Balder heard her gasp, felt it on his tongue as he kissed her, and her response to his movement, tightening and increasing in the pace pushed him further into her—his tongue, his fingers, all contact with her seemed to deepen.
His trousers bunched at the bend of his thighs and he felt the pawing of her hands, insistent, to remove them. As her body pressed closer to him, riding up higher on his fingers, he shifted, feet planting on the ground and turning the two of them. He grunted with some of the effort, still connected by her lips—on his, at his fingers—until he had managed to rise up from the bed, leaving her sitting in his place.
He huffed out a breath of air in a brief parting of their kiss before he dipped in again, unsure if he had been too abrupt in his act, and leaving one almost in apology for the separation. As he stood before her, he removed his hand, slowly, drawing away from her with a small press at the top of her lower lips, pushing against her clit in almost a farewell. The hands came up to the remnants of the trousers she had sought to remove, undoing the stays completely and stepping out of them as they fell with his undergarments.
Now exposed entirely to her as she sat—as he had determined she wished with her attempts at his clothing earlier—he felt a sudden wave of self-consciousness at how in his attempts to ease the removal of his clothing, he had not only separated them from what they had been doing, but also essentially displayed himself before her, a subject to be taken in by her gaze. He sought her eyes with his, rather anxious in their search for her approval—or at least hoping there would be no displeasure.
His movement had caught her off guard, her body seeking to follow his as he moved and parting with a soft difficulty, lingering on his lips, skin tingling as his shifted free. With a breath she let her eyes drift open to take him in before her. They were both so vulnerable, so exposed to whatever the other might see; to what they might think.
Nanna found herself blushing as she looked up at Balder, not for any displeasure but for the sheer lack of knowledge about what to do with the form presented before her. He was very striking; his figure strong, tall, and very handsome.
The woman tucked her feet beneath herself and lifted a small way, drawing closer to her intended as her eyes lingered on his. Slowly they drifted over his body, fingers gently skimming Balder’s flesh as they explored him, as they took him in properly. Nanna pressed a kiss to his collarbone, to his heart, peppering her lips along his body in a way that only instinct could dictate.
Her hand re-found its way to his erection, taking the heated shaft with a little more confidence than before and resuming long, slow stroke, focusing a little more on the head of his member and not at all knowing what to do with the balls that hung below it.
Slowly her kisses reached his stomach, the words of some women ringing in her head about what she was doing but most of them a jumble of information that could rarely be trusted. Still Nanna found herself close to a piece of Balder’s anatomy that she had never been able to imagine; not for not wanting to, but rather for not knowing how to.
Her eyes flitted up to meet his, lips cautiously making contact with the head of his shaft as if in question; as if to ask if what she was doing was alright, if it felt better than alright to him.
There was a moment as Nanna raised herself and lingered with her eyes before his that Balder wondered if he had not done something wrong, if he had made a mistake in ceasing their previous activity to strip down for her. Perhaps he should have let her tug at his trousers while they were sitting, should have left her atop himself, should have waited for a word on what she wanted specifically.
All these doubts circled his mind, and he bit his lower lip in some trepidation at them. Then her fingers felt his flesh, grazing over his form—perhaps even appreciatively, he might dare to hope—until she followed them with her lips, and Balder felt that flutter of anxiety lessen, ease a little more with each descending press of her lips and brush of her fingers, though it did not completely disappear.
He watched as she trailed down his front, over the hair-lined muscles of his chest and down to drop kisses over the dips in his abdominals, and his breath quickened at the touch of her hand returned to him, and some anticipation of those lips she had begun lowering. Her fingers stroked down to his base, tensing up his sinews once more to pool that pressure to his groin, and she raised her eyes back up to him from beneath her golden crown of hair, one soft touch of her lips to the head of his shaft.
The intake of his breath was automatic. Her own insecurity looked up at him even as she seemed to know more of what his body desired that he would never have even thought to ask for. His chest rose and fell with his quickened, anticipatory breathing, and he lowered a hand to her hair, brushing a few of the strands from her temple and cupping the side of her face in reassurance.