her back and taking both of her wrists in my hand and pinning them to the pillow above her head.

“No rushing, remember?”

Diana pouted. I raised an eyebrow.  Try me,  I thought. She tugged on her hands half-heartedly but my hold was firm. She sighed in resignation and relaxed into the downy bedding.

“We have all the time we need” I continued, hovering over her, running the fingers of my other hand along the exposed soft skin of the underside of her arms. She shivered in response, biting her lip. I opened my hand up and lay the palm flat on the side of her neck, feeling her blood pulse below the surface. I ran the same hand down slowly, over her collarbone, down over her breast, where it lingered, curving around the soft swell of her flesh. I leaned down and followed the passage of my hand with my lips and tongue, pausing over her heart vein. Listening to the song of her blood as it moved through the chambers of her heart. I raised my eyes to hers, searching them, trying to quell the wave of desire and curiosity threatening to overwhelm me. She gazed back at me, frank and guileless. I dropped my eyes, my free hand continuing to explore, running a slow trail down her torso.

Diana was losing her breath but also her patience. She tugged again on her wrists. “Matthew, this really isn’t fair. I want... I want to...”  but she stopped, her breath hitching as my fingers finally reached her sex, dipping into the melting heat.

“What do you want, mon coeur?” I said, raising my eyebrows and looking up at her as my fingers lazily explored her wet folds . Her head fell back onto the pillows, her eyes drifting shut, as if in rapture. I drank in the view hungrily.

“Matthew,” she said shakily, opening her eyes as my fingers traced slowly up and down, just avoiding the pulsing bundle of nerves at her centre, “I don’t think that’s bundling.”

“It is in France,” I said complacently. We laughed together quietly at that, and I let go of her wrists, confident she wouldn’t try to stop me now. She raised her head, her eyes connecting with mine, as she took my face in her hands, drawing it to hers. We kissed deeply, her legs opening for me. When we pulled apart, her eyes shut again, her arms drifted back up over her face, before coming to rest above her head. Her skin, flushed and damp, glinted in the candle light. I bowed my head in silent thanks - to fate, to God, to her goddess for bringing me here to her, to this moment.

I slid one finger inside her and then another, as her breath hitched again, her lower lip trapped between her teeth.  I let my thumb drift over her clit, brushing by it once, twice, before massaging in earnest, in time to my fingers curling against the spot inside her where the swelling song of her blood directed me. A groan of pleasure escaped her parted lips, echoing the sound she had made earlier as she sank into the bath.

Yes,  I thought again.

Her orgasm was already building and I let it, not rushing her or slowing her down for this first time but following her open body’s every cue. The muscles around my fingers contracted harder and harder, her clit throbbing beneath my thumb. I smelled her climax wash over her in one colossal wave, followed by my name in a loud, guttural roar, a sound I’d never heard her make before, but that I looked forward to drawing from her over and over again in the future. I could live for that sound.

I pumped my fingers gently in the come down, her body shaking around them. I withdrew them, sucking them clean in my mouth and savouring the taste of her as it exploded on my tongue. I drew her to me tenderly, holding her close and kissing her damp skin as the tremors slowed and finally stopped. She opened her eyes, staring straight into mine, and I couldn’t help the smug smile.

“What are the historian’s thoughts on bundling now?” I asked, gently brushing back the damp hair sticking to her face. Her flushed glow was otherworldly.

She huffed quietly, smirking at my smile “it’s far less wholesome than it’s made out to be in the scholarly literature,” she said, touching my lips, “and if this is what the Amish do at night, it’s no wonder they don’t need television.”

Chapter Text

A breathy giggle escaped her lips as her head fell back onto the sheets. I laughed quietly with her, my eyes following her every move, drawing her closer to me hungrily and committing every detail to memory - the feel of her heated body in my arms, her flushed afterglow, her heartbeat calming and her scent, new to me in this state, still laced with the notes of her climax.

I bowed my head again in silent gratitude, touching my forehead to her shoulder, another test passed.

“Are you sleepy now?” I asked her, brushing my fingers through her hair. I was half dreading her answer. I much preferred her awake and there was always the prospect of more of this if she didn’t sleep quite yet.

“Oh no,” she pronounced eagerly, shaking off the remaining vestiges of her orgasm, rising to kneel on the bed and pushing me onto my back. Delighted, I let her, crossing my arms behind my head and grinning up at her, ready and willing to do anything she wanted. “Not in the slightest. Besides,” she continued, bouncing a little on her knees, a wicked twinkle in her blue eyes, “it’s my turn.”

I sighed happily. Anything she wants.

I watched her move to the bottom of the bed, where she pulled the sheet off my legs and after running her fingers lightly over my foot and ankle while she examined them, moved to straddle them. She shifted her focus up to my calves, then knees, inspecting every square inch of skin with care as she shifted slowly up my body on her knees. I smiled to myself, warmed and humbled by her attentions. Unusually for me, it took some effort to stay still.  It was proving difficult to ignore her gleaming body and the melting warmth of her sex hovering just inches above my legs, and to resist the urge to pull her over me and explore it further, this time with my mouth. I stifled a groan. She was killing me. There was time for all of that, I told myself. Maybe even tonight. My heart pounded once, painfully in my chest, as my cock throbbed again, tapping against my belly. When had I become so impatient? I felt almost human.

Diana suddenly shifted her attention to my hips and my heart jumped into my throat, thinking she had somehow divined what I was thinking. But she was focussed intently on a single spot to the side of my body just below my hip bone, her head tilted and a frown on her face. She looked up with the same concern across my chest from where she was, sitting back on her heels over my thighs.  The line between her brows deepened, her eyes darting from point to point across my chest. She finally rested her focus just below my collarbone. Bracing herself against my hip with one hand, she reached up with the other and touched the spot lightly. I tried not to get distracted by her breasts suspended above my throbbing cock and abdomen.

“What is this, Matthew?” she said, concern colouring her tone.

I lifted my head off my hands, craning my neck to see.

An old scar.

“It’s just a scar,” I said, unconcerned. I did actually recall getting that one, unlike many of the others. Realisation dawned. That was what had drawn her brows together - the myriad scars accumulated over fifteen hundred years beneath the surface of my skin. I wanted to reach out and smooth the line between her brows away with my thumb. Of all the things to worry about, I thought. “That one was made by the tip of a broadsword. The Hundred Years’ War, maybe? I can’t remember.”

I shrugged slightly. Who cares? I could think of a dozen things we could be doing that was a better use of our time in bed together than discussing how I received my old scars. As if in answer to this unspoken desire, Diana leaned down, pressing her body against mine where she was, my still hard cock slipping between her breasts as she slithered up my body to inspect the scar more closely. My breath left me with a sudden whoosh, the hairs on my skin standing on end from the instant pleasure of it, her warm body sliding against my cold. I swallowed my complaints. Apparently this could still be fun.

“A scar?” she said, still sounding concerned, “Turn over.”

I rolled onto my stomach, resting my head on my folded arms. She straddled my lower back and I suppressed a shiver as the warm wetness between her legs touched the base of my spine. Her hands slid lightly across the expanse, pausing once in a while over some or other of the marks there. Even these light touches were laden with unexpected pleasure. I hummed happily, closing my eyes as she ran her fingers across my shoulders and spine and down to my hips.

She rose from my back and knelt beside me, pulling the sheet from where it had travelled across my legs.

“Oh Matthew,” she said finally, heartbreak in her voice. My eyes snapped open. I looked over my shoulder at her, only to see the same heartbreak etched onto her features as she surveyed my legs. I turned over and sat up in alarm, reaching for her. I was forgetting that she knew so little of my story and in moments like this, needed time to come to terms with some of the things I had lived through.

“It’s nothing, mon coeur . Just my vampire body, holding on to trauma.”

“There are so many of them,” she said in despair, raising her eyes, only to focus on another on my shoulder.

“I said vampires were difficult to kill. Creatures try their best to do so anyway.”

“Did it hurt when you were wounded?”

I suppressed a smile at her line of questioning, responding as gently as I could.

“You know I feel pleasure. Why not pain too? Yes, they hurt. But they healed quickly.”

“Why haven’t I seen them before?”

“The light has to be just right, and you have to look carefully.” It dawned on me that perhaps she was coming to the realisation that this vampire body wasn’t so perfect after all. A strange stab of insecurity hit me. I had never, not even in my human years, ever fretted over my appearance. The vulnerability of it was oddly unsettling. No sooner had I named the feeling than it passed and I groaned inwardly at my own vanity.  “Do they bother you?”

“The scars themselves?” She shook her head. “No, of course not. I just want to hunt down all the people who gave them to you.”

Her fierce expression rendered me silent. I could see minute evidence of tears beginning to form in her eyes. My lips parted in surprise but no words came out. She was grieving for the pain I had experienced.

“You’ve fought enough,” she said, her voice shaking, “no more.”

“It’s a bit late for that Diana.” I finally managed. I felt I had to begin managing some of her expectations, not so much about my future but about my past. “I’m a warrior.”

“No, you’re not,” she said fiercely, “you’re a scientist.”

“I’ve been a warrior longer. I’m hard to kill. Here’s the proof.” I said, indicating my body.

She was silent for a moment, her head tilting and her eyes drifting across my torso. After a moment, the frown had at least disappeared, but the expression that remained was unreadable.

“Besides,” I pointed out, “most creatures who wounded me are long gone. You’ll have to set that desire aside.”

After a moment’s silence, she finally raised her eyes to mine, and I was a little taken aback by the fire in them. A slow smile crept across her features, twisting my insides. I watched her apprehensively.

She crept forward on all fours, pushing me onto my back again. I was surprised but certainly not unwilling to let the subject drop.

“Whatever will I replace it with?” she said in a low voice. I leaned back, propped up on my elbows, and watched as she pulled the sheet bunched under my legs out and settled herself over them again, pulling the sheet up over her head like a tent.

My eyes widened in shock, my cock suddenly hard and throbbing again, finally working out what she was thinking. She lowered her warm torso onto my thighs.

“Diana...”

But she ignored it, locking eyes with me and running her fingers along my hardened length. My eyes shut for a moment and I swallowed hard, my sluggish heart pounding painfully in my ears. She took my length roughly in hand. There was a long pause as she ran her hands lightly up and down before sliding her tongue along it from base to tip. My eyes fluttered shut, my arms giving way from under me.

I opened my eyes and looked down the length of my torso at her. She stared back before dropping her mouth over my cock and taking the length in all at once. I felt the tip hit the back of her throat.

“Fuck” I growled, unable to contain it.

She began to suck, gently at first, building up my pleasure at the same pace as I had with her, not trying to tease me or rush it but leading by instinct, an exquisite torture. I reached down and touched her hair, burying my fingers in it to try to ease the very different restlessness her ministrations were provoking, trying to be careful not to pull or hurt her. She sucked and nibbled and licked the length of me over and over while I tried to resist bucking my hips into her mouth until I could hold on no longer. My breath was coming out in gasps. I tugged on her hair to warn her of the climax that was building with almost frightening intensity but she only increased the pace, a wicked smile in her blue eyes.

That smile pushed me over the edge. I came with a cry, my hips spasming and euphoria washing through my bones, my vision turning black and my body growing rigid as she continued to suck and lick relentlessly. The release was nothing short of sheer bliss - all of the tension of the past few weeks, the restlessness, the fear, the worry and panic left my body in a rush, leaving behind only the power of what I felt for her, her love wrapped around me and a benign exhaustion.

With one final long, gentle suck, she swallowed and came off, running her hands gently from my hips up to my lower abdomen. I reached down and threaded my fingers through hers, tugging at them to pull her up to me.

She slithered up my body again, before her face hovered over mine. I stared up into her eyes, feeling as vulnerable and stripped bare as I ever had. She gazed steadily back. With my free hand behind her neck I pulled her mouth to mine and kissed her fiercely, the taste of myself on her tongue adding yet another layer to desires met and fulfilled, deepening the sense of primal satisfaction and releasing an involuntary growl from deep in my chest. Her heartbeat spiked in response together with a shadow spike of adrenaline. Fascinatingly, it was then followed by that now familiar plume of desire and an unfurling tendril of the scent of fresh moisture pooling between her legs.

Oh God. Does she like that?

The beast inside me was roaring, spurring me on to break down the last remaining barrier and just fuck her, for God’s sake. Take her, claim her . She wants it too.

I shut it down viciously, squeezing my eyes shut against the images invading my mind unbidden.

She shifted to my side and tucked herself under my arm, throwing her leg over mine.

I looked down at her, with one eye open and the other still shut as if afraid the images might jump out.

“Is that what they’re teaching at Oxford these days?” I said, trying to shake it off but my voice sounded strange in my own ears.

“It’s magic,” she replied with a smile, “I was born knowing how to make you happy.” She rested her hand over my heart.

If she only knew how true those words were.

Chapter Text

I let myself settle into the rightness of the feeling of being with her like this.

“If it is magic, then I’m even more delighted to be sharing the rest of my life with a witch,” I said, completely at ease. With her in my arms, the restlessness and agitation seemed far away. I could breathe. The life I’d had before her now seemed unspeakably bleak.

“You mean the rest of my life, not the rest of yours,” she corrected.

I was silent. There was no mistake. I already knew with unerring certainty that I wouldn’t survive her death.

When she didn’t hear a response, she pushed herself up to look at my face, her eyes a little wild. Before she could panic, I tried to explain, skirting around the issue somewhat, “Tonight I feel thirty-seven. Even more important, I believe that next year I will feel thirty-eight.”

“I don’t understand,” she said warily.

I gently pulled her back down onto my chest, resting my chin on the crown of her head and burying my fingers in her hair till they touched the nape of her neck. I stroked it between my thumb and forefinger, gently easing out the tension I could feel gathering there.

“For more than a thousand years, I’ve stood outside of time, watching the days and years go by. Since I’ve been with you, I’m aware of its passage. It’s easy for vampires to forget such things. It’s one of the reasons Ysabeau is so obsessed with reading the newspapers – to remind herself that there’s always change, even though time doesn’t alter her.”

This was part of the truth. The real truth was that it wasn’t just my perspective that had shifted but that its entire locus had changed. Whereas before my life was centred around the desire to derive some sort of meaning out of my long existence, it was now centred entirely on her. Her safety, her happiness, her life. It wasn’t a choice I had made, it had shifted entirely organically. This was the reality of the mating instinct. I weighed up whether to tell her the truth of what she was to me and risk frightening her with its implications.

“You’ve never felt this way before?” she asked.

“A few times, very fleetingly. Once or twice in battle, when I feared I was about to die.”

“So it’s about danger, not just love.” she said warily. A leaden note of fear rose up from her skin and I looked down at her in concern, her arms tightening around me. My own arms tightened around her in response.

“My life now has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Everything before was preamble. Now I have you. One day you will be gone, and my life will be over.” I said simply. I decided there was no point in hiding this from her anymore.

“Not necessarily,” she said quickly. “I’ve only got another handful of decades in me–you could go on forever.” My stomach clenched convulsively. A world without her was unthinkable. I could feel the dread pulsing out of her now, a mirror image of the dread within me, at this talk of carrying on without each other.

“We’ll see,” I said gently, my hand curving instinctively around her shoulder. She gripped me tighter still.

“You will be careful?”

“No one sees as many centuries as I have without being careful. I’m always careful. Now more than ever, since I have so much more to lose.” It seemed bleakly comical that she should be worrying about my safety when I had so much more to fear for her than she did for me.

“I would rather have had this moment with you – just this one night – than centuries with someone else,” she said softly, looking up at me.

My heart ached at her pronouncement, but I couldn’t bring myself to agree with her, considering how much I still wanted to share with her and how terrifyingly brief our time together would ultimately be in any case, even with all being well.

“I suppose if it’s taken me only a few weeks to feel thirty-seven again, I might be able to reach the point where one moment with you was enough,” I allowed. Turning towards her I decided it was time to call an end to this depressing topic. “But this talk is too serious for a marriage bed.”

I had a long list of desires for our time together and our conversation reminded me that I didn’t want to waste another moment.

“I thought conversation was the point of bundling,” she protested with mock disapproval.

“It depends who you ask, the bundlers or those being bundled,” I said, shifting her onto her back and tracing the shape of her ear with my mouth, moving slowly to her neck and onto her shoulder. The feel of her body beneath me was incongruously both sweet relief and agonising torment. “Besides, I have another part of the medieval wedding service I’d like to discuss with you.”

“You do, husband?” She nipped gently at my ear as I moved down.

“Don’t do that,” I murmured sternly “No biting in bed.” But she nipped at it again anyway. I grinned and carried on, hovering over her on my elbows, “What I was referring to was the part of the ceremony where the obedient wife,” I shot a pointed look at her, ‘promises to be ‘bonny and buxom in bed and board.’ How do you intend to fulfill that promise?”

And with that I did the first of the long list of things I’d been longing to do and buried my face in her breasts, as she squealed with laughter and pulled my face up to hers for another deep kiss. Her legs opened under me in invitation, wrapping around my waist. I drew a sharp breath in, pulling back from the kiss as she looked at me, a challenge in her eyes.

“Well, I can tell you,” she said, pulling me closer with her heels against my spine “but you, of all people, must know that both ‘bonny’ and ‘buxom’ meant different things in those days and are not what they used to be.”

“You’re right. They’re better,” I growled, giving in and grinding my cock against her centre, her head snapping back and her back arching off the bed.

This wasn’t what I had planned but it was proving almost irresistible not to just follow her cues and see what she had in mind this time - my every instinct tuned into her desires - though in a broad sense she was making no secret of what she was trying to do. Her campaigning had simply taken another form.

I decided to change tack, acknowledging that as we grew more comfortable with each other, it was becoming too easy to relax. But the fear of unintentionally causing her harm hung over me like a pall. I couldn’t push this further, but I was desperate to feel closer to her. It was beginning to feel as if nothing would be enough.

I flipped us over so that she was on top, her knees now on the mattress somewhere around my ribs. She raised herself up on her hands, positioned either side of my head and regarded me, a question in her eyes. I smiled back, gripping her behind the knees and running my hands up the backs of her thighs, over her buttocks and up her sides, lingering briefly on her breasts to run my thumbs over her nipples. Her eyes fluttered shut. I smiled to myself and continued, running my hands up around her shoulders and down her arms until I reached her hands. Taking one of her hands in each of mine, I lifted them off the mattress and braced them over my head against the ornate headboard.

She was watching me curiously, her head tilted to one side. I smiled back at her “Trust me,” I said, in answer to her unspoken question. She swallowed hard, nodding.

I gripped Diana behind the knees again and jerked her quickly up the bed, sliding down, until my mouth was in line with the melting warmth of her sex, breathing in what I had detected earlier, a fresh wave of desire and the moisture pooling within. I raised myself up on my elbows, my  hands wrapped behind her knees, locking eyes with her, watching me with her eyes as wide as saucers.

I smiled again, “I could get used to this view,” I murmured. Her skin flushed beautifully, her blood coursing below the surface and gooseflesh rising up on her skin with an electric crackle audible to my ears only. A shiver of anticipation pulsed through her.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you like this, in my bed,” I said, my eyes roving over her body suspended above me. A half smile of disbelief crossed her face.

I was enjoying this far too much. Vampires often ran the risk of sensory overload and one of the earliest skills a young vampire learns is how to tune out the unimportant. But there was nothing here that felt even close, no action or reaction too insignificant. I was too hungry for knowledge of her, the curiosity underpinning the other hungers pulsing through me, drinking in every precious clue her body betrayed. I had opened the floodgates and now I couldn’t find the will to close them.

I leaned in and swiped my tongue gently along her folds, my eyes closing with pleasure. Diana’s head fell back.

“Matthew...!” she gasped.

I hummed in delight. So responsive.

I traced up and down her folds lightly, just avoiding her clit. With my tongue then flat, I then swiped up, hard, from the base of her entrance up, locking eyes with her again as I made contact with her clit. She squeezed her eyes shut with another gasp. Her legs were already shaking around me, her hands gripping the headboard tightly.

I began to suck gently, drinking in her pleasure, focussing in on learning more about her responses. I filtered out everything but her, finely tuning in to her expressions, her heartbeat, her blood song, every quake of muscle and prickle of goose flesh on her skin. As far as I was concerned, this was the point of bundling.

I took my time this time, not chasing down every cue to lead her to climax but taking my time to learn her responses intimately, knowing, even if I knew nothing else from experience, that pleasure was more in the head and heart than in the body. Intimately acquainted as I was with that fact, I set about connecting dots - were we in a different position I would reach for her hand but as it was I had to be a little more creative.

Excellent. I loved a challenge.

I found that caressing the soft skin on the backs of her thighs as I suckled at her centre drew a wave of gooseflesh through her body, followed by an unexpected pulse of heat so intense a fine mist of perspiration settled on her skin, sparkling in the candlelight. In the midst of all this, she seemed to have drifted off to some other place entirely, her mind tuned out and giving into her body completely. Pausing to speak to her while pleasuring her seemed to bring her mind back into her body, her sensations intensifying, her heart skipping beats, her pulse amplifying under her skin and most gratifyingly, her eyes opening to settle on me. I would swear those eyes could see straight into my soul.

After a lengthy and very enjoyable period of discovery, she was starting to squirm. I had brought her to the brink a handful of times, only to reel her back in when I found another loose thread to chase down that promised even greater pleasure.

Gripping onto her hips, I lay back onto the pillow and pulled her down in one quick motion onto my mouth. With a cry that seemed to come from deep inside her, Diana let go of the headboard, her hands flying down to grip my shoulders, her eyes squeezed shut. Restlessly she sat back as I thrust my tongue inside her, lapping up each wave of pleasure, my lips and teeth moving against her clit. Her cries were reverberating off the stone walls of the tower, and it was with selfish satisfaction that I noted that Ysabeau and the rest of the household would certainly hear this.

Her body was starting to give way, her legs fatigued, and exhaustion setting in. Wrapping my arms around her back, I moved back up to suckling on her now swollen, throbbing clit. Her body was desperate for release, her blood song at an almighty crescendo, her heart beating out a frantic, erratic rhythm. The moment was perfect. Picking up the pace with my mouth, I slid two fingers into her dripping heat, spreading a little. Her walls began to grasp and clench at my fingers, a throbbing beat pulsing around them. I was dying to see her unravel. It was almost too much, a sensory overload as I drank in everything I could see, hear, smell, touch and taste, unwilling to let a single reaction pass unnoticed. I curled my fingers, caressing gently, letting her muscles come to me. As expected, they gripped and clenched, pulling to try to increase the contact.

Above me Diana was chanting my name, her face turned up to the ceiling in rapture. I inserted a third finger and curled it in with the others, massaging where she wanted me while slacking off just a little on her clit. Her muscles pulled at once and her climax took hold. I looked up at Diana’s face, turned heavenward, her skin slick with perspiration, ethereal and glowing, as she came with another powerful roar of my name. I couldn’t help but release the growl I’d been suppressing, in itself a sweet relief. Diana unravelled completely, and I watched rapturously, my mouth still against her, my fingers doing the rest of the work letting her ride it out to the end.

She collapsed over me, her fatigued legs giving way and the aftershocks of her orgasm still reverberating through her. I withdrew from her body for the second time that night and shifted her down my chest, holding her tightly against me.

“Matthew,” she croaked into my shoulder.

I rolled her gently to the side and shifting up onto my elbow to look down at her. I smiled at her, shaking my head in wonder.

“Magic,” I murmured, pulling her against me, “you were born knowing how to make me happy.”

Chapter Text

I let my gaze drift down her flush, sated body, indulging in a leisurely amble down from her swollen, parted lips to the curve of her shoulder, glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration, her gently heaving breast, the soft swell of her abdomen, over her hips and thighs, skating down her long toned legs to her toes, still subtly pointing and flexing in the aftermath of her orgasm. Her heartbeat had slowed but was now pounding with a steady, heavy beat that I could feel reverberating  through the mattress beneath us.

Now without something to focus on, I could feel the insistent tug of my own desire resurfacing, of my hunger for her swelling deep within me, the beast inside pushing up until it felt like an itch beneath my skin. I drew a breath in between my clenched teeth, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to push the feeling down again.

Why wasn’t this enough?

I stared up at the ceiling, trying to concentrate on the ribs of the turret above us but all that did was nudge my eyes back down to the sensuous curves of the warm body in my arms. My arms clenched around her and my cock, painfully hard again, twitched between us. I exhaled heavily and Diana shifted against me, raising her eyes to mine.

I couldn’t quite swallow the smug smirk in time, at the expression there.

“Was that another part of the medieval courtship rituals?” she asked archly.

I huffed out a laugh, somewhat glad for the distraction of speaking to her.

“One of many - I’d be happy to show you them all whenever you want,” I shot back with a grin. And then immediately cursed myself as my own words conjured up images of the hundreds of ways I could bring her to climax.

I drew in a sharp breath at the unmistakeable pulse of desire that rose up from her body, its edges licking at my skin like a flame.

“Well, as a historian, I would certainly be interested in that. I am all for rigour in research,” she said, her calm tone belying  the way her heart rate kicked up, her thighs rubbing subtly together.

Oh no.

I stared at her mutely. In an effort to hold onto the final, rapidly fraying thread of my control, I scrambled quickly out of the bed.

Confusion flitted across her features as she looked at me.

“One minute,” I said, smiling to stave off the beginnings of hurt I could see crossing her face.

I strode to the bathroom and straight to the vanity. Bracing myself against the counter, I stared into the mirror, willing myself to find my control. The beast within me stared back through my eyes. I could see traces of her desire still around my mouth and chin and exhaled shakily, remembering the taste of her flooding my mouth as her walls clenched around my tongue, thrusting in and out of her...

I groaned. This wasn’t helping. I ran the tap, splashing water on my face reluctantly, and drying it off with a towel.

Taking a moment to compose myself I remembered that the only way I could safely be close to her was to make this about her desires .

Her decision. Her decision.

I grabbed another towel off the stack and dampened it with warm water, heading back out to her.

She was lying curled on her side over the sheets, watching me a little warily as I approached her. The thought of having caused her to feel any measure of insecurity by leaving her side, even momentarily, made my heart clench. I smiled, holding up the warm damp towel, still bunched in my hand. She smiled in relief and moved to sit up, already holding out her hand to take it from me, but I gently pushed her hand aside. Planting one knee on the bed near her legs, I nudged her leg up and she shifted onto her back, granting me access, with a somewhat self conscious smile. I cleaned her up quickly and gently with the warm towel, humbled by her trust in me.

“Are you feeling sleepy now?” I asked her gently.

Please say yes.

Please say no.

She stared at me in silence for a long moment. Reaching her hand down, she wiggled her fingers, silently asking for my hand. I took her hand and she pulled on it, tugging me over her body. I braced myself against the bed on my elbows, running the tips of my fingers through her hair.

“What do you want, Diana?” I murmured, our faces so close I could feel her minute intake of breath, in addition to the spike in her heart rate.

She held my gaze, her eyes staring deep into mine as her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. I stared at it shamelessly.

She shook her head slightly.

I turned my head slightly in response, my eyes locking onto hers “No? No what?”

“I’m not sleepy,” she clarified.

I let out a shaky breath, trying not to let my apprehension or my elation show.

“What do you want?” I asked again.

She just smiled in response

“Are you going to make me guess?” I said, biting back my own smile.

“You seem to be able to read pretty much everything I’m thinking and feeling with your vampire instincts, so... yes,” she said with a challenging smile and a shrug. Her fingers were tracing a feather light path back and forth over my shoulder, sending a shiver down my spine, pausing at each pass over a scar I’d memorably received from a cross bow.

A rueful chuckle escaped me at her challenge.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Obvious?” she said, an edge of incredulity in her voice, “No one’s ever made me feel like... that before. And we haven’t even... even...” she drifted off, her eyes dropped abashed to her fingers against my shoulder.

I winced, but recovered before she caught it.

“Like what?” I said, diverting her attention down the first path.

She looked up into my eyes again, and my heart thumped once audibly in my chest.

She shook her head with a small huff of laughter, “As if you don’t know,” she smirked, “Does your ego really need the stroking?”

I grinned at her. “Yes. Humour me.”

She looked down again, avoiding my eyes, “It’s as if you know everything I’m thinking, feeling.... wanting. As if... as if you know my body better than I do. As if it will do and feel things for you, for your hands and your mouth and your body that I didn’t even know it could.”

A hot white flare of possessive pride burned through me at the implication of her words. That she was mine . That her body will respond like that only to me . Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognised the potential ugliness of that sentiment,  but I couldn’t bring myself to feel the self loathing that I should.

With a groan I couldn’t suppress, I kissed her deeply, relishing the way her body arched into me and her mouth moaned into mine. I pulled away breathlessly, watching the flush in her cheeks with satisfaction.

I’d never felt so deeply grateful for every heightened instinct and burdensome ability my wretched existence had bestowed onto me, if only to be able to be here to please her with.

An idea suddenly crossed my mind. With a gentle finger, I tilted her chin up to look at me.

She raised her eyes to mine.

“What is it?” she asked with a wary smile.

I paused, taking a deep breath.

“Do you want to know?”

Her brows drew together slightly, her head tilting, “Know what?”

“How I know,” I replied.

She shook her head slightly, “I’m not sure I ...”

“I can show you,” I pressed on. At her silence, I elaborated “I can show you how I know what you want.”

She stared at me, her pupils blown wide, a slow smile spreading across her face. She nodded.

I smiled back. “Ok.”

I lowered my head down to hers, watching as her eyelids fluttered shut as my forehead came to rest against hers. I closed my eyes, letting my preternatural instincts take over.

“Your heart,” I started, and my breath caught suddenly, an unexpected wave of emotion crashing over me. My eyes snapped open. Hers opened a second later, watching me. I fought to stop my voice breaking at the thought of that fragile instrument thrumming in her chest, and how completely she trusted me to allow me into it.

With another deep breath I closed my eyes again, starting once more. “Your heart, it all starts with the beat. I know your heart beat so well now, I can hear it from quite a distance. If you were here and I downstairs, I could detect it, even if this house was full of other warm bloods.”

She opened her eyes, her eyebrows raising slightly in surprise.

“Sometimes I think I could probably hear it from a mile away. And that’s not hyperbole, I mean it literally.”

Her lips parted in disbelief at that. I smiled back.

I drifted my hand down her jaw, pulling my thumb across her lips, following its movement with my eyes.

“You already know that I can tell when your blood rushes to where I touch you.” I glanced up into her eyes. She nodded with a gulp.

“And that I can’t just feel it, I can hear it too. Your blood song.” She nodded again. “Well. Here’s something you may not know. Your blood also tells me where you expect me to touch next,” I smiled up at her, letting my thumb dwell over her bottom lip with purpose, where the blood was pooling below the surface. Her slightly parted lips opened further and she pulled my thumb into her mouth, running her tongue around it.

“Yes?” I asked with a shaky breath.

She nodded.

I pulled my hand down gently, pulling my thumb out of her mouth, otherwise this would be a very brief demonstration indeed. I continued running my hand down her jaw, over her throat, pausing over her pulse point. Her heartbeat dutifully kicked up. I glanced up into her eyes again.

“Now what can you possibly be thinking?” I murmured. “I can hear the blood rushing to this point. And your pulse,” I swallowed hard, fighting myself, as the tender skin beneath my thumb rose and fell minutely. Her pulse increased, and her heart began to pound, “your pulse is stronger, faster, and your heart rate has picked up too. And your adrenaline has spiked. Is it fear?” I mused aloud, more to myself than Diana. I lowered my lips to the point, feeling the thrum against my lips. It was so good, so good. But I wanted more. As I lifted my face, that familiar scent of desire pulsed out of her, rising off her skin with the sheen of perspiration. And a pool of moisture was beginning to collect afresh between her legs, it’s scent more intoxicating than even her blood.

“It’s not fear,” Diana supplied, her voice starting to quiver but her gaze as steady as ever.

“I know,” I responded with a grin. I dragged my other hand from her shoulder down her body, over her breast, the nipple pebbling under my palm. My smile grew wider, but I didn’t pause. It was as if all of the blood in her body was rushing to her core, and I had no choice but to follow.

“You know desire has a scent all it’s own? Right now I can smell yours, pulsing out of your body, a vapour on your breath.” I kissed her parted lips gently, her eyes closing briefly.

My hand reached her hipbone and continued, dipping unerringly between her legs, seeking out the fresh moisture I had scented earlier.

“But it’s this your body wants to show me,” I said. My fingers delved between her folds and didn’t pause upon finding the telltale traces of moisture wetting her upper thighs but dipped straight into her.

Diana gasped, her hips bucking, her head falling back and her eyes slamming shut. “Matthew!”

“Yes, mon coeur?” I whispered against her skin. “You’re so wet again. Shall I see what you want?”

“Yes,” she rasped.

I curled my fingers slightly pumping them in and out of her before turning my hand slightly so that the heel of my palm rested against her clit, my fingers still inside her. I tightened my grip and her hips bucked helplessly against my hand.

I chuckled. “I think I’m getting close, I would say.”

Diana smiled up at me before gasping again as my fingers started to creep up her front wall, deeper and deeper.

“There is a point...right... here, that’s calling to me,” I smiled, tapping it once lightly with one fingertip “your blood song is playing hot and cold with me. I get close” I demonstrated by creeping closer “and it hums for me. I drift away,” I crept my fingers slightly to the left, “and it fades.”

Diana drew in a sharp breath, her exhales hot and fast now, fighting to keep watching and not give in to the sensation. Her skin was slick with perspiration, a few strands of her hair sticking to her face, flushed and glowing.

“You are so beautiful,” I said honestly, staring at her unashamedly.

Her lips parted as if to speak, but I dropped my head, listening for her body’s cues. I crept my fingers further up, even further, further when I found the little spot, where her pulse was concentrated. My eyes flashed up to her face as I pressed against it. “Found it,” I said, grinning up at her.

A high pitched noise escaped from the back of her throat as her head fell back and her parted legs fell open bonelessly against the mattress.

“Matthew! What... what...?”

“What is it?” I supplied with a smile. “This magic little spot is responsible for the intensity of your orgasms... you felt it earlier, but now we’re going to give it some... attention.”

I started to stroke gently, right against it, before pulling my fingers in and out of her with slightly more exaggerated movements at every pass.

“It grows as I touch it, swelling against my fingers,” I explained. “I know the sensation is intensifying because, well,” and I pressed against it with purpose as I watched her and Diana cried out, her head falling back and her hips bucking again “you tell me.”

I shifted slightly and brought my other hand under the small of her back, pulling her up towards me, now kneeling between her legs.

“I can make you come just with this,” I said, raising an eyebrow at her as I stroked steadily inside her. She stared at me, her eyes glazed. “But your body is begging for release. It wants me to take a... shortcut,” I lifted the heel of my hand from her clit and quickly bent down and licked it with the tip of my tongue.

A cross between a wild yelp and a gasp escaped Diana’s lips, her hips bucking again.

“Please, please, please Matthew” she begged under her breath, her eyes closed.

“I’ll do whatever you want. Do you want me to try? Can I show you?” I asked softly.

Her eyes opened to look at me, focussing slowly. She nodded shakily, palpably trying to relax.

I grinned, easing myself down between her legs, I lifted one leg over my shoulder, opening her up to me further. Her thighs instantly started to shake. Her head started to thrash from side to side as I continued to rub against the spot inside her, harder and harder. Her body was starting to arch away from my fingers, trying to control the intensity, so with my free hand on her stomach, I pushed down gently against the spot just against her pubic bone, bringing it closer to my fingers inside her, wanting to see her fall apart as badly as she needed the release.

And then suddenly as if a fuse had been lit, I felt the spark ignite, her walls fluttering around my fingers and a fresh flood of moisture washing over my fingers as Diana came spectacularly, her mouth open in a silent scream, her back bowed and suspended for a frozen moment off the bed. It ended with a cracked sob, riding the crest of the wave for what seemed like an eternity. I helped her ride it to the end, prolonging it as long as I could before easing her down gently, not yet withdrawing from her.

Her body twitched and spasmed with the aftershocks, her scent turning honeyed and mellow. I finally withdrew slowly before crawling up her body to hold her to me.

“I will never get tired of that,” I said.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down for a breathless kiss.

“You look so smug,” she laughed, and my chest tightened at the lightness in her voice.

“I have good reason to be,” I said, relaxing back against the bedding.

She sighed, her eyelids heavy.

“I think you should get some sleep,” I said,

“I’m not sleepy,” she said, stifling a yawn.

I laughed, feeling her lightness seep into me “I’ll stay with you, I’m not going anywhere.”

She yawned against the back of her hand, glancing up at me apologetically.

“Sleep,” I said again, brushing my lips against her forehead.

She nodded, curling against my side, her hand coming to rest against my heart. I started to count her breaths, already thinking of how I planned to wake her up in the morning, as the rare sensation of exhaustion crept over me as well.