Chapter Text
Rayla gasps, breathless, breaking away for the first time since they’d been below deck.
Of course she’d be breathless after a kiss like that, she thinks. It’d been a blur, honestly—a breathless, blissful blur. Dragging Callum down here, giggling in sync as they slammed (then locked) the door shut behind them, their wet clothes an easy, wordless excuse to strip down, his lips locked to hers and her hands knotted in his damp hair while they’d stumbled around in search of somewhere soft to sit…
The gasping was more about the touching than the kissing, though, of course. How could she not gasp at Callum’s warm hands pulling away her clothes, then covering the bare, chilly skin beneath? Or at his fingers straying to tangle in her breast bindings, trying to pull them loose or maybe to pull her tighter against him? (She couldn’t tell which.) Or at the bolt of pleasure that rocking herself against his lap sent straight up her spine?
He’d also liked that—obviously, Rayla realizes, from the low hum in his throat and the way he’d twitched beneath her—and so, she leans her hips away to replace her weight with her hand…sure he’ll like this too.
“I guess this is one way to make it all up to you, hmm?” She laughs against the round arc of his ear, flushed at the intensity of all this momentum, thrilling at their desperate, urgent pace. Sure, but slowed by inexperience, she strokes over the stiffness she’d moved against, and—
“Uh…”
Or…not.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, her haste to please him stalling with his hesitation. She relocates her touch to his waistband, wincing at how he’d frozen up, his eyes familiarly wide, his needy hands softening. “I didn’t mean to—”
She stops: she had meant to touch him. He’d like it, she’d thought. It’d feel good, and he deserved that after everything she’d put him through, didn’t he?
But…she hadn’t meant to push too far. This was probably…too fast, too new, too soon, too much. They’d barely reconciled, after all. All their I-love-yous were still unspoken, and this frenzied make-out session had started out as only just their new first kiss…
“Well, I did mean to…but we can slow down.” Rayla moves off of him, offering a breathy laugh and hopeful smile, as if maybe that’d hide her reluctance to be apart, even by inches. “I just missed you, is all. Got a little—carried away?”
“A little?” He thaws quickly, moving a nervous hand to the back of his neck as he blushes back at her—at memories of getting carried away before, no doubt—and she’s glad—so glad—when his hands seek hers again, assured that he doesn’t want to stop either.
“So, should we…keep going?” she wonders, leaning in, offering a kiss.
“No—” he answers, shaking his head. She doesn’t have time to deflate before he goes on, though, explaining: “Not no, like no. No, like I don’t want you to do…that…because you think you owe me or something.”
It’d been a joke—mostly—what she’d said, but…yeah. It didn’t sound great, hearing Callum paraphrase her, especially knowing the kernel of truth in it. It’s not that she thinks she owes him, exactly, but he does deserve all the good stuff she’d made him miss out on, doesn’t he? All the love she’d been so willing to give all this time, especially after these last couple weeks?
“That’s…not what I meant,” Rayla answers, face flooding with heat, her eyes on their discarded clothes.
“I know,” he says gently, the familiar feeling of his thumb stroking hers sweet and patient enough to wipe away her embarrassment. It’s familiar, too, the warmth and understanding deepening his steady, green gaze when she looks at him again. “Listen: I don’t want this to be an apology, and I don’t want this to be some kind of—I don’t know—thank you, either. I don’t want to rush into doing anything like this if you’re upset…or if you’re worried that I’m still upset with you.”
Callum squeezes her hand tight then, leaning closer, like he needs to be sure she’s looking at him:
“I love you, and—”
She’s too relieved to think—he loves her, and he’d actually said it—and she cuts him off by climbing into his lap again, overwhelmed with wanting to be as close as possible. It’s a long, still moment—her arms slung over his shoulders, his hands tender and comforting at her waist—before she answers, knowing she doesn’t really need to say it..
“I love you too, Callum,” she says, her voice muffled against his shoulder. He cradles her there a moment more, taking a slow, deep breath against her temple, then kissing her there, before pressing her away again, which is…understandable, she thinks, if he’s wanting to slow down; it’s hardly chaste, holding each other, half-naked, like this.
“I know,” he repeats, as predicted, smiling at her. He lets her stay there straddling him and pulls her knuckles to his lips before going on. “I don’t want you to do this for any other reason, okay? Not because I missed you, not because you left, not because I saved you, not because you’re sorry.”
His hands land on her legs, and she tries to ignore the ache between them when he squeezes her there, tries to focus on how sweet he is to worry about all of that when he so clearly wants her too, tries to keep her eyes off his bare, broad chest, off the runes on his arms, off the way his middle ripples with tension. She swallows, watching his lips move instead.
“You deserve better than any of that,” he says, his hands slowly, gently drifting up towards her hips, making it all the harder not to think about the arousal she can still feel under her, like before. “You deserve—”
Rayla gasps again, the sound out of her control, when Callum’s fingers—hot and firm and certain—press between her legs, against her panties.
“—love.”
She watches him try to keep the satisfied little smirk away as she rocks towards him, into his hand, unable to help her own whimpering. He hardly succeeds, though, one corner of his mouth lifting into a sideways smile, and he can’t seem to hide the rest of his reaction either. It's a dizzyingly endearing combination of love and lust, she thinks—his eyes unhurried as they linger over her body, his face still tinted pink in the lantern-light, his free hand slowly and self-assuredly sliding around to the small of her back.
“I thought we were slowing down?” she wonders, flustered, as he moves those heavy, sure fingers, never breaking contact.
“I love you,” he explains with a shrug, and she understands: he has no qualms about making love…just about her making apologies that look like love. She’s more preoccupied, though, honestly, with the slow, steady circles he rubs against her. It’s hot, the way he smiles while he does it, all adoringly careful and bashfully handsome while she squirms. “You’re okay with me touching you?”
“What, you think I’m going to say no?” she wonders, shifting her weight to lean backwards, holding on to his knees behind her, encouraging more access than he already has. She bites her lip, looking down at Callum’s knuckles tracing the growing wet spot down the center of her panties.
“Just wanted to be sure,” he shrugs, his strokes only growing gentler…maybe even teasingly so, she thinks, seeing how her sighing makes him brighten. It’s the newness of it all making his touch so light, though—not just teasing—Rayla realizes as Callum’s pointer finger drags delicately across the thin fabric, passing over the already-sensitive bud at the front of her sex. “Can I, uh…move these out of the way?”
She nods, holding her breath in anticipation as he hooks the edge of her underwear and slips his finger beneath, finding that sensitive spot then swiping slowly down to her soaked opening. Callum repeats himself, his stare half-lidded and lustful, watching where he’s touching, the both of them so attentive to his ministrations that she’s yet to breathe, too pleasure-stricken to do anything but watch too, slack-jawed.
He’s also realized this, though—and taken her quiet the wrong way, it seems
“Is this…? I mean—do you want to…show me, or something? This first time, at least?” he asks aloud, his touch lighter again, like he’s about to stop, which…yeah, no. She wants him.
“Just like that, Callum,” she assures him, guiding his shy fingers to slip between her folds. “Just…more—oh.”
There’s no point in stifling it—obviously she wants him to know it feels good—but Rayla claps a hand over her mouth anyway when she moans at the slightly-less-gentle stroke he makes, caresses easy and smooth with his touch covered in her own wetness. She blushes too…but lets her hips buck and their eyes meet anyway, the need to chase away all that achy want with Callum’s touch overwhelming anything else.
“Show me?” he asks again, clearly staying put between her legs this time. His other hand finds her hip and, with a soft touch, encourages her to move against his fingers. “Like before?”
“You want me to…?” she starts, rocking the way she’d done against his arousal before and finding that she can’t finish the sentence with how satisfying the same motion feels now, skin on skin.
Callum nods, the hand at her hip sliding up to her waist instead. “Show me how, so that next time…”
“Next time?” she wonders, intending a smirk but mustering only a shudder as Callum echoes her own pressure and pace in the lull, clearheaded enough to be glad that this wouldn’t be just a one-time, adrenaline-fueled dalliance.
“Next time,” he grins, landing a lazily-placed kiss at her jaw, then guiding her hips to roll again, inviting her to rub her sex against his fingers, eyes sparkling with reassurance.
It’s a few awkward, gasping arcs before the pleasure and Callum’s coaxing combine to get her to relax into a rhythm, letting desire set her pace.
“That feels good?” he asks, once her self-consciousness has melted away…though the answer’s obvious, she thinks, even before she hums a half-answer, her lip caught between her teeth. He touches her cheek, thumbing over her marking. “Good. Keeping going, love.”
Her tempo climbs quickly then, fueled by friction and relief and the handsome flush filling in across Callum’s sweet, attentive face. He urges her on, too, whispering little encouragements between them while she pants and whimpers in response. She holds her breath as her rocking takes up an effortless, uneven pattern, bracing herself against his shoulders, moving against him quicker and quicker and quicker until—
“Oh, wow, Rayla,” he whispers, practically awestruck, as she comes, throbbing and pulsing against his hand, her voice pitching high, her back arched and tense, her cheeks and chest red and warm…
—and Rayla finally breathes, laughing and collapsing all at once, her peak passed and her hips stilling. She settles her weight forward, against his chest, resting her head on his shoulder, her heartbeat still pounding in her ears.
“No,” she giggles, correcting him, kissing him, hugging him. “Oh, wow, Callum.”
Both arms around her middle now, he shrugs in answer, blushing…somehow worse than he had when she’d been getting off against his hand. “I mean, I think you did most of it, but…”
Rayla quickly kisses a path from his shoulder to his lips, sitting upright and laying a hand against his stomach, just low enough to make the rest of the suggestion for her: “Well, I think…it’s your turn.”
For just a moment, Callum’s eyes flash, and she thinks at first it’s just nerves or maybe a little bit of embarrassment she could definitely reassure him through…but then he shakes his head too, drawing her hand to his lips instead.
“We’ve, uh…been gone a while,” he explains, then kisses her knuckles again…and guides her off his lap. “Ez will be looking for us.”
Rayla blinks, surprised to find him so quickly tossing her dry pajamas from his bag, surprised to find him already dressed again so soon, surprised to find his lips so chastely on her cheek…
“Maybe next time?” he wonders, smilingly at her with all the tenderness and love she could hope for.
…next time.