He landed on a root below, waiting patiently for her to drop, and when she did, hurling his lance to the ground yalms below, he ducked inside her reach to punch her squarely in the jaw. The sheer audacity startled Adalyn, the blow rattling her enough that she lost her grip on her own weapon, but she recovered quickly, driving her shoulder into Estinien’s ribs and using her lower centre of gravity to unbalance him. They fell, the both of them scrabbling to get the upper hand, and landed on the ground with Adalyn’s knees locked around Estinien’s neck and his forearm blade pressed beneath her chin, other hand gripping the back of her helmet so she couldn’t pull away. For a very, very long moment, they lay there, Adalyn atop Estinien’s chest and hardly daring to breathe, feeling his own breath coming in ragged gasps against her thigh. “Call it a draw, then?” Estinien finally panted, and Adalyn managed a small noise of agreement, loosening her grip. Estinien let go, and she scrambled off him, hastening to stand. She offered him her hand, and after a moment of looking at it, he clasped her forearm.

Estinien had long since given up on trying to make any sense of his dreams involving the Warrior of Light, from imaginings how she’d received her scars to how her voice might sound were she capable of speech, so when he found himself in Aymeric’s bedchambers not with his lover but with her, he didn’t question when Adalyn drew him in for a fierce kiss. “It’s those damned thighs of yours,” he growled against her mouth. “Pressing on either side of my head—” “Would you shut up and take your armour off?” Adalyn said into the kiss, and just like that, his armour was gone, leaving him in his protective undergear that Adalyn hastily set about unlacing, stripping him to the waist.

Her fingers bit into the stones where her hands were braced against the wall, and Estinien heard something crack. He pulled Adalyn’s head back, her cry music to his ears as he bit down on her shoulder. To claim her as he claimed Aymeric, even though he was certain had they not been holding back in their match, she would have easily bested him—to hear the cries and moans that issued from that beautiful mouth, her lips swollen from the force of their kisses—the bruises that blossomed over her skin in the shape of his teeth— He didn’t want this dream to end. When he spilled inside of her, his seed dripping down her thighs as he pulled out (those damn thighs, always those damn thighs), Adalyn turned, her chest heaving as she grabbed the sides of his face, pulling him down for another crushing kiss. “Bed,” she growled against his mouth, and Estinien couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss at how similar she sounded to him in that moment. “Now.”

The dream shifted, and Estinien was on his back, Adalyn astride his face as his tongue probed inside her, tasting himself mixed with her own slick. She shuddered atop him and threw her head back, her hands splintering the headboard in the throes of her climax. Estinien turned his head, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to her inner thigh, nosing at the apex of her legs while his hands roamed Adalyn’s sides, up her ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, back down to her hips. She was trembling, and he eased her off his face, settling her beside him.

Have I mentioned Estinien's a thigh guy

#IxiWrites #Adastinien #AdaNSFW