Cursors's Fury

A surge of Septimus’s joy flowed into her, and she flung herself onto him, rolling him onto his back so that she could kiss him, face and throat and hands, to taste him, to drink in the warmth and beauty of him. Reason disintegrated under the joy, under the need, and Isana’s hands moved as if of their own will, tearing open his tunic so that she could run her hands and nails and mouth over the tight muscle beneath it.

Septimus let out an agonized moan, and she felt his hips surge up against hers, felt the hot hardness of him pressed against her so tightly that she thought they might simply burst into flame together.

He seized her face between his hands and forced her eyes to his. Isana saw everything she’d already felt in them, saw how much he wanted to simply let go, give in to the moment. “Are you sure?” he said, his voice a growling whisper. “You’ve never done this. Are you sure you want this now?”

She couldn’t trust her lips to answer, her tongue to function. They were far too intent upon returning to his skin. So she sat up and stared down at him, panting, mouth open, and dug her fingernails into his chest while arching her back, pushing her hips back and down against him, a slow, torturous motion.

Septimus could feel her, just as she could him. Words were neither needed nor wanted. His eyes glazed over with hunger and need, and he lifted her and pressed her down again, savagely took another kiss from her open, willing lips. His hand slid up one of her legs, brushing skirts aside, and there was suddenly nothing in her entire world hut passion, sensation, pleasure.

And Septimus.

They lay in one another’s arms much later, the moon now settling down, though dawn was nowhere near. Isana could hardly believe what was happening to her. Her arms tightened on Septimus in languorous wonder, feeling the warmth of him, the strength of him, the beauty of him.

He opened his eyes slowly, smiling at her the way he smiled at nothing and no one else, and it made Isana feel deliciously smug, delighted.

She closed her eyes and nuzzled her face into his chest. “My lord, my love.”

“I love you, Isana,” he said.

The truth of it rang in Isana’s heart. She felt it between them, flowing like a river, running endlessly through both. “I love you, “ she whispered, and shivered in pure delight. “This is… this is like a dream. I’m terrified that if I open my eyes, all of this will be gone, and I’ll find myself in my cot.”