Her dark eyes, capable of capturing hearts with a single glance, met his, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, each with their thoughts, his definitely degenerate ones while she looked at him worry.
He knew he was staring like a fool, but he couldn’t look away from her. The allure of this strong, capable woman - one who had clearly faced and overcome countless challenges - was almost overwhelming.
Her touch, her scent, her very presence ignited a deep, primal hunger within him, stoking the flames of desire he’d never known he possessed. And when she advertantly pressed her soft body against his, her breasts flattened slightly against his arm, he felt his control almost snap.
A low, desperate growl rose in his throat, barely suppressed. The heat building between them threatened to consume him.
Her breasts, full and high, seemed to beckon him closer, his hands twitched, yearning to explore the supple warmth of her body, to map the contours of her curves, to feel the soft give of her breasts beneath his palms. He ached to bury his face in her hair, to inhale the essence of her, to let her scent seep into his very being. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to reach out, to touch, to claim.
The primal urge to claim her, to mark her as his own, surged through his bloodstream, his shaft swelling further in response. He fought to keep his breathing steady, but her intoxicating scent, a heady mix of wild herbs and feminine musk, overwhelmed his senses. His head spun, vision blurring, as he struggled to maintain control.
She didn’t seem to notice anything and said "You still feel warm," she murmured, pressing lightly against his shoulder.
"It’s nothing," he rasped. "Just... dizzy."
She frowned but didn’t argue. "You really scared everyone. You were cold as stone when we found you. Eira said you’d be lucky to wake up at all."
"Guess luck still likes me," he said. His voice cracked halfway through, as he tried to control his raging cock.
She smiled a little at this, her smile was gentle, filled with warmth. And this immediately broke any resistance he managed to gather.
"Rest," she said finally, adjusting the fur over him. "Eira said you still need to rest."
He nodded, and even this nod of acknowledgement felt strained. He closed his eyes, pretending to drift off to sleep, but the desire that pulsed through his veins was far from sated. Lyra’s warmth lingered, an unbearable temptation that threatened to overwhelm his senses at any given moment.
The fever was real, but so was the yearning that now consumed him - a hunger he knew he shouldn’t indulge, but couldn’t resist. His body ached for hers, craving the touch, the taste, the belonging that only she could provide.
He told himself that this was Lyra, his aunt, his savior, and yet his body, freed from its previous societal constraints, now saw her as nothing more than a primal, carnal urge, a creature to be conquered and possessed.
His rigid loincloth strained against his throbbing erection, as his body trembled with a primal, instinctual desire as it urged him to succumb to the overwhelming urge coursing through his veins. His gaze locked onto the lush, full breasts mere inches from his quivering fingertips, and a groan of longing escaped his lips. The need to touch, to claim, to make her his was all-consuming.
The battle raging within him was a treacherous tightrope, for in the depths of that primitive, feral desire, Sol knew that giving in could mean the end of whatever fragile bond they shared. And yet, the promise of that explosive, untamed passion was almost too tempting to resist.
In the end, he finally gave in, and decided to test the limits.
He suddenly scrunched up his face and made an extremely pained expression, seeing this she hastened to his side with a concerned face. "Are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with worry, her large breast heaving with each anxious breath.
Biting back a groan, he pretended to swallow hard and managed to rasp out, "Yes,I don’t why it suddenly hurts...very much."
"Where, hurry up and tell me?," she cooed, her husky voice sending tingles down Sol’s spine.
He winced, the very thought of voicing his need out loud making him tremble, for a moment he wanted to back out, but Lyra’s sun-kissed skin and her lush curves beckoned him like a siren’s call.
Summoning every ounce of courage, he forced out the words, "Down... there. It is hurting very much, can you please help me?" with a pleading expression. His gaze dropped involuntarily to the generous swell of her breasts, the rosy peaks straining against the animalskin fabric.
She followed his gaze, her eyes widening as they settled on the impressive, throbbing erection straining against the confines of his loincloth. Seeing this his breath also hitched, as he waited for her response the pulsing heat of his arousal undeniable even through the fabric.
"I...I’ll go fetch Eira," she stammered, turning to leave.
But Sol’s plea halted her in her tracks, his voice cracking with desperation. "No need, it’ll be okay without her help."
Lyra frowned, already halfway to standing. "You’re in pain, Sol."
He gulped, forcing a strained smile, trying to sound calm."I just... remembered something. Lady Eira once taught me a method to ease pain like this. I can try that."
Hearing this, she finally stopped mid-step.
She turned back, eyes narrowing with concern and a trace of disbelief.
"Eira taught you?" she asked.
He nodded slightly, keeping his expression serious, almost pleading. "Yes... she did."
For a moment, Lyra just stared at him. Then she sighed softly, shoulders dropping. Maybe it was the way he said it, maybe it was the innocent pained look on his face... either way, she believed him.
He’d always been close with the tribespeople, especially Eira. Always curious. Always the kind to listen. Many she had really taught him.
And it wasn’t right to keep disturbing her again and again.
So she hesitated, then nodded, stepping back toward him and sitting down again.