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Amitola felt the prickle of a long arduous gaze slowly tiptoe its way down her spine before settling unabashedly on her backside before she heard the low and sultry whistle passing through her lover’s lips. She sighed, straightening her back up from being hunched over the small circular table in the Cura Irridessa’s back room and smoothed her mottled silky skirts back down her legs from where it had ridden up. Hesitating, just to make her peeping tom wait a second more, she gave the plush tassels of the deep indigo tablecloth stretched across it a final stubborn pull so it would sit right for pity’s sake. Turning around, she curtly glanced over her shoulder to eye a certain white-haired magician as the affectionate expression stretched ever more across his face at being caught.
Asra was casually leaning against the engraved door frame, his long and slender fingers of his right hand toying with the soft tinkling strands of coins and bells that she had previously strung up on a hook to clear the doorway. Amitola’s sharp gaze drifted across his neck and chest down to see the tangle of weaved and expertly spun fabric decorated with a rippling and lustrous tableau of borealis colour caressing his left hand. She tamped down on a sly smile a second before it spread onto her face and instead pursed her lips. She had left her lovely shawl sprawled across the shop’s glass cabinet and desk where dear Asra would have had to sit down and sort the profits that they would have made for that day. He would have found it, seemingly innocuously, tucked into the pages of the heavy records book that she had left resting on the surface for him before she moved to tidy the back room. How careless of her.
“Can I help you?” she asked with an impetuous gaze, seemingly put out that her cleaning had been so rudely interrupted. Asra shrugged and gently gestured with his hand to pay his presence no mind, the flexibility of his fingers as he curled them in a curt waving motion almost distracting to her.
“I’m just admiring your unyielding work ethic, my dear,” said Asra with an airy tone. He brought the mish-mash of colour in his hands to the side of his face in a slow, deliberate movement and inhaled her cool scent with a deep sigh. Uh-oh, thought Amitola wryly at the spike of heat that stabbed at her deep in her stomach. Wrestling her poker face onto the front lines, she inclined her head gently to indicate for him to elaborate. Which he did with a smile.
“You must have smoothed out that crease in the tablecloth a dozen times – I’m beginning to think you may be distracted.” By me, was the unsaid end to that sentence. Such an insufferable tease.
“Uh-huh. Did you manage to turn the lantern off this time?” Amitola asked him as she brushed off the baited invitation, peering at him over her shoulder with her eyes narrowing slightly and her inflection pronounced at the reminder. A glint appeared in Asra’s eyes as he straightened against the doorway, more attentive and staggeringly more interested in the beat of a single moment. He would have to try harder than that and Amitola’s seeming disinterest was a challenge he was dying to seize.
“Mhmm, naturally,” he said, with a slow tilt of his head. He was about to open his honeyed mouth once again but Amitola beat him to it with a rapid-fire drawl that brought a surge of satisfaction to her chest to leave him wordless.
"The last time you said that I had a countess burst in the front door and a fugitive break down my back door.”
Momentarily, the corners of Asra’s lips twitched and he let out a quiet snigger that he tried to hide with the soft edges of the shawl. Amitola stopped and bore her exasperated eyes at Asra, unsurprised at the blatantly unashamed grin on his face. Not what she had aimed to achieve.
“You’re disgusting,” she said, squaring her shoulders and crossing both arms across her chest. The movement allowed the wide hemmed collar of her blouse to slip down her shoulder, exposing a swirling birthmark poked haphazardly into the soft flesh above her breast below the runic designs of her faint tattoos.
She swore sometimes that a sense of decorum meant nothing to anyone except for her and there was always a lack of taking things seriously to her eye-rolling indifference. She hadn’t noticed much of Asra’s truly playful side before… all this had happened, and she had attributed it to finally stepping outside the safe comfort that was her neighbourhood and being pulled into the orbit of similarly charismatic personalities. Being in the company of Nadia had certainly been a change of pace as the two had enjoyed conversing over deeply thought-provoking curiosities and marination’s; being in the company of Julian just meant that she was bombarded with twice the amount of innuendos that were scandalously easy to indulge. But being with Asra had changed the most for her, his mystery and secrecy melting away like snow on a summers day to seep into the comforting and unabashedly passionate aura of him that flamed strongly whenever in her presence. The way his deep amethyst eyes lidded when he swept his gaze along her face and lovingly down her body.
She wanted to see that now, she wanted to see the way he looked at her. As desperate as she was to maintain her dry and practically scathing disapproval… she enjoyed seeing this more confidently displayed part of the magician. And Asra… oh he knew it. That was as plain as day on his face if the way the subtle quirk of his cupid’s bow evolved into a fox-like grin had anything to say about it. Letting out a low chuckle, Asra lightly pushed away from the threshold and took slow stalking steps toward her. Amitola’s pulse thudded hotly in her ears as she tracked each footfall, pressing her hips into the table when he came close enough to breathe the same air. The desire in Asra’s eyes shone ever brighter and he smoothly craned his face forward, his cheek stilling next to hers as he took in a painfully slow breath of the locks of hair curled over her ear and around her face.
“You like my disgusting,” murmured Asra, popping the ‘like’ on his tongue with a hiss right down into the shell of her ear to make her shiver. “Come upstairs with me.”
“I’m … sweeping,” Amitola said lamely, waving to her side where a modest thatch-bristled broom rested against the table. Awkwardly, she took the handle in her limp grasp for emphasis and Asra pursed his lips at her in mirth with his hand on his hip. He gently took the grip of the broom from her loosened fingers and flicked it away from the two of them, breaking the broom’s hurried descent to the floor with the crook of his foot before he rested it against the ground with a silent tap.
“I think you’ve done an excellent job already,” said Asra cheerfully. All this was done without breaking the charged gaze between them, standing so close to each other that all she would have to do to initiate contact was crane her lips forward slightly and latch onto the curve of his neck. Recognition glimmered in his eyes and Asra tilted his head forward and slightly to the side in invitation. His fingers were thrumming against the tablecloth just within reach of her own trembling hand. He still hadn’t touched her at all, and the bastard was being truly maddening!
Amitola stubbornly thinned her lips together and pulled her gaze upwards, desperately trying to contain the breathy sigh that was deep in her pale throat. There was promise in Asra’s eyes, of how he could dip her into such sweet enveloping embraces and kisses, of how warm and precious and loved – so wholly loved – she could feel. She wanted his hands on her skin, she wanted his mouth on hers, she just wanted him. She couldn’t comprehend how much she wanted him right now. She was losing. Damnnit … she really hated losing.
“You really think flattery is going to get you everywhere in life don’t you?” she grumbled, pressing her thighs together in as little movement as possible so he wouldn’t notice. She lost again, and Asra stepped barely an inch closer to her that he could shift his knee between her legs or bring his hips to rest against hers or just please touch her. She felt the need prickling hotly in her face, unable to stop the frustrated blush of red colouring her cheeks. Asra relented slightly and let out a comforting tut with a click of his pearl white teeth, finally acquiescing and raising his hand to graze his palm gently across her cheek.
“I don’t flatter, I observe. I revel.”
He lightly trailed his thumb over the corner of her painted lip and Amitola leaned into the touch with a wanton groan of relief. The sound increased the tension in the room, cloying the two of them in a delightfully suffocating pressure, but Amitola no longer cared. Her speckled eyes flickered open to drink in his gaze, unabashed desire dancing between the golden flecks in each iris. Barely, she resisted the temptation to suck his thumb into her mouth where it was still so impossibly caressing the curve of her bottom lip.
“Tell me. Please,” she asked.
Asra shifted his thumb away from her mouth and Amitola was about to let out a tiny broken sob when he closed the distance between them and tilted her face to meet his lips in a long-desired kiss. Amitola sighed into his mouth, melting against him, bleeding into him like two contrasting shades of watercolour paint melding together to yield a new, luminescent pigment. The kiss was slow. Dragging of plush lips against each other as hands drifted up to grasp each other’s faces, shoulders, hips. Growing impatient, Amitola nipped at his bottom lip and ran the tip of her pink tongue over his bottom lip to try and tempt him to open his mouth. Asra’s eyes flew open at the tiny sting of pain, a flash of mischief radiating in his irises. She had showed her hand too fast. The magician pulled back out of the kiss, smiling openly against her lips as she stubbornly leaned forward to follow him and placing his hands on her sides to rub butterfly touches over the curves of her hips.
“The sweetest possible sight I could ever be greeted with in the morning is opening my eyes and seeing your face resting next to me on the pillow,” he said with a whisper, pressing his lips to her forehead in a painfully affectionate manner that squeezed her tender heart. “These ebony tresses of your hair pooled around your head so divinely, your lips tucked into such a sweet smile as you dream, how your eyes glimmer like the sunlight as you wake.”
Asra’s lips drifted down until he was gazing into her face with his hooded eyes, white eyelashes fluttering softly as he drank in the reverence, the hunger, dancing over her expression. With their foreheads pressed together like this, white hair to dark, Amitola didn’t need clairvoyance to hear what he was thinking. For the very same thoughts of how deeply precious he was to her swirled within her own skull, taken root for eternity and a measure more ever since that meeting at the Masquerade.
“I adore your lovely neck and shoulders,” he murmured, softly peppering his way down her throat from her earlobe with fleeting kisses, coming to pause at where her heartbeat pulsed wildly at the junction between her neck and jaw. Determined, Amitola buried her fingers into the sheerness of his loose shirt and pushed the sleeves against his arms and further down his back until Asra held his arms out and helped the shirt softly flutter to the floor, leaving his amber chest bared for her to drink in.
“Your skin is the smoothest and most softest pleasure I have ever had the grace to lay my eyes on, my hands, my tongue…”
At that, Asra’s tongue peaked out between his parted lips to lick a scorching line against her throat as she moved to reach her fingers out and run them softly over the muscles in his chest and along his shoulders. She stuttered when he lovingly sucked the heated skin of her neck into his mouth, caressing it with his tongue. Amitola’s eyes lidded and she blinked once or twice, gasping out a short staccato when she felt him gently bite down on the flesh before calming her with a gentle flick of his tongue. She needed to be higher, closer. Letting out an indignant moan, she desperately tried to hike a limber leg up against his waist, spitting a curse under her breath when her knee slipped against the cotton of his pants. Asra smiled indulgently at her impatience and acquiesced again, slipping his hands from the watery silk clinging to her hips to under her ass so he could boost her up onto the end of the table. Distracted by the clatter of the table as she landed, Amitola barely registered that Asra’s deft fingers had swiftly flitted their way down the golden fastenings of her blouse. His warm amber hand brushed aside the fabric of her shirt, cupping the curve of a freckled breast in his soothing palm. Asra had such lovely hands, smooth and supple as the crystals and stones dotted around the shop. The flaring heat of his thumb against her nipple sent a jolt of firing electrons down her spine and she let out another shameless moan past her trembling lips.
“My, my. You’re so desperate to give yourself to me, aren’t you?” chuckled Asra, maintaining the slow soothing motion around her hardened nipple but prodding the temper that always danced at the back of her eyes. Amitola thinned her lips and fixed him with a dirty look, trying to make it seem that she was concentrating on glaring at him and not supressing another low noise in her throat that fought its way past her teeth. Asra tittered at the stricken look creeping into the corners of her eyes and hushed her very tenderly.
“Come now, my sweet. I’ve been thinking of your gorgeous tits all day too.”
With that, Asra dipped his head and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the scattered markings across her sternum. The freckles were haphazardly splashed across her body, like she had laid naked on the canvas of an unseen artist who had flicked a snowstorm of hazelnut droplets over her skin with his radiant ink brush. Asra enjoyed tracing imaginary patterns between the flecks of colour, either with his pointer finger along her arms and neck as they sat over their steaming mugs of tea or by dragging his tongue over her shoulder when one of them had inevitably seduced the other and abandoned the kitchen table for their sleeping nook. Amitola let out a soft cry as Asra’s tongue found its way to the centre of her breast and wrapped itself softly around the dusky nipple, his hand lazily drifting to her left breast to stir his fingers above her sputtering heartbeat. Her hand flew to cover his, holding the palm to her breast desperately as it teased. Asra’s skin flickered under her hands and he pulled back to press a kiss to the birthmark on her collarbone.
“You are so beautiful, so generous, to grace me with the very privilege to run my tongue over the constellations on your skin,” he moaned against her clavicle, reverently cupping her breast and skimming the back of his fingers down the shivering plane of her body to the hem of her skirts. Breaking away to playfully smirk into her flushed face, Asra murmured to her hotly under his breath as he pressed his tongue and lips down her abdomen, punctuating each word with a kiss.
“Over your arms…”
His lips tickled and kissed the delicate underside of her breast and trailed gently against her ribs, his hand slowly bunching the silky fabric up against her legs to her hips. As the skirts travelled up her legs, Asra smoothly lowered himself against her thighs to his knees and keened softly as he felt Amitola quivering hands wrap themselves around his shoulders and cling to him desperately, dragging her nails softly against the flesh at the nape of his neck.
“Your tits…”
Amitola let out a husky chuckle as Asra dipped his tongue across her naval, parting her knees even further to try and draw her lover even closer against her. She moved her pale wrist to Asra’s fist bunched in her dappled skirts and drew the hem to her waist. Asra’s purple eyes flicked down to the milky skin of her thighs exposed by the rippling pools of fabric around her waist, reaching one hand under the skirt to embrace the naked side of her hip. He looked entranced, as if it was the first time he had laid his eyes on her. His tongue darting across the sharp canine of his bottom jaw, licking his lips, as he reached his hand out to brush his hand against her skin.
“Your thighs…”
Smirking warmly, Asra slipped his thumb under the patterned garter hoisted around her thigh. The garter let out a musical tinkling as he brushed alongside the tiny gold discs that had been sewn into the fringe of the garter. When she had danced for him, in her slit dresses and her hair pooling around her shoulders and falling down her back, the garter would rhythmically beat and shatter as she swept her legs and hips to the sway of the music. He loved her for it, deeply, and his distractions had caused her to crunch on his toes with her shoe once or twice.
“I do so admire your thighs.” Asra bent to press a chaste kiss above where the garter lay strapped around her quivering thigh. “I love the feel of them wrapped around me, around my hips, while I make love to you.”
His thumb raked an untempered golden fire across her skin as he traced a slow, slow, back and forth arc that dragged a breathy sigh from the woman above him. Amitola arched her back in anticipation, feeling her body beginning to coil and tense like a spring trap. The hand detached from the tinkling garter and crawled its way to the fleshy inner part of her thigh, tip toeing closer and closer to where she was sobbing for his attention. Amitola softly rocked her hips to meet his touch, but she was taken aback when Asra’s fingers paused in their ascent and she looked down with question, worried that something was wrong. She was greeted with the sight of wonderful, beautiful, her mysterious magician, Asra; kneeling between her parted legs, one hand brushing against the very top of her thigh and the other lightly gripping her hip, two twinkling eyes staring back at her. The intensity that he stared at her with could have been enough to finish her right then and there if he had wanted to do so, and she reached down to cup his cheek in her slender palms.
Asra blinked once, closing his eyes at the contact, and then spoke to her in a low, husky tone. “Can I taste you?”
Amitola exhaled a velvet sigh to steel her nerve, tracing the high cheekbone under her fingers with a gentle thumb.
“Please, yes, please,” she begged, in the same low voice.
Asra’s teeth shone a brilliant white as he smiled, pressing a gentle peck to her palm, before he bent his head and flexed his shoulders up. Amitola tensed in anticipation as his lips were pressed to the flesh of her inner thigh in a dreadfully tender butterfly kiss. On the other thigh, he ran his tongue through the crease between her leg and the skin of her vulva, glistening in anticipation. He drew his lip back further, tenderly pinching the skin between his teeth. Amitola’s hips twitched, her free hand flying to bury itself in the impossible plushness of his snow-white hair, swearing she could see swirling lavender and deep opalescent blues and greens dance in the sheen of his crown. It was then, that Asra flattened his tongue against the two little sensitive folds of skin and unleashed a long and lazy lick from the bottom to the top of her pearl.
At the feel of his tongue between her legs, Amitola choked out a deep, guttural groan and closed her eyes in bliss. Asra chuckled against her skin, pleased at the reaction. He kissed her folds hotly, darting his tongue between them once again as he tantalisingly murmured praise and praise again into her skin between bites and licks. How beloved she was, how sublime a creature he found her, how he wished to bury his cock inside her and fuck her until he made her cry and moan and cum. The dirty words hummed out in Asra’s soft, airy voice was proving as always to be her weakness and she cursed loudly as she braced a shaking hand behind her on the table so she could arch herself into his mouth. Asra chuckled appreciatively, telling her how good a girl she was for him, and wound his arms under and around her thighs to pin her slightly shifting hips to him. He chanced a small, hard tap with a heavily ringed hand on the soft flesh of her ass and bit down on a groan in his throat as her surprised cry of pleasure caused a thunderbolt of ecstasy to hit deep in his stomach.
“I could eat your cunt for the rest of my life if you would allow me to,” he told Amitola shamelessly, parting the quivering folds between her legs to reveal the slick pink flesh to his eager tongue. “All day, every day. Take an extended leave from shop duty.”
He slicked his tongue against her slit with an appreciative moan, inhaling the warm musk of her scent. A pleasured hiss passed through his teeth as Amitola’s fingers pulled against his scalp, tugging at the white fluffy down of his hair. He flattened his tongue against her warm and tender flesh, dipping against her entrance with a skilful flick and plying his mouth against her as if he were a cat slowly and lavishly lapping cream from a dish. Her gasped pants were drifting down to his ears, exciting him further and driving him on to drag his tongue through her folds faster and faster.
“I would lay you down in front of the warm glow of our fireplace and bury my head into your sweet, sweet pussy, listen to you gasp and arch on the velvet pillows against your back, have you ride my face with my hands all over your body in the candlelight.”
His breath was so sweet and tender against her crease, his chin reaching up to fold and circle his tongue around her clit with an appreciative moan as she jumped under his pulsing grip on her thighs. Amitola squeezed her eyes shut harshly and her mouth fell open in a gentle moan, wrapping her thighs gently around his shoulders so her greedy cunt could get closer and closer to the warm source of her lover’s mouth. She moaned and gasped and pleaded for him to please go faster and please don’t stop and Asra Asra Asra Asraaaaa, her hips shifting and rocking against him in enthusiasm. Asra increased the suckling and lapping motions of his tongue, driving her towards the end with a piqued desire for her lovely noises and sublime body. He detached softly to tenderly whisper against her flesh.
“I’ll only stop so I can come up and kiss all over your beautiful face, my lovely Amitola.”
“Asra,” panted Amitola, her thighs shaking in his grasp as he pleased her. A warm, wet pressure was pooling in her abdomen, clenching the muscles there in a thorough squeeze and release that intensified with each passing second. Her clit throbbed furiously under Asra’s passioned attentions, alerting her to an imminent explosion behind her bones. Screams of desperate release clawed at her throat and tongue, and she strained her thinned lips to keep the sounds muted as much as she could without him noticing.
“Asra, I-I’m gonna-“
Asra detected her failing restraint immediately and threw every fibre of his being into wrapping his lips around the shimmering bead of pleasure and sucking against it fiercely. The result, a broken, sobbing gasp of heat and ravishment, was so deeply drawing to him and he sighed into her body.
“Please, habib albi, I want to hear you,” gasped Asra, shockingly attune as always to her approaching orgasm. He was desperate to drive her over the edge, to taste the sweet honey from her skin. He dove his tongue into her and crooked it to the side, seeking her pleasure spots and grinning when Amitola’s pitched gasp meant he had found them. He gave them two, three, four lashes with his tongue and sucks with his lips before he felt her muscles clench and her body start to shake. He grinned with victory as he tasted her sweetness and heard a high, drawn out sound fill the room. Amitola felt the tightly wound coil of tension deep in her stomach suddenly snap in two, three, four hundred pieces and settle into every facet and cell of her being. Her thighs fell away loosely from his shoulders as her body collapsed, wilting like a flower as she leaned more heavily onto the arm braced behind her. Swirling auroras of bright colours danced behind her eyes, and she released another melodious keen from deep in her chest that was music to her lover’s ears.
Asra closed his eyes in bliss, suckling the lush and molten heat from her core as her body tensed and softened and tensed again under his grip. Licking his lips smugly, he pushed up from his knees to his full height and supported his love as she slumped forward wordlessly against him between his arms. Tears pricked the corner of her glazed eyes and she let out a beautiful gasp of pleasure into his mouth as he took hers with a sated, open-mouthed kiss. A spark of conscious hit Amitola’s brain and she roused her honeyed body to wrap her tongue around Asra’s in just the way he liked it. She tasted the sweetness of herself on his lips and in her mouth and moaned as another stab of arousal coursed between her legs, something deep in her core raising its head in interest. Asra deepened the kiss, grazing his teeth against her bottom lip and tilted his head to the side before finishing with a tender brush of his lips against hers.
“Whatever did I do to deserve to have somebody as precious as you in my life?” he murmured, a warm feeling of affection that almost pained him flaring brightly in his chest.
Amitola opened her mouth, licked her lips with her tongue, and upon finding that her words were stubbornly failing her, threaded her fingers through the fluffy mane of his snow-white hair and ran the back of her hands lovingly through his scalp. She took a deep breath, swept the point of her tongue over her parted lips and tried again.
“I don’t ever want to move away from you, ever again,” sighed Amitola, a whine weaving into the pitch of her voice.
As she spoke, Amitola lifted her thighs and reached out to catch him around the waist with her knees to draw him flush against her. Holding the painted ends of her skirt out of the way, she relished the feel of Asra’s hard bulge beneath his trousers between her legs and hooked her ankles stubbornly behind his back. Asra smiled and allowed himself to be pulled to her, letting out an appreciative groan as she rocked her hips against his and burying his face into the crook of her neck to pepper the skin there with kisses and praises.
“Tell me, my dear, darling, Amitola,” whispered Asra, so husky into the shell of her ear that she trembled in his arms. “Were you intentionally teasing me, so flippantly leaving your belongings scattered around while smelling of you?”
Amitola rolled her eyes with a half-smile pasted on her lips that negated the flippancy somewhat and pulled her lover closer to her by his chin. Letting out a throaty laugh, she hovered her mouth a hairs breadth away from his gasping lips, steeling her grip on his face so that he couldn’t close the gap between them. He was panting softly now, little puffs of breath coming against her in anticipation. Indulgently, she inched forward and took hold of his bottom lip between her blissfully sharp teeth.
She pulled, sucked his lip into her warm mouth, and released it with a pop. Asra’s eyes were widened, stricken, and he seemed halfway between a groan and repeating the kiss. Amitola cocked her head, satisfied smugness radiating from her dark gaze as she regarded her lover.
“Maybe so, magician.”