7 comments/ 23571 views/ 22 favorites The Bastien of Winter By: vampwrrr "Mmm, Bastien..." Sebastien Byrne looked down in dismay, watching as his new bride lovingly faked her way through another orgasm. She was very good at it—soft and sweet, and imminently realistic. No glass-shattering screeches, or siren-like banshee wails. In fact, if he hadn't been inside of her when it happened, he would have sworn that it had been real. His pleasure greatly diminished, he rolled over onto his side, and pulled her body tightly against his. Winter wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing the length of her body to him. He could sense the tension strumming through her, so he gently stroked her smooth, curving bottom until she relaxed. Her face was buried in his neck, his hand still tangled in her hair. He knew that Winter loved him, just as he knew that she was aroused by him. But here they were, on the last week of their three-week honeymoon and, to his knowledge, she had yet to have an orgasm. At first, he wasn't surprised. She had been a virgin when they married, so he knew that the first few times would be an adjustment for her. However, now he was starting to worry. Winter wasn't frigid...he knew that as truly as he knew his own name. He knew that she loved being with him almost as much as he enjoyed her. Within three weeks, he had seen her blossom from shy, sweet, eager virgin, to generous, willing, sensual lover. Sebastien couldn't understand why she had yet to climax. They had done a number of things...in a number of positions...in a number of places, but within several days, he started to suspect that she wasn't reaching her peak. Unlike Winter, Sebastien was no virgin when they wed. He had never been too wild, but he had been in a few sexual relationships—enough to know how it felt when a woman came on his cock. He remembered feeling dry-mouthed at their wedding reception just thinking about her sweet little butterfly flutters moving up and down his hard shaft while she softly breathed his name in his ear. He sighed. He just didn't know what was wrong. Winter had yet to say no to any of his advances—in fact, several times, she had seduced him. While they were together, her body told him that she was aroused. The flush under her tawny skin, her tight little cinnamon nipples, her dilated pupils and darkened irises, her accelerated breathing, her elevated pulse, her writhing, trembling body, not to mention the delectable wetness that literally dripped--dripped--from her swollen sex, down her soft thighs, all told him that she wanted him. Sebastien was a biology professor at Duke University, whose Ph.D from the University of Dublin had been on human sexual response. He knew what arousal looked like. Winter had been a law student when they met. They waited until she had graduated before seriously dating, in order to quell any rumours on the surprisingly small campus. The first few times that they had been in each others company, he had thought her cold and methodical. Upon seeing her more and more however, he realized that, though she was methodical, cold couldn't have been farther from the truth. Once Winter opened up, she was charming, loyal, conscientious, and...as he had learned in the last two weeks, exceedingly passionate. Sebastien kissed her warm shoulder, while she purred, and snuggled closer, breathing slowly regulating into that of sleep. He didn't know why his wife wasn't reaching her release, but he was going to find out before the honeymoon was over, and real life came between them. ************************************************** Sebastien awoke to the enchanting sight of his bride bent over, plump caramel buttocks, courtesy of a Kenyan grandmother, peeking insouciantly out of her cream-coloured lace boy-shorts as she reached between her legs to attach her garters to her silken stockings. "Good morning to me," he lilted in a sleep-roughened Irish baritone. Winter glanced at him from between her legs, then slid a hand under her long, thick, wavy, warm chocolate brown hair to help flip it back over her shoulders as she straightened. Smiling invitingly, wearing nothing but a matching creamy lace bra, panty, and garter belt set, and pale golden silk fishnet stockings, she slowly crawled up the bed to him. Straddling his hips she slowly stroked her hands up and down the sides of his chest. "Good morning to you, lover," she responded, leaning in for a kiss. Sebastien turned his head and stilled her arms. "Ach...not before I've showered. You smell amazing," here he inhaled the warm, humid air that still held notes of her blood orange whipped bath soap, "and I'm chock full of morning breath, and fresh urine." Winter wrinkled her nose and laughed, gracefully removing one leg and letting herself fall on her back beside him. "Oh, Dr. Byrne, you always know just what to say." He lasciviously grabbed a handful of smooth, soft thigh, and squeezed before rolling out of bed, and sauntering to the bathroom. "A gentleman knows never to touch a lady while he's unshowered, unbrushed, and still covered in questionable substances from the previous night." He turned in the bathroom doorway to face her. "I'm filthy--" She rolled quickly and easily to her knees, hands planted on the bed, looking for all the world like something straight out of his most fevered transition year fantasies. "I like it when you make me dirty, Dr. Byrne," she purred dulcetly, in her husky Southern drawl. He laughed, delighted. "Behave yourself, you impertinent young chit! I'm a man, not a sex-machine!" Winter fell back on the bed, rolling with laughter, while Sebastien affected a long-suffering expression, and went in for his shower. When he emerged, she was fully dressed in a figure-hugging cream wool pencil skirt, five inch black leather heels, and an iridescent golden-ebony silk button-down shirt. He held the towel negligently around his narrow hips, water still dripping from his deep auburn hair, and neatly trimmed beard. "I just don't know, darling," he started, shaking his head sadly, while his black eyes twinkled. "Are you sure that I'm not overdressed?" he finished, indicating his lack of clothing. She turned, her large hazel eyes widening at the sight of his bare torso, water trickling slowly and lovingly down his sleek frame. Giving a breathless little laugh, Winter rejoined, "I'm sure that no one would have the temerity to complain against such a well-tailored ensemble." Sebastien grinned, letting his towel slip casually from his hips as he walked over to pull clothing from his suitcase. Tossing the towel over his shoulder into the bathroom, he savoured the feeling of her eyes on him, as he took his time dressing. Oh, no...whatever the problem, a lack of desire from Winter was not the cause. A sudden knock at the door startled Sebastien from his thoughts. He turned to Winter and raised an eyebrow. "Room service," she explained. "I know how much playing with me tuckers you out, old man." He grinned. Though he was only five years older than she, it was their running joke that he had robbed the cradle while she was busy robbing the grave. He walked over to the door, and opened it to a bright young bellhop who wheeled in the brunch cart. Sebastien tipped the bellhop, who playfully saluted him and left, whistling cheerily. Lifting the silver lid from the various dishes on the cart, he looked at her in delight. Winter shrugged. "You worked pretty hard last night, Sebastien-mine. I thought that you deserved something more than the usual croissant and coffee this morning, so I asked them to make something a bit more substantial for you." Lucas happily eyed the fluffy herbed omelette, steaming croissants, rich hot chocolate, and strawberries arranged artfully over creamy yogurt. "Aye, I knew that there was a reason I married you." "What can I say?" she asked, sitting on his lap and putting a cool, sweet strawberry to his lips. "I give good room service..." ************************************************** Stepping out onto the streets of Paris a short time later, they walked arm in arm on their way to go exploring. They had spent each week in a different French city, culminating their honeymoon in the City of Light, and though they knew that they probably should do the culturally relevant thing, and see as many museums as possible, they were really enjoying just finding whatever they could discover on their long walks. This morning (okay, afternoon) however, they had an appointment to take a boat ride on the Seine. Sebastien watched his new wife's swaying bottom, as she made her way up the gangplank ahead of him. He suppressed the animalistic urge to drag her under his body and thrust into her until her body had no choice but to give her an orgasm. He shook his head to clear his mind of those thoughts. If he kept thinking like that, he'd embarrass them both. The boat ride passed happily for them, with Winter laughing in delight as the wind made short work of her previously artful coif. Shaking her head in surrender, she removed the pins holding up her hair, and let the wind tangle it around her face, making her look like a gamin little fairy. Sebastien just watched her. He loved looking at her. Her artless delight with life never failed to make him want to protect her, and join her in equal parts. It didn't help that she was a neat foot shorter than he. Though he logically knew that she was well equipped to take care of herself, having studied krav maga at her father's knee, there was a primitive part of him that wanted to shield her from the depredations of the world. He sighed and watched as the wind blew her hair straight back, making her look like a wild siren. After their boat ride, they took a stroll down the Rue Montorgueil, so that Winter could explore its open-air market. Sebastien purchased a wicker basket for her, and then held it as she flitted from stall to stall, slowly filling it with various vibrant fruits, freshly baked pastries, and rich cheeses. They took a meandering walk to the Parc Monceau, found a secluded spot, and shared a leisurely picnic. Sebastien loved to watch her eat. He felt like a secret pervert at mealtimes. Winter was just such a sensual eater. He didn't think that such a thing existed until he met her. When she bit into something that she particularly liked, she'd purr, or sometimes give a little soft moan, and close her eyes. Also, in the absence of silverware, if something dripped onto her fingers, her quick little pink tongue would dart out and slowly lave the offending digit, looking like nothing so much as a serious little cat. The best part of it it was, she was totally unaware of this behaviour. He'd seen her do the same things when she didn't know that she was being watched. He cleared his throat, surreptitiously adjusted himself, and sighed, wishing that they were back at the hotel. Winter looked up quizzically at him, sensing his mild distress. Sebastien smiled reassuringly at her, and took a hearty bite from his crispy, still-warm croque monsieur. They went wandering around the boulevards, stopping to watch interesting street performers, or to peer down dark, narrow streets like nosy children. At the entrance of the first bookstore that they found, Winter stopped and sucked in a breath like a child on Christmas. Sebastien looked around, seeing nothing but stacks upon stacks of dusty old tomes. His wife moved easily through the claustrophobic shelves, chattering gaily in French with the shopkeeper. Sebastien finally leaned against a wall and just watched her as she traced her fingertips over the spines, occasionally stopping to open a book and briefly read what was inside. She ended up buying several first editions of various children's books for sister He grinned as they left the store. "Winter, Fiona just had the baby. He won't be able to read English for years, let alone French." She peered at him haughtily over her tortoise-shell spectacles, her hair unbound and wild, several dusty smudges on her face. "I'll have you know that my nephew is a genius. While I was playing with him at the wedding, I asked him what the cat says, and do you know what he said, Bastien? He said, 'Miau'. Does an ordinary three month old know that? No, unless they are as perfect as Aubrey, which is highly doubtful, as he is the pinnacle of everything that a baby should be." Sebastien stopped her as she started to brush by him, resting his arm above her head on the building behind her, and said low, "And you don't think that you're just a wee bit biased?" Winter looked up at him, smiling beatifically. "No!" "Should I be jealous?" he smiled down at her, ebony eyes alight with good humour, his fingers gently stroking her jaw. "Mmm...maybe," she flirted. "You know that I've always had a thing for short, chubby, bald men!" Laughing, she slid past him. They spent the next few hours flitting through dusty old used book, and ephemera shops. After the last little antique shop, where he had bought her a coquettish little fan, and she had purchased a heavy set of silver and garnet cuff-links for him, he followed her from the store, catching hold of her hand. Smiling at one another, they leisurely made their way to Le Cordon Bleu for an open dinner demonstration. ************************************************** Winter sighed wistfully as Sebastien knelt before her, removing her shoes, and gently stroking her calves. "Who knew a knife could move so fast! And the designs that he carved into those carrot shavings were so intricate! They looked like filigree! Oh—and that rosemary smoke that he infused into his tuna sashimi amuse-bouche was such an transcendent experience, both visually and olfactorily..." She drifted off as she realized that he wasn't saying much, just looking up at her indulgently, one hand around her right ankle, thumb stroking it gently. She smiled ruefully. "I'm babbling, aren't I?" He smiled lazily up at her. "I like to listen you talk." He traced his fingers slowly up and down the front of her left leg. "You have the cutest little accent." "Me?!" she gasped in mock surprise. "Your accent is cuter." He grinned mischievously up at her. "The Irish don't have an accent—we're just the only ones in the world who know how English is supposed to sound." She ruffled his hair playfully. He wrapped his arms around her left leg and leaned his cheek against it. He began placing slow, gentle, sweet kisses on the outside of her knee. "Winter," he started softly. "Hm?" she responded, savouring the feel of his soft lips and warm beard against her leg. "I want to talk to you about something, lovely," he said, his voice low and caressing. "Hm?" she said dreamily. "I love you," he started. "Love..." she trailed, stroking his hair. He could feel the heat of her arousal warming his cheek as he knelt at her feet. He smiled, hiding his lips against the outside of her knee. Winter was terrifyingly articulate. She had a savage intelligence that at times awed him, and she was a mistress of debate, and rhetoric. When she was aroused, however...her level of verbal communication nosedived. During the first week of their honeymoon, while they had been making love, he had slid his hand down to her curls, his fingertips questing for her tight little bud. She had squealed, and then sighed, "Hacienda...." "Hacienda?" he had queried, bemused. "A Spanish estate plantation?" "Oh, I don't know! Don't know!" she had moaned, arching under him and practically ripping the sheets from the bed. Winter didn't even speak Spanish. He forced his mind back to the present. "I love you," he repeated. He slid his right hand slowly up the back of her left leg, cupping the back of her knee as he continued to place soft kisses on the outside of her knee. He slid his left hand up under her skirt, slowly stroking her right hip. "I love you, and I want you, and I know that you love me...that you want me..." "Mm-hm," she nodded in artless agreement. "I am yours. All I want is to spend the rest of my life making you happy, which is why...we need to discuss why you haven't been cumming when we make love." He kept up his caresses, watching her face. A small frown line appeared between her eyebrows. Her head tilted, as if she were contemplating some difficult problem, and then twitched. Her head twitched again, and the she slowly shook it, as if to clear herself of a mental fog. "No...no..." she said softly, her body trying to scoot away from him. Her eyes opened, and she looked confused. He pulled her closer, not allowing her to move away from him. She made a little sound of distress, and he slid his arms around her hips, and pulled her down into his lap. Nuzzling her ear, he whispered, "Please, darlin'...talk to me..." his lilt thickening. She whined, and then turned to him, burying her face in his neck, arms wrapped around him. He stroked her hair and slowly rocked her. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "No—don't ever be sorry. There's no need for sorry, you haven't done anything wrong. But this is something that we need to talk about before it goes any further." He rubbed his jaw against her hair. "Before we were married, you told me that you used to masturbate...did you finish then?" She nodded miserably. "Okay...okay. Have you done it since we were married?" "Oh, no!" she protested, backing up to look into his eyes. "I haven't needed to do that—you keep me satisfied." He smiled ruefully, "Thanks for that, but something is awry, and we need to figure out how to take care of it." He placed a finger under her chin, gently stroking the soft skin. "You don't want to go the rest of your life without having an orgasm with me, do ya?" "Well...no..." she replied slowly. "And isn't it better to take care of it sooner rather than later?" he cajoled. "Yes?" she said uncertainly. "Alright, then," he said comfortably. "Do you want me?" She looked up at him, speechless, eyes wide in shock. Then she she set her jaw and said, "Sebastien Alastar Byrne, if you actually think that I don't want you, why then you're dumb as a post! Want you?! I can't stop thinking about you! Your scent, your touch, the sound of your voice, the way you taste... Sometimes we're out and it's all I can do to not drag you into a dark alley, climb on top of you, and ride you like Seabiscuit! Would I have married you if I didn't want you?" He chuckled. "Fair enough", he said, hands raised in surrender. "Just making sure that that's out of the way." Winter harrumphed. Sebastien grinned. "So, we know that you're not frigid, we know that you want me, am I..." here he paused uncertainly. "Not...good?" Winter melted in his arms. "'Bastien...you make me tremble." She looked down shyly. "You make me...writhe and whimper...you make me tingle...all over.... When I'm with you...I lose language. All I can think of is you, and the feeling of your warm breath ghosting across my skin. The feeling of your hot hands stroking me...caressing me... everywhere. And your voice...it's so deep...it makes me want to do...everything with you..." She finally halted, staring down at her hands, cheeks flaming. He cleared his throat, momentarily nonplussed. He had been told that he was a good lover before, but never in such an open, vulnerable, honest way. He brought her wrist to his mouth, gently placing a kiss on the warm, delicate inside. Softly, so as not to make her defensive, he asked desperately, "So then...what is it, a thaisce? She shrugged mournfully. "I don't know. I honestly don't. I could blame it on nervousness, but I haven't been nervous since the first time. I thought, maybe because it was because you made me so wet...too wet. But extra friction didn't help, either." He nodded, thinking. "Let's do an experiment." Winter perked up, pressing her breasts to his chest. "Down, lass—not that sort of experiment!" he laughed. The Bastien of Winter She pouted charmingly. "But I love playing sexy mad scientist!" "You love to play, period." he retorted. Winter nodded, grinning mischievously. "You're not wrong." Sebastien smiled. No, frigidity was not the problem, here. "I'm going to shower first tonight. You stay out here and..." here he slowly walked his fingers up her inner thigh, and gently tapped at the apex of her thighs. Winter raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned. Climbing to his feet, with her in his arms, he set her on the bed and began loosening his tie. Walking backwards to the bathroom, he said, "Let's just see what happens. See you on the other side." He closed the door, and left her to her personal playtime. When he later exited the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam, he found Winter sitting on the side of the bed, looking thoughtful. "Well?" he gently queried. She nodded, blowing out a breath. "It worked." He sat beside her, not even bothering to put on a towel, and she leaned against his warm side, uncaring of his intermittent dripping. "So, what does this mean?" she asked. "Well," he sighed, "it's not physical." She was silent. Then her face crumpled. "I just want to be good for you!" "What?" he asked, bemused by her outburst. "It's so frustrating. All I want is to please you, and I can't even do that!" she said bitterly. "What do you mean, 'Please me'?" he questioned. "I want to keep you aroused." she answered haltingly. "I don't understand," he said. "I don't know," she said dismissively turning away. "Yes you do," he coaxed, wrapping his arm around her, and laying her head against his shoulder. "Talk to me, love." "I don't want to bore you. I just don't understand why my body isn't cooperating." She bit her lip. He was silent. Then, he said slowly, "I think...I think that we've just discovered the problem." She lifted her head to look at him questioningly. He began to slowly rub her arm. "You don't have to...perform for me. You are my wife, not a bloody...porn star. I think that you're...so worried about looking, and sounding good that your mind is keeping your body from taking over." He pulled her into his lap, and wrapped his arms around her. "Winter..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Sex isn't entertainment. It's about loving and giving, cherishing and adoring another person, while they reciprocally love and give, cherish and adore." She stared at him in shock as he went on. "It's a physical representation of unconditional love that is supposed to be given exclusively between two people." He paused to give her a chance to respond. "I would be inclined to agree with you, but..." she sighed, blowing a stray tendril from her face. She seemed to gather her courage, then plunged on, "Studies have shown that during sex, about the only time a man experiences a surge of oxytocin is during orgasm. After orgasm, a man's oxytocin levels return to their normally relatively low levels. Conversely, not only do women produce oxytocin during sex, orgasm, and post orgasm, but they also produce higher levels of oxytocin during each stage." It was his turn to stare at her. "What I'm trying to say is that...sex will not necessarily make you bond with me emotionally, but I know that if I can keep you sexually interested, then you'll be more inclined to stay because you'll want to keep having sex with me." Silence reigned after her little speech. Winter's face flushed redder and redder as Sebastien continued to stay silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was very soft. "I think that the casually graphic that way sex is portrayed in modern media, has caused you not to regard it as communication, but to instead adopt the idea that it's primarily for recreation, or even sport. What was lost in the translation was intimacy." She turned away in embarrassment. He took her hand, and gently stroked her ring finger. "Fifteen days ago, with this ring I thee wed." He kissed her tawny little knuckle, then stood with her in his arms. Carrying her into the bathroom, he purred, "Tonight, with my body I thee worship..." He stood her next to the tub, and began to gently remove her clothing. When Winter realized what he was doing, she moved to help him, but he brushed away her hands. "No, a stóirín, tonight I want to take care of you. Will you let me do that?" She nodded hesitantly while he finished pulling her shirt from her skirt and patiently undid all of the tiny pearl buttons. He lifted her left wrist and undid her cuff, kissing the round little bone at the outside of her wrist, then moving to the other. She smiled a grateful smile inside when he tossed her shirt into the hamper. Sebastien was so neat. It was one of the things that she loved about him. He leaned into her, slowly stroking his hand down her side, brushing it over her ribs and caressing her hip. Bringing his hand back up, he slowly undid the zipper at her side, and let the skirt pool to the floor. "Step out of it, please," he asked politely. After tossing it into the hamper, he wrapped his long arms around her, slowly sliding his hands up her spine. Sebastien deftly undid her bra, sliding her straps down her arms without moving back, so that the tips of Winter's nipples brushed his chest as she breathed. She leaned forward, nuzzling his neck, and he tilted his head to nuzzle her cheek. Before he became lost, he took a step back, and knelt at her feet, to undo her stockings and toss them with the quickly growing pile. He slowly slid his hands up her naked, sensitive legs, cupping her bottom, and pulling her forward, so that he could bury his face in the soft warmth at the top of her thighs. He breathed deeply, scenting her arousal, and feeling her wetness against his lips. He looked up at her, wearing nothing but her garter belt and panties, her hair framing her face as she looked down at him. He hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties, and slowly uncovered her curls, placing soft, reverent kisses on them as he dragged her panties lower. After she had stepped out of them, Sebastien brought them briefly to his face, inhaling the salty, light scent of her arousal, while looking up at her. Winter's mouth had fallen slightly open at the sight of her husband at her feet, with her panties held to his face, so he gently placed them in the hamper, resisting the urge to really scandalize her by suddenly letting his tongue slide up her slit. Sebastien stood, leaned into the stall, and turned on the shower. He helped Winter into the shower, positioning her to stand with the steaming spray running over her front, while he stood behind her, warming her back, one arm around her waist, his erection nestled between her soft cheeks. Taking a sponge and dipping it into the pot of whipped soap, he began to slowly lather her body from head to toe. When he reached her intimate areas, she made as if to take over, but he stopped her, whispering seductively in her ear, "No, a ghrá mo chroí. I take care of what is mine..." She gasped as she slid a warm, soapy cloth between her legs, leisurely cleaning her there, then slipped the cloth between her cheeks. She blushed as the roving cloth slid over her tightly furled rosebud, but she didn't stop him. By the time they left the shower, Winter had been thoroughly bathed, with great attention having been paid to her more sensitive areas. Sebastien wrapped her in a warm, fluffy towel, brushing it over her skin to absorb the shower water. When he was satisfied that she had been thoroughly dried, he gave himself a quick once over with the towel, to rid himself of any extraneous water. Tossing the towel into the hamper, he started for her, his engorged cock insouciantly bouncing from thigh to thigh. She giggled at the sight, and he grinned, briefly making it dance for her. He stalked toward her again, and she backed toward the bed, sitting with a sudden plop. He grinned again as he moved forward, forcing her to climb backward on the bed, until her back hit the headboard. Sebastien wrapped an arm around Winter's waist, and pulled her down onto her back, climbing on top of her. She started to wrap her arms around his neck, but he took her hands from around his shoulders and kissed her wrists, then drew them over her head. "Lie here, just like that," he said. He left to procure one of his ties, then returning, used it to deftly bind her wrists to he headboard. She looked up at him, hurt, and he said, "This is to make sure that you don't drive me mad with those questing little hands of yours. As soon as you put your hands on me...I lose control," here, he brushed his mouth over hers, continuing, "You make me crazy." Mollified, Winter lay back and let him finish tying her securely. Sebastien gazed down at his sweet little wife looking up at him so trustingly. He gave her a slow, crooked grin, as he whispered, "I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair." Her eyes widened as she recognized the opening line to one of her favourite Neruda love poems. His mouth descended on hers, and she shivered as he gave her a thorough, probing kiss. His firm lips slid against her soft ones, his tongue rhythmically plunging into her mouth, brushing her tongue, sliding across her teeth, tickling along the seam of her mouth. Winter groaned low, and Sebastien felt a jolt shoot down to his cock as she involuntarily arched, and nipped him, sinking her sharp little teeth into his sensitive bottom lip. He smiled against her mouth as he felt her squirming slowly beneath him. He dragged his lips down to her throat, placing tender kisses against the delicate caramel skin. Her head fell back as his soft beard and warm mouth teased the sensitive skin of her throat, making her squirm even more. His hand was buried in her hair, fingertips stroking her sensitive scalp. He moved his mouth lower, rubbing his beard along the curve of her right breast. He murmured, "Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets." Looking up to watch her face, Sebastien opened his mouth over her breast, and gently bit. His flickering tongue laved her sensitive nipple as his teeth sank into the soft flesh of her full, warm breast. Winter released a high pitched whine, as her face contorted in pleasure. Sucking hard, his tongue lapping around her puckered areola, he brought his strong left hand to her other breast, palming it a little roughly as his tongue gently stroked. He caressed her breast, brushing over her insistent little nipple with his thumb, even as his hot, wet mouth was busy with its twin. Winter jerked as jolts of pleasure shot from her breasts down to her swollen clitoris, which was peeking out of its wet little red hood, begging for a soft kiss. Sebastien switched his mouth to the other breast, latching on and sucking powerfully, as he brought his right hand to her left breast, to gently pinch and twist her now-wet nipple. Winter's mouth worked silently, as he lavished attention on her breasts, his loving ministrations leaving them flushed, nipples hard and sensitive. He moved his head between her breasts, cupping them, so that they brushed against his face as he leisurely kissed, licked, nibbled, and suckled his way back up to her neck. Against her throat, he hoarsely whispered, "Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps." Winter sighed as he opened his mouth over her throat, letting his teeth graze her soft skin. He reverently placed small, sucking kisses against her throat, moving to the exquisitely sensitive place along the side of her neck. Growling roughly, Sebastien let go and sank his teeth into the softness beneath him. A tortured whimper filtered past his inflamed senses, as his little wife's body softened beneath his, and he smiled inwardly. His mind idly drifted back to the immense sense of satisfaction he had felt when he learned that Winter loved being bitten. And Winter loved to bite... She was the one woman that he had ever met that didn't care if he left marks on her skin. When had once repeated the question that previous girlfriends had asked him, namely, "What will people think?" to gauge her reaction, she had responded with a neat, dry, "They'll get over it." Sebastien opened his mouth, and slowly ran his tongue over the small indentations his teeth had left, while Winter slowly melted, boneless, into the bed. He began placing slow, suckling kisses down to her collarbone, then dragged his warm mouth over her sternum to her belly, nipping and suckling at her soft, fragrant skin. He rubbed his jaw over the smooth skin of her tummy, like a cat marking his territory, covering her with his scent. He briefly thought about shaving his beard, so that he could better feel her skin against his, before being distracted by the slow rolling of her hips underneath his chest. Softly, reverently kissing his way to her right hipbone, he slowly dragged his tongue along the sensitive hollow between her hipbone and the side of her curls. Winter purred, then arched sharply, as he sank his teeth into the soft flesh. He lazily traced his lapping tongue down, where her thigh met her sex, using his long, veiny, gentle hands to slowly open her legs. He could feel the anticipation thrumming through her as his warm breath ruffled her curls. He chuckled to himself, deep and low, before moving his face to nuzzle the curving hollow of her left inner thigh. She relaxed under him, her left calf resting against his back as he nuzzled, kissed, and stroked his way over the soft skin. He slid his warm palms slowly up her thighs, up her hips, as he switched his attentions her right thigh. Just as he sensed Winter's complete relaxation, he struck, closing his mouth over her skin, his sharp white teeth sinking deeply into the flushed, tawny flesh of the inside of her thigh. Her reaction was immediate and satisfying as she threw back her head, arching and panting. Sebastien loved teasing her like this. Building her up, and letting her relax...and then building her up again. It made her wild, transforming her from a cool little logician into a panting, writhing, arching slave of his ardent love. He transferred his mouth to her other thigh, nipping and suckling the soft skin, rubbing his tickling beard over her. He could smell the scent of her arousal, salty and clean, and he had to shut his eyes tightly against the insistent pulse in his groin. He looked up at the shining wetness, coating her swollen lips, and dug his fingers roughly into the side of her thigh. He let go when she moaned, realizing that in his distraction, he was gripping her too tightly. Though Winter liked it when he lost control, when he gripped her too tightly, and kissed her too roughly, tonight he would control himself. At least...for now... He made his way down her body with soft kisses along the insides of her thighs, her knees, her calves. He lifted each delicate foot, and pressed soft, loving kisses against her ankles, adoring every part of her exquisite little body. He crawled slowly back up her body, briefly sparing a longing look at her inviting sex then, removing himself from temptation, draped himself over her. Running his hands over her waist and hips, he moved lower, to slide his fingers behind her knees. He gently massaged the back of her knees in slow circles while she opened her legs and artlessly moved her hips against him, panting lightly. Sebastien had discovered this little erogenous zone of hers on their third night together. He pressed his chest tightly to hers, as he ran warm his palms over her rounded calves, cupping them as he gently massaged. Winter relaxed, as he glided his hands back up her thighs, up her hips, up her tiny waist, up her delicate ribs, and up the soft, sensitive insides of her arms. He took his time, gently tracing his fingertips along her soft, pale skin of her inner arms, as he kissed and suckled her shoulder. "I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the colour of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails," he whispered against the side of her throat. He climbed to his knees, and let his mouth follow the path that his left hand had taken, suckling the sensitive skin of her inner arm. He ran his tongue in slow circles against the crook of her elbow as she softly sighed and squirmed at his thorough attention. Sebastien nipped and suckled his way up her arm until he could lavish her delicate wrist with the wet, suckling heat of his open mouth and tracing tongue. He transferred his mouth to her other wrist, nipping down and licking against the almost translucent skin. He slowly made his way down the inside of her arm, pausing to treat the inside of this elbow to the same slow, wet, warm affection as the other. As he continued his way down, his mouth open and suckling against her underarm, he slid his hand up her arm and used his fingertips to gently stroke the soft, private skin between her fingers. He nuzzled close to her, deepening his voice as he purred in her ear, "...I want to eat your skin like a whole almond." Winter moaned at this pronouncement, writhing under his hand as he slowly ran it between her breasts, down her warm belly, over her soft curls, only to let his fingertips lazily explore her wet little slit. He rested on his side, pressed tightly to hers, as he leisurely stroked up and down her slit, his fingers spreading her slipperiness over her full, pink and golden lips. He slid his fingertips to her opening, circling it slowly, agonizingly as he placed gentle kisses along the shell of her ear. Winter shuddered as she felt him stroke his fingertips shallowly into her wet heat, teasing the slick flesh of her opening. He rested his palm against her curls, her swollen bud rubbing against his hand as he petted her, teased her, stroked her. He slid his tongue into her ear, making her tremble uncontrollably as he licked. He moved his mouth to her earlobe, dragging the tip of his tongue around the edge, and then sucking it into his mouth, as he clever little fingers slid inside and firmly caressed her G-spot. He had discovered that little sensual surprise on their tenth night together. As her hips rolled and writhed under his hand, he whispered in her ear, low and hot, "I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face," Winter could feel the tingles in her body, slowly coalescing into an insistent throb. She was so close, but not there, not yet... Sebastien removed his hand from her wet, hot, soft sex. Winter's eyes widened behind the blindfold, and she sucked in a small breath, as she heard the slow, wet noise of him sucking clean every single one of the fingers that had just touched her so sweetly. He lay against her for a while, panting into the crook of her neck, his arm wrapped heavily around her waist, as he willed his clamouring body to calm. He softly stroked her waist and hip, gently lulling her. His hand drifted to her face, tracing the bone of her nose, stroking her cheek, gliding along her jawline as he hoarsely whispered, "I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes," his hand cupping her jaw as his thumb caressed her moist, plump lips. Gathering his willpower, he climbed back over her, opening her legs gently, but firmly, as he kissed his way slowly back down her body. Sebastien brought his face in line with her sex, swollen and open to his gaze, the glistening hood thrown back from the plump pearl, the inner lips rosy and inviting. He swallowed hard, looking up at her, at her face framed (given his position) by her plump, almond-tipped breasts, and breathed, "...and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue." Winter relaxed at these last words, a satisfied smile lighting up her face. He smiled at her, though she couldn't see it, then slowly lowered his open mouth to her waiting lips. At the first burning kiss, her hips rose sharply, and her thighs clasped his head. "No, no, baby," he instructed, pulling her legs over his broad shoulders, and caressing her thighs, "Keep your legs open..." The Bastien of Winter He brought his lips back down to her waiting wetness, and slowly licked the flat of his tongue from her perineum to her hood, smiling as he heard her trying to stifle a moan. He used his soft tongue to trace her opening, then gently lapped at her inner lips, his lips never breaking contact with her hungry sex. He could feel the warm, slippery, swollen flesh sliding over his mouth, over his tongue as Winter tried to push herself closer, ever closer. He smiled against her, reveling in her desire for him. His eyes were closed, as he poured all of concentration into kissing her, licking her, teasing her. Her hips were moving rhythmically against his mouth, and he used his lips to nibble her juicy, warm hood. When he gently used the top of his teeth to tickle the top of her clit, she arched so sharply that, if he hadn't had a firm grip on her warm, soft thighs, she would have bucked him off of him onto the floor. He shuddered against her, his excitement mounting as he realized just how excited she was. He felt his control slipping as he rested his cheek on her thigh, indulging in her clean, spicy aroma like an animal scenting his mate. Clenching his jaw to supplement his control, he moved back. Moaning against her, his deep voice sending vibrations through her most sensitive places, his slid his hands up to her hips, pulling her closer to his mouth, as if he couldn't taste enough, smell enough, lick enough to satisfy him. Winter let out a broken moan, and he realized by the frantic writhing of her hips that she was close. He pulled up himself beside her, and sank his teeth into her neck, as he slid his fingers inside her hungry sex, roughly massaging her G-spot as his thumb firmly massaged her clit. Winter's stomach muscles clenched, and for a second, she didn't move, she didn't even breathe. A breathless, high pitched wail broke free as her first orgasm with her husband crashed over her. "I...I...I...I'm falling! Help me--Bastien--I'm falling!" "I've got you Winter; you're safe baby, you're not going anywhere," he rasped in her ear, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, the other holding still between her legs, letting her ride out her pleasure on his slick fingers. He could feel her clenching his fingers deep inside, and he growled with satisfaction. She strained against her bonds as her head lifted, then fell back, body still tightening around his fingers. He put his lips to her shoulder and stayed still as her frantic movements slowly lessened. An almost overwhelming sense of accomplishment washed over him as he listened to her halting whimpers. He slowly pulled his fingers out of her, pausing each time she whimpered, crooning in her ear, "I know, baby, I know it's sensitive." Once his hand was free of her body, well...he couldn't resist such a perfect treat. He brought his hand to his nose and breathed in the clean, heady aroma of his satisfied woman. Closing his eyes, he gave into temptation and slid his fingers into his mouth, licking off the sweet remnants of her pleasure. Feeling a little dizzy when he finished, he moved to untie his wife. Her hands fell to his shoulders, deceptively delicate fingers gripping him tightly, as he pulled off her blindfold, uncovering his wife's seductive hazel eyes shining up at him, lids heavy with satisfaction. She laced her fingers behind his neck, urging him closer, "Bastien..." "Mm?" he murmured, busying himself with kissing her arms, her breasts, anything that his mouth could reach. She undulated against him and he stiffened. "Bastien..." she said again, her voice husky. "Shhh," he murmured against her breasts. "I'm not finished with you, yet. I'm going to work you all up again, lovely." Winter slid a warm, moist thigh over his hip, caressing his body with hers. "Want..." she whispered. Sebastien was busy nuzzling her neck, patiently intent on slowly coaxing her back to the edge. "Mmm," he breathed against her neck. "Not yet, baby..." Her hands wound through his hair and she tugged it, sending a pleasurable hum through his scalp. Her hands were wandering everywhere, gripping, caressing, clutching, scratching, and as he had predicted, it was becoming harder to think. "Want..." she breathed again, raking her fingernails over his sensitive nipples. She seemed to try to gather her wits, and said, "Bastien, if you hurry, I think that I can finish again." He froze against her as that simple statement shot straight to his hindbrain. He paused to try to understand it, but then his wife wrapped her hands under his arms and raked her nails sharply down his back and he was lost. He moved between her legs, her hands on his taut cheeks, nails digging in, urging him. She wrapped her thighs around his waist, and his mind stopped thinking. All he knew was that his body was telling him that she wanted it, to give it to her, to thrust, thrust, thrust, until she gave him what he wanted. In one last moment of clarity, he looked into her eyes, the smoky combination of satisfaction and anticipation driving him wild. He pushed inside of her, inside of her tightness, her heat, her wet, slick, grasping body. Her mouth opened wordlessly, as she felt herself stretch around his thick cock, but she kept her eyes on his. She wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, and buried the nails of the other into his waist, spurring him. Sebastien groaned, desperately trying to go slow, to give her the slow, hard, steady strokes she needed. She pulled his head down to hers, and he lay on her body, feeling her soft breasts and tight little nipples grinding into his chest. "Bastien," she purred. "Faster." He paused, taking a moment to let her imperious little order sink into his conscious mind. Then he grinned. Sliding his left arm under her right knee, he pulled it up so that her thigh grazed his ribs. Then, clenching his jaw, he lost control. Growling, thrusting, nipping and licking at her collarbones, at her shoulders, at her neck, he gave himself over to her. Winter's body jerked involuntarily, each thrust sending a mind-numbing electric shock of pleasure through her, and she held onto his arms as if he were the only thing in her world. Her breaths shuddered in his ear and that drove him mad. Pulling her roughly closer, as close as he could, he thrust deep into her, his powerful hips slamming demandingly against her, drumming home just whom she belonged to, even as she clutched him closer, and took what was hers. Winter was close, but when her husband changed the angle of his hips so that his body was now grinding against her exposed clit, it pushed her over the edge. This orgasm was even more intense than the first, and it ripped a rough, raw cry from her throat. When Sebastien felt that first, firm, insistent clench of her around his cock, his eyes rolled back into his head. This is what he had wanted, this is what he had been dreaming about for months, years. His hips thrust into her one last time, and he groaned as he finally let go. A hot lick of fire shot down his spine, and through his balls, as he could almost feel them pumping her with his thick, creamy cum. He felt each clench and rippling pull of her around his shaft as he shot load after load into his sweet wife, filling her up, giving himself completely to her. "Mine, mine," she whimpered, her hands running up and down his back, pulling him closer, closer. "Yes, baby, I am yours, all yours," he groaned. Finally his orgasm let him go, and he relaxed on her, boneless and panting. He could feel Winter still clenching around him, milking his cock with the last vestiges of her orgasm. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and just held him, her small body slowly moving under his. Ruefully, he realized that she was trying to rock him, and that he should probably move, lest he suffocate her. Yet, when he braced his arms to do so, she held onto him tighter. "No. Stay. I want you just like this. Hold you" she said, her breath coming in ragged pants. "But baby, I'm too heavy," he protested. "No, you're not. You're mine. Stay. I like you here. I can take it," she breathed. He compromised by sliding down her body, making sure that the bulk of his weight was off of her, as he laid his head against her breasts, and wrapped his arms around her. He listened to her as her breathing normalized, and eventually deepened into that of sleep. Sebastien nuzzled his cheek against his Winter's soft breasts, relaxing into the safety of his wife's arms, as he fell asleep to the sound of her heartbeat.