[I'm gonna repost some stuff here and delete it from earlier post! :D] Lukas is happy, and Milos can see it. He chuckles softly, happily but tiredly, and goes with him back into the house -- back into the realm. There, Milos yawns, and he bumps himself against Lukas's side during that half-hug, and says he'll see him in the morning. Through the archway he goes in to Danicka, who is sitting on the couch reading a book. She smiles at him and tilts her face up as he leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek, then the boy is heading down the hall and slipping through a curtain into the dark room where his little brother is sleeping.
He checks on him. Listens to see if he can hear a wheeze or rattle in the boy's breathing. He touches the back of his hand to Emanek's forehead just in case. And then he shuffles out of his clothes, bedding down for the night, forgetting even to meditate.
Back in the living room, Danicka tucks a bookmark into her reading and watches Lukas come nearer. "Everything good?" she whispers to him. And Lukas sits down on the couch by her, finds her moving easily into the space created against his side, and he kisses her. Yes. Everything's wonderful. "Good," she whispers back, and squeezes his thigh. "Let's go up. You don't want to know how early Emanek gets up in the morning." She swings her legs off the couch and stands, setting her book on the coffee table and offering him her hand.
LukasLukas takes his mate's hand. It is warm and soft in his own, and for a moment he keeps it between his palms, precious, protected. Then he stands as well, kissing her again on the way up, standing close to her, tender, adoring.
"Okay." They're whispering because the children are asleep, but mostly because it feels more intimate like this. And they turn off the lights, turn down the heater. On the stairs, their hands remain linked even as Danicka walks before, and Lukas behind. At the top of those stairs, he wraps his arms around her, nuzzles her as they shuffle together down the short hallway to their bedroom.
"Let's have a billion kids too," he whispers. Joking, but - wanting, too, somewhere beneath the jest. Wanting her; wanting cubs; wanting this sort of warmth and fullness in the house. "At least, like... ten."
DanickaHer eyebrows lift a little, an amused quirk, as he just holds her hand and looks up at her. She huffs a laugh and tugs at him, tugs him upward, and just like he has been all day -- or ever since he finally let himself love her, really -- he is close and hugging her and nearly making her fall over her feet in an effort to stay near. They turn down the heater, but not too much, because even under blankets the kids are downstairs and not up and the boys don't have real doors, and so on. They head upstairs and he glomps onto her again, nuzzling and shuffling and she's trying not to laugh aloud, even after they get to the bedroom and close the door behind him.
A billion kids, he says. She laughs, wriggling in his arms to try and get away, because she's serious, Emanek is usually awake by seven, bouncing off the walls by eight. But he's serious, too. He wants this fullness and warmth and he wants cubs and he says ten and she tells him firmly: "Four."
Like she's thought about this. Danicka ducks out from under his arms and pulls her sweater up over her head, tossing in any which where. He saw her get dressed this morning. He knows that the bra underneath is just a plain, simple white one, comfortable for a long and busy day, but still. She shivers, and reaches her arms back to unclasp it, sliding it down her arms. "I think Sarka's six is a bit much," she says, as the bra slips down and drops ...anywhere. "Two isn't enough and I think a nice, even number is better." She smiles.
LukasFour, she says, and if he were in another form his ears would perk and his tail would wag. In this form, he simply -- well: grins. It looks surprised. It looks happy. She's peeling out of her sweater and he's following her across the room and she's dropping her bra and he's catching her up, scooping her off the ground and against his body, her stomach to his chest, his lips to her breastbone.
"Four," he agrees. And they should go brush their teeth; they should wash for bed, but he's carrying her toward the bed and he's lowering his head to kiss her body again, kiss her collarbone and her breast, take her nipple in his mouth. "Let's get started right now," he whispers.
Danicka"Ohgod," she laughs, as he crosses to her and scoops her up, bare breasts to his body, his arms firm around her, his hair still cold from -- well, the spirit world. She does bury her fingers in it, grinning at him as he starts kissing her, taking her to bed, suckling on her nipple.
Danicka can't deny that she's wanted this all day. She wouldn't deny, either, that somehow the presence of all this family and these kids and the thought of their own doesn't make her want to -- well. As he says: get started. She can't explain it. She's surprised by it. But she melts a little against his mouth, and Lukas is wanting to fill her up and wait for the cubs to come in autumn, like a harvest. She exhales and doesn't argue. She just tips his head back with her hands and kisses his mouth, holding him by the hair.
Besides. He's smart. He knows better. He saw her take her little pill this morning. He knows there won't be any cubs in fall, not from this union. He knows he's not ready and she's not ready and they're going to wait, dammit, til she at least has her bachelor's, but she doesn't bring any of that up. She doesn't need to. What she needs, right now, is for him to
"Take your shirt off," she murmurs. "Get it off."
LukasOf course, the logical part of his mind knows that even if they wanted to, they can't actually 'get started right now'. There's the matter of that little pill this morning; the chemically-induced hormone balance in her body that makes her womb utterly inhospitable to any proto-cubs. There's the matter of the fact that they aren't ready, she hasn't graduated yet, he wouldn't know what to do with cubs in the house ... all that.
But none of that seems to matter right now. They're going up to bed and he's following her so closely, all but sniffing at her; they're going into their room and she's undressing and he's bringing her close, holding her close, holding her and putting his mouth on her and
she's melting, she's pushing his head back and kissing him and there's something eager and hot about it all; her hands are in his hair and he's laughing softly as she tells him to take it off, take your shirt off.
He lets her go. She drops back on the bed or she holds herself up. He peels his shirt off, and then whether or not she's holding herself up, he's dropping her back on the bed, crawling over her as he's undoing his pants and pushing them off, and in the morning Emanek is going to be up at some ungodly hour so they should be quick about this, they shouldn't even be doing this, they should sleep, but
he's wanted it all day. It's something about the house full of children and laughter and life. The presence of family, which makes him want to expand it; makes him want to fill the house with cubs all the time, four of them, ten of them, a billion, he's thinking about this and then he's not really thinking about it, he's just thinking about Danicka, he's thinking about
filling her up, being with her, being inside her.
His mouth is on her breast again. The other one, tender and hot and sucking, licking, he's smiling up at her and coming up to her, kissing her open-mouthed, closing his eyes, laughing under his breath. "Can you keep quiet?" he wants to know, and the question is a bit of a tease, really; he's wrestling his pants down and she still has hers on, they should really do something about that.
DanickaThey've been close to each other all day but so busy, talking to family members, hugging them, eating, driving, meandering around an airport. She feels like she's barely seen him for hours. Some small part of her wonders if that's what it's like to have children of their own, if she can be around him all day but feel like he's on the other side of the earth, if they'll be like they are right now, coming together when they're finally alone and all but tearing each other's clothes off.
Except there is no 'all but' about it. She's tugging on his shirt and he's taking her to the bed, drops her there -- the mattress rebounds, but not noisily, he was careful to get a quiet one and a quiet frame -- and takes it off, crawls over her as he's undoing his pants. Danicka helps, her breathing elevated already, watching her hands against his abdomen, grabbing the sides and pushing them off his hips as soon as they're unfastened, baring him to her. Soon enough he's kicking them off, climbing onto her, his mouth on her breast again, his mouth on her mouth while she's reaching down to get her own jeans undone, panting softly.
Lukas asks her, teasing, if she can be quiet. Danicka stops, staring at him a moment, then a slow smile spreads over her lips. She smirks, and she has her jeans unfastened now but she just
rolls onto her stomach, still wearing them, lifting her hips slightly to him without a word.
LukasShe doesn't see it - or maybe she does, if she's looking over her shoulder, if she's looking at his face, if she's looking at how he reacts to what she does -
but he's stopped for a moment, up on his hands as she turns under him. His eyes flick down as she lifts her hips. Up again. There's a gleam in his eyes that wasn't there before, and then he's pushing up, kneeling on the bed, straddling her legs; he's grabbing the sides of her jeans and yanking them down, down past her knees where she can kick them off if she wants; grabbing her panties a moment after and doing the same with those.
Now the arch of her back is so apparent. It's a wordless welcome, and he cups his hand over her ass, smooths his palm over her as he leans down to suck kisses against her spine, her shoulderblade. His eyes are closed again. Kisses aren't enough; he rubs his face against her back, mindless as an animal, nuzzling her. His hand cups her between the legs. He gasps against her skin. His arms come down on either side of her, his weight braced on forearms, on his lower legs. He rubs against her, grinds his cock against the cleft of her ass, grinds her against the bed with every stroke as she pushes back against him. He's breathing harder with every passing second.
His whisper is ragged: "Ready?"
DanickaThere are nights when it doesn't take long. When it doesn't take more than seeing each other to be ready, to be craving. There was the night when he came to her hotel room, not knowing she was there to hide from his packmate, and she told him she wasn't ready for this to be the end. A moment later he had her up against the door, that pretty blue dress of hers hiked up, the bodice torn down, fucking her so desperately he hurt her, and she kissed him even though she was in pain, she cried because she was forgiving him and that terrified her, it terrified her that she still wanted him, that rough as he was being she didn't want him to stop.
There are nights when they go slow anyway, as bad as they want it. Her lingerie comes off piecemeal. He opens her legs and licks at her until she's squirming. They change positions, again and again, even before he ever slides himself into her. There are nights when they really do fuck for hours, simply changing locations or pausing to eat a little before they're back on each other.
But right now they aren't going slow. He pulls her jeans off -- "All the way," she whispers to him, as he's yanking them down, eager to get to her naked flesh, perhaps snarling at her insistence like he used to, like he still sometimes does -- and she wriggles a little, getting more comfortable as though she's just going to fall asleep on the unmade bed, on her stomach and naked like this, except
there's that tilt to her hips. That scent when he gets close that tells him she's wet, that she's aroused, that she's hot and wanting. Her panties didn't make it all the way, though her jeans are on the floor. They are white and simple and hanging a few inches below her ass, and somehow the feel of them there only turns her on more. Lukas rubs himself on her then. Not just his cock. Not only his hands. He's all over her, his face and his palms and his lips. Danicka exhales, and she lifts herself up when he finally gives her his cock, slicking it up against her pussy, where his hand just explored. He asks her if she's ready. He knows the answer to that, too. But still she turns her head over her shoulder, looking at him, squeezing his cock between her thighs, relaxing again only so he can move.
"You're supposed to be quiet, remember?" she whispers to him, stroking herself against him, slowly this time, up and down.
LukasThere's more than just raw want tonight, though. There's that thread of laughter, of delight, that keeps surfacing again and again. She reminds him that he's supposed to be quiet. He laughs aloud: quietly, but aloud. And he kisses her over her shoulder, quick and firm and hot; it falls apart into a ragged breath out as she slides herself on his cock.
"I am being quiet," he insists, whispering. Kissing her again, reaching under her body to bring her against him, reaching between her legs to find her clit. "I'm being very, very quiet,"
and there, whatever he's talking about more or less falls apart. He's playing with her. He's stroking her the way she taught him, with her body and her reactions as much as with her words. He's touching her and she's so wet and he's shifting his hips, nudging against her, fitting his cock to her and
not quite moaning, no, just making a sound that he catches before it ever really leaves his lips. His eyes are closed. He looks overcome, his mouth millimeters from hers, his lips brushing hers as he whispers to her.
Tells her: "Work yourself onto me, baby. Slide that pussy onto me."
DanickaIf Lukas hadn't come on to her, scooping her up and insisting they start making those four kids they just agreed to have right away, Danicka would have ended up on top of him as soon as he was under the covers. She would have quelled protests with her hand down his boxer-briefs and begged him, quietly in his ear, to let her have it, because something about that tone of voice and that keen edge of need drives him wild, and there's almost nothing that makes her as wet as that low groan before he flips her onto her back and takes her. It's nice not to have to convince him, though, that they should be fucking tonight. Right now.
As close as they are, she can feel his chest moving with every breath, feel his cock all but throb against her, and she shivers. They kiss over her shoulder, loose and hungry, while he plays with her. These days his brow doesn't knit in concentration anymore when he slips his fingertip down to her clit and rotates it softly, circling it with the pad of his finger. These days he doesn't have to focus quite so hard to make her buck like she does, to pleasure her like he'd be just as well to bring her off like this, his cock nothing more than something for her to rub against til she comes. A half-whimper gets out of her before she bites it back.
Lukas starts to move, to fit himself against her, and Danicka simply raises her ass to him, opening her legs a little more, physically pleading for it, but Lukas does nothing more than set the tip of his cock to her opening, barely holding himself back. Oh, she remembers, suddenly and vividly, how he looked at her that first time, holding her by the waist above him, telling her -- finally, in a way, surrendering to her -- to take him inside. Let him in. Take him.
Their positions are shifted now. He just asks for her pussy, but he's asking for the same thing. Take me. Danicka exhales, and pushes back against him, a moan caught before it leaves her open lips when his cock starts to press into her, pushing deeper as she moves onto him. Just a few inches, though. She lowers her hips again, closer to the bed, sliding almost completely off of him.
LukasWhich makes him shudder.
Which makes him nearly groan with need. Which makes him pant out in something like shock, something like aching disappointment. His hips buck. He wants to fuck her. He wants to push himself into her, slam her against the mattress, mount her and pound her, but
he holds back. They're playing, in a way, and like all games this one is dead serious at the core. His hands have closed into fists, gripping the bedsheets beneath them. He rubs against her - not his body but his face, nuzzling the side of hers in firm, needful affection.
"Deeper," he whispers, "take me deeper."
DanickaHer chuckle is soft. She doesn't mean to tease him. She kisses him, though, as he's nuzzling her, half-groaning, caught, and whispers: "Baby, I don't want you to hold back," nuzzling her face to his cheek. She no longer uses ploys, teasing, fake-playful manipulations to get him to understand what she wants, to get him to give it to her the way she likes. Now, Danicka simply kisses him, nuzzles him, tells him plainly in a secretive whisper: "It's kind of hard to take you like that when I'm on my stomach," and she's half-laughing at the end, so close to him, so tangled together on the bed, almost shy -- as though saying things so openly still makes her skittish, but with him
with him, she's safe. It's okay. She draws his hand up from the bedspread to her breast, cupping his palm under it, the heel of is hand to her heartbeat, the way it is so often when they sleep. "I want you to fuck me. I want you to just... mount me and fuck me like this,"
not knowing that this is what he was thinking, what he was holding back from to play with her a little. But her eyes close to speak of it, her hips moving to think of it, that edge of want in her voice like a blade that cuts down to the core of his lust.
LukasIt wasn't quite that, though. It wasn't that he was playing with her, but that he thought she was playing with him. it's that he thought perhaps she wanted to tease him a little. Or perhaps she didn't want it so sudden, so fast. He's still careful with her sometimes. Always. He's still careful because she's his mate, and nothing could possibly hold him back in this relationship
except himself.
But: that's not what she wants. That's not why she didn't take him the way he asked her to. It's simple logistics, it's simple physics, and it makes him laugh a little even as it makes him so hard, so hot for her, when she draws his hand up to her breast. Hot for her, and yet - protective of her, adoring of her, too. His palm is warm on her body. He holds her breast like it is something precious, something beloved, which it is, which she is, and
when she asks for what she asks for he presses his mouth to her neck, kisses her hard there, puts his mouth to her shoulder.
The bite he gives her is loving, though not quite tender. He seizes her in his teeth and holds her, holds her in his teeth and in his hand and beneath his body, growls low in his throat even though he's supposed to be being quiet, they should be quiet; growls as he thrusts into her, fills her in one stroke that takes her down to the mattress. It's rather hard and fast, the way he fucks her, and it has the edge of roughness, but
there's his hand on her breast the whole time. There's his mouth on her shoulder, biting, but also kissing, kissing and pressing to hold back the snarls and moans that want to fight their way out of his chest. There's the way he keeps kissing her, keeps holding her, keeps nuzzling against her
even as he's, quite simply, pounding her.
DanickaHe's so careful. He doesn't want to mistreat her, abuse her, demean her, and sometimes, truthfully, he's too careful. He worries too much. He fears almost nothing he faces when the blood on the ground turns everything to thick, black mud, but he fears these things. He fears the loss of the things that make the fighting worth it, that make his life worth it. And that is so much more than Danicka, now and always, but... perhaps especially her. First and foremost, her.
They talk more about sex now, even when they're not having it. Perhaps later they'll talk about this, too -- not because it's a problem, but simply to understand each other better. To know, more and more, what she's like and what she wants because it changes, because they change. He is so much different than he was when she first met him. When they first started fucking one another she never would have thought he'd hold back so that she could tease him -- he never would have. It couldn't have happened because he couldn't have tolerated it. And even if he wanted to stop himself from going at her so hard, so fast, he sometimes couldn't. Sometimes, she had to touch his face and tell him to slow down, that she wasn't going anywhere, that he didn't have to devour her.
And every thing that has ever changed or been spoken between them, he's taken to heart. And his heart, she's realized, is incredibly tender. Sometimes it feels like they've always been together. Sometimes it's shocking that it's been as long as it has been. And sometimes it comes up: it's only been a few years. A few very tumultuous, evolutionary years. They are utterly different people. Every day, they re-learn each other.
Like now: she learns, again, how careful he will be unless she tells him not to be, how much he aches to please her, to give her what she wants exactly as she wants it, how new this sort of communication and devotion still is in his life -- how singular. And he learns that Danicka has never lost that deviant streak she has, that semi-rebellious edge to her sexuality, nor has she lost that longing for him to be as he is, to be lustful and animalistic just as often as she wants him to be loving and tender, just as often as she wants him to be playful and sweet. All of him. Always, forever, all the things he can be. But right now, when she's rolled onto her stomach and presented herself to him,
she wants him to simply nail her.
It makes him so hard to know she wants that. So hot, feeling her breast in his hand, knowing she wants it just like that, wants him to give it to her. So he does. And she shushes him all the same when he growls, even as she's pushing her body up onto her elbows while he angles himself differently, burying his cock in her, planting himself there. In moments, they're fucking atop the mattress rough and tight, Danicka gasping into the pillows when she isn't turning her head over her shoulder to watch him, look at him, urge him on with her eyes. She grasps the sheets, squirming back on his cock, biting back moans or stifling them in the covers, gasping for him.
LukasThey're so close together like this. She's looking over her shoulder at him, holding his eyes, and this drives him quite out of his mind with want; he's cupping his free hand over the top of her head, holding her, kissing her, and all the while their bodies are slamming together tight and hard, he's slamming into her and fucking her until her hands twist the sheets, until she has turn away from his kiss so she can bite into the comforter, moan into the mattress.
They're supposed to be quiet. They're supposed to be quiet, so she hides her cries in the bed and he holds back what groans and grunts want to burst out of his throat. He comes with his teeth locked on her shoulder, his breath coming to a hard stop, held for a second, then panting hard and harsh as he fucks his cum into her, fucks her with short sharp bucks of his hips, nails her to that bed as though to make sure, to make very sure,
that they get started right now with those cubs.
And afterward, spent and exhausted, Lukas relaxes atop her. Goes molten and boneless, panting turning to a breathless, soundless laugh, the laughter trailing off into a sigh as he rolls aside enough that he won't crush his mate. He finds her breast again with his hand - at the moment of orgasm, afraid of hurting her, he'd gripped her side instead - caresses her, weighs that small, shapely part of her in his palm as his eyes open. They are so blue, and his body is so warm. He shifts inside her and his eyelid drop for a second, reopen.
"Můj lodní důstojník," he murmurs. And shifts up on his elbow, and kisses the side of her face, tender now.
They decide they really should sleep. They decide they should get some rest before Emanek is up at the crack of dawn, though perhaps with his body still on New York time they'll have an extra hour. They get up and they go wash even though Lukas sort of just wants to stay; he puts on a fresh pair of boxers and she puts on pajamas or at least a t-shirt and boyshorts even though he kind of wants to sprawl naked atop the mattress. It's for his own good. There are kids in the house, after all, and they might come bursting in in the morning, and Lukas at least would be mortified if he really was bare-assed atop the bed.
So he crawls under the covers. And the last thing he remembers is his mate crawling in beside him, tucking her feet under his shin. The last thing he remembers is his arms going around her, his hand sliding under her shirt to find her breast. He murmurs something only half-sensical, something about mmm soft. my mate., which makes her grin at his silliness, but she doesn't laugh because she doesn't want to wake him
because he's already heavy and warm and limp behind her, asleep.
At seven in the morning, and that's only because they have that extra hour, the kids begin to stir. At seven-thirty there are little feet pitterpattering up and down the stairs, across the living room downstairs, down the short little hall upstairs. And Lukas is grumbling and trying to drag Danicka back into bed as she's starting to get up, mumbling
not. ready. for kids.
