[Vardah] NSFW moments outside of time

You are restless for hours, fitfully slipping in and out of sleep. You feel drunk and anxious, your limbs tingling with the need to do something, but your body is so very heavy.

At three, you give up and slide out of bed. Your shuffling steps take you across the threshold of your bedroom and into the cabin's small hallway.

Bug's music player hums gently with ocean sounds in the other room. Upon a glance, you see the girl breathing deeply, unaffected by the demons that keep you awake.

You turn toward the bathroom, relieve yourself, and groggily wash your hands. Deerly gave you one of those relaxation tea blends a few nights ago; you might actually be desperate enough to try it.

As you move toward the main room, you freeze. The scent lingering in the air is both familiar and out of place.

"Vardah?" you whisper into the stillness.

Nothing moves.

You step into the open-plan living room, pausing when you see her shape backlit by moonlight. Vardah stands, unmoving, eyes closed, and lips slightly parted.

"Vardah?" you ask again. "What are you doing here?"

This isn't the first time you've smelled her perfume lingering in your kitchen early in the morning. It is the first time you've seen her, though.

"You haven't been sleeping," Vardah murmurs, voice soft.

You lick your lips, a little anxious. You don't know why, though. It's not like Vardah is a threat to you. She's anything but. "No."

"The whispering."

It isn't a question. You answer anyway. "Yes."

Vardah's voice is soft when she sighs. Her eyes open, colorless and glinting in the dark. "You haven't answered Him."

Also not a question. "No."

Vardah's nod is slow and barely perceptible. You can't tell if your words please her or not.

She steps closer to you, her stillettoed feet silent on the old wooden boards. When she reaches you, standing closer than polite, she reaches out to touch your chest. Her fingers splay on your sternum, right above your heart.

"Let me help."

You swallow; her hand curls in your pajama shirt, nails scraping cotton. "Let me distract you, dearest," she purrs.

"Bug-"

"I'll know if she wakes," Vardah assures you, voice lilting and warm as she leans closer, mouth pressing against your throat.

*if genitalia = penis

Vardah's touch is suddenly firm, pressing into your chest. She guides you to the kitchen table, into a rickety wooden chair, and stands above you like a god waiting for your sacrifice.

"Vardah..."

She slowly leans down, fingers tugging at your pajama bottoms. They come off with little effort, your hips lifting and her hands pulling.

You should stop this.

You don't want to stop this.

A hand slips into the boxers, extracting your cock and working it to attention with little effort. You groan as the pad of her thumb presses against your frenulum and rubs.

"You're so good," she breathes, her lips close to your ear, breath warm on your neck. "So strong. Not many people can ignore the Call."

You want to tell her to stop talking. That you don't want to think about the nagging voices, the whispers.

But your voice gets trapped in your throat when she pulls back, untying her wrap dress and letting it open to reveal the flawless skin beneath.

You lean toward her. You forget all reticence, pressing your lips to hers in benediction.

Her hands press you back into the chair, mouth moving against yours as she slowly straddles your hips. She grinds against you, already wet, her skin silken to the touch.

"Vardah," you beg.

"Yes, dearest?" she murmurs, lifting herself a bit, dragging her warmth against you.

"Please."

She hums an approving note. "So good," she praises you again. "How can I deny you anything?"

The motion is fast and fluid - one moment, her heat teases you, and the next, it has engulfed you.

You grind against her with a groan, gripping her hips. You'd worry she'd bruise if she were anyone else, but she isn't. She's more. She's everything.

Vardah rides you, effortless and smooth, nipping at your earlobe and neck. She murmurs praises that would sound hollow if uttered by anyone else.

"Vardah," you grit out, trying your best to stay quiet. One hand leaves her hip to slip between your bodies, offering her more friction against her swollen clit.

Her pace doesn't stammer or hesitate as she tilts her head back and moans toward the ceiling.

You find yourself drawn to the dip of her collarbone, tongue tracing the delicate ridges of her sternum and over to each nipple. You suck and nip as she grinds against you, as your bodies speed up, grow frantic, your hands clawing into one another's skin in muted desperation.

You come first, but Vardah follows close behind. She spasms around your cock, her body going tense and rigid in your arms.

You hold her to you as she gasps and breathes and shudders. You kiss her bony shoulder, her neck, her jaw, and then her parted, panting lips.

Vardah's eyelids flutter closed, and she drapes herself against you in a boneless heap.

"Thank you," you whisper against the slightly damp skin of her temple.

Her only response is a pleased hum, face nuzzling against your neck.

Your eyelids feel heavy. Your mind buzzes, warm and drunk with pleasure.

You can't hear the whispers

"Come to bed with me?" you ask.

And even though the woman doesn't sleep, she nods and follows you into your room. She holds you while you slip into a deep, dreamless slumber.

*finish

*if genitalia = vagina

Vardah's touch is suddenly firm, pressing into your chest. She guides you to the couch, forcing you to flop into the cushions. She stands above you momentarily, unmoving, like a god waiting for your sacrifice.

"Vardah..."

She slowly leans down, lips caressing yours. Her hands are whisper-soft as they slip under your pajama shirt and ghost across your chest, tweaking your nipples.

You arch into the touch, whimpering into her mouth.

When she pulls back, it's only to pull your shirt over your head. She tosses it, unceremonious, before her lips descend to your chest, tongue laving at your nipples. Her hands tug your pajama bottoms. They come off with little effort, your hips lifting and her hands pulling.

You should stop this.

You don't want to stop this.

Vardah removes your underwear with the same effortless grace. Her wrist twists, her hand slipping between your legs. Skillful, slender fingers part you; one digit teases your entrance while the pad of her thumb rubs your clit in slow, building circles.

"You're so good," she breathes, her lips close to your ear, breath warm on your neck. "So strong. Not many people can ignore the Call."

You want to tell her to stop talking. That you don't want to think about the nagging voices, the whispers.

But your voice gets trapped in your throat when she pulls back, untying her wrap dress and letting it open to reveal the flawless skin beneath.

You lean toward her. You forget all reticence, pressing your lips to hers in benediction.

Her hands press you back into the couch cushions, her mouth moving against yours as she slowly eased herself down to you. One of her thighs slides perfectly between your legs, the other over your hip, and braces against the floor.

She presses herself against you, already wet, her skin silken to the touch.

"Vardah," you beg.

"Yes, dearest?" she murmurs, thigh firm and teasing as it presses against your core.

"Please."

She hums an approving note. "So good," she praises you again. "How can I deny you anything?"

The motion is fast and fluid; she rolls her hips, and the pressure and friction bloom with it.

You grind into her, gripping her hips. You'd worry she'd bruise if she were anyone else, but she isn't. She's more. She's everything.

Vardah rides your thigh and presses against you, effortless and smooth, nipping at your earlobe and neck. She murmurs praises that would sound hollow if uttered by anyone else.

"Vardah," you grit out, trying your best to stay quiet. One hand leaves her hip to palm a small breast, squeezing her nipple.

Her pace doesn't stammer or hesitate as she tilts her head back and moans toward the ceiling.

You find yourself drawn to the dip of her collarbone, tongue tracing the delicate ridges of her sternum and over to each nipple. You suck and nip as you move together, as your bodies speed up, grow frantic, your hands clawing into one another's skin in muted desperation.

You come first, but Vardah follows close behind. She spasms against you, body taut and breath stammering.

You hold her to you as she gasps and breathes and shudders. You kiss her bony shoulder, her neck, her jaw, and then her parted, panting lips.

Vardah's eyelids flutter closed, and she drapes herself against you in a boneless heap.

"Thank you," you whisper against the slightly damp skin of her temple.

Her only response is a pleased hum, face nuzzling against your neck.

Your eyelids feel heavy. Your mind buzzes, warm and drunk with pleasure.

You can't hear the whispers.

"Come to bed with me?" you ask.

And even though the woman doesn't sleep, she nods and follows you into your room. She holds you while you slip into a deep, dreamless slumber.