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They arrived at his new home, a modest townhouse tucked away on a quiet side street, and Osric fumbled with his keys, his hands suddenly clammy. He’d never brought anyone here before, never felt the need to share this part of himself with another. But Hali wasn’t just anyone. Hali saw him, all of him, and loved him all the same.
Finally, he unlocked the door and ushered her inside. The hearth was cold, the living room sparse but meticulously organized. There were no family portraits, no mementos of a life before. He was a man shaped by his training, by his sense of duty, and it showed in every corner of his home.
Except for the workbench in the corner, covered with metalworking tools, scraps of metal, and a few half-finished projects. Osric’s chest tightened with nerves, and he led Hali over to the bench, his hand shaking as he reached for a small wooden box hidden in a compartment.
“I . . . I’ve been working on something. For you.” He held out the box, his eyes fixed on the floor. “If you’ll have it.”
Hali’s eyes widened, and she took the box from him, her fingers brushing against his. “Oh. Oh, Osric. You didn’t have to get me anything.”
He shrugged, his cheeks still burning. “It . . . it reminded me of you. The flames. The passion. The strength. I hope it’s not too forward of me, but . . .”
Hali’s eyes filled with tears, and she stood on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’d be honored to wear it, if you made it for me.”
He opened the box, revealing the harness and strap he’d spent the past few days crafting. The leather was soft and supple, with intricate flame patterns tooled into its surface. He’d dyed it a rich, dark red, the color of coals just before they burst into flame. It was a little rough, a little imperfect, but he hoped it would show her how much he cared, how much he longed to explore this new dimension of intimacy with her.
“Oh, Osric.” Her voice was a soft, breathy sound, and she reached out to trace the flames with a reverent touch. “It’s beautiful.”
“It’s not as beautiful as you.” He winced, the words coming out far too flowery and awkward. But Hali was smiling, a soft, secret smile, and his heart swelled.
Hali’s eyes gleamed with a mischievous flame. “Ah, but which of us should wear it first?”
Osric’s whole body flushed, the runes and scars glowing hot. “I. Um. Was hoping . . . you might do the honors?”
“I’d be delighted to.”
The air between them crackled with an unspoken question, a silent challenge. Slowly, Hali stepped closer to Osric, never breaking his gaze. She reached up, her fingers trailing along the fiery rune tattoos that marred his face. Without a word, she pulled him down to her, and their lips met in a searing kiss.
Years of repressed emotion poured out of Osric in that kiss, a lifetime of duty and sacrifice and never feeling like he was enough. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, and kissed her as though he never wanted to stop. Hali’s lips were soft and warm beneath his, her curves fitting against him with a perfect, maddening rightness. She tasted of honey and ale and something that was uniquely her, and Osric wanted to savor that taste forever.
He was a man made of fire, and he was sure he would burn to ashes from the inside out with the intensity of his need for her. The flames in his veins roared, matching the inferno of longing that consumed him, and he never wanted it to end. He never wanted to let her go.
Their hands moved of their own accord, fumbling with laces and buckles, desperate to shed the layers that separated them. Osric’s shirt fell to the floor, and Hali’s dress followed, pooling at her feet. She stood before him in her smallclothes, the soft curves of her body bathed in the moonlight that streamed through the window.
“You’re so beautiful,” Osric whispered, his voice raw with emotion. He dropped to his knees before her, his hands trailing up her thighs, and pressed a kiss to her belly. “So strong. So brave.”
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he spoke the words he wished he’d said long ago. He wanted her to know how he saw her, how she’d changed him. She was a beacon in the darkness, a steady flame that warmed his cold heart. She was his home.
He unhooked her smallclothes, and they joined the pile on the floor. Osric straightened, and for a long moment, he simply looked at her, committing every curve, every freckle, every scar to memory. She was stunning, breathtaking, and he wanted to spend the rest of his days worshiping at her feet.
He drew her into his arms, and their skin met, searing and tender. He kissed her, a feather-soft touch, and she sighed against his lips. Her hands found the laces of his pants, and with trembling fingers, she undid them. They fell away, and he was naked before her, his scars and tattoos and rune-carved skin laid bare.
“You are a masterpiece,” Hali said, her voice thick with tears. “A work of art.”
She traced the runes on his chest, her touch gentle, reverent. Osric closed his eyes, savoring the sensation, the warmth of her fingers on his skin. He’d spent so long hiding, so long trying to be someone he wasn’t. But with Hali, he could be himself, all of himself, and she loved him all the same.
He kissed her, pouring all of his love, his gratitude, his passion into that kiss. He wanted her to feel it, to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, how he felt. He’d been a fool to keep his heart locked away, to deny himself this, this exquisite torture of being in love. He wanted to drown in it, in her, and never resurface.
She guided him to the harness, and he helped her step into it. His fingers lingered on her skin, tracing the line of her hip, the curve of her thigh. He adjusted the straps, the fit, and each touch sent a jolt of fire through him. He was trembling, his hands slick with sweat, but he was determined to do this right, to show her how much she meant to him.
Their eyes met, and she smiled, a soft, knowing smile. She took his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing his scarred knuckles. Osric’s breath caught in his throat, and he closed his eyes, trying to steady himself.
“Take your time, my love,” Hali said. “We have all the time in the world.”
Hali slid the dildo into the slot on the harness, and it fit perfectly, like a missing piece of a puzzle. Osric’s heart raced as he watched her, his anticipation mounting with each passing second.
Hali’s fingers were gentle as she eased his cunt open, speaking softly and reassuringly to him as she did so. “You’re doing great, Oz,” she murmured, her voice a soothing balm to his nerves. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”
Osric felt the head of the dildo teasing his folds, and he couldn’t help but squirm and whimper in response. The sensation was overwhelming. He wanted more, needed more, and he found himself begging Hali to fuck him.
