--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
The atmosphere in the cottage was no longer just electric; it was suffocatingly thick with a hunger that had been building for hours. The crinkling sound of the silver and blue packets beneath us was a constant, rhythmic reminder that Keifer wasn't planning on stopping anytime soon.
He moved his lips down from my throat, his breath searing my skin, until he reached my breasts. He didn't just kiss them; he worshipped them. He took one peak into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tip in a slow, agonizing circle before he began to suckle deeply. I let out a jagged, broken moan, my hands tangling in his dark hair, pulling him closer. He bit down gently, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, sending a bolt of lightning straight to my core. He spent an eternity there, moving back and forth between them, licking and nipping until they were flushed a dark, angry red and my chest was heaving with every ragged breath.
"Keif...Keifer... please....ahh..," I gasped, my head thrashing against the pillow.
He didn't answer. He just moved lower, his tongue tracing a wet, hot line down the center of my stomach, lingering in my belly button before his hands gripped my thighs and forced them wide.
I felt the cool air for only a second before the heat of his mouth replaced it. When he first pressed his tongue against my core, I screamed—a loud, uninhibited sound that was swallowed by the roar of the ocean outside. He was relentless. He licked me from bottom to top, his tongue flat and heavy, before he focused entirely on that one tiny, hidden spark.
He swirled his tongue around it with a rhythmic precision that made my vision explode into white light. I was bucking against him, my fingers shredding the duvet, but he held my hips in a vice-like grip. Then, he pushed two fingers inside me while his mouth stayed glued to my clit. The combination was too much. I felt the first wave of my climax crashing down on me, my muscles clenching around his fingers as I sobbed his name.
"Kei..Keifer I'm going to..." While finally releasing on him.
"That's one, I plan to make you cum atleast thrice before sleeping." he muttered against my skin, his voice dark and satisfied as he felt my release soak his face.
But he didn't give me a second to breathe. He immediately went back to work, his tongue pushing deep inside me, mimicking a rhythmic, driving pace. He used his thumb to keep up the pressure on my clit, circling it faster and faster as the sensitivity climbed to an unbearable peak. My body was humming, hypersensitive, and within minutes, the tension coiled again, tighter and more frantic than before.
"Again, Jay. Give it to me again," he commanded.
I couldn't hold back. Another explosion of pleasure ripped through me, more intense than the first, leaving me shaking and gasping for air. I felt the warmth of my own release against his lips as he drank me in, making sure I felt every second of my own undoing.
Finally, he sat back on his heels, his chest heaving, his skin slick with sweat and the remnants of my pleasure. He looked down at the three packets he had brought onto the bed with him. He picked up a dark brown one, holding it up so the golden light hit the foil.
"You said you wanted hot chocolate before bed, didn't you?" he rasped, his eyes dark with a lethal kind of promise. "I think this is the only kind of heat you're getting tonight."
He tore the packet open with his teeth, the sound sharp in the quiet room. He rolled it on with a steady, practiced hand, his gaze never leaving mine. He looked like a predator who had finally cornered his prey.
He crawled over me, his weight settling between my legs, stretching me open. He didn't just enter me; he drove into me in one long, deep thrust that bottomed out, making my eyes roll back into my head.
"Look at me," he groaned, his hands interlacing with mine and pinning my wrists to the pillow above my head.
I forced my eyes open, meeting his burning, possessive stare. He began to move—not the slow, teasing rhythm of the morning, but a hard, fast, and punishing pace. Every hit of his hips against mine made the packets on the bed and the floor crinkle in a chaotic symphony.
"Happy... birthday... Jay-Jay," he grunted, his muscles corded and straining as he poured every ounce of his restraint into the movement.
I was a mess of sound and sensation, my legs locking around his waist to pull him even deeper. The world narrowed down to the sound of our skin hitting, the scent of sandalwood and sweat, and the feeling of Keifer claiming every single part of me until the sun threatened to rise.
___________
The night had lost all meaning. Time wasn't measured in hours anymore; it was measured in the sharp scritch of tearing foil and the relentless, driving rhythm of Keifer's body against mine. The golden light of the lamp seemed to dim as the shadows in the room grew longer, but the heat between us only intensified.
I was floating in a haze of overstimulation. My skin felt electric, sensitized to the point where even the soft brush of the duvet felt like fire. Every time I thought I had reached my limit—every time I thought my body couldn't possibly handle another peak—Keifer would reach for the another packet.
Tear. Roll. Repeat.
I tried to keep track. I really did. I remember the third one—the "strawberry flavoured" promise that had left me sobbing into his shoulder as he hit a depth I didn't know existed. I remember a fourth one, where he'd turned me over, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I knew there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers by morning.
But after that? The numbers blurred.
"Keifer..." I moaned, my voice nothing more than a raspy whisper. My hair was a matted, damp halo around my face, and my breath was coming in short, pathetic hitches.
I felt my eyelids growing heavy, the sheer physical exhaustion threatening to drag me under. The world started to fade into a dark, peaceful gray. But just as I began to drift, Keifer shifted his weight. He gripped my waist and delivered a sudden, powerful thrust that bottomed out with a force that made my entire frame jar.
"Ah! Keifer!" I gasped, my eyes snapping open as a fresh jolt of unwanted adrenaline spiked through my system.
"Stay with me, Jay," he growled, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel. He was slick with sweat, his muscles trembling with the effort of his own restraint. "I told you. No sleep until the sun comes up."
"Please..." I whimpered, my hands weakly pushing against his chest. "I can't... I'm so tired..."
He didn't listen. He just leaned down, capturing my mouth in a kiss that tasted of salt and desperation, while his lower body continued its work.
--: Keifer's POV: --
I was losing it. The scent of her, the sound of her broken moans, and the way she tightened around me every time I moved—it was like a drug I couldn't overdose on. I saw her eyes fluttering shut, saw her body trying to shut down, and a primitive, possessive part of me couldn't let her go. I wanted her awake. I wanted her to feel every single second of what I was doing to her.
I reached for the floor again, my hand fumbling until I felt the familiar shape of another packet.
"Wait..." Jay-Jay's voice was tiny, cracked. She looked down at my hand, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Keifer... what number is that?"
I paused, my chest heaving, my heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst through my ribs. I looked at the foil in my hand, then at the scattered remnants on the floor and the bed. "I... I don't know."
"I lost count after four," she breathed, a single tear of exhaustion escaping and rolling into her temple. "I thought you said... only three. You're on the sixth one, i am not even sure if it really is the sixth one or not, Keifer. Please... I can't take any more. My legs... they really are going to be broken tomorrow."
Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water.
I looked at her—really looked at her. Her face was flushed, her lips swollen and bruised from my kisses, and her eyes were glazed with a level of fatigue that went beyond just being tired. She looked beautiful, but she looked shattered.
The red haze in my mind finally began to clear. I felt the tremors in my own arms, realized my own muscles were screaming for relief. I had gone too far. I had been so obsessed with claiming her that I'd forgotten she was human.
"Jay," I whispered, the "tactician" finally yielding to the man who actually loved her.
I slowly withdrew, the absence of her warmth making me ache, but I ignored it. I threw the unopened packet toward the floor and collapsed beside her, pulling her limp, trembling body into my arms.
"I'm sorry," I rasped, tucking her head under my chin and wrapping the duvet tightly around us both. "I am really really sorry. I got... carried away. I should have been in my sense."
"You're a menace, Watson," she mumbled, her face already buried in my chest. She didn't even have the strength to push me away. "A total... menace."
"Really sorry Jay!! Sleep, baby," I murmured, kissing the top of her damp head. "I've got you. No more. I promise."
She didn't even answer. Within seconds, her breathing evened out into the deep, heavy rhythm of total exhaustion.
__________
The silence in the cottage was deafening now that the rhythmic sound of the ocean was the only thing left. I lay there, my heart still trying to find a normal pace, but my mind was racing with a sudden, crushing weight of guilt.
I looked down at Jay. She was so still. Her skin was flushed, her breathing shallow and heavy, and there were faint red marks on her hips where I had gripped her too hard. I felt like a monster. I had spent the whole day protecting her, only to be the one who actually pushed her past her breaking point.
I should have been in control, I thought, my jaw tightening. I should have listened the second she said she was tired. We had never gone that far, never that many times. I had let the privacy and the adrenaline of the "alibi" turn me into someone I didn't recognize.
I looked at the floor—the discarded foil packets were like silver shrapnel from a battle I'd won, but at what cost?
Jay stirred, a tiny, pained whimper escaping her lips as she tried to shift in her sleep. Her brow furrowed, and she mumbled something incoherent, her hand clutching weakly at the duvet.
"Jay?" I whispered, leaning over her.
"Hurts..." she breathed, her eyes not even opening. "Keifer... let's stop..."
That single word—stop—even spoken in her sleep, felt like a knife to my chest. She was still dreaming of the pressure. I realized then that we hadn't even cleaned up. The sweat, the oil, and the remnants of the night were still coating her skin, and if I let her sleep like this, she'd wake up even more miserable.
I sat up, my own muscles screaming in protest. I felt the physical toll of the night, but I ignored it. I moved toward her, carefully sliding one arm under her neck and the other under her knees.
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
The world felt like it was made of lead. I felt myself being lifted, the sensation of weightlessness making my head swim. I forced my eyelids open just a crack, the dim golden light of the lamp stinging my eyes.
"Keifer?" my voice was a broken thread. "What... what are you doing? No more... please..."
"Shh," he whispered. His voice was thick with an emotion I couldn't quite place—remorse, maybe? He looked down at me, and for the first time, the "devils" were gone from his eyes. He looked devastated. "No more, baby. I promise. I'm just taking you to the bathroom. You need to be cleaned up."
"Too tired," I mumbled, my head lolling against his shoulder. "Just let me sleep here..."
"I can't let you sleep like this," he murmured, his grip firm but incredibly gentle. "Go back to sleep, Jay. I've got you. I'll take care of everything."
I let my eyes drift shut again, trusting him completely. As he carried me, I felt a strange mix of emotions. My body was screaming in protest, every nerve ending raw and oversensitive, but inside, I wasn't angry. I wasn't blaming him. I knew Keifer—I knew that when he loved, he loved with a terrifying, consuming intensity. I had wanted that fire just as much as he did. I wasn't unhappy; I was just... empty. Tired. Like a star that had burned too bright and finally collapsed.
He lowered me into the warm water of the tub. It stung at first, making me hiss, but then the heat began to sink into my aching joints.
Keifer sat on the edge, washing me with slow, rhythmic strokes. He was so quiet, his movements full of a heavy penance. I wanted to tell him it was okay, that I didn't regret a single second, but the words wouldn't form. I just leaned my head against the cool tile and let him be my strength for a while.
--: Keifer's POV: --
I washed her as if I were handling fine porcelain. I saw the marks on her thighs, the faint bruising on her wrists from where I had pinned her. Every mark felt like a brand on my own conscience.
"I'm sorry," I whispered again, though she was barely conscious.
After I cleaned her, I dried her with the softest towel I could find, wrapping her up like a cocoon. I cleaned myself quickly, my mind already on the next step. I carried her back to the bed, which I had quickly stripped and recovered with fresh linens while she was in the bathtub.
I laid her down, but I knew I wasn't done. I went to the bag and grabbed the bottle of massage oil—the real stuff, the healing one.
The sky outside was turning a pale, ghostly blue. Morning was coming.
I sat at the foot of the bed and took her feet in my hands. I poured the oil and began to work on her calves and thighs. This wasn't the teasing, suggestive massage from the afternoon. This was deep, therapeutic pressure meant to keep her muscles from seizing up. I worked for nearly an hour, my own hands aching, but I didn't stop until I felt the knots in her legs finally begin to loosen.
When I was finished, I went to my suitcase and pulled out one of my oversized, soft cotton t-shirts. I gently maneuvered it over her head, dressing her while she remained limp and deep in sleep. I didn't put anything else on her; I wanted her to be comfortable.
Finally, I checked the time. 5:45 AM.
I moved the pillows, sliding into the bed beside her. I was exhausted, my body feeling like a hollow shell, but the guilt was still a dull ache in my chest. I pulled her back against me, her small frame fitting perfectly into the curve of my body.
She turned in her sleep, her back pressing into my chest, and she let out a long, contented sigh that finally allowed me to breathe. I tucked the duvet around us, my arm draped protectively over her waist, holding her close but not tight.
"I've got you," I whispered into the silence of the dawn. "I am sorry baby, I'm never letting this happen again."
As the sun finally broke over the horizon, painting the room in soft pinks and golds, I finally followed her into a deep, dreamless sleep.
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
In the hazy moments before I fell back into a true sleep, I felt Keifer's heartbeat against my back. It was steady and strong. I felt the soft cotton of his shirt against my skin and the scent of the sandalwood oil.
I wasn't blaming him for the ache in my bones. If anything, I felt closer to him now than I ever had. He had seen me at my most vulnerable, and now, in the quiet of the morning, he was putting me back together. I reached back, my fingers brushing his arm, a silent signal that I was okay.
I love you, you idiot, I thought, the words drifting away as the sun finally broke over the horizon.