Fire and Ice - 11

The room smelled of mint and silk, the air heavy with steam from the bath Kio had drawn earlier, its warmth lingering like a soft embrace.

Moonlight spilled across the bed in pale stripes, cutting through the haze, casting a silver glow over the worn floorboards and iron bedframe.

Mira stood by the window, nude but not flaunting, her bronze skin luminous, her full breasts rising gently, her toned stomach taut above the flare of her hips.

Her rounded, firm ass caught the light, her long, muscular legs steady, her bare pussy a subtle curve beneath her mound, her red hair spilling wild over her shoulders, framing her sharp jaw and full lips.

Her amber eyes watched the night stretch quiet beyond the glass, her fireblood calm, a gentle ember.

She didn't turn when Kio entered, his steps silent, his presence a quiet tide.

"No ice tonight," she said, her voice low, soft, not teasing but certain.

He paused by the door, his dark eyes tracing her form, steady and unhurried.

"No rope," she added, turning to face him, her eyes soft, unguarded, no smirk, just trust. "Just you."

Kio didn't ask, his silence a promise.

He crossed the room, stripping with the same calm he always wore—shirt, trousers falling away, revealing his lean, muscled frame—and joined her beside the bed.

Mira reached for him, her fingers brushing his chest, not with hunger but with something deeper, more dangerous: trust.

She climbed onto the bed first, pulling him with her, straddling his lap, her thighs warm against his hips.

The fire pattern beneath her left breast—a non-magical tattoo etched to guide her fireblood's focus—pressed against his chest, its lines a quiet reminder of her control.

"You can still fuck me rough," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear, "but not tonight."

Kio's hands moved slowly, gliding over her thighs, her sides, the small of her back, not groping but holding, his touch a worship of her body's strength and softness.

Mira's breath trembled as she kissed him—open-mouthed, deep, pressing her hips to his cock, already hard beneath her.

He didn't thrust, letting her grind, her pussy slick, her heat teasing his length.

She moaned softly, her fingers curling into his hair, her breasts brushing his chest, her nipples taut against his skin.

She reached between them, guiding his cock to her entrance, her pussy soaked, folding around him inch by inch as she sank down.

The slow, warm pressure filled her, no resistance, just a perfect fit, her nails digging into his shoulders as she bottomed out, their breaths syncing, a shared rhythm.

Mira didn't move for a long moment, sitting full, trembling faintly, her fireblood humming low, warm, and steady.

Then—one roll of her hips, slow and circling, her pussy clenching around him, gasping as the fire pattern's memory cooled her overheated skin.

Another roll, deeper, her thighs quivering, her moans breathy, soft, like a woman rediscovering her own voice.

Kio's hands gripped her hips, not to control but to anchor, guiding her rhythm—shallow at first, her clit brushing his base, her breasts swaying with each motion.

"I've burned so long," she whispered, grinding harder, her pussy tightening, her voice raw. "No one ever held me through it."

"You don't have to burn alone anymore," Kio murmured, thrusting up to meet her, slow and deep, matching her need.

Mira clenched around him, her thighs shaking, her pace breaking as pleasure built, her fireblood glowing softly, no blaze, just warmth.

"I'm close—fuck, I—Kio—" she gasped, her voice trembling, her body arching.

"Let go," he said, his voice low, steady, a quiet command.

Her orgasm hit like a quake—quiet, shuddering, rippling from her core, her pussy clenching tight, her clit throbbing, a warm flood of pleasure spilling through her, her thighs quivering, her breath catching in a soft moan.

She collapsed against him, still grinding weakly, her breasts pressed to his chest, her body lost in the gentle tide of release, her fireblood at peace.

Kio didn't stop.

He rolled her onto her back, staying buried inside her, his cock warm and firm, moving again—slow, deep thrusts, giving her wave after wave, each stroke a worship of her body.

Mira kissed his neck, his chest, her lips soft, whispering his name like a vow, her hands tracing his shoulders, her thighs wrapped around him.

When Kio came, it was with a deep grunt, his hips locking tight to hers, his release flooding her, his hands bracing on either side of her head.

He stayed inside her, warm, still, anchored, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling in the quiet.

They lay tangled for a long while, no words, no urgency, just breath and pulse, the bed a haven that no longer needed to burn.

The tavern's moonlight wrapped them, its silence a gentle embrace, Mira's fireblood at rest, her heart steady in Kio's quiet hold.