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*****
{Chapter: 67 - Sif's Decision}
"I hope you mean that," she said, voice almost a whisper.
Aiden didn't pull away.
"I do."
At that moment, Sif approached from behind, her steps silent despite the armored boots. "Aiden, show me a room in this ship," she said casually, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've been fighting dark elves all my life, but I've never seen how they lived."
Aiden raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Sure. I'm curious too."
He took her hand and led her through the winding halls. They passed through several chambers, all functional and cold, filled with sharp corners and alien mechanisms. The sleeping quarters they discovered were utilitarian—compact, metallic, and devoid of comfort. No decorations, no warmth, just slabs of metal with a mattress for rest.
"Do these elves even know how to relax?" Aiden muttered, half amused and half puzzled.
He turned, only to find Sif standing behind him, her expression unreadable. Her face, usually so fierce and composed, was now painted with hesitation, determination, and something else—a soft vulnerability that caught him off guard.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised a finger and pressed it gently against his lips.
"Don't say anything," she whispered, her cheeks flushed. "If you speak, I might lose the courage to say what I need to."
Aiden nodded, allowing the moment to settle. The air between them was charged, not with magic or fire, but something deeper—human, honest, and rare.
Sif drew in a breath, steadying herself. "I don't know what pushed me to make this decision, but something inside is telling me that if I walk away without doing this, I'll regret it. Maybe it was your smug grin, or your shameless flirting. I used to hate it… but now? It makes me feel like I matter. I feel seen. I feel warm. And lucky."
There was a soft metallic clang as the first piece of her armor fell to the floor. Her hands trembled, but she didn't stop.
Aiden watched her carefully, his own heartbeat rising. He could see the struggle in her eyes, the inner war between her duty, her pride, and this moment of intimacy she had chosen.
As she began to remove another piece, he stepped forward and gently took her hands.
"Stop," he said softly. "Let me."
Sif froze, then nodded, lowering her head with a mixture of shyness and anticipation.
The hand on his chin moves in a blur, her nails grazing his cheek before her fingers bury themselves in his hair, digging into the nape of his neck. she breathes out in a low growl, then jerks his mouth down to meet hers.
She finds her mouth crushed against his, a surprising amount of passion in that first, fierce exchange. Her other hand, has settled on his hip again, tracing the outward jut of his hipbone through the thin material of the dress; when she breaks off the kiss, it's only for long enough to take in another breath, then her mouth is on his again.
Passion and animosity and hunger all blend together in a kiss that's deep and messy and very much about love, as things always seem to be between them of late. His tongue fills her mouth, moving as if he wants to explore every bit of her.
Aiden's hands have not been idle, and at last his long, deft fingers have managed to complete their task--working loose the brooch holding the thick fur cloak around her shoulders. The heavy mantle slips to the floor with nary a whisper as the gold-and-emerald pin falls to the metal floor,
In that quiet alien room aboard a stolen ship, surrounded by the remnants of battle, something new blossomed.
Her eyes burned with desire as she leaned down until her lips brushed his; he could feel her breath against his skin like static.
His lips met with her soft lips, pressing together with a hit and heavy passion. Her fingers ran through his hair, and she ground her body against his, making his manhood ache with hardness. Sif moaned in pleasure, her body pressed against his and sending shockwaves to both of their loins, the simple friction making them both very, very aroused.
Their lips detached for a second, breathing together before they came back together. His tongue explored her mouth, accompanied a second later by her own, flickering about and massaging one another. Aiden's hands roamed up Sif's curvaceous body, feeling the swell of her bosom and the roundness of her ass before finally settling on her bare midriff, pressing his palms against her smooth skin and keeping their bodies pressed closely together.
After long minutes of rubbing her groins together as their kisses became ever more sensuous, Sif sat up, letting a long strand of saliva connect their lips until it finally broke. Aiden sat up as well, letting her pull his armor and shirt off before lying back down. She took a moment to admire his sculpted chest, and Aiden did the same to her, noticing her nipples straining against her shirt.
Aiden slipped his hand under her shirt and roamed freely up her front. He grazed the curve of her breasts, brushing her hardened tips. Sif leaned back for a moment, letting him play with her tits. She bit her lower lip, still gyrating her hips to tease his throbbing cock. He played with her firm boobs as her eyes closed and she gave a happy moan.
Sif slides her hand from his cheek around to thread her fingers through his hair. She pulls him closer, kisses him harder, and he makes a low, rough noise as she opens her mouth to him, at the slick slide of their tongues together. It sinks right through her, and she presses in even closer, resting her other hand on his shoulder as his grip tightens on her hips. Aiden being a good kisser, and it's completely unsurprising, but Sif takes satisfaction from the quiet moan she gets when she tugs lightly on his hair. That seems to take him by surprise, and she grinds against his mouth.
He kisses her until she's breathless, running hot all over and holding him tight against her, their bodies flush His hands are running over her back, ruffling the material of her shirt, restless, and if she arches her body just right against him, legs apart in a stable, warrior pose, she can feel the effect this is having on him through his trousers. It makes her hotter, a clench low in her gut, between her legs.
"To the bed," he murmurs, lips moving like velvet against her swollen mouth, and she nods and lets him walk them in the right direction, taking uncertain steps, moving backwards.
She stumbles as the edge of the bed hits the back of her legs, distracted by his hands, one curled around the back of her neck now, fingers at her hairline, and not counting the steps. She's heard the talk, and she knows what happens now – but rather than push her down and spread her out across his huge mattress, Aiden pauses and brings both hands up to the back of her head.
"May I?" he asks.
It makes her laugh, a show of politeness she often sees him forget to exercise to everyone, male or female, official or unofficial. That he remembers it now makes her kiss him again, brief and fleeting, before nodding. He lets her hair down slowly, carefully, and runs his fingers through it as it falls down past her shoulders and frames her face.
"You should wear your hair like this more often," he says.
"It's nice," she agrees, "but inconvenient. You try battling with all this flying around your face."
"Point taken," he says, a grin on his face, and he laughs loudly as she reaches out to tug a strand.
"You're a prince, truly," she says, but a prince wouldn't use her distraction as an opportunity to lower her down onto the bed. The mattress is soft enough, and Sif didn't care, she was enjoying the moment. She decides she doesn't mind too much as Aiden slides his hands under her back to turn her, move them up the bed so her head is on the pillows – it's the kind of manhandling she's willing to accept. He hovers over her, holding himself up, and she runs her hands over the tensed muscles standing out in his arms. Sif has battled with many warriors, but she's never felt firmness quite like this. It does something to her, sends something through her veins that never lights up on the battlefield.
He kisses her again, and between his weight bearing down above her and the softness beneath her, Sif gets lost in it, time passing slow and fast all at once. She's breathless with it, her legs spread out wide without her realising until Aiden is between them, their hips pressing together; every time one of them shifts, she makes soft noises into his mouth, as he presses down against her a little harder, and she clenches her fingers in his hair. His hands are everywhere at once, cupping her face, smoothing up her sides, framing her hips, creeping up under her – by the time he moves back to pull her shirt off, to tug his own over his head and drop it somewhere behind him, her nipples are too hard and tight before he touches them.
For a moment, he stares down at her, blue eyes looking a shade darker than usual. She flushes, but she meets his gaze and ignores the fleeting urge to cover herself with her hands. This is what they're here for, the two of them, here in this bedroom – she has nothing to hide.
"Sif," he breathes, a low, wrenched-out noise, and he runs his hands up from her hips to the curves of her breasts as he drops his head down, drags kisses down her throat. The wet of his mouth against her skin has her tilting her head back into the pillows, exposing herself, vulnerable, and his hands on her, hot and firm, thumbs rubbing slow, deliberate circles over her nipples, have her rocking her body up against his, spreading her legs out wider. At the jut of her collarbone he uses his teeth, a sharp sting, and somewhere between there and her brain the pain gets lost, warps into wanting.
When he grinds down against her with more purpose, the shift from his restless movements to a definite roll of his hips is obvious. It makes her breath catch in her throat. She can feel the heat of him through the thin layers of the clothing they're both still wearing, a hardness her body's already arching for, aching to accommodate. She wonders if he can feel that she's wet for him, even like this.
"Sif," he repeats, serious, intent, "what do you desire?"
She looks up into his flushed, open face. Sif doesn't know what it is he's asking exactly – he has her in the bed. She knows what happens next. She knows.
He seems to sense her confusion. "Are you a maiden?"
Sif blushing redder than he is now, the heat burning in her cheeks. "You know I'm no maiden, Aiden," she quips, but she knows what he's asking her really, and the truth of the matter is that she is, here in the bed with him, in the way that it matters. It makes her feel open in a way her bare chest and parted legs don't. She knows that he must know the truth.
Aiden gives her a grin. It's reassuring, even though Sif knows from the time they shared Aiden grins like that it means he's got an idea, and Aiden's ideas lead to trouble.
Still breathless, but his grin just widens and he lowers his head again, back down to her throat, and begins to travel down. His lips leave itchy red splotches on her skin; his mouth closes around a nipple and she bites her lip to keep herself from letting out a noise too loud. He kisses across to her other nipple, licks, gives her a gentle bite, and then keeps on going, his thumbs rubbing over her hips.
*****
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