Kyana Of Cintra

70

He pushed himself towards her, teasing her forwards and enticing his lips to hers. Kyana let him, enjoying every second of how she made him crumble like dust. Her delicate hand moved to sit patiently on his jaw, the stubble scratching deliciously against her skin. His powerful form pressed against hers, diminishing the space between them and pushing Kyana against the post. The design carved itself onto her back with the force Geralt was applying to her figure with his own, their lips still connected in a searing dance.

Instead of a sweet, melodic kiss that had them melting into each other and begging to never leave, it was heated and hungry, expressing the desire they had been suppressing for decades. Neither thought it were possible to crave someone as much as they did in that second, realizing very quickly that they could not back out now. It was clean out of the question.

Geralt was fervent, as though he were drowning, sinking deeper and deeper with every second he wasted arguing and hesitating, when he wanted to just love her. As simply as everyone else could love each other. He had never believed love was important, never once had the thought crossed his mind that he could love, yet here he was, drowning and gasping for air, clinging to the pressure in his lungs and the thumping of his heart.

While Geralt was intense and focused, Kyana was calm and intentional, her hands moved with a purpose over his shoulders, soothing the tension in his muscles. She calculated her movements, fluttering her touch as teasingly as possible, relishing every shudder she tempted from him. She focused more on the intimacy than the urgency of a situation, pulling him further and further into a rhythmic world of devotion. He was rough and she was smooth, allowing a perfect balance between love and lust to soothe their souls into the submission of the other.

The air between the two of them dissolved into fire. Geralt's skin burned when she touched him; a lingering, scorching sensation that swiftly obliterated any thought that wasn't about the vexing graze of her mellow hands. He was determined to make her skin feel as exquisitely aflame as his, running careful palms over her elegantly toned waist. Kyana's skin littered with goosebumps, a shiver ran up her spine, and her heart soared, incinerating her insecurities.

Kyana allowed her hands an elaborate dance over his shoulders, tugging gently at the buckles on his shoulder pads so that they tumbled to the floor. His hand reached up and took hers in his own, lacing her fingers with his. Sparks erupted as he pulled her hand to lay on his chest, his adoration flowing from him like an ocean wave.

His enthusiastic display of emotions drowned her, creating a palpable atmosphere full of repressed feelings. She hated pulling away for air, even if it was only a millisecond. Kyana felt like she had lost her senses, given them to him wholeheartedly, a feeling so foreign she delighted in it. His hands grazed tauntingly over her jaw, as though he were whispering how he felt in her ear. They fluttered downwards until they rested at the top of her corset to pull the strings gently and untie the top. He tugged gently, like a summer breeze, and the strings became loose enough to slip with ease down her body, where she stepped out of it, and kicked it away.

Usually, being at risk of exposure was a huge no for Kyana. Her shirt remained on, yet the closer and closer she got to removing it, she became nervous. She never really gave a damn about who she slept with and what he thought, but with Geralt, if one little thing was imperfect for him, she would be devastated. Kyana hated the wait, to prolong the reassuring shine in his eyes, yet she would rather wait than rush the moment.

The small, thin layer of cotton between his skin and hers irritated Geralt. He raised his hands, tugging the leathers away and pulling his shirt over his head, returning to Kyana's lips like a sailor to a siren. He shared the same fears as her whith exposure. He never cared what anyone thought, but if it effected her in any way, he cared immensely.

Kyana's cool hands extinguished his worries, flowing her hands lovingly over his scars and imperfections. The bumps of stories yet to be told didn't bother her at all; in fact, she preferred something different than a clear cut physique. It meant he had experiences, knowledge and power, as well as a strong soul to cling to life. Besides, even if he had no scars, no muscular physique to speak of, no handsome features to stare at long into the night, it was his soul and heart she loved, and would accept him in any way.

Geralt's hand slid lovingly over her thigh, uncaring of the hip dips that had appeared from muscle build. Kyana smiled into the kiss, aware that he never stopped in judgement, just continuing with every bit of the enthusiasm he had before. Carefully, Kyana lifted her leg to meet his hip, using her heel to gently pull him closer. His hand secured her leg at his hip, drawing delicate patterns into her skin.

"Jump." Geralt breathed, pressing his forehead to hers, catching his breath. He couldn't even begin to explain how utterly intoxicating Kyana was, and for all the right reasons. Her lavender-laced scent, the taste of a devoted, pure heart on her lips, the reassuring caress of her hands. Every single thing about her was making him fall deeper in love, and he reveled in it.

Deciding to mess around, Kyana moved her lips to his ear. "No." She denied simply, refusing what they both wanted.

Geralt let out a groan, his lips curling into a grin. "Don't play with me." His hands resting on her butt for a second to pull her hips forward into his, watching her bite her lip with satisfaction. Kyana rose an eyebrow, trying desperately to keep her failing expression.

"Why not?" Kyana taunted teasingly, unaware that she had inched her hips closer to his. He smiled up at her with a smug grin.

"Because you don't have the patience to tease." She scoffed, about to voice her protestations, except Geralt rolled his hips unnecessarily slowly into hers. She hid her gulp of satisfaction, willing her eyes not to roll to the back of her head at the way his body reacted to hers. His grin widened at being right, much to her displeasure. "See?"

Kyana grumbled, allowing his hands to slip under her thighs and pull her legs up to his hips. She pouted, embarrassed she had given up so easily. Once she was secure and safe, Geralt placed his lips on hers, pulling her lower lip between his teeth. He tried lifting her shirt, yet the delicate stitching broke, tearing it down one side. He looked devastated, as though he had broken more than just a shirt. His eyes stared down at the material, as though he could fix it with his eyes.

"Hey! Stop obliterating my clothes!" Kyana chastised reassuringly, a smile pulling onto her face, her hands wandering over his bare shoulders to bring him even just a molecule closer. His gaze met hers, a lazy smile drawn on his soft lips.

"Keep talking and it won't just be the clothes I'll obliterate." That enticed a small, amused hum from Kyana as her hands loosely wrapped around his neck.

"Then I think I should keep talking."