I choose you.

They may as well have I love you for all Kaydia heard in them. Her arms went around his neck as she pulled him into her, her mouth capturing his in a kiss. A kiss that was not approved by the Council, but what she care? What did he care? He didn’t he didn’t care about that. He chose her. After nearly a decade of fearing that she killed the last person to give a damn about her, it felt good to know that she mattered to someone.

That knowledge filled her with a need, a need to feel him inside her. She was ripping off her own shirt as they kissed madly, the weight of their confessions and near death coming off with each piece of clothing. She sought out the feel of his skin, soft fingers groping at his muscles, leaving pink impressions of her need.

Even more, she could feel her own touch through his skin, their sensations blending and bleeding over until distinctions between them were minimal, and meaningless. She hadn’t intended to open an empathic link with him, but she wouldn’t dare close it now.

“Fuck me,” she gasped, her hands worked at his belt as their mouths came back together. “I need you inside me.” So, as her finger gripped his manhood, she gasped with sudden bliss, feeling the soft hands gripping the throbbing organ, pulsating in demand to plunge into moist supple flesh. The dual sensations, both feeling with her hands and feeling his ache in her mind, were confusing and amazing and she moved without thinking. Just feeling.

He leaned into her, his tongue fucking her mouth as she stroked and squeezed him. His hands roamed her back, tugging and tearing at the hooks of her bra before tossing it aside to push her back. His lips closed on her nipple, tugging and sucking, and she shared the sensation with him, let him experience his lips on her breast through her mind. "Fuck..." he breathed, the air hot on her damp flesh.

With a sudden motion, he rose, his hands slipping under her ass. He lifted her up, kissing her again with a desperate need as he let her drop on the edge of the small table. He tore at her belt and fumbled with her zipper, hungrily biting at her throat and shoulders. "I need you," he groaned, tugging her pants down. "I need you now..." The pants hung up on her boots. He swore, then gave up. More than enough room for what they needed, now.

Quentin's fingers hooked in her panties, tugging them to one side. " I wanted you slowly," he groaned, cock throbbing as she clenched from his nails grazing her slit. "I wanted to make love to you for hours..." With a single thrust, he buried himself to the hilt in her sex. "Later," he gasped, hips rocking as he began pounding himself into her. "Now... I just... need you..!" He pulled her mouth to his, letting her taste his desperate desire for her. He could feel himself stretching her around his cock through her nerves, taste him fucking her through her mind. "Do..." he moaned, angling his thrusts in response to her wordless cries, "do... you... you feel... it... too...?"

“Yes…” She moaned and admitted, bouncing against his cock fucking him as he fucked her, and feeling him fuck her as she felt herself get fucked. “I… feel... it,” She gasped, head thrown back in joyful abandon, “I feel… you. Everything…I feel… everything” She wrapped her arms around him, sighing against how soft her breasts felt pressed into his chest. Kissing him, wanting to complete the entirety of their connection, tongues slipping and filling each other’s mouths, his cock parting her walls, her slit gripping his girth their bodies against each other, soft and hard and sweaty and perfect.

"Perfect..." he gasped as she wrapped her arms around him. "You feel... perfect... on me..." Her tongue filled his mouth, and he subtly altered his thrusts as he felt her need for a different angle. "Perfect... around... me. Perfect... in... me..." She could feel both their orgasms building, his as a rising tension in his cock and balls and hers as a growing pressure that began in the pit of her stomach and radiated outwards. She could feel his cock straining against the silken walls of her slit and taste the salty sweat of her skin and the musk of their mutual lust in the air.

“Cum…cum in me,” She implored him, forehead resting against his, “I want to…feel it… as you do,” the words with laced with indulgent cries and breathy rasps. “I’m so… so close….”

"Close..." he echoed, the word a low moan. "I want... want you... to... to feel... me..." His fingers dug into the meat of her ass as he plowed into her. "Feel my... my... cum... filling you..." It was getting harder and harder to speak, harder to think of anything but her body gripping him and the feel of his meat filling her, and her hands and her lips needy on his skin. "Kaydia!" he gasped. "Fuck! Kaydia! I'm... I'm close! Kaydia! I'm... I'm..."

It was hard to tell if his orgasm caused hers, or if hers caused his. Perhaps it happened simultaneously, and escalated from there, with each pulse of his semen and every tightening of her core. The eruption into her hungry womb, the milking of his cock, it seemed to last forever. All Kaydia could do was hold Quentin tight against her, feeling the sweet sting of her nails biting into his skin.

Even once it had subsided, she rested against him for several minutes, craving his heat and skin against her, craving her own body against his. She didn’t want to disentangle arms or legs or fingers or mouths, she just wanted closeness, that feeling of completion and connection.