SONG VIBE: Closer - RM (with Paul Blanco, Mahalia)

  Warning: This chapter contains????????????

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  SAPHIRA

  Inner Keep, Castle Renatus

  She turned to face him, her breath shallow. Her hands trembled as she reached out, brushing her fingertips along the angles of his cheekbones.

  Nocturne stilled. His umber eyes locked onto hers, unreadable, searching. She watched his expression shift—deep, searching—something unguarded.

  She leaned in, her lips barely brushing his, a soft, hesitant kiss. Nocturne didn’t pull away—but neither did he draw her closer. Her fingertips instinctively curled against his bearded jawline, feeling the roughness beneath her touch.

  Then, slowly, deliberately, his hands slid to her waist, drawing her toward him. And finally, he kissed her back. His lips moved with a patient hunger, savouring every moment, every sensation.

  It’s as if he wants this as much as I do. Heat surged beneath Saphira’s skin, a yearning that made her pulse quicken.

  Nocturne’s fingers tightened on her hips, his body taut with restraint, yet his kiss deepened—but still measured. When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against hers, breath warm and heavy against her lips, his hands still firm at her waist.

  “I thought I was just unbraiding your hair.” The soft humour quickly faded. “But this is more, isn’t it?” He paused, assessing her expression. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  No man has ever looked at me like this before.

  “I wouldn’t have let you unbraid my hair if I weren’t certain about you," she whispered.

  The tension in Nocturne’s shoulders eased—just a fraction. His eyes darkened even further, his restraint barely holding on. Rising from the armchair, he gently guided Saphira to her feet.

  Then, with a surprising tenderness, he lifted her chin with a single finger. “I would never do anything to you that you didn’t want.”

  Saphira raised her gaze to meet her husband eye-to-eye. She saw the deep blaze of burnt umber smouldering from the depths of his dark eyes—and she met his fire with the soothing balm of violet in her own eyes.

  “I want to be your wife," she said, replying in clumsy clanspeak, There’s no—” she searched for the right word in the dialect, but switched to Renatii, saying “—no trick, no game. I want freedom; I want you.”

  “Do you understand what you’re asking of me?” Nocturne leaned in, his imposing frame casting a shadow over her. With a tentative touch, his hand slipped past her cheek and down her neck. “You’re trembling,” he murmured. “If this is what you truly want, you shouldn’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she replied, “I’m scared of letting this moment slip away.”

  Nocturne’s thumb brushed absentmindedly over the fabric at her waist. “If we do this, it must be because you’re certain—not because you feel indebted to me for Golgog’s death.”

  “I’m certain,” she answered, frustration creeping into her tone. “You would have left by now if there wasn’t a part of you that wanted me.”

  “You’re bolder than you look.” A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Come here,” he said, his voice teasing, “I won’t bite. Not unless you ask me to.”

  The light-hearted remark brought a startled laugh from her. She stepped closer, her bare feet brushing against the cool stone floor. Nocturne took her hand and guided her into his strong arms.

  When his bare fingers brushed the buttons of her silk dress. Her breath caught as his hands moved to undo the buttons, each flick of his fingers slow, deliberate. The fabric of her dress slid loose, cascading down her back like water. She stood in only a thin silk slip, her body betraying her with a shiver.

  “Beautiful,” he breathed. He drew her closer, the warmth of his skin enveloping her. “Perhaps you could cast magic on me.”

  Saphira ran her fingers up his forearms, mesmerised by the dark hair and hard muscle beneath her touch, fascinated by his strength and the warmth he exuded.

  Despite his power, he held her waist with a gentle yet firm grasp. “Purple eyes?” he murmured. “I’ll be sad when you close them.”

  “Why would I close them now?”

  “Because I’m going to kiss you.” His lips brushed hers with a softness that grew more insistent, parting her lips with his tongue, teasing her in a sweet, languid moment.

  Saphira let out a soft, pleased sigh, her pulse quickening.

  Above: An intimate moment between husband and wife.

  He pulled away a fraction. “Have I given you enough? Shall I take my leave?”

  Saphira clung to him, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. His warmth surrounded her, and his masculine scent—the earthiness of the forest, the smoke of fire, the depth of ash—engulfed her senses. She nestled into his arms.

  “You’re so warm. Don’t let me go.”

  “A talent of mine,” Nocturne replied, his voice low and steady, as he effortlessly scooped her up and laid her gently on the bed.

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  Nocturne took her hands in his and gently guided them to the buttons of his shirt, still damp from the rain.

  She trembled slightly, her fingers fumbling.

  “No need to rush.”

  Saphira’s breath caught as she looked at him. She had spied on the servants working shirtless before, but this was different. Nocturne was a warrior, his chest broad and solid with muscles. His skin, warm and slightly damp from the rain, stretched over the hard lines of his body, each scar a tale of a battle won. His dark hair hung in damp, messy waves, giving him an untamed, dangerous look. The tension in the air thickened as her eyes lingered on his chest, her hands still trembling slightly. His raw masculinity made her pulse race, and she could not help but feel a sharp wave of desire flood through her.

  “Why so shy, all of a sudden?”

  “Am I allowed to—?”

  “Go ahead,” he murmured, a hint of command just beneath his words. “Touch me.”

  With a trembling breath, she raised her hands slowly, her fingers skimming over the hard planes of his chest. The warmth of his skin under her touch sent a rush of heat through her. She trailed her fingertips down the ridges of his muscles, stopping as she reached the large white scar over his upper rib. “Who…did this to you?”

  “Krug the Foul," he murmured lazily.

  Saphira’s fingers moved lower, tracing the jagged scars over his abdomen. “A snake bite?”

  “Pit Viper.” A brief shudder came over him. “I hope you never encounter one.”

  “This one?” Her hand faltered as she reached another scar, smaller, still pinkish.

  “Abraxas,” he murmured, his eyes closing, his jaw tightening as a subtle shift in his posture revealed the tension running through his body.

  Saphira nodded, but her gaze lingered, unable to pull away from the imperfections scattered across his chest. He’s not the invincible spawnslayer I imagined—he’s a man who has come close to death more times than I could ever know.

  “They whisper... that you won’t be able to kill Golgog," she fretted.

  “Do you think I would run into a spawnpit without a plan?” Nocturne weaved his fingers through the hair on the back of her head, directed her head upwards, and silenced her with a long, deep kiss.

  Saphira felt herself wither under his touch.

  With ease, Nocturne slipped the straps of her thin silk slip down her shoulders. A sharp breath escaped her as instinct drove her hands to shield her chest. But before she could, his fingers interlaced with hers, firm yet gentle, pulling her hands away.

  “Don’t hide from me.” Nocturne’s arms encircled her, lifting her effortlessly, drawing her close. “You’re as cold as a wraith,” he teased, his calloused hand gently cradling her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lips. “I’ll fix that.”

  His hand trailed down, slow and deliberate, the roughness of his touch grazing the soft skin of her neck and shoulder. Saphira’s breath hitched as he ventured lower, tracing her collarbone and further still. Her violet eyes fluttered shut, and the sigh that escaped her lips betrayed her delight as his fingers worked on her.

  How is he making me feel this way? I want more.

  “How…” she began, voice breathy, “How can this feel so—”

  “So good?” His smirk was subtle, almost self-deprecating. His fingers traced even lower, deliberate, teasing. “You haven't felt anything yet.”

  She barely bit back a cry. His smirk deepened, but he did not press her for more or gloat. Instead, his lips found hers again, firm but patient, as if savouring every shiver, every soft gasp. His hands roamed—slow, reverent—down her sides, over the curve of her waist, and to her thighs.

  She gasped softly against his lips.

  “Easy,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We have all night.” His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path along her inner thigh, each movement controlled. He paused, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “I’m not usually this... reckless.”

  “What part of this is reckless?” Her fingers intertwined with his. “We’re married.”

  Nocturne’s hand stilled against her. He studied her for a moment, his gaze intense, before leaning down to kiss her forehead. His fingers resumed their slow path, steady and certain. “I can tell you’ve never done this before. I don’t want you to regret it.”

  “Will it hurt?”

  “A little,” he said, softening the news with a lingering kiss, “But I’ll be gentle.”

  His hand moved slowly, pausing as he brushed against her skin. The touch was deliberate, teasing, and Saphira couldn’t help but gasp, her body reacting, trembling with the anticipation of what was to come.

  “Tell me to stop and I will,” Nocturne said, his eyes searching hers, as though waiting for her to pull away.

  Saphira’s breath quickened. She placed her hands over his, guiding them gently to where she wanted him to go.

  Nocturne’s fingers lingered there for some time, teasing, making her gasp and arch closer to him, her body trembling with anticipation. Then, he asked, “Yes?”

  “Yes.” Biting her lip, she nodded.

  With reverent care, he slipped off the last of her clothes. Then, he lifted her against him, fitting himself into her in an intimate, unbreakable union, closing the distance between them at last. His body sheltered hers as she adjusted, and when tears welled in her violet eyes, he gently caressed her face.

  “Just breathe," he instructed.

  Saphira nodded and inhaled, his scent all around her, feeling the overwhelming, conflicting sensations—pain, pleasure, desire. Her fingers curled against his shoulders, nails digging in slightly as her body adjusted.

  Nocturne did not rush her. He remained still, pressing soft kisses to her forehead, her collarbone, her neck, whispering words meant only for her. Each kiss turned the discomfort into something else, a sweet ache that spread like fire through her veins.

  She pulled him closer.

  A muscle in his jaw tightened, but his lips found hers again, slower this time, full of tenderness that made her heart ache. Her world narrowed to the sensation of his hands, his lips, his presence. The pleasure built, wave after wave, and though she would have been embarrassed, Nocturne caught every sound with his kiss, deepening it, matching the rhythm of his movements.

  When he whispered her name into her ear, it unlocked something within her, heat surged through her body—pulsing, unstoppable, overwhelming. She arched against him, her fingers digging into his skin as a wave of release crashed over her. For a long, breathless moment, she lay still in his arms.

  Above: Saphira rests in his arms.

  He released her, letting her settle into the muscled nook of his arms, her head resting against his chest. The rhythm of his breathing slowed, though his heart still pounded beneath her ear.

  Those sounds I made… Saphira thought with a blush. He worked so hard... while I just... lay there.

  “Why the sad face?” Nocturne’s voice broke through her thoughts, rich and rough as he tipped her chin up with a single finger. His gaze softened, unreadable but searching. Before she could answer, he kissed her again—slow, languid, stealing the breath from her lungs.

  So, this is what lovemaking is, she thought, her body still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure, and after a moment, she dared to murmur, “Whatever you did to me… I want another one.”

  Slowly, Nocturne opened one umber eye, pinning her with a look both amused and incredulous. “Don’t tempt me,” he muttered, “I’d break you.”

  “I think I’d survive.”

  “Bold... but impatient,” Nocturne murmured, a small flicker of concern flashing in his umber eyes before he pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Careful, little vila. Once is enough for tonight.” He praised, “You did well, for your first time.”

  Saphira nestled onto his chest, resting there as she felt his rhythmic breathing. She looked up and realised that he had fallen asleep. Without making a sound, she pulled her silken sheets over their naked bodies and blew out all but one of the rowanberry candles beside her bed.

  She lay in his arms, satisfied and aching. She appreciated the orange glow of the dying candles, listening to the music of the rain falling on the roof, and Nocturne’s deep breathing lulling her into sleep.

  This is what it will be like forever. My husband. Our children. Safe, in Firestone.