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ladyramora · 5 months

Text

New Beginnings

T'lira x G'raha PWP ❤️

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Main Characters: T'lira, G'raha Tia.

Minor characters: Y'shtola Rhul, Krile Mayer Baldesion, Mentions of Thancred

↓↓↓ Spoilers for FFXIV Shadowbringers & FFXIV Endwalker below the cut ↓↓↓

Tags & NSFW warnings:

Love Confessions, Kissing, Aethersand used as a meaningful gift, Teasing, Pet Names, Wall Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Table Sex, Doggy Style, Creampie.

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Today would be the day.

Yes, today would be the day that she would finally confess her heart.

Or so T'lira had hoped.

She arrives in Sharlayan with her purpose held firmly in her mind, using the walk to the Baldesion Annex to put her thoughts in order of just what she wanted to say to a certain someone.

She asks around for him just to be sure he would be there, and finds herself standing outside of the door to his room within the annex. She raises her hand to knock and does so, her confidence and surety lasting right up until G'raha opens the door.

He seems pleased to see her as he ever was, ears perking in surprise at finding her knocking at his door. A delighted smile stretching across his full, kissable lips. "Lira, you are a sight for sore eyes!"

T'lira forgets entirely what she had planned to say. Her mind goes blank, her heart pounding so loud in her ears that she can barely hear the words that G'raha speaks to her. She finds herself fumbling through conversation with the man she means to finally express her feelings to, and somehow ends up with a random book in hand that she did not need. Blurting out in a moment of panic the excuse that she had come to borrow it.

Wanting this embarrassing, frustrating time to end, T'lira expresses her thanks for the book and bids him goodbye.

Of course it was a book of faerie tales. Tales of romance and adventure not unlike the book that had inspired her to become an adventurer.

She holds the book in both hands and groans quietly outside of Raha's door, thumping herself in the head with it. Why, why, why? Why was this the hardest thing she had ever attempted to do? She had fought literal gods, she had saved the world! Why was admitting her feelings so much more terrifying?

T'lira shakes her head and goes back to her own room within the annex. She slumps against her closed door, groaning loud and thumping her head again, but this time against the sturdy wood she leans on when she feels a knock on the other side of it.

T’lira startles, her fur prickling. The long, fluffy expanse of her tail floofing in surprise as her feline ears perked and flattened with embarrassment.

A hot flush colors her face. T’lira hoped whoever came to visit hadn't heard her thunking her head against the door.

She straightens up, takes a breath, and turns to open the door.

G'raha stands on the other side of it, hand raised in the air as if he was just about to knock again.

"Raha?" T'lira blinks, watching as the redheaded miqo'te fidget and rub over his wrists in what seemed to be nerves. "Did you need something?"

G'raha clears his throat and straightens up before her eyes. Projecting a sort of confidence that was very much Exarch-esque as he says to her, "Yes. I forgot something when you came to my room just a moment ago."

T'lira tilts her head. "What did you forget?"

"This," G'raha says, stepping forward over the threshold into her room and closing the space between them. His hands reach out to cradle T'lira's face as he draws her to him in a sudden, passionate crush of lips.

The book of faerie tales in T'lira's hand slips from her fingers and drops to the floor as her hands fly up to clutch him to her. The man in her arms is more real and wonderful than anything she has ever read in any book.

"R–Raha," she groans his affectionate name in a surprised, breathy gasp as his lips move over hers in a frenzy of hungry, dizzying kisses.

"Forgive me if I have overstepped," G'raha tells her in a deep, rasping growl, but does not stop kissing her as he moves further into her room, sending T'lira nearly stumbling as she steps backwards to match his forward stride.

G'raha kicks the door closed with the back of his foot and then spins her around to press her against it, pinning her there with the warm, solid weight of his body.

There was not much disparity in their height difference, perhaps he had a few ilms on her at most. It was the surprising amount of muscle she felt under his clothes, pressed up against the plush softness of her curves. Perhaps he had kept up with his archery, after all.

His lips do not leave hers throughout it all, nipping and then sucking at her bottom lip as T'lira makes a whimpering sound in her throat.

"Tell me now if you wish to stop," G'raha hisses out on an exhale. T'lira shakes her head. No, no. That was not what she wished for.

"There is something else I have wanted to tell you," she attempts to say between the passionate press of their lips, grasping at his adventuring attire to pull him even closer. To keep him with her. “I meant to tell you–”

"Later, later," G'raha positively purrs with an accompanied feline rumble in his chest, kissing over her chin and down her throat. Plainly so very pleased that T'lira wanted this, wanted him.

Indeed she did. T'lira tips her head back with an encouraging whimper, her fingers knotting in the fabric of the scarf he wore as G'raha peppers her skin in wet, open-mouthed kisses. His fangs occasionally scrape ever so gently over skin, inspiring such a pleasurable sensation that it made T'lira shiver all over, the spiced-copper of her hair and fur prickling pleasantly.

"Raha," She moans out the affectionate shortening of his name, pulling him even closer to her. Craving him even more now that they held one another in an embrace. Now that he was finally kissing her, touching her. Gods, she had to tell him now or it would burst out of her. All her feelings of love and affection would not be something she could contain any longer in such a blissful, passionate moment as this.

"Raha, I—" T'lira starts to say, only to be interrupted in a very G'raha fashion that was so much his younger, impatient self that T'lira felt hysterical laughter bubble up in her throat. At least until his words truly registered.

"—T'lira. Lira," G'raha gasps out between hungry, passionate kisses trailed over her decolletage. T'lira had never been so thankful to wear something a little more comfortable, fabric that was easily pulled aside so that G'raha—her lover!—could more easily touch and kiss her skin. "Pray, allow me to confess something to you that I have long wished to. For all the time I have known you, and for all the years I have waited, for the time that I was the Exarch, as well. Lira, I…"

Was he intending to… confess to her? T'lira blushes hot, her heart pounding in her chest. Falling quiet as she gazed at him with wide lilac eyes. Hopeful and expectant.

“Yes, Raha?” She breathes out.

G’raha lifts his head to meet her eyes, his crimson gaze intense, searing with his desire and brimming with long held emotions that had T’lira catching her breath in her throat. She could see plain in his face how he felt, but gods did she need to hear him speak the words like nothing she had ever needed so desperately before.

“Tell me,” T’lira murmurs gently, pleadingly. “Tell me?”

G’raha cups her face in his warm hands, and T'lira melts into his touch, sinking into his embrace. Basking in his warmth and breathing him in.

"I told myself I would tell you when the time was right," the redhead tells her, then sighs, "but before I knew it the time was never right! I kept pushing it back, holding my tongue when all I wanted to do was tell you, to tell everyone—all the people of the first and the source, too—how I felt!"

T'lira's cheeks grow hot under the man's palms, her lilac eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. "Raha…"

G'raha presses his finger to her lips, then strokes over them with the pads of his fingers. "Please, Lira, let me speak all I have held back till now. I feel as if my heart will burst if I do not tell you now, in a moment so special as this."

T'lira leans into his touch, her soft lips parted and her eyelashes gently fluttering. For a moment distracting the red haired miqo'te from what he meant to say as he cannot help himself from leaning in to steal yet another kiss.

T'lira gets lost in it for a moment herself.

"How many years have I waited," G’raha murmurs as their kiss breaks, resting his forehead against hers, their hair mingling together—ruby red to spiced-copper—and sharing air as he stays intimately close, a hair's breadth away from kissing her again.

"My dreams were ever of the past. I carried the hopes of many, including my own. So focused was I upon my goal, I had forgotten how it felt to be in your company. How every moment at your side was so captivating, so utterly exhilarating. Another adventurer, side by side, was all I wanted. I told myself I could be content with that. That it would be enough."

G'raha takes a breath, his forehead nuzzling hers, "Yet T'lira… Lira. It only made me yearn for more. I craved every second for your company. Another moment, another hour, another day; more and more of your time. To bask in your presence, to gaze into your face. To know more of you. The time we spent together before I sealed myself within the tower was much too fleeting. I want more. I have for a very long time. It has… dawned on me that I… I want forever with you, Lira. I want to wake each day and see your face the moment I open my eyes. To hear your voice as you bid me good morning. To hold your hands in mine, to kiss your lips…"

T'lira leans in to kiss him again, urgent and full of passion. G'raha groans, clutching her tightly against him.

"Lira… Lira," he sighs out, husky and breathless.

T'lira can barely hear him over the throb of her own pulse in her ears, but she does the hardest thing in this moment, breaking away from another passionate string of kisses so that she might calm herself down enough to listen to his words.

"Please," T'lira says softly, breathlessly.

The way he looks at her makes her breath hitch. His heart was in his eyes, his love for her written clearly in the expression on his face. Still, Lira would hear the words for herself. She would know his feelings, spoken true.

G'raha, sweet, dependable Raha, never did disappoint her.

"I love you, Lira."

Gods, he was adorable the way his voice trembled on her name. She can see his nerves in the way clenches his fists at his sides, looking at her with eyes wide and feline ears pinned back in wait of her answer.

Did he think she would reject him? For all his experience and being such an accomplished scholar and leader, he really was not so different from that silly boy she once knew.

Now was not the time for teasing. T'lira steps forward into the warmth of his body, reaching out to fiddle with the aethersand necklace she had made for him, its matching pair dangling from her neck.

"Of course I love you, Raha," she tells him simply, with no desire to drag things out with long speeches. That was more G'raha's specially. T'lira had wanted to say the words to him for so long. Knowing that Raha loved her made it suddenly all too easy when before it had been a struggle to formulate the words, let alone speak them.

"How could there be any doubt? Truly, I thought my feelings would have been far too obvious. I've loved you for a long time, and most everyone knows by now. Even Lyna, who was quite intense in her interrogation. She demanded to know just what my intentions were towards you."

"Truly?" G'raha laughs at that, head ducking bashfully as he runs his hand over his hair. Tail swaying and ears wiggling with positive emotions.

"Gods, Lira. I am just... so relieved."

T'lira smiles helplessly, curling her finger through the cord of his aethersand necklace and tugging meaningfully.

"So am I. Come here."

G'raha dips his head with no further need of prompting, kissing her with feeling. The press of his lips against hers is only soft for a moment before he becomes more insistent, coaxing her mouth open with a groan as he plays over the seam of her lips and lit her every nerve alight with the slick slide of his tongue.

T'lira grasps for him greedily, her fingers curling into the fabric of his adventuring attire and making fists to keep hold of him and drag him even closer.

"Raha," she moans encouragingly. Giggling breathlessly at the way his ears perk and twitch every time she says his name. So she says it again and again, "...Raha. Raha," just to delight in the way he reacts.

His skin colors to such a pretty shade, his fur prickling so cutely. What an honest reaction.

"You're so cute, Raha," T'lira murmurs affectionately. Her love overflows from her heart and leaks out into her voice as she speaks to him. Twelve, she adored him so.

She is rewarded with the sight of his embarrassed pouty face. Such an expression evokes in her a feeling of fond nostalgia. T'lira cannot fight the impulse to squeeze his face in her hands and kiss his pouty lips.

"You tease me overmuch, Lira," G’raha sighs, but smiles for her so sweetly. Heart meltingly.

T'lira does not expect him to turn the tables on her by cupping her face in his hands and kissing her until she melts into him.

"You are the cute one, Lira. My Lira," G’raha calls to her with an edge of a playful growl in his voice.

T’lira shivers all over, blinking wide eyed as her cheeks flush hot under his palms.

G’raha pauses, seeming surprised himself at inspiring such a response from her.

A look of triumphant mischief comes over her lover's face. Aught that surely spelled trouble for her. Her sweet Raha still had that playful spark of mischief within him.

"Lira," G’raha's voice rumbles low, the redheaded miqo'te tugging her close to purr directly into her ears, "Finally. You've become mine."

T'lira's stomach swoops, and her teeth press into her bottom lip as her eyelashes flutter with the desire that rushes through her.

She yanks him in by the grip she has on his clothing, their lips crashing together in a hot, frenzied string of kisses that was all tongues, and teeth, and gasping breath.

"Fair is fair. You call me yours, I'll have to call you mine," T'lira growls in kind, tugging on his lower lip with her teeth.

"Yes," G'raha groans in his throat and pulls her flush against him, the physical evidence of his desire for her pressing against her. "I have been yours for a very long time, Lira. How many years I have waited, yearning to meet you again. Even so, I dared not hope that you would accept me like this…!"

T'lira laughs, reaching out to place her finger over his lips before he can go off on another tangent. Smiling so large her face aches at the adorable expression of surprise that comes over her soon-to-be lover's handsome face.

"Well, I have. We two have expressed our feelings for one another, so won't you tell me just what were you intending to do before that grand speech? Pray, continue where you left off, my lord," T'lira says, deliberately teasing in her words and actions as she wiggles against him. Her best attempt of recapturing the mood before it could become derailed with more talk of their feelings and the colorful history between them.

Fortunately, it works like a charm.

G'raha clutches her to him, hissing out a breath between his teeth as he matches the roll of her body against his with a desperate grind of his hips.

"Lira," her name is a prayer from his lips as he lifts her up abruptly in a show of impatience as well as strength.

T'lira wraps her arms and legs around him, laughing in her throat as he pins her to the nearest wall and ruts against her.

"Hahh, yes!" T'lira moans encouragingly, squeezing her legs around him as she bucks her hips to meet him. The friction felt delicious, but it wasn't enough.

T'lira wanted more. She wanted to feel his hands on her, his body against hers, skin to skin.

"Too many clothes in the way," T'lira pants out. Yanking at his scarf, his tunic, her nails scratching at the red hairs of his nape, fingers tugging. She leans in to nip his jaw, purring in her throat, "I want to feel you."

G'raha's jaw ticks with the grinding of his teeth, his throat bobbing. Tempting her all the more to sink her teeth into the purple mark decorating his skin. To stain him in her color, mark him with the shape of her bite.

"My, so impatient," G'raha laughs, pressing his pretty mouth to her salty skin and licking at her. "Mayhap I want to savor this moment, my dear Lira."

It seemed they were of the same mind, wanting to stake their claim on one another.

T'lira drops her head back, gasping as he sucks marks into her skin. Pleading with him. Or, rather, making demands of him, "Nng, savor it later! Touch me, Raha. Touch me right now!"

G'raha laughs into her skin, seeming utterly giddy as he presses her hard into the wall with his body and frees up a hand to wriggle between them. A one track path to that heated place between her thighs that was aching for his attention.

T'lira whines out in slack-jawed pleasure as he cups her through the layers of cloth between them and rubs her roughly. Giving her more of that sweet, sweet friction through their clothing.

T'lira cries out, a curse wrung from her lips as her hips jerk into the firm press of his fingers against her.

Gods, she wanted those fingers inside of her so bad!

G'raha shushes her, giggling gleefully to himself as T'lira reacts to his touch so strongly.

"I should have done this ages ago," he mutters with eyes wide open to T’lira's every shift in expression, his feline ears perked at attention to catch every note of her pleasure.

"Don't you pull at that thread," T'lira huffs, balling a fist into his scarf and tugging, "We'll be here all night if you start with should haves and what ifs!"

G'raha grins, all cat-like mischief in the sway of his tail as he leans in to steal a kiss. "Oh? Did you think I'd be leaving here before morning?"

T'lira bites at his cheeky mouth, those too-full lips just far too tempting. "Full of yourself, aren't you?"

G'raha's smile turns wicked. A full fanged grin. "Mayhap I would prefer you to be full of m—"

T'lira covers his mouth, red cheeked and gasping, "Where has my shy, sweet Raha gone to? What rakish rogue has taken his place? Have you been taking lessons from Thancred?"

She meant to tease him by her words, but the look in his eye has her breath catching in her throat.

G'raha gives her tingles by kissing her palm, then scraping his teeth over it.

"If I told you that the sweet, shy young man you once knew desired you as I do now, would it shock you? Would you have blushed knowing the passion you stirred in him? How shameful he felt, thinking of you in his lonely moments of desire, wishing you were there beside him?"

T'lira does indeed blush red hot at the portrait that her lover paints for her. Endless scenarios fill her mind, the ache of her own desire only increasing.

"Was it me, for all the time we were apart?" T'lira asks him, surprising herself at her own boldness as surely as she does G'raha. "What did you think about?"

G'raha makes something of a moan in his throat, whether it was desire or embarrassment was unclear.

Perhaps it was both.

"You, it was always you," G'raha speaks into her throat as he buries his face into her neck. His breath is hot and shaky against her skin as he works her up into a needy frenzy with his words and his touch. "I would have no other. You were always in my thoughts."

His kisses are a clockwork over her skin, hot enough to leave her all too feverish as his fingers rub at her relentlessly, slow then quick, slow then quick.

T'lira knew he was strong, but to feel it for herself, firsthand… Gods, his hands! It was as if there were no layers between them at all with how keenly she could feel his touch. She would not last at this rate, but that seemed to be her lover's intention.

"Raha," T’lira mewls out, feeling all too weak to him. Craving more of that feeling, of his words. "I want to know more, I want to feel more…!"

She can feel his breath quicken, the scrape of his teeth over her skin followed by the slick drag of his tongue.

"You were all I could think of, Lira," G'raha declares in a passionate gasp, spurred on by her desire. "I was endlessly plagued by such lustful imaginings. Moments just like this, here and now. I imagined how I would touch you, what you would taste like."

His groan rumbles through her as his fingers press against her, seeking her clit. Through these layers it would be far more stimulating to grope and squeeze, but G'raha only pets her there, fingers stroking barely hard enough to make her wiggle and ache for more.

T'lira lets out a blissful whimper. "Don't tease me."

G'raha laughs at that, as if the sound were pulled from him. A bright, humored bark accompanied by the wiggle of his feline ears and the playful sway of his tail. "For all you have teased me, it would surely be just desserts, my dearest Lira!"

T'lira makes a small grunt in her throat, bothered that she could not refute him there. So, maybe she had teased him rather often.

"Perhaps if your reactions were not so terribly endearing, I would be less inclined to do so."

G'raha grins, eyebrows arching. "Oh? Am I to understand you are placing the blame on me? That is hardly fair, Lira my dear."

T'lira nods, sucking in a breath as his fingers tease against her purposefully. Just enough pressure to drive her wild.

"Mm! You… are just… too cute to resist! All the faces you make, the responses you give me are different all the time. I…hahh!…want to see them all."

The look in G'raha's eyes spells trouble for her, but T’lira cannot find it within herself to worry as her lover slips his fingers under her clothing to caress her skin to skin.

Ohh!

T'lira's head tilts back, her mouth falling open on a moan as he swipes his fingers through her folds and is instantly greeted by the warm wetness of her abundant desire spilling forth to coat his fingers.

"Gods, Lira, you're so warm. So wet," G'raha groans, sliding a slippery finger over her clit and chuckling to himself in satisfaction at the whimper she lets out.

"Do you intend to torture me?" T'lira whines, bucking her hips in want of more, more, more.

"Of course not, my love," G'raha murmurs, and sinks a finger inside of her slowly.

T'lira moans.

"To tease you now would simply be the same as torturing myself. I simply want to bear witness to your pleasure with full focus before I find myself too… distracted."

T'lira trembles as he works her open, dipping into her again and again. A second finger soon joins the first to curl inside of her, making her hips buck and legs shake with pleasure.

"Raha, Raha, Raha!" She chants between labored gasps, shaking all over and grasping at him desperately as he stirs her up into a lustful frenzy, his fingers thrusting inside of her and his palm grinding against her.

"You sing for me so prettily, Lira," G’raha growls to her, drunk on the rush of pleasing her like this.

T’lira could not stop the sounds she was letting out if she tried. Why fight it, why hold back at all? T'lira saw no point in denying her pleasure, so she let go. Allowing herself to get lost in the moment, to get lost in G’raha and how he made her feel.

"Sing for me, too, Raha," T’lira gasps, surging into him to kiss his mouth hungrily. "You've always had… such a gorgeous singing voice."

G'raha obliges her with a gorgeous moan. T’lira rarely had the opportunity to relish his singing, but to hear him moan was an entirely new and blissful experience. His voice was made for such sounds as these.

T’lira felt blissful in the knowledge that this duet was theirs, alone. Together, their voices harmonized so beautifully.

The air is filled with the sounds they make, the lustful music of moans and sighs breathed out, low and high. The crash of their lips as messy and wet as the lewd sound of Raha's fingers thrusting inside of her.

T’lira's whole body trembled, her muscles coiling tight as tension built fast inside of her.

"Close," she mewls, rolling her hips forward with need. Aching, throbbing on the edge of release; a tether pulled taut, close to snapping.

"Raha," she whimpers.

A little more, she needed just a little more…!

"I have you," G’raha tells her in a guttural growl. Pressing her against the wall snugly as his hand moved faster, her abundance of arousal making an absurdly wet sound as he fingers her in a furious pace.

T’lira's mouth hangs open in a helpless, lust-addled cry as she jerks and bucks in uncontrollable pleasure.

Yes, yes, yes…!

Pleasure swept her up in a wave of orgasmic bliss. She can only hang onto Raha for dear life as she rides out the overwhelming intensity of it.

He pins her to the wall with his body to still her uncontrollable writhing, laughing breathlessly in his throat as T’lira let out such incredible sounds in her passion-drunk delirium.

G’raha drinks it all in, eyes wide open and flushed redder than his hair, beside himself rapturous joy.

"I have you, I have you," he breathes out, half in awe that he truly did. That he was holding her fast to him as she slowly relaxed into the afterglow of that first peak. That he had been the one to inspire such such pleasure in her.

One of many to come, if he had his way.

T’lira murmurs contentedly, entirely limp and held up only by Raha's determined strength.

G'raha breathes shakily as he slowly shifts, attempting to be so very careful as he slips his fingers free.

T'lira mewls, squeezing at his fingers. Just as reluctant to let him go.

G’raha gulps, his thumb grazing her clit as his fingers sink back inside of her with a wet squelch, his eyes lit with hungry desire as he watches her twitch and shudder in response.

His hand was drenched with her juices up to his wrist, and though he was desperate to taste her—to savor every drop of her pleasure—G'raha curls his fingers inside of her again. Seeking her sweet spots. Wanting to bear witness to the addictive sight of her pleasure building to another orgasmic crescendo.

"Hnng… W—wait… I just came," T'lira whimpers, hips jerking.

"Ohh?" G'raha's tone of voice suddenly shifts, "Is this all my champion—my inspiration—can take? Surely you have more stamina than an old man such as I?"

"Don't you use your Exarch voice on me." Lira huffs.

"But I thought you liked it? You told me yourself that you thought it was impressive," G’raha chuckles.

"I recall what I actually said was that your ability to take control of a situation was impressive," T'lira squirms as she reminds him of what she had said, blushing and regretting her past self being so candid about admitting such things to G'raha's face. Though, it was certainly true that his ability to remain calm and step into a leadership role in the midst of chaos was undoubtedly a useful skill to have.

G’raha grins, entirely smug. "Very good, Lira," he coos in dripping saccharine praise with his calm, composed Exarch voice. "You remember well what you said from your own lips. Such is why I imagine you will not protest as I take control now." He punctuates his words by thumbing her clit, watching her reaction with a composed expression that was all the more devastating with the bright red blush coloring his skin.

T’lira cries out, hips jerking in what must be another smaller orgasm. Her whole body shivers and shakes, a feverish heat rushing through her.

Did he really intend to continue on like this? T'lira wanted more, right this moment. They could savor one another all they liked later.

If they kept at this pace, another apocalypse would be at their door before G'raha gave her what she wanted!

"Raha, I need you," she groans desperately, truly aching for him. Perhaps playing it up a bit to nail home just how much. She would be getting her way, she almost always did when it came to him, "Please, don't make me wait any longer."

That certainly did the trick.

G'raha makes the sound of a man knowing he was being manipulated, but going along with it anyway, somehow perfectly conveyed without words. It was all in the tone of his long-suffering groan, but it made T'lira grin like the cat that got the cream. Got him.

T'lira savors her victory as G'raha unfastening his trousers with surprising dexterity, obviously feeling it for the way he fumbles a few times before getting it right.

“Hurry,” she moans.

“Impatient,” G’raha huffs.

T’lira has a retort on the tip of her tongue, but loses it like a candy fizzling on her tongue as G’raha presses up against her and sinks inside with one smooth thrust of his hips.

“Ohh!” T'lira gasps, clutching at him. Her nails scratching over the layered fabric at his back.

“How is it…?” G’raha groans out.

T'lira whimpers.

His answering chuckle rumbles through her, and T’lira can do nothing but hold on for dear life and make sweet noises for him as G’raha pulls back and thrusts forward, again, again, and again.

“Was… this… what you wanted?” He asks her, every word punctuated by a snap of his hips that presses her firm against the door.

Sharlayan architecture was certainly something, here G’raha was putting his back into giving T’lira what she asked for with gusto, and the sturdy wooden door did not once shake in its frame.

“Yes, yes, haah… Raha!” T’lira moans encouragingly. Nor is she idle, either. She grips the doorframe behind her—and with G’raha braced against her—she lifts herself to bounce on him. Her arm wrapping around his shoulders as she lifts and falls, lifts and falls.

G’raha gasps for her so prettily that T’lira gives into the impulse to crush her mouth against his, stealing his breath as they both become lost to the frenzy of pleasure.

She tingles from her finely furred feline eartips to her curling toes with how he moans for her, murmuring her name so desperately even though he could hardly catch his breath at all.

“Raha, Raha,” she moans for him in return. Her whole body burned, that familiar feeling building up again far easier now that her body was in a state of consistent stimulus and arousal.

“I… I’m—!” her legs squeeze tight at his waist as another peak takes her by surprise. She ducks her head, yanking his scarf aside to bite hard at the muscled meat between his neck and shoulder.

G’raha must lose the strength in his legs as she grips him so tightly in the throes of her orgasm. Or perhaps she has simply made him weak in the knees with her teeth in his skin.

He groans as if he were dying and stumbles sideways, causing T’lira to shriek and laugh as she flings an arm out to catch them before they take a tumble, sweeping pinned papers and portraits off the wall as they slid across the wall and away from the sturdy frame of the door.

“Raaahaaa!”

G’raha is shaking with laughter as he rights them both in a show of strength and balance. “I have you, I have you,” he giggles boyishly. Resting them against the wall a moment to catch his breath before he was hoisting her up again and carrying her deeper into the room.

T’lira half expects him to take her to the bed, but is surprised as she finds herself perched upon the nearest table not entirely packed with clutter. G’raha sweeps his arm out, sending whatever populated the surface clattering to the floor as he lays her down upon it.

T’lira's cheeks ache with the force of her grin as she joins in, swinging her arm wide over her head and sending a stack of books tumbling over the ledge.

“I have wanted to do this for an age,” G’raha admits, pausing to lick up over his wrist and across his palm of the hand he had been fingering her with before sighing hotly as he leans forward to kiss her.

T’lira laughs, holding him in her embrace as she kisses him with lazy heat. “Mmm, I can tell…”

G’raha smiles with feline satisfaction, his tail flickering behind him. Mischievous.

What was he…?

“Pray excuse me, my love. I have some pressing matters to attend to that are well overdue,” G’raha says, and grasps her by the hip to flip her over onto her belly. It was easy enough for him, as T’lira was the smaller of the two at just under four-fulm and eleven-ilms.

“Ah! Raha!” T’lira gasps, blood rushing to her face as her lover grasps her bottom and spreads her open from the back. Her voice pitches high in a squeak as he leans into her and buries his face against her.

“Ohh..!” T'lira slips her hands up to grip the edge of the table for dear life as G’raha treats her to the talents of his tongue, groaning deep in his throat like she was the most delectable thing he had ever tasted.

T’lira's heart thunders in her chest, her own voice loud in her ears as she cannot keep quiet the sounds that her lover pries from her lips.

“Gods, Lira, you taste divine,” G’raha sounded blissed out himself, drunk on her flavor. “I could feast upon naught but you for days at a time.”

T’lira twitches and bucks, squirming in place with helpless pleasure as he makes a meal of her.

“Please, please, please,” she whimpers and whines. So sensitive, but craving so much more. She would surely be sore tomorrow but T’lira was not ready to stop now. G’raha would certainly not be leaving her room until the morrow.

“You beg so prettily, Lira,” Raha chuckles, sucking at her folds and tonguing her slit. His hands are hot on her skin, strong as he spreads her open for him.

T’lira cries out, seeing stars as he sucks and licks at her clit. “Fuck me!”

G’raha gives a husky laugh. “As you wish.”

She moans in her throat as G’raha pulls away, barely able to miss him as he promptly lines himself up again, sinking back inside of her to resume his good work.

The table wobbles with the snap of his hips, groaning under them as it scrapes across the floor. It was barely sturdy enough to bear the brunt of their passion, adding a sense of hilarity to the situation that had T’lira giggling between moans.

“We might… break this table… Raha!”

His hands had a firm grasp on her hips, the table jerking under them with every thrust. “‘Twould be… a worthy sacrifice…!” Raha grunts out with humor.

The next creak the table makes is particularly loud, as if to protest the idea of its destruction by the overzealous actions of the two amorous lovers.

T’lira bites back her laughter, holding fast to the less than sturdy table in a white-knuckle grip as G’raha well and truly did his best to make up for the time they had not been all over one another like this.

She shivers as G’raha leans over her, pressing kisses over her spine. His hands caress her skin, sliding up from her hips over her sides to lay his palms over the backs of her hands, their fingers slotting together.

“I love you,” he murmurs into her neck, brushing his lips across her shoulder blades. “I love you, Lira.”

T’lira gives a soft whine in her throat, overcome with emotion. “I love you,” she whispers fervently, lifting her arm to cup the back of his neck. Her head turns a bit awkwardly, but her desire to kiss him overcomes any discomfort.

The table gives a loud, ominous crack!—and T’lira squeaks as she finds herself snared in G’raha’s magic—caught before she could fall as the table collapses beneath them, no longer able to bear the weight.

A sacrifice, indeed, to the brunt of their passion.

They stare at the pile of wood scrap, formerly a table.

“...Shall we break the bed next?” G’raha laughs.

….

“Ah…! Haahh… Nngh!”

The bed springs squeak under them, the sound of their panting breath almost drowned out by it.

The bed thuds against the wall, shaking paintings in their frames and T’lira along with it as she grips the dowels that made up the headboard with sweaty hands.

Gods, how much stamina did this man have? T’lira had lost track of how many times he had brought her to peak, yet he remained harder than steel inside of her.

“Can't… much longer,” T’lira groans, the bedclothes rumpled beneath her and damp with sweat and other such salty secretions.

“Once more, Lira,” G’raha pleads with her.

She sobs a bit, her knees and thighs aching from rocking back against him. “Are you a man or a machine? I'm exhausted, Raha!” Her voice pitches on the edge of whiny, but she was shaking just holding herself up. She did not have much left to give.

“Come here, I shall handle the rest,” G’raha laughs, dragging her back into his lap.

He is sweaty, flushed hot, but T’lira only makes a mild grumbling sound as he tips her head back to kiss him.

“Rest assured, I am more flesh and blood than I have been for centuries, my love.”

T'lira sighs, her head lolling against G’raha's shoulder as he bounces her in his lap. He felt even bigger like this, settling deeper inside of her.

T’lira finds herself squeezing around him, reflexively at first, but then with wicked intention as G’raha hisses and groans. The steady pace he had set faltering. His sweet voice whimpers for her so cutely.

“Enough already,” T’lira sighs, wriggling on his lap with purpose. “You have… nothing left… to prove. Why do you… torture yourself so?”

G’raha grasps at her hips, his voice catching. His hands shake as he jerks and trembles beneath her. “A—Ah…! My love, mercy…! I merely wanted… to show you how I might please you!”

T’lira laughs, tugging at his neck to press her lips to his jaw. Setting her teeth against his skin and nipping. Delighting in the way he shudders for her.

“You have already done so. This will hardly be the last time we share a bed. Let go, Raha,” T'lira whispers to him sweetly, rocking in his lap just so. Squeezing how she now knew he liked.

G’raha gives a strangled groan and bucks his hips under her, his whole body spasming as he does as she bids him. Letting go and finally giving into his pleasure.

T'lira gives a soft little sound of pleasant surprise as he crushes his lips to hers, pulsing inside of her as he fills her up with his hot, sticky spend.

T’lira mewls as he reaches around her to rub at her clit, making her clench around him all the tighter as he eases another orgasm out of her even as she milks him dry.

“R—Raha… ah!”

G’raha squeezes her tight, riding out the high along with her. “Lira… I…!”

They cling to one another in a final peak, swept up in the all consuming swell of pleasure.

They drift, their breath syncing up as they slowly calm.

T’lira moans as G’raha shifts, plopping backwards instead of lifting her entirely off of him. Too tired to move beyond rolling to settle more comfortably side by side.

T’lira stares into his eyes, gazing at his satisfied face with some fair bit of smugness herself.

“You always have to take the lead, don't you?” G’raha sighs before she can be the one to speak, reaching out lazily to tuck spiced copper strands of sweaty hair away from her eyes.

"I think I restrained myself quite well up till now. Besides, you're not the only one who knows how to take control of a situation," T’lira replies, showing her hand by admitting she had led him; but she was much too satisfied about things proceeding how she had wanted them to.

G’raha's ears perk, a small grunt of mock outrage pulled from his throat. "I know very well, Lira. Like a talented bard, you know which strings to pluck for the precise arrangement you wish for," he sighs, but does not seem too bothered by playing into her hands yet again. T'lira was simply too skilled at getting people to do what she wanted, so subtly that it was nearly imperceptible unless one was paying enough attention.

“We can all but dance to your tune,” he murmurs, straying close to steal another kiss or twenty. He simply could not get enough of her.

T'lira felt much the same.

“Well, I am rather fond of how you dance for me,” T’lira gives a besotted laugh, wrapping her arms around him and stroking the raised marks where her nails had scratched him.

G’raha shivers at her touch. So cute.

“Oh dear, I seem to have marked you up quite a bit, my lord,” she remarks teasingly.

G’raha huffs, thumbing one of the many hickeys he had decorated her skin with. “Fair is fair, my dear Lira. I seem to have done the very same.”

T’lira drags her fingertips over the indent of her teeth on his shoulder. That one would certainly become a purple bruise to match the signature tattoo on his neck.

“Shall I go fetch us a washcloth?” G'raha murmurs, pressing his lips to her cheek.

T’lira smiles and nods her agreement. Propping her head up on her hand, she watches the sway of his tail and the curve of his backside with a warmth in her chest and a flush to her face as he hops from the bed and hurries off towards her washroom.

Gods, she loved this man.

T’lira rolls onto her back as he returns to her in short order with a wet, warm washcloth to wipe her down with.

T’lira cannot stop staring at him, drinking him in. The focused expression he wore, the slight flicker of a feline ear. The bashful face he pulls as he catches her staring.

“What is it?” G’raha asks, almost seeming shy.

Even after all that? He was so adorable.

T’lira smiles. “I'm just so happy. I had a plan today, but it all fell apart. If it weren't for you coming to my room, perhaps we would have spent many moons more dancing around one another.”

“W—Well, I…” G’raha straightens up with obvious pride, the hand holding the washcloth raised towards his face as he clears his throat. He takes a breath. “I will not claim to have suspected such. Merely that… I had hoped you might feel even a fraction of what I feel for you. That you would not turn me away even after overstepping in that manner.”

T’lira hums in her throat, her tail swishing playfully. “You were indeed quite bold. Kissing me out of the blue like that?” She cradles her cheek, only half teasing. “You were so forceful, my heart was pounding!”

G’raha goes red in the face, blushing up to his ears as he wrung the cloth in his hands. “You never tire of teasing me, do you?”

T’lira plucks the cloth from his hands and tosses it to land on the floor with a splat. “Never. Come here,” she pats the bed.

G’raha pauses. “I thought we might change the sheets?”

T’lira grabs him by the wrist and drags him into bed with her.

“Perhaps later,” G’raha sighs, gathering her up in his arms as T’lira rolls into him.

“Yes, much later,” T’lira agrees. “I’ll allow you your rest for now. But you had best prepare your regenerative magicks soon enough, my lord, as I have no intention to allow you to leave this bed until the next sun greets us.”

“Lira!” G’raha’s spluttering reply is lost to the press of her lips as T’lira tugs him in for a fur floofing, ear perking, toe curling smooch.

….

In the hallway, two figures come to stand before G’raha’s empty room. A hand raised to knock pausing, a pale head of hair turning as milky eyes glance in the direction of the doubly occupied room now belonging to T’lira.

“Is aught amiss, Y’shtola?” Krile asks her. “Is Raha not in?”

Y’shtola shakes her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “He seems to have stepped out, Krile.”

Krile sighs and shrugs. “Well, I suppose we can drop by later.”

Y’shtola hums. “Indeed. In the meantime, I shall collect on a bet that Thancred owes to me.”

Krile chuckles. “‘Tis good to see you two getting along, I suppose.”

“Not quite as well as some of us. There must be something in the air,” Y’shtola remarks.

“Something in the air?” Krile hurries after the miqo'te sorceress, not quite sure what her fellow Scion was talking about.

“New beginnings, Krile,” Y’shtola says cryptically. “For all of us.”

Yes, it was about time.

T’lira deserved to find her happiness.