His tongue shot out to wet his lips and it had my hand sliding farther south at just the thought of what it felt like when he'd traced part of me...what it'd feel like if he traced other parts of me with it, even. His eyes tracked the movement, flicking to my face for scarcely a second to gauge my mood.

I felt movement down our bond as if our constant affections and the nature of feeding it had given it a mind of its own. I recalled the words that Prince Roan had said so long ago, calling it a greedy creature. Even muted it pulled as closer and closer together, though it seemed we would have wound up here one way or another.

I slipped my fingers beneath my thin cotton underwear and spread my legs just a little bit wider. I shoved away considerations about asking the ship for something cuter. That's a problem for a different time. "Esayr?"

His eyes closed when I called his name and his head fell back just the tiniest bit. It made the line of his neck more noticeable, among other things when the action pulled the muscles in his stomach taught and made those sleep pants that were no better than sweat pants ride just a little bit lower. When his eyes opened he was looking at me through those dark lashes, "I could remind you, though if you felt nothing worth remembering we could consider something else."

He took one step and then two, advancing on me quicker than I had expected. "Excuse you," he stopped at the tone in my voice. I stroked my fingers gently through the wetness that been a constant presence since I'd finally given myself the freedom to cross into that territory with him. "Last I checked you lost our game. Only winners are allowed near the couch." I pulled my left leg up, bent at the knee so it could rest against the back of the couch.

He looked almost surprised, until I jerked my chin back to the bedroom door, "Loser takes the bed." I wondered if he could smell me. I was certainly wet enough and the feel of my exploring fingers was only making it more and more noticeable, coating them and the fabric of my clothing quickly enough.

His hands flexed at his sides, with the left one his fingers played with the fabric of his pants, pulling it tight across his leg for a moment with an absent gesture, that brought the outlying of his cock into stark relief.

I swallowed just as he dropped into the chair across from me, looking for all the world like a satisfied male, "Then the chair is neutral territory." When he looked at me his eyes were heavy-lidded and glued to me. It made me feel powerful, and I knew that feeling built in different ways in this room between us, where we had created a simple sanctuary both of vulnerability as well as strength. "Does it feel the same?"

My heart stuttered nearly to a stop as his coaxing words filled the room no matter how quietly he said them.

"Addy? Does it feel the same as when I sank my fingers so deep inside you that there was nothing left for you to take of them?" He looked thoughtful as he languidly looked me over; from my rocking hips to my breasts that were tightened peaks beneath my shirt, and all the way up to my face that I would've sworn would never be turned away from him ever again.

I was growing like some silly little plant down on the planet I'd been born on, and he had made himself my sun. "I'm—they're not—" I couldn't get the words out to tell him I'd done little more than stroke my slick folds. I had just meant to tease him a little, and yet he'd met my challenge head-on.

"They should be." His hand came up, the tips of his fingers sliding across his mouth like he wanted to wipe the smile off of it, but it still lingered, "Indulge me," he let the words linger in the air before continuing, "touch yourself."

I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He was so effortlessly beautiful all the time. Most days he made me feel that way too like I was wanted with an air of desperation that would never quite disappear no matter how much we saw each other, but there was a measured understanding that even though I was certain of his want for me, I still wanted to hear it; needed to sometimes. I swallowed past my dry throat. Here, with my hand down my pants in the light of this room as the singular center of his attention, I needed reminding that he wanted me --all of me, not just those vague afterimages of me in the dim light, but also the ones in stark relief that hid none of the flaws I'd had two decades to catalog, "Tell me again."

"To touch yourself?"

He rubbed the heel of his hand down his thigh in an absent gesture, but it brought my attention back to his lap as easily as the rigid outline of his cock, "No, tell me again all the ways that you want me."

That surprised him. I could see it in the way his eyes widened just a little bit and his mouth dropped open. If he'd been standing I knew with barely any --or maybe every reason now that I'd begun to align myself with this open acceptance-- that he would have rocked back onto his heels from the shock of it.

Then, just as quickly as I had acclimated to this whole idea in the first place, his expression shifted to that sleepy look that I'm sure I'd come to realize could make me wet within a second, "You've gotten bolder, Addison."

It was my turn to be shocked. He'd adopted the use of my nickname so quickly, it was almost felt taboo for him to call me by my full name. It made me feel...naughty.

The hint of a dimple showed on his cheek when the right side of his lip turned up just a little bit. He pitched his voice lower than it had been, low enough that I was straining to hear him across the short distance that separated us and he had me hanging on every word.

"You don't know, Addison, how desperately I wanted to talk to you. I'd imagine that isn't quite what you meant when you asked me to remind you of the ways I wanted you, was it?"

I shook my head, my fingers returning to their awkward rhythm. Moments like this were few and far between when your life was spent shuffled amongst living arrangements crowded with other girls...or nuns.

"I wanted to tell you everything that I saw when I looked at you, Addison, even more so when I felt you. I wanted to tell you how when I look at you I would shout to the skies above that fate had seen fit to gift me a goddess. When my hands skated down the curves of your sides and you told me yes, I swore that I knew the very same things Volla'Drannen did that sent him into the unknown after his mate. But, those aren't really the things you want to hear are they?"

I watched as he folded his big body up for a moment, before sliding down onto the floor and inching closer to me.

"The floor is neutral territory," the smile teased the corner of his mouth again as he continued closer. When he finally settled near me, just far enough away from the couch that I couldn't reasonably tell him he was breaking rules he asked, "Where was I?"

I wanted to pull my hands back and reach for him, but the second I began to move them, his eyes pinned me to the spot, "Keep touching yourself," he paused, giving me the freedom to decide whether I'd do what he'd asked. He waited to see if I'd listen. When I did his tongue shot out to wet his lips, "Are you wet?"

I managed to stutter out a mangled 'yes', as I fought back that rangey anxious feeling that always wanted to ruin these moments. The same feeling you'd let ruin these moments before. Not again.

"Are you as wet as when I touched you?" He was smiling now, that warm cocky smile that he sometimes got. It was a tad more feral than the softer ones that were his usual fare. It made my breasts feel achy and a liquid heat pool in my lower stomach.

"I don't know." My fingers were slick and so were my underwear, from something as simple as listening to him talk. He would undo me.

He tsked, "That's a shame. The next time I have my fingers buried inside you, we'll find out."

He said it so nonchalantly, but the heated words rolled over me anyway, they had me slipping my fingers farther down and into my core in just the way he'd wanted.

Esayr looked hungry when he caught the sight of me angling my hips just a little more, "I wanted to tell you how hot you were in my hand and wrapped around my fingers. Wanted to ask you how wet you were...just like that," I don't think either of us were quite certain if that last bit was in reference to the fact that he'd just asked me if I were wet, or if he liked the rocking movements of my hips and the little whimper that came out when I tried to mimic the feel of his fingers from earlier, "You were so tight around my fingers that I was certain you'd strangle my cock in the best way possible. I wanted to tell you that when we fuck, Addison, we'll both feel every stroke of it."

The bite of frustration lingered behind the webs of pleasure that were tying themselves to the base of my spine. It didn't feel the same as when he'd touched me and I couldn't grab onto the right sensation to pull it to the forefront even with his words stoking my desire higher and higher, "I can't-".

"You can let go, Addison," his heated words softened to ones of comfort.

I certainly wish I could. He'd mistaken my frustration for apprehension when that wasn't what this was. This sensation of him being here with me while I came was --I wouldn't quite say familiar-- but it was no longer unknown. It didn't tease me with the cold tickle of fear like it had before, and though I did still fight the nerves, I was wholeheartedly in this moment here with him, "No...it doesn't feel the same as you."

Esayr drank me in for a moment before his soft words turned to silk, "Show me. I want to see you. Can you do that for me, Addy?"

"Yes," when I pulled my hand away, my fingers were slick, proof of how wet he'd made me. I didn't even have the chance to grab the hem of my clothes before he'd shot forward and grabbed my hand.

My fingers rested on his lips. I could feel his smile in the pads of my fingers just before his tongue shot out to lick my palm just below the base of my pointer and middle finger, sliding upwards to tease the skin between them. Esayr's eyes blazed, "I want my mouth on you." The words were harsher than what was normal for his Vallan, but he didn't make any move to rush me despite the urgency in the declaration.

An image of his head between my thighs flashed through my mind, my fingers running through his dark curls while his shoulders pinned my legs open while he pushed me further into the cushions of the couch until I could barely even move my hips beneath his mouth. The image was erotic and it caused my core to tighten. On the heels of that feeling came the anxiety and the shame. The chiefest concern spilled out of my mouth into the air between us, "I haven't shaved."

I wanted to snatch the words back so badly. Of course, he knew that I hadn't. he'd had his hands down my pants earlier today. The concern had buried itself into the back of my mind and while I hadn't given it much thought over the last few hours it would still pop back up reminding me that I hadn't found a razor on this ship since I'd first been brought here.

On top of that, there was a decided difference between someone's hand being on your pussy and their whole ass face. What if he doesn't like it? What if something is wrong with me? I couldn't handle it I'd be too mortified if something went wrong. All manner of embarrassing scenarios sped through my mind.

"I promise you, Addy, that no matter the circumstance I'll want my face buried between your thighs, shaved or not. You blush so much for my fingers you make my mouth jealous," he kissed the tips of my fingers then, soothing the concern I'm sure was evident on my face.

"Not your cock?" It certainly looked jealous, standing at attention caught in the confines of the sweatpants he was wearing.

"It's always jealous." He laughed beneath my fingers, "Jealous of everything all the time; my fingers, your hand, and sometimes even your lips when you bite them too much." With every word he spoke his lips brushed over my hand between the spaces in words, he'd press faint kisses along my fingers down my palm and to my wrist.

"That must be so very hard for you," and like a shot, we were both laughing, the tension of the unfamiliar disappeared and it was just me and him; Addy and Esayr, two people that wanted each other.

"It and a few other things could certainly be considered hard," He'd gotten closer and closer until he was right mu next to the couch, so close that the ends of his legs were folded up underneath it. He gave me a once over, "Not as hard as they could be, though, seeing as we were considering the best way to get your clothes off of you."

I wiggled my hand back between us until my fingers could trace his lips again. When he opened them, he stuck his tongue out just a little as my fingers pressed further into his mouth. The wet heat of his mouth encircled them. The sensation of his tongue sliding between the seam of my fingers again, exploring me had me deciding that as soon as I did find a razor, it would have its way with me. "When you have your tongue in my pussy I want to be comfortable enough to fully enjoy it."

He traced the tip of his tongue in circles around the pad of one of my fingers, "I wouldn't want it any other way." I liked the look of his tongue and the way it slid over and between the digits.

"Not tonight, but soon. I promise."

With a smile and a little nip that made me jump, he released my hand, "I'll look forward to it." His long fingers circled my ankle. I'd been so caught up in the sensations of his mouth, I hadn't noticed the fact that he'd been sneaking it over the couch cushions and down to the leg that I'd pulled up and out of the way. "Now," he pulled on my ankle, turning me and my hips from lying parallel along the couch until I was perpendicular with my ass nearly hanging off the edge of the cushion and into his lap. When he was pleased with my position he continued, "I believe we were talking about getting these clothes off of you so I could watch."

His hands rested against the couch as he reached for the hem of my pants. "You can watch as long as you keep your hands off the couch." I almost ended the sentence with "loser", but the look that I got from him as I said it made me think I might have played right into his plan.

"With pleasure," faster than I could have managed he'd pulled the shorts and my panties clear off my legs and thrown them aside. He pulled one of my legs down until my knee rested on his shoulder. The other he pressed firmly into the couch cushion, splaying his big hand across my inner thigh in such a way that his thumb was able to spread my bared pussy. "Touch yourself while I watch, Addison."

And I did. I stroked my clit to filthy words that he whispered to me, telling me how bold I was and how much he liked the way my body moved. How I was so brave and he was proud of me. He asked me questions about how I was feeling or what I enjoyed. Esayr took note of all the little sounds I made and how I stroked my body while my fingers sank slick and wet into my heat.

By the end of it all, I was in his lap again, fingers forgotten entirely. Instead, his hands spanned my waist in a tight grip, holding me firmly against his cock --still trapped in his pants-- as I rolled my hips against him, dragging my pussy against the fabric and the hard heat of him until we both were muttering oaths. I got closer and closer to that dangerous thought the nuns had so desperately warned us away from when we were younger, the one that asked "Would it really be so bad just to feel it a tiny bit?"

I was just shy of uttering those final words when his hand slipped between us to stroke me while he begged against my neck for me to come with him.

While it wasn't necessarily what he meant, I realized I'd follow him anywhere.

In both the metaphorical and the literal, this male made me see stars.

****A/N*****

In other bug-related news, I was grievously accosted by a large unknown flying bug in my shower today while only halfway finished with a deep condition on my hair. My roommate didn't know my screams were of fear and lived on in blissful ignorance while I was truly fighting for my life. Then after it had sufficiently frightened me, the bug again disappeared. Where it went? Who's to say?

This is a longer part than normal. I suppose I'm making up for lost time after not having this story be as spicy as I wanted all along. Still, though, I'd wanted to get to meeting Cece (Ceci? I know I've jumped around in the spelling of her nickname. It's part of the reason I still call her Cecelia in most of my author's notes) in this part, but it would have made it incredibly long. I almost considered not uploading this until I had the next part ready to post along with it because something stresses me about the idea of just putting up a spicy part that doesn't push what little of a plot this story has forward.

It just feels...self-indulgent to me? Which is a weird way to put it or maybe just a weird thing to think in general. Which, is kinda sad because I do actually feel like these spicy moments are a continuation of both Esayr and Addy's inner struggles and that shouldn't be discounted simply because I don't perceive the main physical plot moving forward.

Yet still, parts that are spice-heavy feel less serious or 'professional' (which is bold even to begin with on my part) maybe from at least my standpoint, though I know when I read stories myself I enjoy most any type of part that I read whether they're spice, plot-heavy, dialogue-heavy, or even like inner monologue bits. So, I think that's just something I have to get over or reconcile with the nature of what I'm writing lmao.

All in all, that was a very verbose way to say that I'm probably going to stress write a little bit after this, and I could maybe end up getting another part up tonight, depending on how easily the words come to me.

Anywho there's your weekly dose of 'Anxious Layla', she's being a beast today, thank you for listening to my rambling.

Sincerely,

~Layla