Luka cooes and lifts his head, smiling at her confession. Her rare, girlish vulnerability ebbs the tide of hormones swirling in his brain and he smooths a few sweaty locks back from her face. He plants a cold kiss on her lips.

“Of course, Kaivodulin,” he savors her title, even with a touch of irony in his voice. Luka shifts, propped her thighs on top of his, open over his hips. He draws his hand out slowly, and makes a show of stroking himself with her wetness. Rubbing his length between her lips, he teases only a moment longer before easing inside and pulling her halfway down his length.