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“Rosalie helped me.” Kayan slips his arms around my waist. The fire crackles orange, and white, and blue, and green, and purple. As it dances, little shapes rise up, formed from the flames themselves. Roses, hearts, birds, trees.
“She’s amazing.” I press my palms to his hands, leaning back into his chest, my wings pressed between us.
I could stay like this forever, soaking up his warmth; I have never felt as calm as I do around him.
“She’s certainly got tricks up her sleeve,” he chuckles. “But I feel sorry for Bryant.”
“Why?” I laugh, spinning around and looking up at Kayan. He is taller than me by almost a foot, and from here, his blond hair looks darker.
“She’s very demanding, let’s put it that way,” he says. “High energy.”
“And I’m not high energy?” I quirk an eyebrow at him.
He runs his thumb over my lips and smiles. “No. You’re stillness, and sweetness, and everything that’s calm.”
There’s that word again. Calm.
I sigh and reach up on the tips of my toes to kiss him. We have never been alone like this before. Perhaps because we knew what it would lead to.
I hook my arms around his neck and press myself against him. As the kiss deepens, his hands roam my back, then skim my wings, pausing to tease their lower tips.
I sigh, a moan parting my lips, and tilt my pelvis towards him.
When I feel him stiffening beneath my touch, I smile into his lips, and he laughs. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That’s not what tonight is about. I just wanted time. The two of us. After everything, I thought you might just want to be alone. To talk.”
I shake my head, staring into his eyes. “Talking is the last thing I want to do, Kayan.”
My hands go to his waist, and I unfasten his pants.
He swallows forcefully, closing his eyes and sighing as I push them down over his hips, then slip my hand into his underwear. We have touched like this before, but never somewhere like this.
Never completely alone, locked away from the world, able to go as far as we want to go.
As I start to touch him, he groans and tugs open the front of my dress, his lips finding my nipples and taking them, in turn, into his warm, waiting mouth. He sucks, and nibbles, and then I sink down to the floor and kneel in front of him.
Staring at me, he strokes the side of my face, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You don’t have to...” he whispers.
But I’m already smiling up at him, opening my mouth, running my lips and tongue along his shaft.
The noises he makes, and the way his wings unfurl and fill the room, glowing blue, energy pulsing, makes me moan, too.
I love turning him on like this. The power I feel over him. It’s almost intoxicating.
As I take him deeper into my mouth, and hold onto the backs of his thighs, I close my eyes, and wonder...
What if I could make him want me more?
It feels so good when he touches me. What if I could intensify that feeling for him? Make it bigger, and more intense?
I search for his feelings, fingers of curiosity snaking out from my mind to his. If he feels them enter him, he doesn’t betray it. His stance doesn’t change, and the noises he’s making don’t change.
He is lost in the moment, enjoying every second of my touch.
I don’t need to do this.
But I don’t get to play with my powers the way the others do.
I glance at the fireplace.
