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His lips meet the inside of my thigh first, soft and unhurried, and my fingers slip into his hair while my other hand remains braced against the wood.

His kisses travel higher until his breath brushes over me, and my cheeks burn at the thought of him seeing just how wet I already am. Yet even with embarrassment warming my face, my hips shift towards him, eager for more.

The first stroke of his tongue against my cunt draws a helpless cry from my throat, my hips bucking towards him.

He licks slowly through my wetness, tasting me, then alternates between soft, teasing flicks against the swollen peak and long, wet strokes with the flat of his tongue.

The familiar hum of soulglimmer swells beneath my skin, buzzing so fiercely that my thighs tremble against his cheeks. Every pass leaves me gasping, the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth mingling with the little cries I can’t hold back.

He seals his mouth over me, sucking gently as his tongue continues to move, and something rich and molten blooms low in my belly.

I rock against his face, and he groans, his hands tightening on my thighs as he holds me wide open. The buzzing grows fiercer beneath my skin, warm and relentless, sinking deeper with every stroke until my arms are trembling so badly that I can barely keep myself upright.

“Iscairn—”

His name breaks on a desperate gasp as my head falls back and the heat coiled deep in my belly finally gives way. A whimper escapes my lips, my thighs spasming as the blue surges through me in great, shuddering waves. My cunt pulses against his tongue, and he stays with me through every last tremor, unhurried and thorough, until I’m slumped and panting, my whole body trembling as his touch gradually softens and the last of the soulglimmer fades beneath my skin.

He rises from between my knees, and I catch him by the shoulders, drawing him into a lingering kiss. I taste my wetness on his tongue, and my fingers slip into his hair, pulling him closer as his arms settle around my waist. He kisses me once more before helping me down, keeping me close as I turn within his embrace. His hands wander over my hips, settling against the curves of my arse as I lean forward and brace my palms against the wood. He bends to kiss the back of my shoulder, his lips lingering against my skin.

“All right?” he murmurs.

I nod, reaching back to catch his hand and tug him closer.

His cock presses against my cunt, and he eases into me slowly, a shaky breath catching in my throat as my fingers curl around the edge of the table. I press back to meet him, and he pulls away just as gently, only to push into me again with a little more force.

The next thrust sets the wood creaking beneath my palms, damp linen dragging against my skin as our movements quicken and wet, obscene sounds fill the little room.

His hand slips from my hip, followed by the soft whisper of a ribbon coming undone behind me. His long hair spills over my shoulder, cool strands brushing my neck as he bends over me, his bare chest pressing against my spine. One arm braces beside my head while the other curls around my waist. I turn my face against my folded arms, the hard edge digging into my thighs each time I press back against him.

A rough groan rumbles against my shoulder, his breath hot on my skin while faint traces of blue flicker at the edges of my vision. Then he pulls away, and my hand reaches back towards him.

“No, no, what are you⁠—”

An arm slips around my waist as he brings me upright and turns me towards him, and the rest of my complaint disappears against his mouth. My arms wind around his neck as our tongues meet, slow and languid, the taste of my wetness still lingering on his lips. I pull him closer, pressing my bare chest against his, and he slips his hands beneath my hips, lifting me onto the edge of the table without breaking our kiss.

My skirts are still gathered about my waist, but I pull them higher and part my knees to make room for him so he can settle between them. He pulls me towards him, our kisses growing wet and messy as our breathing falters against one another's mouths. His lips wander down my throat, and my fingers dig into his shoulders.

“Iscairn—”

His grip tightens around my hips, and he drives into me hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. He pulls back only to thrust again, the force setting a rough, relentless rhythm. My skirts drag damply between our bodies, the wet slap of his hips filling the room as his cock strikes that tender place deep inside my cunt. Sparks flicker across my vision, my body clenching around him as wetness drips onto the wood.

I lock my ankles behind his back and pull him deeper, a raw groan tearing from his throat as the table jolts beneath me. My moans break against his mouth, fingers clutching at his shoulders while blue light flares wildly across our skin.

The pleasure coils thick and fast through my belly and blood, the soulglimmer surging between us until I come with a helpless cry. He gathers me closer, his long hair brushing my cheeks as I bury my face against his neck, clinging to him through the last of those trembling waves.

His own breathing grows ragged against my ear, and then he groans gutturally, spilling inside me as the blue light flares around us one last time.

When he finally eases away, he cups my cheek and presses another lingering kiss to my lips.

“A hundred and fifty years, Ophelia,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over my cheek, “and I am still quite hopelessly in love with you.”

“Oh, you big, bird-beaked bastard,” I whisper, turning to kiss his palm. “I used to think forever sounded like an awfully long time. Now you've gone and made me worry it won't be nearly long enough. You've made a right mess of me, you know.”

He smiles and kisses me again before reluctantly slipping from my arms to fetch a basin of warm water and some clean linen. Soon he's kneeling between my legs, gently cleaning my skin, his touch growing softer when he reaches the old scars on my thigh. I stopped being embarrassed by them years ago, but even after a hundred and fifty years, the care he takes with those uneven marks still makes me feel ridiculously loved. I brush his dishevelled hair from his face, and he looks up at me, his thumb resting against the thickest scar.

When he rises, I wrap my legs around his waist and tuck my face against his neck, enjoying the warmth of his embrace as the fire burns low behind us. We stay like that for a while, his hand resting comfortably against my back, until he kisses my temple and speaks with a familiar hint of amusement.

“Now, Ophelia, I do not suppose all this has made you forget about your tea?”