♧ Summary: You are summoned to give Nozel a massage. Nothing seems out of the ordinary; this is one of your closest friends. You've both grown up in the Royal Capital together. However, something changes between the both of you.
♧ Pairings: Nozel Silva × Tan/Chubby F! Reader
♧ Warnings: NSFW/Smut, Sexual Content, Heavy Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining -> Confession, Rough Touching (not much), Childhoodfriends -> Lovers, grinding, slight nipple play, Nozel!softdom, Reader has body insecurities, making out, Childhood nickname -> petname: Doll
♧ Tags: teasing/banter, you're a noble in this spin-off, your House is 1 of 5 that are directly below the 3 Royal Houses.
♧This piece is one I wrote for an original character, that's why there is a description of a tan person with a chubby body.
You nonchalantly stare around the Grey Deer training grounds. It is always so peaceful in the wide open field that has sycamore trees and bearded irises scattered around. As you’re enjoying the view, you hear a juvenile voice calling for you. “Lady Y/N, Captain Kira requested you,” a Junior Magic Knight shyly called, interrupting your training session.
Turning, your hair splits to reveal your shining sun-kissed skin. “May I ask what for?” You calmly asked while smiling. While your voice was calm, it had a carefree ring to it. It was an unfitting sight because your hand was held firmly up, causing a berserk blizzard to rage violently over the Grey Deer’s training grounds. With a pale face, the young recruit choked out, “He just asked me to retrieve you, ma’am.” They have yet to battle and feel intimidated by your mana.
Huffing out a carefree ‘okay’, you turned your head towards the violent, raging storm and chirped, “Everyone, thank the newbie.” Finally dropping your hand, the raging blizzard dissipated, leaving behind multiple magic knights in its wake. Some lay knocked out, while others barely stood, heavily breathing. “He saved you from five more minutes. You all did well today,” you praised before releasing Aurora’s Touch. Vibrant greens, violets, and blues began to dance across the training grounds as you left, giggling.
Opening the doors to Captain Novochrono’s office, you heard his voice praise, “Y/N, thank you for promptly coming.” Your cheeks slightly flush from the praise as you slip in. Instead of speaking, you responded with a quick nod, clasping your hands, waiting for him to continue. “The Silver Eagles requested you. I’m not sure why, but they did stress that your presence was needed immediately. I arranged for Nekoosa to take over training; you’re free to leave now.”
By mid-morning, you find yourself walking outside the grand estate of the Silva Family. The massive grounds holding a monumental dark colored baroque castle, its powerful presence seeping throughout the Royal Capital. The castle is lavishly decorated with silver embalms of the Silva Crest, eagles, and clovers. Directly behind the estate, hidden behind an elaborate garden, peaked the tops of two dependencies. A modest dependency sat behind the East Wing, while one slightly grander sat behind the West Wing.
While you grew up seeing this marvelous sight daily, it never ceased to amaze you. You continue to admire the grounds as you walk towards the west dependency. The corners of your mouth tugged upwards when your eyes saw the Silva garden, which secretly is your favorite in all of Clover Kingdom. Still walking to the west, your mind fell deeper into thoughts about the past, about how you spent countless hours at House Silva until Lady Acier’s unfortunate passing.
Suddenly hearing your name, your soft footsteps halted. Your head was quickly searching for the voice that yelled out Lady Y/N. Your eyes finally landed on a commoner rapidly walking towards you. His slim face flushed as beads of sweat started to collect along his forehead; his attire was that of a Silva usher. Your jaw drops to reply, but he quickly cuts you off.
He gave a tight bow while a hasty apology came out, “I—I apologize for shouting, Lady L/N. I was calling for a while.” His seriousness caused you to giggle as you walked over to him, pulling him up from his proper form.
“Harold, I’ve known you since I was little. You may call me Y/N or Lady Y/N,” you warmly said while helping him stand straighter. Harold’s face further flushed; he had never received this warmth from any nobles or royals.
You are the perfect embodiment of House L/N’s kindness, an unorthodox trait your family carried proudly. Nervously, Harold placed his wrinkly hand on top of yours, the one keeping him stable. “Thank you, Lady Y/N,” he smiled when you gave an encouraging squeeze.
“Lady Y/N, you’re actually needed in House Silva. On a mission, Lord Silva injured himself. Owen did all he could, but recommended he receive therapeutic massages,” Harold said while grabbing your hand and tucking it between his mid-forearm. He then turned to start walking towards the Silva castle.
Your eyebrows came together as you looked at the usher with a dumbfounded face. “May I ask why Lady Saint-Clair was not summoned? Her abilities outweigh mine when it comes to healing.” As you were questioning, an anxious coil began to form in the pit of your stomach. You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to stay calm and patient while waiting for Harold’s response, but all you wanted to do was grab him by the shoulders and shake the answer out.
“I follow Lord Silva’s orders. He requested you, and that is who he will receive,” Harold nonchalantly said, not understanding the weight of his words. He requested you. That is who he will receive. As the words sink into your chest, they slowly travel to your core—setting a ravenous fire. You keep your face forward, not wanting Harold to see your deep cherry blush prominently displayed on your tan skin.
The walk to Nozel’s room continues in silence; you are too nervous for another slip of Harold’s tongue. You look down at your feet once you reach Nozel’s door. Harold knocks on the heavy, dark walnut doors, and you jump when you hear Nozel’s orotund voice. The fire burns slightly harder in your stomach. As Harold leads you in, you couldn’t help but marvel at the room.
The large room faces east, with a rich scent of pine, reminding you of a sharp, cold winter breeze. The sharpness had a hidden warmth from the calming scent of lavender gliding throughout the room. As you inhaled more of the aroma, they started to fan the fire in your harder, causing your core to clench. You never noticed how enchanting Nozel is.
Your eyes scan over the massive marble columns that proudly support the four main corners of the room, while four smaller columns, flush against the wall, support the middle of the room. On the left side, three floor-to-ceiling windows sat securely between the columns. The massive windows allowed for sunlight to sneak past the silver casement curtains, and the rays made certain parts of the room stand out more.
The glistening rays of the sun caused the marble fireplace, situated between the flush columns, on the right side of the room, to shine. An exquisite family portrait of the Silva family hung, and you felt your heart tighten when you saw that it was when all six were still together. Your eyes then travel straight ahead to admire where playful sparkles are coming from the most.
At the far end of the room, perfectly in the middle, sits a striking dark oak four-poster canopy bed. Each poster stood out as they have ornate carvings that included rubies. When a sunray hits a poster, small lights of red dance throughout the great room. The canopy is made of sheer silver and velvet emerald curtain, embroidered with sapphire. The shy, blue twinkling lights occasionally danced with the passionate red ones. The canopy was open, allowing your eyes to scan inside and see his neatly made bed with a thick wool blanket and multiple satin pillows placed at the head.
“Lady Y/N has arrived, Lord Silva,” Harold informed while giving a proper bow. Nozel’s face began to scrunch, causing his eyebrows to move inward, and his braid to swish as he tilted his head. Noticing his actions, you slightly frowned.
“Lady Y/N?” His thick, heavy voice questions. Harold’s face starts to whiten as he stammers; he tries to bow and apologize for his casualness. Quickly, you reach out and grab him. Your strong, but gentle, grasp on his shoulder prevents him from moving further.
Your assertive voice fills the room as you say, “Lord Silva, please excuse Harold on my behalf,” but your honeyed tone takes the sting out when you add, “I requested that he address me as Lady Y/N. I saw it fit; he has seen me grow from childhood.” Your challenging eyes meet his seething lavender gaze. His angry stare unintentionally causes a familiar clench.
“Thank you, Harold. Dismissed,” he passively said while keeping his eyes on you. You break eye contact to give a warm thank-you to Harold. Once the doors close with a thud, you whip around to glare at Nozel. Your eyes and plump lips narrow at his sitting figure.
He is sitting on a velvet emerald baroque couch, facing the hefty doors. His legs lay in front of him, as his broad back leaned against the armrest. His arms cross over his chest angrily, causing his lean athletic muscles to appear slightly fuller. A soft blush softly kisses your cheeks when you see the lean muscle constrict. His pale skin is shining against his dark satin shirt and matching mid-thigh shorts. You desperately wanted to admire his body longer, but his pesky, haughty, condescending voice broke you out of your trance.
As Nozel places his arms along the armrest and backrest, he coolly speaks, “I didn’t realize you are so casual with…commoners.” He spits out commoners as if he drank spoiled milk. Your nose starts to crinkle as disgust spreads across your face; any fire you felt for him quickly diminishes.
You cross your arms as a hip pops to the side. “I didn’t realize you view them as less than human.” You stop to place a finger on your chin and tap, “As I recall, you’re unmarried. Who do you think runs House Silva while you’re busy?” Your question comes out sharply as he feels like you’re cutting him with a knife. His eyes slightly narrow as his face starts to ice over—but remains silent. When he doesn’t respond, you continue to berate him. “Those ‘commoners’ keep this House running and your belly full. Your arrogance and dim nature are showing.” His jaw clenches as a fire lights in his eyes, upset from your last statement.
When he remains silent, you walk over to him, wanting to get this stupid message over with. As you knelt in front of Nozel, you swiftly started the massage, refusing to look at him or talk. You could feel his mana slowly surround you, full of anger. You huffed and rolled your eyes, but kept massaging his injured thigh. Typical Nozel hates correction.
Nozel clenches his jaw more when he hears your huff. First, you scold him, a royal, like a child. Then, you huff when he feels rightly angry. He thinks about scolding you, but a smaller part is holding him back. Begrudgingly, he knows you are not wrong in your observation. The workers at House Silva work tirelessly to prove that a House can function without its head.
Your movements slightly increase in tempo as the weight of the room starts to smother you. The once crisp, calm air now feels stagnant and boiling. The weight shatters when you hear him clear his throat with an ahem. You keep your eyes on his pale, muscular thigh, but you shift your head, offering your left ear. You hear his famous heavy sigh, before he grumbles out, “Thank you for pointing out the error in my ways. I’ll make sure to apologize.”
After hearing his apology, your lips curled up into a small smirk. You slowly lift your head to meet his eyes. “It’s no problem. I don’t mind reminding the honorable Lord Silva about his manners,” your teasing voice filling the room. With your eyes still locked and your hands still massaging his thigh, you decide to change the topic: “Did Owen mention what type of injury?”
You innocently stare up, waiting for a response. He lets out a little sigh before explaining. “Tore a muscle in my thigh…fuck, warm me,” he snaps angrily when you turn your hands ice cold and press harder against his injured muscle. Your sweet melodic giggles fill the room, and you flash a cheeky grin as you ignore his fiery glare. His face slowly softens and warms as he notices your cleavage teasingly rippling with your giggles. He quickly looks away from your chest, but his eyes land on your stunning face.
His lavender eyes melt when he notices how your eyes squint when you smile, creating a youthful excitement—one he loved seeing in childhood. Suddenly, he feels a spark light inside and rapidly blaze through, as if he were made of dry kindling, as he notices more of you. Your teasing dulcet voice coaxed him out of his thoughts.
“Wow,” you laugh out, “who would have thought something as trivial as overstretched muscles could take down the might Vice-Captain Silva.” Your plump lips form into a playful smile, while his form into a tight line, forcing himself not to mirror her expression. Nozel angrily opens his mouth to snap back, but for once, he is lost for words. That made him angrier, so he huffs out, “You came here to help, not to annoy.” The scowl on his face began to falter as his bottom lip jutted out. He quickly tries to fix his expression, but it is in vain.
Your angelic giggles ring out once more, filling the large room. “Is the honorable Lord Silva pouting?” Your inquiry comes out in broken giggles. While you’re causing him emotional torment, your hands stay steady as they continue the cool, soothing massage. You continue to stare in amusement as you wait for his response. “Just do your task,” he passively says while turning his head away from your gaze. Your lips purse with a knowing smile, and you slowly infuse more ice into your mana skin, causing him to jolt and angrily look at you.
Your eyes start to glimmer with mischief as you slowly curve your lips and soften your features. “Can the prestigious Vice-Captain Silva not handle a little bit of cold?” You innocently question while batting your thick eyelashes at him. You feel the fire slowly flare alive again as his darkening lavender eyes lock with yours, creating a familiar feeling awaken in your core.
Glaring down at you, he sneakily admires the glittering sparkles in your eyes when you tease him. While he doesn’t want to admit his love for your antics, the deepening blush on his face tells you the truth. Robotically, he moves his arm from the armrest to brush a strand from your face before huskily muttering, “You’re unbearable, Doll.”
You both physically pause after the words slip out. His slender fingers freeze on your cheek, fanning across—radiating warmth. Your hands are still squeezing his muscular thigh. You both shift your gazes, refusing to make eye contact, too shy to see the other’s expression. Doll. It is the nickname Lady Acier gave you, the one that he revived when you both became closer friends at eighteen.
As you both awkwardly shift, you don’t realize that you share the same feelings. Nozel is too lost in thought to move his hand. Doll has always been the Silvas’ nickname for her. Now, it seems different; he understands why his mother gave it to you. You are beautiful and uniquely crafted, unlike any other noblewoman in the Clover Kingdom. You both slowly move your heads to look at each other again. He starts to admire how your hair perfectly frames your face, inviting him to get lost in your eyes. After locking eyes with you, he shamelessly continues his observation with an eagle’s precision.
You've changed drastically in the past two years. Your once bony figure is now filled out with ravishing curves. Your chest carries more weight, naturally bouncing with your movement. His eyes heat up as he remembers their soft bouncing when you giggled. Your waist now holds a womanly plumpness across your midriff, which beautifully leads to your voluptuous hips and backside.
Your dress poorly hides all your mouthwatering curves. The modest U-shaped neckline was unable to cover the peaks of your plush mountains. The bodice of your dress clings tightly to your waist, tracing gracefully along your plush, curvaceous figure. The flared pleated skirt slightly constricts as it snakes around your full lower body. The skirt starts to hike up as you shift under his sultry gaze. The air vanishes from his lungs as he sees more of your tan thigh exposed. He imagines how soft they would be as he rested his head on them, before nuzzling his way to your hidden treasure. He allows himself to indulge in more of your intoxicating presence.
The heat from his hand fans over your cheeks and travels rapidly throughout your body. It first starts pooling in your cheeks before dripping all over and sticking—like honey. You feel your heart pound faster, as your throat faintly constricts and dries. Your mind thoughts spun like a whirlwind. Doll? Why am I even questioning why he said it? It’s part of his family’s vocabulary. He means to use it innocently. We are friends….friends.
However, your body has been betraying you the whole time. When you were standing outside the door waiting, the anxious coil developed due to your thoughts of what could happen. When you smelled his scent, it caused a primal instinct to set off in your brain. While he acted haughtily when Harold said your name, you couldn’t help but get flustered at how angry he looked at you. You didn’t notice you were dripping with need until “Doll” slid off his tongue. As fire to the gasoline poured over you, the minute Harold said, “He requested you. That’s who he’ll get.” Then, when Nozel’s deep, rich voice set in, triggering your core to start clenching, and left you feeling needy.
As his voice loops in your head, you start to see how bewitching he looks in his dark outfit. The clothes present his body, soliciting you to taste him. You feel your cheeks burning and throat dry in an instant when you remember that your delicate hands are gripping his strong, thick, muscular thigh. As if his muscles read your body, they subtly twitch against your hand. The tingling sent your whole body into a shiver, causing you to grasp harder. His hand drops from your face as he hisses in pain, his arm roughly pushing you. Fortunately, you were sitting on top of a plush light grey carpet.
As you are falling, a high-pitched squeak comes out and fills the large room. His stomach drops, becoming a deep pit heavily swirling with worry, when he hears your squeak. He quickly uses his magic to pull you back into your kneeling position as he shifts his legs over the couch. He wants to atone for what he did, but stops. He feels his heart beating rapidly. You look even more alluring in this position. Your back stood straight; your astute posture came from years of nobility duties. Your tan, silky hands sat sweetly on top of your velvety, thick thighs. Oblivious, you are leaning forward, allowing the sun to hit your cleavage.
Nozel’s nostrils flare as he gets a full view of your mountainous valley. His eyes greedily look over your body—he is slowly losing himself. In an instant, the years he took to build his reputation amongst the nobility of the Clover Kingdom slip through his fingers with his next actions. He slowly widens his legs and gently places his strong hands on your waist before dragging you forward. He only stops when your body hits the couch.
Your face burns the entire time he drags you, slowly intensifying the closer you are brought in. You feel a familiar clench come from your core when he drags you deeper. You knew you should protest, but your mind is too hazy with lust to protest. Your body blazes with need every time his calloused hands brush against your smooth, sun-kissed skin as they now faintly pet your arms. Momentarily, you look at your hands before slowly dragging your gaze up. Your eyes admire his toned thighs as they run into his dark shorts, almost inviting you to see what lurks in the dark. Your cheeks start burning when your mind continues to think about what his member looks like. You quickly move your eyes, but your mind keeps perverting every part of Nozel when your eyes land on it.
You finally shift your eyes to his, and you feel your satin panties becoming wetter when you do. He is smiling down at you. He slowly moves his right hand up your arm, deliberately taking his time, tracing along your neck before his fingers brush against your cheek. His hand then slowly clasps around your cheek and chin, bringing your head up until his mouth meets your right ear. You feel his hot breath spread across your face like smoke, leaving goosebumps in its path. You shudder when he hotly whispers, “You look delightful between my thighs, kneeling like a perfect Doll.”
You close your eyes, trying not to focus on the wetness pooling in your panties. He slowly pulls entirely away, lavender eyes observing the goddess that graces the Silva Estate. Opening your eyes and looking in his vicinity but avoiding making eye contact, you try to continue your lighthearted banter that you’re used to. “Why, Lord Silva, if I were to hear you in passing, I would think you’re talking to a beloved,” you awkwardly laugh out. You want this to be real, but this is Nozel, your best friend—your childhood best friend. The lust in your head slowly starts to subside as you think about your friendship. Only to crash back in when he flashes a captivating smile while looking down at you.
“Oh, Doll,” he smoothly says, “what if I want that to be true, hm?” A deep hum comes from his slim, athletic body, causing you to squeeze your thighs and press your hands to your pussy. His gaze is hyper-focused on your flushed face; he is too mesmerized to see you shamelessly rubbing against your hands. Your movements halt when you hear his captivating, sultry voice demand your attention once more.
“Lady Y/N,” his voice is low as thunder, “did a cat capture your tongue?” An eyebrow moves up as his quizzical gaze scans over your face. You feel molten lava pour over your cheeks as your desire for this situation to go further sinks into you, causing a crack in the dam.
His voice is alluring, smooth as rich dark chocolate, enticing you. A sudden surge of longing fills you—breaking the dam and causing your thighs to become wet. You allow yourself to lock eyes with him, and the air gets knocked out of your lungs when you see his eyes. His classic impassive lavender eyes are now swirling with darker shades of purple, and his blown-out pupils look like a black hole. The darker hues start to rage violently when you pull your bottom lip between your pearly white.
A storm of confusion rages in you after seeing his bedroom eyes. He has been one of your closest confidants for the past two years. While you have thought of what it would be like to be more than friends, those thoughts quickly die. As a noblewoman, marriage screws you over more if things do not work out. You’re also risking losing the close relationship you have with him now. You know you could stop this. He is a gentleman by the end of the day; his aloof nature will allow him to pretend this moment never existed. You should end this; you are both from distinguished families, and children of those families do not behave this way.
However, the thought of rejecting him and ending any possibility you have sends a crushing blow to your heart. The fire that he lit in you wants to keep burning and raging; this type of passion is rare, nonexistent, amongst the nobility. Understanding the new reigns he holds over you, you decide to play into his banter.
Slowly, you run your delicate, cold hands against his bulky, hot thighs. Leisurely, your hands travel over his defined muscles. A small smile plays along your lips as you feel them constrict under your touch. You gently rub circles on the strong muscle beneath your diligent hands, before softly speaking.
“More like an eagle,” your statement comes out as quick as a blink. He gives you a sickening, candied grin, while his right hand moves to grab your chin, again. He raises your head a little higher before offering a deal that changes the momentum of your friendship.
“Maybe,” he slowly starts, his voice draping in velvet, “I should provide a demonstration, to show what it feels like when an eagle captures you?” His head slightly tilts, as his silver eyebrows briefly raise and his thin lips form into a subtle half-grin. His eyes gleam with a hidden spark as he waits for you to respond. You lightly smack your lips, as if you are dying from thirst. It truly does feel like that; the air is too thick to breathe in, your throat is dry, and your body is hot. But the only object that can quench your thirst is your childhood friend—Nozel Silva.
As you gape at him, his subtle half-grin becomes more prominent, canines lightly flashing. He gives you another moment to respond, but you choose to look away. He steadily moves his left hand, petting your side, slowly moving towards your lips. “Maybe,” he slowly starts, his voice draping with velvet, “I should provide a demonstration, to show what it feels like when an eagle captures you, does that sound good to you, Doll?” His hand now pets your neck, giving a light squeeze before continuing its journey.
As his deep voice continues to ring in your ears, you feel a calloused thumb swipe across your soft lips. Your throat tightens as you sense a coil begin to wrap in your stomach. Gradually, your eyes close, then reopen, feeling the confidence you always experience when he is near. Mischievousness sparkles brightly in your eyes as you sweetly question him with a wide smile.
“I find it hard to believe that Vice-Captain Silva willingly provides this demonstration. Do the other Magic Knights know?” Your angelic giggles once again filled the room and struck a certain cord in his heart, before traveling lower. “Or is it only for special ladies?” His eyes narrow at this comment. While he knows you’re teasing, the thought of being with another woman that isn’t you is… disgusting. He also starts to feel vaguely angry that you think his attraction to you is a joke.
Abruptly, he drops his hand from your face and his calloused hands clasp around your full hips, firmly grabbing before jerking them off the ground. You are now standing between his legs, allowing his gaze to feast over more of your seductive figure. His eyes remind you of an eagle stalking. A heat starts to rise in your neck as you register that your body is on display for him. Vulnerability infiltrates the coil in your stomach as you remember the extra cushion that your figure carries compared to other noblewomen. Then you remember that your body is not actively sought after, and past thoughts start clouding your brain. Y/N? She’s cute, but could stand to lose a couple of pounds. She’s a bit of a gluttonous pig. She’s only met for the night, nothing more. Soon, sunrays break through the clouds as you see how he looks at you.
While his eyes are looking over your body with starvation and practically claiming your body already, they also hold a softer side. Below all the fiery lust is admiration, and it feels as warm as a hearth fire as he soaks in more of your fuller figure. Your heart can’t help but gush under his praising, seductive gaze. You soon become shy as you notice his eyes still shamelessly eat and drink from you, treating your body as if it were his lifeline. Slowly, you clasp your hands in front of you, trying to use them to hide your chubby figure, as your blushing face casts down.
In turn, he slowly stands up, his 5’9 stature towering slightly over yours. You keep your eyes downcast, your hands suddenly feel clammy, you feel sweat gather along your hairline, and then you slowly start to shift; embarrassment floods the coil in your stomach. Your solitude of embarrassment lasts shortly, as he gently cups your face, gracefully bringing it up. “It is only offered to those I’ve noticed,” he boldly states.
You gulp so slowly that he can see the spit travel down your slender throat. He’s noticed me? You open your mouth to joke that any of the other kingdoms could notice your gargantuan size, but his next words stole all the air from the room, squeezing every drop from your lungs. “And, I’ve been noticing you for a while…ever since you won the practice match at eighteen.”
The confession drips like gasoline onto the fire that is quickly spreading in his room. Without thinking, he brings his face down to meet yours. His lips faintly ghost yours; the heat from his nostrils starts getting to you. Your core clenches relentlessly; you can’t take these feelings anymore. Slowly, you lean forward. When your lips meet, you both jolt from a sudden electric shock. Both your faces flush from the chemistry, but neither will make the first move.
That is, until you start to giggle; your giggles are so light that they break the tension. He smirks when he hears your beautiful giggles and pulls you closer once more. One deep kiss. That’s all it took to unravel you. When his lips touch yours, you feel your knees buckle and every thought vanishes. He supports your weight when you dip and grunts in pain as he strains his injured muscle.
While the grunt causes you to crave more, you quickly understand why he grunted in pain. You promptly jump back from him and cross your arms, pulling your lips into a teasing pout, saying, “It looks like an overused muscle does take out the mighty Vice-Captain Silva.” You then give him a bewitching smile and open your mouth to taunt him further, before any noise can form a syllable, he swiftly sits on the couch and pulls you with him. His hands passionately clasp around your thighs, spreading them open to place you over his lap—straddling him.
You move your hands to grip his broad, athletic shoulders, feeling the soft satin under your skin. Your whole body burns in embarrassment as a hand moves to pull your breasts out. Your breathy gasps fill the air as one of his hot hands begins to tweak one nipple. Your skin feels freezing against his hot petting, his calloused fingers are pinching your nipple as it becomes a hardened pebble, then rolling and pulling it between two fingers. Your melodic moans ring out, and your back arches into his touch as he becomes rougher.
He then pulls you forward by the nipple before attacking your upper body with his mouth. He starts by kissing dangerously close to your areola, but never allows his lips to graze against your stiff peak. By choice, he lets the cold metal from his Silva pendant graze against your sensitive nipple. “Hold this,” he orders while pushing up his braided bang. Obediently, you grab the braid, and you gush from him ordering you around.
He then dives his head back to your nipple and licks around and blows lightly on your nipple, causing you to squirm and pant. He gives a satisfied smile before kissing his way up to your shoulder, removing your hand from his braid. Once he is at your shoulder, he starts placing open-mouth kisses, letting his tongue give kitten licks. As he gets closer to your neck, his kisses become harder, and he allows his canines to nip your soft kiss. He is mindful not to leave visible marks on your divine body.
Your body goes into overdrive as he is kissing one of the most sensitive parts of your body, and as his Silva pendant scratches your skin every so often. You can’t help but moan and unabashedly rock your hips against his bulging member. As his hard, swollen tip hit your clit, you knew that your self-control was starting to run thin. “Nozel, I won't be able to stop if we carry on,” you say in between broken moans.
His canines lightly nip a path up your neck. He then places open-mouth kisses along your jaw, making his way towards your ear. You shudder from his assault and how his hot breath feels against your sensitive skin. His tongue darts out to play with your earlobe before gently sucking it between his teeth. He briefly releases your earlobe to whisper in a breathy voice, “Then don’t stop, Doll.”
