Chapter 165: Episode 164: Time with Axel [19+]

"What’s so cringe about this?" He murmurs in a deep voice, and her eyes widen in shock.

But then settles again.

"I keep forgetting that your mother was also from Earth." He nods planting a kiss against the corner of her lips.

He moves slowly. Always does. Fingers trail up her thigh under the soft fabric of her skirt, warm and sure. She watches him, pink eyes half-lidded. Part of her stays quiet inside, the way she often does, but her skin answers him first.

A small shiver runs through her when his thumb brushes higher.

"Come here," he murmurs.

She shifts closer without a word. His arms slide around her, pulling her into his lap so she straddles him. The lean muscle of his chest presses against her. He smells like the books he loves and the faint wild scent of wolf that never quite leaves him. His hands settle on her waist, then glide up under her shirt.

When his palms cup her breasts, she draws in a quiet breath. Milk beads at the tips almost at once. He notices. Of course he does. He has read enough, asked enough careful questions in the quiet hours after the babies sleep, to know what her body needs now.

He had been waiting for this exact moment.

His thumbs circle slow, gentle, and the warmth of his hands eases the dull ache she has grown used to.

Rue’s fingers curl against his shoulders. She does not speak. Words feel heavy sometimes. But she leans into him, forehead resting against his. His smile brushes her mouth before he kisses her, soft at first, then deeper when she parts her lips for him.

Clothes come away in quiet pieces. Shirt, the soft wrap she still wears underneath. He lays her back against the pillows and looks at her the way he looks at a page he wants to remember.

His own clothes follow. The hard line of him presses against her thigh when he settles between her legs.

And he was as massive as she thought he would be.

He does not rush. One hand strokes down her side, over the soft curve of her belly, the fuller shape of her hips.

The other stays at her breast, thumb rolling slow until more milk wells up. He lowers his head and takes the peak into his mouth. The gentle pull makes her toes curl. A soft sound leaves her throat, half relief, half something sweeter.

Axel drinks what she offers, careful not to take too much, then moves to the other side. His free hand slips between them. Fingers find the warm place already slick for him. He knows the spots that make her breath catch.

Two fingers slide in, curling just so, while his thumb draws small circles higher up. Rue’s hips shift without her telling them to. Her pink eyes stay on his face, watching the way his lashes lower in concentration.

When he lifts his head, a faint sheen of milk clings to his lower lip. He kisses her again, sharing the taste. She lets him. Her hands slide into his hair, holding him close.

"Ready?" he asks against her mouth.

I have always been ready....

Her eyes rake down his body, and she nods once.

He guides himself to her and presses in slowly. The stretch is familiar and new at the same time, her body softer, fuller after the births, taking him deeper. A low sound rumbles in his chest.

He stays still once he is seated all the way, giving her time. His forehead rests against hers. Blue eyes search her face.

Rue’s hands move down his back. She feels the lean muscle under warm skin, the steady beat of his heart. Something in her chest loosens. She is not cold right now. Not distant. Just here, under him, full of him.

He begins to move. Long, unhurried strokes that let her feel every inch. One hand stays under her thigh, lifting her a little so the angle is better.

"How does it feel to memorise different stretches?" he suddenly asks, and her eyes flutter and her lips parted on it’s own.

"Different..."

The other cups her breast again, thumb teasing the wet tip. Every time he sinks deep she feels the soft press of his hips against hers, the quiet strength in him.

Her breath comes shorter. The pleasure builds in slow waves rather than a sudden crash. She likes it this way, no rush, just the steady slide of him, the warmth of his mouth at her throat, the way he whispers her name like it belongs only to him.

When the first tremor hits her, she tightens around him without meaning to. Her fingers dig into his shoulders. A soft, broken sound leaves her. Axel keeps the same rhythm, drawing it out, letting the feeling roll through her until her legs shake against his sides.

He follows soon after, burying his face in the curve of her neck as he spills deep inside her. His arms lock around her, holding her close while their breathing slows together.

For a long while neither of them moves. The room is quiet except for the soft sound of the wind outside and the distant coo of one of the babies in the next room. Rue’s head rests on his chest. His heart beats under her ear, steady and strong.

Axel’s fingers find her hair. He combs through the long white-silver strands, careful, gentle, the way he has done a hundred times since she first let him. The simple touch feels almost as intimate as everything that came before.

Her body is warm and heavy against his. Milk still beads slowly at her breasts where his mouth left them damp. She feels full in every way: body, heart, the quiet space inside her that usually stays closed.

He keeps stroking her hair, smiling that soft smile against the top of her head.

Then his hand stills.

Her thought drifts up, clear as spoken words inside his mind.

He is so warm, soft and hard at the same time.... ugh Rue you have become more perverted!