They were shaking too.
As if a hidden trapdoor had been wrenched open inside him, thoughts of the last time he had been touched flooded his brain. Diel gritted his teeth, fighting to chase them back. Trying to repel the memories of the rough hands of the old priests as they pushed down his shoulders. As they forced open his mouth, as they held him down to the ground and lowered themselves between his spread legs …
His eyes flew open at the sound of Noa’s gasp. Her steely gaze was locked on his. And on a deep inhale, she reached for his hand and slowly placed it on her left breast. Diel went to wrench it away, too fucked in his head to do this, fingers shaking too much, but—
“No,” Noa said, her voice the commander to his soul once again. Her voice shook, and the sound sliced his heart in two. Noa was strong. She was unbreakable. She had faced both the man and his monster head on and, like a necromancer, brought them back to life as one strong, unyielding being—who they were always meant to be.
Noa’s lips were pale, but she kept her head high, cradled his cheek and whispered, “We won’t let them take this from us.” Diel’s eyes closed momentarily, and that invisible string between them twanged over and over as their tarnished memories bled out from their old Brethren-inflicted wounds onto the floor between them.
“We can’t …” she said, voice breaking. The sound crushed something in Diel too. But it wasn’t him breaking down, succumbing to the Brethren’s evil that still tried to drag them back to hell even years after they’d fled. It was the chain of that part of his past shattering into a cloud of metallic splinters before crashing to the ground, discarded, useless, irretrievable.
“Touch me,” Noa said, a commandment once again, her voice growing in strength along with his own rebuilding will. Diel looked down at the hand over her breast, his scarred fingers cupping the full but soft flesh. And he touched her. He felt her. Felt her body’s heat under his palm, her tight pink nipple under his fingers.
The material of her bra was thin, but it wasn’t the act of seeing her almost naked that was the victory. The victory was in taking pleasure from an act that had been forced upon them and sullied by the Brethren. Diel’s mouth grew dry as Noa’s inhales became stuttered, her eyes fluttering shut as he rolled her nipple between his fingers, and a glorious pink color flooded back into her pale cheeks.
Diel’s hips rolled as Noa’s ground against his hard cock. Like storm clouds clearing, the agony of their tortured pasts was cast out of the room, and it was just the two of them again. Diel and Noa. An accused witch and a fallen angel. Both dark and light, and each needing the touch of the other—destined, split souls matched …
… found.
“Take me,” she said. Diel’s body stilled at the request. He searched her eyes for any sign of hesitation, but her autumnal gaze was solid and strong, and he once again saw that Noa had returned. The pink-haired witch who tamed monsters. The fucked-up heart who had been made to match his.
Noa reached up to the straps of her bra and pulled them down, pushing the cups aside until her breasts were freed. Diel’s heart boomed like thunder. She was perfection. Scarred and branded perfection. She clutched the back of his head and, following her silent instruction, he brought his mouth to her nipple and ran his tongue around the tip. Her sweet taste burst on his tongue, and he never wanted to taste anything else.
Diel groaned loudly as he lapped at her skin. Noa’s strong legs tightened around his waist and her head fell back, a high-pitched moan soaring into the domed ceiling above them. A motherfucking ecstatic war cry against the evil men who had tried to keep them pushed down. This was an act of rebellion, and the thought only drove him on further. Noa’s hands clutched at his hair, and Diel treasured the burn, the pain and the pleasure and the throbbing of his cock.
He sucked her nipple into his mouth, then released the flesh and moved to her other breast. Noa’s head lowered as he looked up, his hips bucking forward in need. Her eyes were half closed, filled with need too. Making sure he heard every word, she repeated, “Take me.”
This time there was no doubt, no fucked-up past causing them to pause or shake or tremble. It was just them. Noa loosened her legs from around his waist and placed her feet on the ground. He looked down as she unbuttoned her leather pants. His breathing was labored, but he was transfixed. Her long fingers pulled down the zipper, slowly, driving him fucking insane.