Starlit Waves by Raiyana

Starlit Waves

Read Starlit Waves

“Congratulations, my love, you have made a plank. Yet again.”  Dry tones teased his ears softly, the silent footsteps of his beloved Ngilith giving him no warning of her approach.

Círdan smiled, running the pad of his thumb over the smooth surface of the wide board. “Not a plank, this, dearest,” he mused, leaning back against her chest for a moment when she drew near. Lifting the waiting pot, he watched a thin stream of oil catch the light of the torches someone had lit while he was busy smoothing the wood. “A board.” He spread the pool of oil with his fingers, feeling the smooth glide of skin against wood with a joyful satisfaction. “I wish to travel as the waves do, bare and unfettered as we rush towards shore.” He could see it so clearly, feel the rush and song of waves racing with him, Ossë’s laughter bright as noonlight on water.

She laughed, a sound he had missed more than he knew in her absence, pressing herself against his back, her chin resting lightly against his shoulder.

“My ocean-love,” she murmured, the side of her face touching his temple. “Will you welcome me home?”

“Always,” he vowed, continuing the movements of fingers and brush, spreading the slick oil along every line of the wood he so carefully shaped. “Just let me…”

Other hands joined his, slender fingers of a paler hue than his own pushing in between his, their digits gliding along the wide length, oil gleaming in the light of torches. Lips found his shoulder, left bare by the clothes he wore, trailing up towards his neck as their hands moved with almost hypnotic slowness, back and forth across gleaming wood.

“Feeling ignored, beloved?” he wondered idly, enjoying the gentle caress of a hand pushing aside the thick cords of his hair to allow her lips unhindered access to his neck.

A smile pressed into his skin, fingers squeezing around his for a small moment.

“Ossë showed up earlier.”

A small sigh escaped him, tilting his head to let her lips roam as they willed.

The board beneath their twined hands was as smooth as the skin pressed against his back, and Círdan groaned lightly as he pushed himself back, enjoying the difference between the parts where he could feel skin and the parts where clothes came between them.

Another smile, lips and teeth along the ridge of his ear.

He trembled, aware that he was the one who was feeling lonely, lost in his project for cycles. It was complete now, awaiting only to try it out, and yet the call of the waves was as nothing compared to the song of soft fingers teasing around his ribs, sneaking their way beneath fabric to draw lines of fire in his flesh.

His fingers curled, trapping her pale hand in his own, callused differently to his and yet familiar to the touch. He turned in her arms, pressed back against the finished board, his head tilted back to greet the stars whirling overhead as her throaty laugh travelled down his spine.

They were opposites, and they were one.

Night dark hair against his starlight locks, pale dawn skin against his midnight hues; his arm abandoned the board he had braced himself against to wrap around her back, bringing her closer and closer still.

“What did our Wavejumper desire this night?”

She laughed again, her eyes reflecting the stars above as she leaned in, teasing her claim to his lips once twice, three times before he surrendered, drawing her in with a growl that met another laugh, both sounds swallowed between them.

She brought their hands up, together as one, resting between their hearts as she fingered the clasp to his clothes slowly, teasing the release of fabric and the promise of skin against skin.

“Perhaps I only missed you, love,” she murmured between kisses, drinking down the helpless sounds he made as her thumb trailed back and forth along his bared collarbone.

Círdan groaned, his own free hand busy pulling at laces he couldn’t see, tracing the line of her spine in the dark of night. “Good,” he whispered, nipping at her lips. “Because I missed you.”

He knew it was true, and more so because he had not realised, lost in the frenzy of turning an idea into reality, but now the smell of her hair drowned out the scent of the oil sinking into the wood and clinging to their hands, the feel of her skin more delectable than any sanded down smoothness.

“I like that, beloved,” she smiled, her nose rubbing against his in passing as she turned her attention back to the spot on his neck that made him shudder beneath her hands.

“Did you mean to fetch me?” he wondered, hoping for no. He had no wish to be elsewhere, no desire to listen to the squabble of many voices, content in her arms and with the sound of the waves so near.

She shook her head, licking a bead of sweat from the hollow of his throat. “Not yet,” she murmured.

The clasp gave way, though the fabric remained pressed between them, revealing only his broad chest to her trailing touch.

Círdan’s hand was lost in her hair, drawing her lips back to his own for a kiss that turned the stars above as surely as it turned his head.

“Good.” One hand flicked the catch of her own garment, letting the cloth fall to her waist and allowing his hand to roam as hers had, starlight skin easy to see even without the torches. Soft fullness filled his hand, topped by a hard peak that begged for his lips to find it. Instead, he teased it in passing, one hand trailing down to her hip and pushing down her garment with it.

She took a half step back, abandoning her clothes but not the hand he held, watching as his nakedness was revealed by the soft glide of fabric following the path down his legs.

He stretched, letting her drink her fill of the sight of him.

For a breathless moment, only the gentle crackle of torches and the sighs of waves lapping at the shore broke the sweet silence stretching between them. Light flickered behind him, bright and orange against the darkness of his skin, and Círdan grinned at the way his shadow touched her, claiming her with its silent caress.

She smiled, soft and knowing, coming back to him when he tugged on her hand.

“As I missed you, love,” she murmured, scratching along the length of his jaw, his hair just a little paler than her skin in the moonlight.

Círdan remained still, drinking in the sight of her, one hand resting gently on the curve of her hip. His thumb stroked small circles over the just of bone, the oil brush forgotten in the sand at his feet. “My starlight,” he murmured, allowing himself the small sounds she loved to draw from him as her fingers moved down, passing the paler scarring patterning waves into his breast to draw lines down his body. “Show me your desire.”

She smiled, soft and slow like treacle, her ocean eyes warm despite their cool colour as she looked at him. “You,” she whispered, stepping back into the shadow of his arms. “Always you.”

This time, he wrapped his arm around her tightly, burying his face in her neck until her breath came in swift little mewls and she pressed so close even starlight could not pass between them. He smiled, moving back to her mouth, her kiss harder now as he lifted her, groaning into her mouth when she wrapped her legs around him.

The board was smooth and soft against her back, torchlight gleaming in the waves of the wood where it framed her nakedness, glorifying the light that kissed her skin.

“Ngilith…”

She smiled, tugging on the hand she still held, her free one drawing circles across her chest.

“Círdan,” she whispered, tugging again when he didn’t move, her foot trailing slowly up the outside of his thigh. “I am home.”

“Now you are,” he agreed, obeying the unspoken command even if he had yet to look his fill of her.

But then, he did not think it was possible to look at her and not see something new to adore, so that was just as well.

Ngilith laughed, snatching the thought from the bond thrumming between them, her foot pressing into the roundness of his buttock as she took him home within her, a joyous sound lifting towards her beloved stars.

He fingers carded slowly through his hair, spreading the pale length of it across her shoulder as he let the waves set their rhythm. A roll of her hips made him groan, the answer pushing a soft gasp from between her lips that he had to taste, his nose full of the salt-floral-sharp scent of her when he pushed his face into her neck once more, seeking the pleasure of setting his own small constellation into her pale skin.

“Círdan,” she moaned, giving him more room as her fingers found familiar trails along his back, memories carved into flesh through many ages, the cool touch a counterpoint to the fire building between them, the waves pounding the sand competing with the pounding of her heart against his cheek.

Fingers still entwined, their arms stretched over her head only reaching halfway up the board though all thoughts of it had disappeared in the softness of her eyes calling him closer, welcoming him home.

“Ngilith…” Her name like a plea, rolling off his tongue to the rhythm of the waves, pressed into her skin, into the song that linked them. He felt the swiftness of her breath beneath his palm, the hard peak stiff against his lips and tongue as he called her to him, a song shared anew that was as old as they were. “Ngilith.” My love.

 Círdan! It rushed over him, a drowning wave of pleasure as sudden as it was expected, breaking upon the shores of his mind and sweeping away any possibility of defence. Círdan!

 

She held him close, drifting on the calm waves of the sea together, basking in the warmth between them as soft fingers drew nonsense patterns on softer skin.

Círdan smiled, filling his mind with the restful sound of a beloved heartbeat as dear to him as the music of the sea.

“We are home.”