Chapter 354: Keeping it on the Low-Down [2]

Firlia’s clothes came away under his hands with the same practical care she used on knots: ties loosened, fabric set aside on the stone so nothing would be found crumpled and obvious at dawn.

When she was bare in the low hearth light, Kane took a moment only to look: the flush already rising from her chest, green hair loose, the body that had walked every mile without asking to be carried.

"Why are you shy? It’s not our first time."

"I... shut up... please..."

He turned her.

Not toward the platform.

Toward the deeper angle where Giant-scale furniture cast a hard shadow, and the waterfall’s thunder covered almost everything.

From here the sleeping shapes were visible in outline: Thora on the long platform, Misha over the brief, Griselda near the case, Kessa a dark curve at the threshold, close enough that a raised voice would carry, far enough that careful sound might not.

Firlia braced her hands on the stone ledge built for a Giant’s knee.

She looked once over her shoulder at the room, then back at him, eyes dark.

"...They are right there."

"I know."

Kane’s palm settled at the small of her back, steadying.

"That is the point. You wanted unfinished lines finished. You get them finished while the household sleeps ten strides away. Quietly."

"Wait—"

He guided himself between her thighs.

She was already wet.

The admission of it pulled a low sound from his chest.

He pushed in slowly, continuously, until he was buried to the hilt and her breath broke against the stone.

"Ah—"

"Quiet."

His other hand came around, two fingers pressing to her lips.

"Open."

Firlia opened her mouth.

He slid his fingers in.

She closed around them and sucked on instinct, the wet heat of her tongue a second rhythm while he began to move.

The angle was deep.

Every thrust pressed her hips forward against the ledge.

Every withdrawal left her pushing back for more.

The sound of it was soft under the waterfall.

Her muffled noises vibrated around his fingers.

"Unnggh... Slowly... Haa..."

Kane kept the pace measured and hard, no slam that would travel through the floor, only the steady drive that made her thighs shake.

"That is it," he murmured near her ear.

"Take it. Look at them if you want. They are asleep. You are the one awake and full."

Firlia’s eyes flicked toward the platform, toward Kessa’s shape at the door, then squeezed shut as he bottomed out again.

She sucked harder on his fingers, green hair spilling forward.

Her free hand found his wrist and held on.

From the threshold, Kessa made a sudden, loud sound in her sleep: half roar, half complaint, the tiger noise she used when dreams turned into fights.

Firlia froze around him.

Kane went still, buried deep, fingers still in her mouth.

Kessa shifted, muttered something that might have been a curse at a phantom, and settled again without opening her eyes.

Firlia exhaled shakily around his fingers.

Kane resumed the rhythm, a fraction slower, a fraction deeper, the near-miss sharpening every stroke.

"Still efficient?" he asked, voice rough.

She shook her head, mouth full, and pushed back onto him harder in answer.

He fucked her like that until the careful control frayed.

His free hand gripped her hip hard enough to leave marks she would feel on the morning climb.

Firlia’s muffled cry around his fingers climbed.

Her cunt clenched in tight pulses as she came, body locking, forehead pressed to the stone.

Kane followed her over with a low groan he buried against her shoulder, grinding deep as he spilled into her in thick pulses.

They stayed locked for a breath.

Then he eased his fingers from her mouth.

A string of saliva caught the hearth light.

Firlia’s lips were wet, swollen, her expression wrecked and focused at once.

"...Not finished," she whispered.

She turned, sank to her knees on the cloak, and reached for him.

His cock was still hard, slick with both of them.

She took him into her mouth without preamble: practical, thorough, the same competence she brought to every task she refused to leave half-done.

Kane’s hand settled in her green hair.

He didn’t force.

He let her set the depth and the pace, watching the logistics officer who had been afraid of being a blank line suck him clean and then suck him harder, cheeks hollowing, eyes flicking up once to meet his in the dark.

"Firlia—"

She hummed around him.

The vibration ran up his spine.

She took him deeper, one hand wrapping the base, the other braced on his thigh, and worked him with a steady, wet rhythm that had nothing left of solemn lists in it.

Saliva ran.

The filthy sounds stayed under the waterfall’s cover. Behind them the household slept on.

Kane’s grip tightened in her hair when the second release built.

"If you do not want—"

She only took him deeper in answer.

He came with a rough, suppressed sound, pulsing over her tongue.

Firlia swallowed, coughed once softly, and stayed on her knees until he was finished, forehead resting against his hip as if the inventory of the moment finally balanced.

When she looked up, her mouth was wet, her eyes clear, the tremor gone from her hands for an entirely different reason.

"Line finished," she said, voice hoarse.

"Not yet."

Firlia’s eyes widened.

Before she could form a protest or a schedule, Kane hauled her up by the waist.

Her bare back met the warm stone wall of the hearth-corner hard enough to knock a soft breath out of her.

He hooked her legs around his hips, lined up, and drove into her in one deep plunge that seated him to the root.

"Ah—Kane—"

"Sshhh..."

His mouth found the side of her throat.

"The waterfall covers what it covers. You still don’t get to wake the platform."

"But—"

"Don’t worry. I will make you feel alive."

He fucked her against the wall with powerful strokes.