She shifted down the bed, the coarse sheets whispering beneath her skin. Satou watched her, his dark eyes wide with a mixture of awe and trepidation, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

Lyra paused, her face level with his hips, the musky, masculine scent of him filling her senses. He was beautiful here, too, she thought, a thick, velvety length of him that pulsed with a life of its own under her tentative gaze.

Her first touch was a ghost of a thing, her lips brushing against the very tip. He jolted as if shocked, a sharp, guttural sound catching in his throat. "Gods…"

"Was that… okay?" she asked, pulling back slightly, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"More than okay," he rasped, his voice strained. "It's just… a lot. In the best way."

Emboldened, she did it again, this time letting her tongue dart out to taste the salty drop of moisture that had beaded there.

The flavor was uniquely Satou, earthy and primal, and a fresh curl of heat low in her own belly acknowledged it. She opened her mouth wider, taking just the head of him inside, her tongue exploring the smooth, flared crown.

Satou's hand came down to gently cup the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. Not pushing, just holding. "Your mouth is so soft," he breathed, the words a reverent prayer. "So warm."

She hummed in response, the vibration making his hips twitch. She took him deeper, slowly, carefully, learning the shape of him. Her own inexperience was a guide; she moved by instinct, paying rapt attention to every hitch of his breath, every stifled moan. When he thickened against her tongue, she relaxed her jaw, letting him slide a little further into the warm, wet haven of her mouth.

"I'm not going to last," he warned, his voice tight with a tension she was thrillingly responsible for. "Lyra, I…"

She pulled back, leaving him glistening in the lamplight. "I want to feel it," she said, looking up the length of his body to meet his heated gaze. "I want to taste you."

Her words unleashed something in him. With a groan that was half surrender, half triumph, his control fractured.

His hips gave a shallow, involuntary thrust and his release surged into her mouth. It was a warm, slightly bitter flood, and she accepted it, swallowing gently, her tongue working him through the last pulses of his pleasure until he was trembling and spent.

She released him with a soft, wet sound, wiping her lips with the back of her hand as she crawled back up to lie beside him. He was panting, his eyes closed, a sheen of sweat on his brow. For a long moment, neither spoke, the only sound their syncing breaths.

Finally, he turned his head on the pillow to look at her. "I… I have no words." He reached out, his thumb stroking her cheek. "That was… Lyra."

She smiled, a slow, sated smile. "I liked it. I liked making you feel that way."

"The feeling was more than mutual," he said, rolling onto his side to face her. His expression grew serious, playful. "But it seems terribly unfair that you've now had two earth-shattering experiences to my one."

She laughed, a light, airy sound. "Are you keeping score?"

"Absolutely," he murmured, his hand sliding down her stomach, his fingers splaying across her hip. "And I believe it's my turn to return the favor." His gaze darkened with intent. "I want to taste you, Lyra. Really taste you. Will you let me?"

A fresh wave of arousal, swift and powerful, washed over her. She nodded, her voice failing her. He needed no further encouragement.

He shifted down her body, his movements deliberate and slow. He kissed the inside of her knee, nipped playfully at her thigh, his beard a delicious scratch against her sensitive skin. He was building the anticipation again, teasing, until she was squirming beneath him.

"Satou, please…"

His low chuckle vibrated against her skin. "So impatient." He finally settled between her legs, his hands spreading her open for him. His breath ghosted over her damp, aching core, and she whimpered, her back arching off the bed.

And then his tongue was on her.

It was a flat, broad stroke from her entrance to her clit that had her crying out, her fists clenching in the sheets. Oh, gods. It was so much more intense than his fingers. The wet heat, the firm pressure, the way he zeroed in on the swollen, hypersensitive bud of her pleasure with unerring accuracy.

He explored her with the same curious reverence he had before, but now with a growing confidence.

He licked and suckled, learning what rhythms made her gasp and which made her moan. He discovered that a gentle, circular motion with the very tip of his tongue made her legs shake, and that a firmer, sustained pressure made her hips cant off the bed, seeking more.

"You taste like honey," he groaned against her, the words a muffled vibration that sent another jolt through her. "And you feel like heaven."

His hands held her hips steady, not restraining her, but grounding her as the sensations built to a fever pitch. She was babbling, pleading, her words dissolving into incoherent sounds of pleasure. The coil in her belly wound tighter, tighter, fed by the relentless, worshipful attention of his mouth.

He slid a finger inside her, curling it just so, and her world shattered. The climax ripped through her, violent and breathtaking, her cry echoing in the small room.

He didn't stop, his tongue drawing out her pleasure until the sensations became almost too sharp, too sensitive, and she had to gently push his head away.

He crawled back up her body, kissing her stomach, her breasts, her neck, finally claiming her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, a musky, intimate flavor that was now theirs.

They lay tangled together, breath slowly returning to normal. Satou traced idle patterns on her arm. "So," he said, a lazy, proud smile in his voice. "I believe that brings the score to two and two."

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