Beautiful Times

The Aftermath

In all reality, Kurama was embarrassed.

He had never, in all of his various exploits and adventures, come across this situation and was feeling terribly abashed. So, naturally, he hid all of that behind a blank face that was eerily similar to the dispassionate gaze he leveled at his enemies.

Lyra was laughing.

At least, she had been.

Now she had settled down and was lying still on the floor, tears of laughter still leaking from her eyes.

It had started approximately fifteen minutes ago.

***

Lyra rose from where she had been kneeling.

Eyes were glazed and breathing was heavy.

Clothing had long ago been shed.

Lyra slowly made her way up, playing, teasing, and nipping at sweaty skin. With each nip, muscles contract in such a delightful way that Lyra was entrances. Taut skin over strong, yet slender muscle twitched and writhed beneath her touch and she reveled. Lyra spent far more time than usual in worshipping, in reaching every single inch of sensitive skin on her husband's body that she could possibly stimulate. Finally, she made it up to Kurama's neck.

She attacked him. She ravished him. She found every delicious, tender spot that drew forth moans and gasps and restless hands.

Lyra seated herself in Kurama's lap, basking in the closeness.

Kurama moved to bring Lyra up to meet his mouth.

She denied him.

She instead rocked against him and listened to his wantonly strangled voice.

His voice was music and light and darkness wrapped in tangled covers and sensual whispers.

It sang to her soul.

She wanted more.

Her heart leapt in joy at his pleasure when Kurama's head fell back and Lyra took the opportunity to abuse the newly exposed skin.

After a thorough examination, Kurama finally leaned forward and pulled Lyra up to his lips with more force.

Lyra acquiesced, tangling her fingers in Kurama's hair. Kurama steadied Lyra by sliding his arms around her body.

Lyra surrendered herself to emotion, getting lost in the touch, the tenderness, the ferocious passion.

But... something was off.

Something was poking her in the finger.

The heck?

Then Kurama was moving past her neck and giving attention to an area a bit lower.

Lyra almost lost herself right then and there.

With a monumental force of will, Lyra forced her mind away from the pleasure she was receiving and worked with the object in Kurama's hair. She didn't want to disturb Kurama or stop his enjoyment, so she rocked against him to distract him from the fact that she was distracted. Besides, it's not like she wanted to stop!

She just wanted to know what was poking her.

Poking her finger, that is.

Finally! Finally! She managed to untangle the object from Kurama's mass of hair. Lyra carefully pulled it from the strands to see a small, brown, oblong object.

A seed.

Snerk.

She couldn't help it!

She laughed, but tried to stop it so it came out as a muffled snort pressed against Kurama's hair. She started shaking with the effort of keeping her laughter contained.