He worked the laces with careful fingers, his own desire a steady, growing heat. The fabric parted, revealing a simple linen shift underneath. He pushed the dress down her shoulders, helping her to wriggle free of it until she was left in just the thin undergarment. The lamplight caressed the full swell of her breasts above the chemise's neckline, the dip of her waist, the lush curve of her hips.

"You are stunning, Jessica," he said, the words heartfelt.

A blush painted her cheeks. "I'm… sturdy. Not like Lyra."

"Lyra is Lyra," he said firmly, leaning down to kiss the valley between her breasts through the linen. "And you are you. And right now, I can't imagine anything more beautiful than you." He hooked a finger under one strap and drew it down her arm, following the path with his mouth. When he reached the peak of her breast, he closed his lips over the linen-covered nipple, sucking gently.

She cried out, her hands flying to his hair. "Oh!"

He switched his attention to her other breast, his tongue circling, his teeth grazing lightly until the fabric was damp and transparent. Her breaths were coming in short, sharp gasps now, her earlier nervousness burning away in the heat of her arousal.

"The shift," she panted. "Satou, take it off. I want to feel your skin."

He needed no further urging. He sat up, pulling her with him, and in a few swift movements, the chemise was over her head and discarded. She sat before him, completely bare, her skin glowing in the warm light, her body lush and inviting. For a moment, she looked self-conscious, crossing her arms over her chest, but he gently pulled them away.

"Don't hide from me," he said, his voice rough. "Let me see you. Let me appreciate you."

He laid her back down, his own clothing feeling suddenly oppressive. He shucked off his tunic and trousers quickly, his erection springing free. Her eyes went wide, tracing his length.

"It's… bigger than I imagined," she whispered.

"We'll go slow," he promised, settling beside her. "Tell me everything you feel. Every time."

He began with his hands, relearning this new body. His calloused palms smoothed over the soft, sensitive skin of her belly, her hips, the outsides of her thighs. He was playful, tracing nonsense patterns that made her giggle, then dipping in to tease the inside of her thigh, his fingertips brushing so close to her core but never quite touching.

"Satou," she whined, her hips lifting off the bed in a silent plea.

"What do you want, Jessica?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. He kissed her sternum, then the underside of her breast.

"Touch me. There."

He finally let his fingers drift through the dark curls at the junction of her thighs. She was already slick, her heat radiating against his hand. He groaned. "You're so ready."

A single fingertip traced her folds, gathering her wetness, circling her entrance. She whimpered, her legs falling open in surrender. He found her clit, that small, hard bud of nerve-endings, and stroked it with a feather-light touch.

Her reaction was immediate and intense. Her back arched clear off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from her throat. "Gods! What is that?"

"That's your pleasure, love," he murmured, watching her face contort in amazed delight. He continued the gentle circles, learning her rhythm. "Just feel it."

He kissed his way down her body as his fingers worked her, his mouth worshiping every new inch of skin. When he reached her belly, he dipped his tongue into her navel, making her jump. He smiled against her skin and moved lower, nuzzling the soft curls.

"Can I taste you?" he asked, his breath hot against her most intimate skin.

She nodded frantically, beyond words. He didn't need more. He spread her open with his hands and lowered his mouth to her.

Her taste was different from Lyra's—a sharper, muskier flavor that was uniquely hers. He explored her with his tongue, lapping at her entrance, then focusing on her clit with firm, flat strokes. She was loud, her moans and gasps music to his ears. Her hands fisted in his hair, not guiding, just holding on.

"I can't… it's too much… I'm going to…" Her words dissolved into a high, keening cry as her first climax took her. Her thighs trembled against his ears, her entire body seizing as he gently drew the pleasure out of her.

When she finally went boneless, he crawled back up her body, kissing her stomach, her breasts, her lips. She tasted herself on his mouth and moaned.

"That was…"

"I know," he said, smiling. He settled between her legs, his weight braced on his elbows. The head of his cock nudged against her, slick with her arousal. He looked into her eyes, seeing the trust there, mixed with a flicker of apprehension. "I'm going to go very, very slow. You tell me to stop at any moment."

"I will," she promised, her hands coming up to grip his biceps.

He pushed forward, just an inch. She was tight, incredibly so, and he felt her body resist for a moment before yielding. She gasped, her nails digging into his arms.

"Okay?" he gritted out, holding perfectly still.

"It's… a lot. Full. But it doesn't hurt." She wriggled her hips experimentally, and they both groaned at the sensation. "More. Please, Satou. I want to feel all of you."

He obeyed, sinking into her with an excruciatingly slow, steady pressure until he was fully sheathed. He was surrounded by her, a hot, velvet tightness that threatened to undo him immediately. He dropped his forehead to hers, breathing harshly.

"You feel… incredible," Said Satou

"So do you," she whispered, her eyes shining. "Now… move?"

He began to rock, shallow thrusts at first, letting her body stretch and adjust to him. Her breath hitched with each movement, but her expression was one of rapturous wonder, not pain. He watched her face, learning her tells—the way her lips parted when he angled just right, the flutter of her eyelids when he hit a deep spot.

He picked up the pace, his thrusts growing longer, deeper. Her legs came up to wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer, taking him even deeper. The sounds of their joining filled the room—skin slapping against skin, ragged breaths, her soft, broken cries.

"Right there," she sobbed, her head thrashing on the pillow. "Oh, please, don't stop, right there!"

He hammered into that spot, over and over, his own control fraying at the edges. The sight of her beneath him, lost in pleasure, her generous breasts bouncing with each thrust, was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.

"Jessica, I'm close," he warned, his voice strangled.

"Me too," she cried. "I feel it… it's coming…"

"Look at me," he demanded. Her eyes, glazed with passion, locked onto his. "Come with me."

Her inner muscles clenched around him in a fierce, rhythmic pulse, and her scream of release was his undoing. With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt and poured himself into her, his own climax wracking his body in powerful waves.

He collapsed onto her, careful to keep his weight on his forearms, his face buried in her neck as they shuddered together in the aftershocks. He was still inside her, both of them panting, slick with sweat.

After a long moment, he shifted to the side, pulling her with him so they lay facing each other. He brushed damp hair from her forehead.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

A slow, dazed, utterly sated smile spread across her face. "Alright?" she breathed. "Satou, I've never felt more alright in my entire life."

She snuggled into his chest, her hand resting over his still-pounding heart. He held her close, listening to her breathing even out.

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