On Her Knees

2026-09-24 · by AnyoneButSam

The room was quiet, the way only rooms deep inside the mountain could be. No wind, no city noise, no clatter from the kitchens. Just the low pulse of the Sedorium veins in the walls and the two of them breathing.

Ayel's hands were shaking.

She was on her knees. She had lowered herself slowly, holding Marc's eyes the whole way down, and that was what made her tremble. She had chosen this. She couldn't blame the heat of the moment or anything else. This was hers.

Marc stood in front of her and didn't move. He never braced for things. He just stood there, dark curls a mess, one brown eye and one grey looking down at her with that steady attention he gave everything. He wasn't expecting anything from her. He was just watching.

She reached for his waistband and stopped with her fingers hooked in the fabric. Her knuckles had gone white. Her breath was shallow.

"You don't have to," Marc said.

He probably didn't know what she was about to do. He said it because she was shaking, and shaking meant cold or scared, and he didn't want her to be either.

"I know," Ayel whispered. "I want to."

She worked the laces open and pulled his trousers down his hips. His cock came free, half hard and already heavy, and she took it in both hands because one wasn't enough. It was warm. It was thick. When she tilted her wrists the weight shifted in her grip and settled wherever gravity wanted it. She lifted it a little just to feel how heavy it was, and felt her stomach tighten low and hot.

She closed her eyes.

She started with small kisses. One pressed to the side of the shaft, halfway up, soft, like kissing the back of someone's hand. She held her lips there and felt him get harder against them. Then she worked her way down to the base, one kiss at a time, each one wet and quiet. The cool air touched the spots she left behind and he twitched in her hands.

She kissed her way back up, slower. At the tip she pressed her closed lips against him and stayed there, feeling the smooth skin and the pulse underneath. Then she opened her eyes, looked up at him, and stuck her tongue out, flat and wide past her bottom lip.

She lifted him with one hand underneath and laid him across her tongue. He was fully hard now, heavy and hot on the flat of it. She held him there with her mouth open and looked up at him.

She lifted him and let him drop. He landed on her tongue with a soft, wet slap and she felt it in her jaw. He jerked. She did it again. Lift, drop, slap. The third time she caught the head with her lips as it fell and sucked it into her mouth.

Wet sounds filled the room. Her lips sliding over him, the small suck as she drew back, her breath coming hard through her nose against his skin. Each time she went down a little further the sounds got thicker. A soft pop when she pulled off to the tip. A slick, stretched sound when she sank back down, her jaw working to fit him.

She pulled off completely and licked him from base to tip in one long stroke, leaving a shiny line in the lantern light. At the head she circled her tongue around the ridge, slowly, like she wanted to learn every part of it. Then she licked him again. And again. Broad, flat, wet strokes with her eyes half closed.

Then she took him back into her mouth and went deeper. She wrapped her fist around the base, where her mouth couldn't reach, and moved it with her lips. She pulled back until only the head was left between her lips, cheeks hollowed, sucking, then slid down again until her lips met her fist. Back up. Down again. Long, slow strokes, like she had nowhere else in the world to be.

Marc put his hand on her head. He didn't push. He just rested it there in her blonde hair, the same way he'd rest it on a sleeping animal or on someone he was about to heal.

She found her rhythm. Suck and release, suck and release, and every so often a hum in her throat when she found an angle that made him react. The hum ran through her lips into him and his stomach tightened. She felt it. She did it again, lower and longer, and his stomach clenched harder.

She pulled off and gave the tip a slow, open-mouthed kiss. She let his cock rest against her cheek while she caught her breath, heavy and wet on her face. Then she turned her head and dragged her tongue along the underside, lifted him, and dropped him on her tongue again. Slap. She caught him and took him deep.

After that she lost track of time.

Long pulls that made her lips squelch around him. Short, fast bobs with her spit clicking in her mouth. Holding him deep and swallowing around him so the sound went muffled. Her hand twisting on the upstroke, squeezing on the way down, everything slick with her spit. Sometimes she pulled him out and just jerked him fast with her mouth open under the head and her tongue out, then took him back in and went faster.

His breathing changed. It got shorter. His fingers curled in her hair and held on. His stomach clenched again, hard enough that she could see the muscles move. His other hand grabbed the edge of the table beside him.

She couldn't read him. She never could. But she didn't need to. His grip in her hair, his thighs going tight, his hips pushing forward, barely, the first time he had ever moved toward her instead of just letting her.

She sped up without deciding to. Her strokes got shorter, her hand matched her mouth, and the wet noises came faster. Her eyes were shut, her brow creased, and her breath was ragged through her nose.

"Ayel," Marc said. His voice was low and rough. "Fuck. Don't stop. I'm going to come."

She moaned around him and didn't stop. She took him as deep as she could, lips pressed to her fist, throat working, the sounds of her mouth nonstop now. Her free hand grabbed his hip and pulled him into her.

His hand closed in her hair. He stopped breathing. His whole body locked up, every muscle at once, and for once there was nothing strange or powerful about him. He was just a man about to come.

Then he did. The first wave hit the back of her throat hard and hot, so fast her eyes flew open. She held his hip tighter, sealed her lips around him, and swallowed, loud in the quiet room. Then the second, thick and long, while she kept swallowing, slow, her eyes open and on his face.

He was staring at the ceiling with his mouth open, chest heaving. His fingers in her hair were trembling.

She pulled back slowly and let him go. His cock fell heavy and wet against his thigh.

Marc looked down at her. Then he reached down and took her chin between his fingers.

He tilted her face up and kept lifting, gently, until she had no choice but to follow. She rose off her knees, legs unsteady, until she was standing in front of him with his hand still holding her jaw.

He kissed her.

Deep and slow. His other arm went around her waist and pulled her in hard, her body pressed flat against his, her chest crushed against him. She made a small sound into his mouth and grabbed his shirt with both hands to stay upright.

He didn't let go. He held her there, one hand on her jaw, the other locked around her waist, and kept kissing her until her legs stopped shaking.