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Kotallo’s little improvisation earns him a sharp tug on his hair and he can’t help but steal a smug smirk as he repeats the same movement.
Slow mornings are a luxury he is rarely able to have nor enjoy. The Tenakth’s strict regime, drilled into him since he was a lanky boy who could barely cope with his clan’s cold and harsh terrain, never allows precious time to be wasted doing nothing. The soonest one wakes up from sleep they either immediately begin with the training routines or – after putting on paints and donning the armors – man their posts and start the day’s duties. Slacking is not allowed, and his schedule has gotten even more packed once he’d become a marshal.
At least, until lately that is.
In truth Kotallo is rather surprised how easily he’s adjusted to this new habit. Not that he’s never imagined himself having a partner for life and sharing a living space, but rather the fact that he’s the one initiating the change of pace. And it’s almost miraculous that the said partner has also been very welcoming to such a concept both of them only recently discovered together. But then again, if there’s one thing he will never doubt of Aloy, is that she is utterly curious.
And he certainly takes pride in feeding that trait of hers.
Her low moan reverberates through her body and Kotallo instinctively tightens his grip around her thigh, keeping her legs parted. His cock is almost painfully hard now where it lies neglected between his stomach and the bed, but he ignores it and pours his entire focus on coaxing her release. The coarse hair around her mound is damp with the combination of his effort and her juices, and upon glancing up it’s his turn to moan at the sight he finds.
He likes her like this: eyes screwed shut and lips parted, her fair skin flushed from neck down to her chest, nipples pert and breasts gently jiggled every time she squirms and arches whenever he does something she particularly likes. Aloy is not a quiet lover, and he likes that about her too. Praises and curses and his name drip fluently out of her mouth and it satisfies him that she isn’t shy in letting him – and the poor inhabitants nearby – of how much she enjoys being pleasured by him. It burns him with a fire he’s only ever found in battles before, and with that he doubles down and sucks on her clit, hard enough that she yelps.
“F-fuck, ‘Tallo…” her greedy fingers grip at his hair again and the blunt nails scrape his scalp, sending electricity down his spine and straight towards his cock. Kotallo shifts, seeking friction where he needs it the most, and as he does so he swirls his tongue around her entrance before plunging it inside, earning him an animalistic cry from the woman beneath him.
She’s close. He knows it.
Releasing her thigh, Kotallo replaces his tongue with his fingers, growling when they slip in without any resistance. He will probably forever mourn the loss of his left arm in times like these, but he doesn’t dwell on it for too long. Not when Aloy is so hot and slick around him, her velvety walls immediately clenching on his digits like she’s been desperately waiting to be filled.
Perhaps she is.
Kotallo makes quick work of it, stroking her with an increasingly intensifying pace while his tongue flicks and laps at her nub. She always tastes so heavenly, overwhelming his senses in the best way possible, and he uses it to fuel him further. Around his head her thighs begin to tremble, the telltale sign of her impending orgasm, and when he looks up once again he finds one of her hands has reached up to play with her breast, kneading and pinching the nipple in her own effort to reach her peak.
“Please, Kotallo,” she moans between ragged breaths, “Please– fuck. Please, please, please…”
Kotallo thrusts his fingers deeper and crooks, touching that spot he knows will break her, and true to it she then shatters.
She is pulsing around him, her orgasm comes in waves that doesn’t seem to seize as her loud moans break the still, morning air of the small shelter. And Kotallo is there to watch it all unfold, taking in the sight and the feel of his woman crashing and drowning in pleasure as he slows down, not letting go just yet so as to prolong the sensation for the both of them.
It may have been minutes – or mere seconds, he doesn’t really care – until Aloy’s hazy eyes meet his gaze. A sated smile curves her lips, and ‘beautiful’ would be an understatement.
She is glowing.
But then that very smile turns wicked, and before he knows it Kotallo’s face is suddenly at her level and she pulls him in a heated kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth as if to taste herself in him.
“Your turn,” Aloy says when they part.
He huffs and shakes his head. “Later. I don’t– ah!”
Whatever gallant reply he has dissipates when he feels her hand already gripping at his leaking cock, slanting it against her dripping cunt.
“Fuck me, Marshal. That’s an order. And don’t you dare stop until you come – inside me.”
And because she’s pulled up ranks, and insubordination is a punishable crime, Kotallo smiles, steals another kiss, and obliges.