Somewhat Clear

“And here I thought that all Paladins were bound to a vow of chastity or something,” Staeve teased with a grin, as Hébée pushed him down into the mattress.

“Only the boring ones,” she dismissed quickly, stroking his chin with her thumb, before leaning back and taking a moment to admire the half-drow.

Staeve's eyes were already going half-lidded with arousal, pupils blown so wide his irises were thin colourless rings against his black sclera. A warm flush spread over his nose and cheekbones, swallowing up his freckles and the pinkish mark of his scar. It kept going a little down his chest, as if inviting the eye to take in the rest of his well-toned body, the light dusting of hair down his torso—and his pretty, half-hard cock, stirring against his leg.

In a word, Staeve looked breath-taking. If she had been sworn to chastity, which she wasn't, Hébée would have had a hard time not to give in to such temptation.

Luckily, as things were, she simply didn't have to.

While Staeve watched her, Hébée pulled her shirt over her head and let it drop to the side. His flush deepened and his grin widened, his eyes wandered down her chest and the rest of her.

“Do you like what you see?” she purred. She was already wearing her cock, and she knew she looked good. She grabbed it at the base and showed it off a little. “Are you ready for me?”

“I am always ready,” he boasted. “Especially for this.” He leaned back on his elbows, displaying the long lines of his body for her appreciation. He tilted his chin up, somehow managing to look both cocky and eager. “How do you want me?” he purred back—an actual purring sound mixing with the low tones of his speaking voice.

Hébée grinned. “Let me look at you a little longer.”

She crawled up the bed and lay next to him, to better reach to drag her nails down his chest, his stomach, his lower abdomen. He was so hairy, in comparison to Astarion, and the novelty tickled her. She did love how smooth her vampire was, but this was fun, too.

She took him in her hand, let herself enjoy the hot weight of his length for a moment, then she twisted her wrist in a few slow, caressing strokes.

Staeve’s eyes fluttered closed, some of the cockiness draining out from his attitude as his face slackened with pleasure. Just before it looked like he might have tried to buck his hip into her hand, chasing the sensation, she let him go.

“I think I want to have a view of that nice and tight ass of yours while I fuck you from behind. Get on your stomach.”

Staeve let out a quick exhale of breath, and obeyed. He didn't try to make it sexy, but the heated look he shot her over his shoulder was almost enough to melt her.

Fondly annoyed that he could get to her so easily, she gave him a playful swat on his ass. Staeve cracked up and settled on his front, leaning forward on his elbows.

It really was a nice view, she mused as she unstoppered the small vial of oil. Broad shoulders, generously dusted with freckles and adorned with symmetrical ink shapes; a well muscled back, marked with a smattering of scars; the dip of his slender waist and narrow hips; the swell of his ass.

She enjoyed the way he was trying to keep still for her, but she also liked the minute twitch of anticipation that ran down his body as she caressed up his thigh. He spread his legs without her having to tell him, as her touch moved to the sensitive skin between his thighs, at the juncture between leg and ass, but he jumped a little when she poured oil directly in the crease of his ass, letting it drip down over his hole and down the delicate skin behind the testes, before she used her hand to spread it around, to give his cock a little reward.

He groaned easily and unself-consciously at the attention; he whined at her when she withdrew her touch again; and he outright yelped when she finally slipped a finger inside him.

It was such a squeaky, unexpected startled sound she couldn’t help but laugh, even as Staeve’s hand shot back to grip her wrist and stop her movements.

“Everything alright, pretty boy?” she inquired, settling a comforting hand on his back.

“Yes?” he stammered, a soft inquisitive tilt to his voice. “I mean. Yes! Didn’t expect it to feel so pointy.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” She knew how to be careful with her claws—she knew how to be creative with her claws, but accidents happened to the best. “Did I nick you?”

“No, you just—surprised me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go slow,” she promised, idly dragging her knuckles through the oily mess before pushing back in.

And then she did just that.

After a few minutes of agonisingly slow fingering, Staeve was writhing and panting against the sheets, fingers gripping the bedding as if it could save him from the onslaught of not-enough pleasure. Desperate gasping moans emerged from lips, as his entire body shivered every time she purposefully shied away from giving more.

“Hébée,” he finally called, a drawn out groan, hips twitching.

“No humping the bed,” she warned him. “Don't be naughty.”

“Please, Hébée.”

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me.”

“Well, alright. If you ask so nicely.” She added a little slick to her cock and grabbed Staeve's hips, pulling them flush to hers. She rubbed herself between his buttocks for a moment, caressing his hole with the flat of her thumb to feel him twitch in anticipation.

It was all the warning she conceded him, before she entered him in a swift, slick thrust.

His relief was instantaneous and his enjoyment bright as day—in the relaxed arch of his body meeting hers at every push, in the sweat gathering along the groove of his spine, in the exhilarated delight dripping from his lips. She could feel heat pooling in the cradle of her pelvis, her own pleasure flaring up with every echo of his bliss.

“Can I—” he gasped suddenly. She watched him drop his forehead against the mattress, fingers tangling even more tightly into the sheets. “Please, can I touch myself, please—”

“Of course you can,” she told him, startled that he had asked at all. “Actually—here, let me help you out, you sweet thing.”

She tightened her grip on his hips and sat back on her heels, pulling him with her. The shift in their position had him more firmly seated on her thighs, and drove her cock deeper; it gave her more leverage to thrust into him, but also to wrap an arm around his waist, to play with his chest. She wound her tail around his wrist, so she could both feel him and encourage him as he jerked himself off. “Come for me, pretty boy.”

Staeve let his head drop back onto her shoulder and gave himself a few desperate last strokes, the tip disappearing inside his fist. Hébée knew he had tipped himself over the edge by the sudden twist of his spine against her body even before she saw him spill over his knuckles. In comparison to earlier, his orgasm was a quiet affair—as if he’d run out of noise, as if the air had disappeared from the room.

She let him ride out the aftershocks in her arms, pressing a fond kiss against his sweaty neck. Then she unclasped the buckles of her harness and helped him slip off her cock. He clung to her as she did, a quiet purring spreading down his lower back; it was rather like giving aftercare to an overgrown, over-affectionate cat.

“That was amazing,” he laughed, sounding a little breathless still. He rolled onto his side, tilting his head at her with a smile. “You simply must tell me how I can thank you.”

Hébée smirked, tapped his mouth with claw-tipped fingers. “I can think of something.”

Staeve’s eyes shone. “ Just let me catch my breath.”