When the bustle of the crowd leaving the clearing faded, only the rhythmic sound of the rain pattering against the fronds above them remained. The earthy smell of wet dirt wafted through the air, and Eliana breathed it in, spreading her arms wide as she glanced upwards at the now-dark sky. There were hints of the war permeating the normally comforting scent: veins of blood and ichor, of rusting metal armor and the slightly electric aroma of magical discharge. More than anything, she hoped that the rain could wash away some of their people's sorrow—her sorrows.

Beside her, Illidan braced himself against the trunk of a nearby tree, his chest heaving with every breath. When he finally calmed, he looked over at her, amusement lighting his eyes. "You look like you're enjoying the rain."

"Not necessarily," she replied, meeting his gaze. "There's been far too much rain the past couple of days for it to be something I still enjoy. Still, it is offering us much needed respite, and . . . if it is here, why not try to see it as something positive?"

"Hmm." He turned away, staring out at the funeral pyre in the clearing. Tendrils of dark smoke curled upwards, flames put out by the sudden downpour. "I think it a pain, to be honest."

"Nature is hard to predict. There was no way to know the storm would turn again. It is what it is." Illidan was still facing the clearing, and so he didn't see the tiniest shrug she offered. "Do you not like the rain, Illidan? Or are you more irritated at the fact that we're now stuck out here for as long as nature dictates?"

"The latter, more so than the former. If I were my brother, I might've been able to do something about it," he sneered, his eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly.

Eliana frowned, picking up on the bitter undertone in Illidan's voice. It was true that he'd never made it a secret that he and Malfurion had always been competitive. But lately, it seemed as if that competitiveness had transformed into something else entirely.

"Well," she said, clasping her arms in front of her. "I, for one, am glad that I am not stuck in the rain with your brother."

A quiet scoff left him, as if he didn't believe her. The seconds ticked by in silence, with him staring blankly at the dying embers of a flame, and her watching him, waiting for him to say something.

Finally, after glancing over his shoulder at her, he said, "Earlier, when we joined the crowd, you seemed upset about something. What was it?"

Eliana's gaze flickered upwards as she thought back to the particular moment he was referring to. He must've meant when they'd first witnessed the procession winding its way through the camp, when she'd been overwhelmed by the emotions of the crowd. "I—It is difficult to explain to someone who is not tied to the temple, tied to our faith as we priestesses are."

Again, he craned his neck, twisting around to look at her. "Try. We've time."

With the tiniest of sighs, Eliana glanced at the rain beyond the trees. The drops were falling so fast, it was impossible to see individual ones—it simply looked like a blur of movement, a wall of moisture that peppered the ground with ease.

"I suppose you are right," she began in a quiet voice, moving closer to him and sitting down on a broken tree stump. "We priestesses are connected to our people through the faith we share. Through the Mother Moon, and the blessings we give freely, we feel what our people are feeling: joy, mirth . . . grief. Earlier, when we joined the crowd and everyone saw Lord Ravencrest's body for the first time, it was much like . . . feeling not only my own grief, but the grief of all of those around me—and all at once, no less."

Illidan studied her, his expression blank, though his eyes were as acute as always. At first, he didn't respond, just stared down at her as if he were assessing what to say. Eventually, in a subdued voice, he said, "I suppose that explains why you seemed so somber during the funeral."

A quiet laugh escaped Eliana, closer to a scoff than a chuckle. "It was a funeral, Illidan. I would hope that I had appeared to be appropriately somber."

A matching laugh of his own filled the space, and once it died down, Illidan faced forward again. Eliana took the opportunity to study her hands, folded in her lap as they were. Her fingers were littered with newfound scars: nicks from her daggers as she twirled them around, scratches from brushing aside errant branches, new callouses scattered along her palms. They were just as damaged as her people, finally losing their sheen of perfection afforded to her by her youth.

After all her hands had done, after all she'd seen, could she even consider herself to be innocent anymore? Could she truly claim to be a Priestess of Elune? A female who, not only offered blessings and prayers of faith, but who now led the Sisterhood in its entirety? Could she do that, and still believe wholeheartedly that good remained in this world, when she had seen creatures who were the epitome of the exact opposite?

A branch snapped in front of her, and she jerked her head up in surprise, gasping when she saw Illidan standing right in front of her. Without a word, he kneeled, taking her hands in his own and studying her palms as she had done.

As he trailed his fingers along the underside of hers, causing little flutters in her abdomen, he murmured, "I can practically hear you thinking, Eliana. What is on your mind, now?"

At first, she watched him as he caressed her hand, engrossed in the warmth his attentions elicited from her. A few seconds later, she replied, "I—It's just that . . . we've lost so much in this war already. We've all lost loved ones, we've all lost our homes. What more will we lose when this is all over? How much of what we love and hold dear will remain? If we win?"

Illidan paused in his ministrations, and slowly raised his head to meet her gaze. "Don't," he chided. "Of all people who could ever sound so discouraged, I never want to hear it from you, Eliana."

Surprised by the vehemence in his tone, Eliana stared into his eyes until the tiniest gurgle of anger erupted deep within her. A frown gradually marred her features, forming a deep v between her brows. "And why not? Why am I not allowed to feel this way when I know there are so many others who do? How do you think the refugees feel, Illidan? I am sure they are filled with equal senses of loss and confusion, of hopelessness. Why is it that I am the only person who is not allowed to share those emotions?"

Her rant fueled the anger inside of her, and she tried to tug her hands out of Illidan's grasp. Instead of letting her go, he tightened his grip and leaned forward, prompting her to shy away from him on her makeshift stool. His brows were furrowed, his eyes narrowed and blazing with determination.

In a low, controlled voice, he said, "Because of who you are. Some might say that it's because you are the High Priestess now that you are not allowed to lose faith, but I say that's horseshit."

His uncharacteristic curse almost had her laughing, until he continued speaking with such conviction, that all she could do was listen.

"It's because of who you are here—" He let go of one of her hands to place his own palm against her heart. "—that I don't want to ever hear words like that come from your mouth again. More than anyone else I have ever known, you are capable of such compassion, such faith in those you believe in, even in the worst of times such as these. If you lose faith, then there is no hope for the rest of us."

Tears pricked at her eyes, threatening to stream down her cheeks. There was such absolute confidence and belief in Illidan's eyes that she wasn't entirely sure how to respond. When nearly a minute had passed by in silence and she still hadn't said anything back, Illidan moved his hand up to cradle her face. His thumb brushed across the high plane of her cheekbone, the callouses on his skin grating roughly across her face, though it wasn't entirely uncomfortable.

"You trust me, don't you?" Illidan whispered.

"Of course."

A beat passed before he said, "You are the only person who has ever truly believed in me—without doubts, without reservations. Allow me to believe in you."

His words spread through her, warming her down to the tips of her fingers and toes like the rays of the sun against her skin. Before the war, before they'd had continual exposure to daylight, she would've never thought the sun's warmth could be comforting. But Illidan's faith in her was just as unexpectedly soothing—a cocoon of strength and safety.

As her eyes slid shut, a tear finally escaped, sliding down the curve of her cheek. Illidan brushed it away with the pad of his thumb. A creak of leather followed, and then his lips were pressed against hers.

Taken aback, Eliana's eyes flew open in surprise. Again, he caressed her cheek, and it was then that she realized she wanted this. It had been so long since they'd had a moment to themselves, a chance to let go of all of their inhibitions and the stresses of battle. Perhaps the moment wasn't right—after all, they'd just come from a funeral—but to be quite frank, she didn't particularly care. It was rare for her to put herself first, and she could practically hear Illidan saying that there was no better chance than now.

His tongue glided along the seam of her lips, sending tingles running down her spine, and she opened for him with a quiet moan that was immediately swallowed up. She'd forgotten how easy it was for him to make her swoon, how little he had to do. Hesitantly, she wound her arms around his neck, not wanting to seem too eager but at the same time, needing him closer, needing more of him.

Illidan's only response was a deep groan, before he moved from a crouch down onto his knees, shifting his arms around her body to brace himself on the tree stump. His scent, metallic and spicy, familiar, enveloped her, and she breathed him in, still feeling like she needed more but unsure of what exactly that meant.

Eventually, he broke away, pulling back to rest his forehead against hers. His breaths came quickly, peppering against her lips as she, too, fought to level her breathing.

"Eliana, I—" He paused, swallowing hard. "I wish to—I need you."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, she reached up, threading her fingers through the onyx strands of his hair. "I know. I feel the same way."

Her response must have surprised him, because he leaned back to inspect her. "But have you ever . . ?"

"No," she replied, her eyes shifting to meet his. "I haven't. But I know that . . . I need more. I need you. I need to . . . be taken away from all this, to forget—if only for a moment."

The simmering heat in Illidan's eyes transformed into something deeper, heavier, and distinctly unfamiliar. She suspected that if their past intimate moments had had the chance to continue, evolve, that she would have seen something similar to what she saw now. Alas, they hadn't, and she was faced with the choice of stopping this, or continuing on.

For a brief moment, she hesitated. Times of war called for desperate actions, but was this something she wanted to dive headfirst into without considering all of the repercussions? Then, she looked deeper into his eyes and realized that, war or not, she and Illidan were meant to reach this point. If not now, when? Why wait if she felt ready?

Around them, the storm intensified, as if it sensed the whirlwind of desire that welled deep within her. Every sound but the beat of the rain disappeared, enveloping them in a dome of silence. With slow movements, she reached up and touched his face, tracing the lines of his features: his aquiline nose; the bow-like curve of his lips, so often set in a frown; the sharp edge of his jawline. Unlike her, his eyes slid shut as he leaned into her touch without hesitation, as if seeking the very same comfort she gleaned from him.

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to still the ripples of anxiety in her, Eliana said, "Show me, Illidan."

Almost lazily, his eyes opened once more and he held her gaze for what felt like eons, though she knew it could have only been mere seconds. All she could focus on was the sound of their breaths, intermingling, and the steady fall of the rain as it hit the underbrush. Then, he rose up on the balls of his feet, almost as if to stand. Hooking his arm around her waist, before she realized what had happened, he pulled her to the ground on top of him.

The forest floor was damp from the rain; Eliana's palms pressed against the spongy moss beneath Illidan's body. Confused, her gaze flickered between his face and where they were laying.

"Aren't you supposed to be on top?" she questioned, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, and he smirked. "I can be, though there isn't a 'rule' for these things. I simply thought that, since you have no experience, it might help you feel less nervous if you were in control."

A blush darkened Eliana's cheeks. He was right when he noted that she had no experience—after all, she'd admitted as much—but to have it pointed out in such a way was incredibly embarrassing. As if he sensed how she was feeling, he ran his hands up and down her arms, pulling her attention back to him.

In a low voice, he said, "I did not mean it in a negative way, Eliana. I only wish to help you feel more comfortable. Tell me what you need."

She hesitated, unsure of how to put it into eloquent terms. Again, he caressed her arms, holding her gaze intently as she tried to navigate the fog that seemed to have taken over her mind. His arms eventually found their way to her waist, encircling her body atop her armor. When a few more seconds passed and she still hadn't responded, he lightly ran his finger along the lower pointed edge of her armor, following the lines from the inside to the outer edge.

"Tell me, Eliana." His gaze flitted up to hers from what his fingers were doing, and she exhaled, her breath stuttering at the heated look in his eyes. He must've taken that as her confirmation, her somewhat verbal cue to continue, because he then asked, "May I . . ?"

Another hard swallow was her only reply, and he, thankfully, took it to mean the yes that she had meant it to be. With gentle fingers, he reached around her, unclasping the buckles that attached her pauldrons to her chestpiece. Next, he removed the chestpiece itself, and unbuckled her vambraces, leaving her in only the thin shift she wore underneath her armor. After lifting each piece away from her body, he set the pieces beside them on the forest floor, within reach but out of the way.

This, at least, was nothing new. She'd been in front of him in similar dress many times before; the robes of a priestess offered much the same amount of layers as her shift. However, the situation was vastly different. She felt . . . exposed, mostly due to the fact that he was now wearing much more than she was.

Feeling brave enough to at least ask that of him, she sat back a bit, resting her weight on his hips. Tentatively, she brought her hands closer to him, fiddling with the laces of his leather jerkin. This was not the first time she could admit to wanting to see him without the layers that protected him, to see him bare, to admire him in a way she never had before.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards, before he quickly sat up, making her squeal in surprise. His strong arms wound around her waist, holding her in place as he scooted to make them level. With a weighted glance in her direction, he rested his hands on her waist again, gesturing with his chin at his clothing.

"By all means, feel free," Illidan murmured, mirth coloring his words.

Though she felt her cheeks warm, she toyed with the ends of the laces, pulling them slowly out of the knot that secured his jerkin shut. One by one, she unlaced them through the holes until the entire front was undone, revealing a thin sliver of violet skin. Another shaky breath escaped her, and before she pushed the jerkin away from his body, she slipped her hands underneath the leather, resting her palms against the ripples of muscle on his abdomen.

When she ghosted her fingers lower, she felt his muscles clench. An upwards glance revealed that his jaw was equally as tense, and she moved to retract her hands, muttering an apology. Before she could fully pull away, he encircled her wrist with his hand, holding it tightly, but not painfully.

"No, don't stop." His amber eyes blazed with desire, and the air around them felt heavy with the energy that arced between them.

She could feel it on her skin, tingling and warm like the way his touch often made her feel. While Priestesses of Elune were not necessarily magically-inclined in a traditional sense, they held power fueled by nature and faith. Illidan was one of the most powerful sorcerers she knew of—despite his propensity for avoiding rules and advice—and his arcane aura pulsed around them, intermingling with her own pure essence. It was heady, empowering, and overwhelming all at once.

Following his direction, she placed her palms on the hard planes of his chest, caressing him with her fingertips for a moment before finally slipping his jerkin off. He rolled his shoulders easily, and the jerkin fell to the ground. Finally able to take in his form, unhindered by armor or clothing, she sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of him.

He was magnificent.

The curve of his clavicle as it sloped down from his shoulders was mesmerizing; the small divot between his chest and his abdomen muscles, enticing; but what captured her attention the most was the molten heat in his amber eyes, laden with desire, and the promise of more.

As if his newfound exposure was a harsh reminder of just how far into this they'd come, Illidan slid his hands upwards along Eliana's waist, dragging her shift with him. He stared up at her, a silent question in his eyes, one that made her swallow her building panic.

She wanted this, wanted him, but she was so out of her element, that she was afraid of coming across as exceptionally naive, or ridiculous. It wasn't that she thought Illidan would point her mistakes out, or make her feel embarrassed on purpose. It was more so that . . . how could she avoid that with her inexperience?

Illidan's hands paused, his thumbs brushing just under her breasts. "Eliana," he began in a soft voice, prompting her to meet his gaze. "If you wish for me to stop, all you have to do is say so."

"No, I—I want you to continue, I just—"

"You're just thinking far too much," he chided, though it wasn't derisive. It almost sounded like he was teasing her.

"I cannot help it," she mumbled, her cheeks darkening even further.

"I know. But this is one of those things that you cannot overthink. Just let your body speak for you, let it tell me what you like and don't like." He traced his thumb back and forth, grazing the underside of her breasts, which made her breath hitch in her throat. A grin spread across his face, lazy and sure. "See?"

Though she was filled with anxiety, and more than a little embarrassed, Eliana nodded. "I trust you, Illidan."

That made him pause, and he held her gaze with an unreadable expression. Languidly, he craned his neck, brushing his lips across hers. "And that means more to me than I could ever express in words."

She shifted, resting her hands on his powerful shoulders. When he moved to pull her shift completely off, she felt his muscles tense and roll underneath her fingers. The bundles of muscles along his arms flexed, and she felt them tighten around her. There was such inherent strength in him, and she knew that there were few places she could ever feel safer. That knowledge eased her nerves, calmed the roiling waves of anxiety in her abdomen.

As soon as her shift fell to the ground atop his discarded jerkin, Illidan's eyes flitted down her body, seemingly drinking it all in—drinking her in. This time, not only did her cheeks darken, but it felt like her entire chest and neck flared with heat. When Illidan's fingers migrated higher, grazing her nipples ever-so-briefly, pulses of desire shot straight to her core.

Then, he leaned forward, taking the peak of her nipple into the heat of his mouth. She was unable to stop the shocked cry that escaped her lips, and her fingers slid up into the hair at the base of his neck, tugging unconsciously. A grunt was his only response before he swirled his tongue along the bud, and the slick texture of it had her pulling at his hair again.

This time, he leaned back, releasing her nipple to mockingly glare up at her. "If you keep doing that, Eliana, we won't be doing this for much longer," he chastised her in a low, gravelly tone.

The depth of his baritone made her shiver in anticipation, and she loosened her hold on his hair. "I am sorry, I am not trying to do it on purpose. I simply—"

"I know," he said, interrupting her. He reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face. "I only meant that it is making me want to move faster, and I do not wish to rush you."

"Oh," she breathed, proceeding to run her hands through his surprisingly silky strands. "Then . . . do you like it when I do that?"

Again, he leaned forward, pursing his lips just when he was close enough to wrap them around her now-swollen bud. "Very much," he murmured, glancing upwards with a lustful gaze before snaking his tongue out to lick her.

That earned him another cry, though this one tapered out and transformed into a moan—a sound that Eliana hadn't ever thought she'd hear herself make. While she knew that her breasts occasionally became sore and tender, she never thought they could ache in this way. Everything that Illidan was doing seemed to make her ache in ways she'd never known, ways that made her squirm in his lap, desperate for more.

His response to her wiggling around surprised her: he clenched up, tightening his arms around her almost painfully hard. With a groan, he pulled back once more and looked up at her with a furrowed brow. "If you keep doing that, then we will definitely be moving faster than you need right now."

Confused, her mouth opened but no words came out. He let out a huff, before gripping her waist and tugging her body lower, flush against his hips. When she felt the hard press of his erection directly at her core, she flushed, cheeks darkening to almost black. Her eyes flew up to meet his, and she felt the harsh exhales of his breath on her chest.

Faced with the physical evidence of how much he desired her, Eliana wondered if this was the moment that others had spoken of, the moment of no return. He had made her feel so much, experience so much, that she needed more, not only wanted more. If that was how she felt, judging by what was seated between their bodies, he was even farther beyond that.

And truly, did she even wish to stop?

When Illidan shifted his hips and grazed the bundle of nerves nestled at the top of her core, she received her answer. A wave of pleasure rocked through her body, so strong that she had to close her eyes at the sudden light-headedness that threatened to overtake her. From afar, she thought she heard Illidan grunt, and realized that she must've tugged at his hair again.

Before she had a chance to apologize, Illidan wound his arm around her waist and flipped them over. Now, he was holding himself over her, cradling her in the crook of his arm as he fumbled for something on the ground. Not long after, he dragged something behind her before finally laying her down. When her bare skin touched the soft fabric of her shift, a smile spread across her face: he'd moved her shift under her so that she wouldn't have to lay back against the forest floor, littered with errant leaves and clumps of dirt.

It was an unexpectedly romantic, thoughtful gesture, and in the midst of all the death and chaos that surrounded them, it brought tears to her eyes. They stung, and she blinked rapidly, trying to dispel them before they could fall. He cupped her cheek, looking down at her in concern.

She let out a brief laugh—a single exhale, really—and shook her head. "It is nothing."

He didn't say anything, but caressed her cheek once before moving his hands down to her waist again. The small interruption in their previously frenzied motions seemed to have grounded him, and his hands were gentle, slow again, as they drifted down her body. He made quick work of her lower armor pieces, setting them aside in the growing pile beside them.

Finally, they were both left in only their pants—him in his leather ones, and her in mere cloth leggings. As such, when he trailed his fingers down along her legs, she could feel his touch as if she were wearing nothing at all. It was overwhelming, and she threw her head back as she gasped.

Illidan moved back up her body, trailing kisses along her skin. When he was directly over her, he braced himself on his left arm, hooking the fingers of his right hand in her waistband. He looked down at her with a silent question in his eyes, lightly trailing his fingertips back and forth along her skin, sending pulses of pleasure through her core.

Unable to verbalize her assent, all Eliana could manage was a fervent nod. A smirk teased at the corner of his mouth. He looked away, focusing on removing her leggings. Inch by inch, he pulled them down, his gaze growing progressively more lustful. When her leggings were bunched around her ankles, she lifted her legs to help him get them off.

Now, she was more exposed than she'd ever been in front of a male. With darkened cheeks, she tucked her chin into the groove of her shoulder to hide her face. Illidan was having none of that, and he tsked at her, lightly running his hand along the length of her leg. The motion tickled, but an underlying current of pleasure also coursed through her. Unsure of how to process the mixture of sensory information, she held her breath as she tilted her head back.

"Breathe, Eliana. I won't go farther until you're ready," he reassured her, his voice raspy and seemingly strained.

"I am ready, I just—I was just a bit overwhelmed. Please don't stop," she breathed, moving back to stare into his eyes.

He leaned down, nuzzling the tip of her nose with his own before planting a brief kiss on her lips. "I have no intention of stopping."

Again, he trailed his fingertips down the length of her leg, following shortly after with the rest of his body. As he made his way lower, he planted kisses along her skin much like before, only this time, he did everything he could to drive her mad. When he pressed his lips against the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, his tongue snaked out, drawing the tiniest of circles on her skin. After pulling away, he blew on it lightly, and the cold hair juxtaposed with the warmth radiating off of her made her shiver.

Desperate for more of his touch, Eliana reached for Illidan, her hands tangling in his hair. Briefly, he reached up to touch her hand before moving lower still, and her fingers slid along his temples. Another kiss by the apex of her thighs, and then, then, just at the top of her core. It was the last thing she'd been expecting, and a sharp gasp escaped her as she jolted in place. More surprising than even his place between her thighs was the feeling of molten desire at her core; all she wanted to do was squeeze her legs together, but with him in the way, that was impossible.

"What are you—" she began to ask, but Illidan shushed her before looping his arms around her thighs, caressing her lightly with his fingers.

"You've said that you trust me. Trust that what I want to do will bring you pleasure."

Eliana looked down the length of her body at him, her brows cinched in confusion and hesitation. Eventually, she nodded, slowly threading her fingers through the soft strands of his hair once more. Because of his ponytail, she could only make it about halfway through before her fingers got snagged. She must have let out a frustrated whimper, because a small puff of hair hit her core before he sat up.

With an amused smile, Illidan reached up and undid the leather tie that held his hair together. In a cascade of dark strands, his hair fell around his face, framing his high cheekbones and strong jawline. A quiet sigh escaped her as he rested his weight on his forearms once more, throwing her long legs over his shoulders.

When she felt his breath on her core once more, she reflexively tensed up, unable to stop herself. Like before, he caressed the soft flesh of her thighs in an attempt to get her to relax. Her muscles remained tight, and he reached out to her with one hand as he said, "If you need to put your hands in my hair again, I will not complain."

A nervous chuckle was her only response before she did just that. Concentrating on the feeling of running her fingers through his hair uninhibited, she gradually relaxed until she was fully laying back on her shift once more. That is, until she felt the first swipe of his tongue along her slit.

"Oh, Elune!" Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging at the strands. A slight groan left him, before he moved his fingers to either side of her core, opening her just a bit more before him.

"You taste—" Again, he slid his tongue along the length of her, swirling the tip lightly around her clit. "—incredible."

Every motion of his tongue sent waves of pleasure coursing through her. When he closed his lips over her clit and suckled, in much the same way he'd done to her nipples, she couldn't help but throw back her head and let out a strained cry. To her surprise, he didn't chastise her. Briefly, she wondered if he'd cast some sort of spell when they'd started. Perhaps it muffled the sounds he knew she'd make, or prevented others in the camp from accidentally stumbling upon them.

Illidan didn't give her much of a chance to continue her line of thought, however. A moment later, he moved lower, lapping up the evidence of her arousal with fervor. Surprised, Eliana pressed her thighs together, against Illidan's head. He grunted, and she loosened her hold on his hair as well as moving her legs apart.

Before she had a chance to apologize, Illidan shifted his hold on her legs, moving his hands underneath the curve of her bottom. Without warning, he lifted her up. The slick length of his tongue slid into her, sending ripples of pleasure outwards from her core. Every time he thrusted into her, a choked gasp left her as she pulled at his hair.

"Illidan, Illidan," Eliana gasped.

He didn't let up. With every swirl of his tongue, every thrust into her core, he took her higher and higher. Tension built within her, until her entire body was taut, and she was arching her back in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

When he paused and pulled away slightly, she whimpered. "Wh—Please, Illidan, I . . ." What exactly did she need? What was it she was trying to ask him to do?

He pressed a brief kiss to her inner thigh before capturing her clit between his lips once more. When he slid a finger into her, hooking it up and under to hit a certain spot inside of her she never knew existed, a shocked gasp left her. It transformed into a deep moan as he pulled at the bundle of nerves with his mouth, again, and then again. With every draw, the tension within her became tighter and tighter. On the fourth, she snapped.

Her keening cry filled the air around them as she arched completely off the ground. The world faded away as she squeezed her eyes shut, holding on to the strands of Illidan's hair so tightly, she might've worried she was pulling them out if she hadn't been otherwise distracted. Wave upon wave of pleasure crested over her, stealing her breath until there was nothing left.

Gradually, she floated back down into her body. Raindrops fell gently on her face; she hadn't even noticed the raining on her skin, she'd been so into the moment. At that thought, her fingers twitched, and she realized that they were no longer tangled in Illidan's hair. When she opened her eyes, Illidan was hovering over her, a fond smile on his face.

"Welcome back," he teased, lightly running the backs of his fingers along her cheek.

Despite what she'd just experienced, what they'd just shared, her cheeks darkened in embarrassment. "I . . . I am not sure what to say."

"Don't say anything, then," he replied, rolling over onto his other elbow so that he was directly over her. "Let me do all the talking."

Fully relaxed now—which she suspected was his goal—Eliana reached up and wound her arms around his neck. His loose hair fell around them like a curtain hiding them from the rest of the world. It made the moment feel that much more intimate, if such a thing was even possible.

"Do you normally talk a lot during . . . this?" she asked, quirking her brow at him.

A deep chuckle rumbled through his chest. "We are doing this, and you cannot even say the word?"

Again, her cheeks darkened and she turned away from him. He tsked at her, before reaching down and easing her face forward again. "I am teasing, Eliana. I am sorry if what is well-intentioned does not come across as such."

"I know you do not mean it in a hurtful way."

"Good." He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers. This kiss was no less intense than any of their previous ones, but it lacked fire, urgency. It almost felt like he was savoring the moment, like he wanted to take his time.

When he pulled away, he leaned back on his calves and reached down to lift her leg. He cradled it in the crook of his elbow as he trailed his fingers down the length of her abdomen. The featherlight touch made her lower abdomen quiver, like the fluttering of a bird's wings.

A quick glance down the length of his body had her lowering her brows in consternation. "You are still wearing pants."

He followed her gaze, letting out a chuckle a moment later. "You are right. Do you wish for me to take them off?"

She took her lower lip between her teeth, nodding with a heavy-lidded gaze. To her surprise, instead of standing up, he moved over her again, hooking his arm beneath her waist. "Whatever you wish," he whispered into her ear, before he turned them over again.

Now that he was on the ground and she was above him, he lifted her a bit higher so that she was straddling him just above his hips. In one quick motion, he shucked off his pants and tossed them aside, no longer caring where they went. Overcome with curiosity, she moved to look under her arm at his newly exposed body. To her surprise, he stopped her, lifting her chin with a single finger.

"Don't. You can look later."

"But, why—"

"Trust me, I do not mind in the least if you do. But I know if you look now, you'll lose all nerve." He paused, running his hands up and down her arms. "Trust me, remember?"

Even though the urge to see the most intimate part of him was incredibly strong, she nodded. She'd said she trusted him. This was when she would prove it.

Illidan moved his hand, cupping her cheek now. With gentle hands, he guided her lower, until her core was positioned above his hips. He paused, his jaw clenching over and over, until he finally asked, "You are sure, Eliana?"

It was the most uncertain she had ever heard him sound. Almost as if he expected her to deny him, after all they'd gone through already—as if she ever could deny him anything. Her brows cinched as she pressed her lips together, cradling his cheek with her hand. She stared into his eyes, so uniquely beautiful, and yet, filled with worry.

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life, Illidan."

A hesitant smile teased at the corner of his lips, before he pulled her down for a deep kiss. He slid his tongue into her mouth, much like he'd done to her core shortly before. When it slid along the length of hers, she moaned, and it disappeared into the heat of their kiss. As he continued to melt her from the inside out, he pushed down on her hips, bringing her closer to his.

His arousal nudged her outer lips, and she jerked in surprise, pulling away from the kiss to gasp. He tightened his grip on her hips, murmuring soft words of reassurance to her. When her heart slowed enough that it didn't feel like it was trying to burst out of her chest, she nodded.

Again, he lowered her. This time, when his arousal pressed at her entrance, she didn't shy away, though she did grip his shoulders tightly. He flexed his fingers on her hips, and she looked up at him, confused.

"I want you to control the pace we go at, Eliana. The last thing I wish is to hurt you, but you have to help me."

A hesitant nod was her only answer, and he reached down, positioning his member at her entrance. When he swept it between her folds, she let out another gasp. It was overshadowed by his rough groan, and he squeezed his eyes shut so hard, she thought she'd hurt him for a moment.

"Gods, you feel amazing."

His words made her cheeks darken again. Would any of this ever stop embarrassing her?

As soon as he was in position again, he gave Eliana a terse nod. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his chest, pressing down for leverage as she followed his cue and lowered her hips. Inch by inch, he entered her, letting out occasional grunts through clenched teeth.

It was a strange feeling, she had to admit. She felt . . . full, complete, though at the same time, it was almost as if she wanted to squirm away from him. The feeling continued to grow the more of him she took in, and when he was nearly halfway, he gripped her hips again.

"Remember to go slow, Eliana," he reminded her in a gravelly voice.

"Whatever for?" She was anxious to move past this point; she needed more of him.

"I don't want to hurt you, as eager as I am to feel you around me."

His words caused her cheeks to darken to a deep violet, but she assumed he knew what he was speaking about. With gradual motions, she moved lower, inch by inch, until their bodies were flush against one another. If it had felt odd before, it was exceptionally strange now. She had never felt so completely full, so stretched—almost to the point of being uncomfortable.

Illidan, however, seemed to feel otherwise. The muscle in his jaw ticked, and he was clenching his teeth so hard, it had to be hurting him. Still, he opened his eyes and asked, "Are you all right?"

Eliana reached down, caressing the curve of his cheek. "I am fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I—It usually hurts the first time for the female. Or so I've been told."

Concentrating, she glanced upwards. "I would not say that it hurts, though it is a little uncomfortable. But . . . I do not know what else to do. Is this all there is?"

He chuckled, and she was surprised to feel him move inside of her. With a lustful gaze, he ran his hands along her outer thigh. "Hardly. I leave this up to you. If you wish to take control, you are more than free to. However, I can take the lead, if you prefer."

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth again, working it back and forth as she thought about his words. As much as she appreciated how tender and considerate he was being, truth be told, she had no idea what to do. So many of the older sisters always spoke about the magic of this connection, of the moment. She didn't want to ruin that with her naivety and inexperience.

After taking a deep breath, she said, "I think I would prefer if you took over."

Without any further preamble, he flipped them over, cradling her head in his hands so that it wouldn't smack against the ground. As he pulled away, he trailed his fingers along her hairline, sweeping errant strands back in an almost loving fashion. Or at least, as much as her heart let her hope.

With gentle hands, he lifted her hips, sliding back into her with ease. A raspy moan escaped her; the movement had been so unexpected, she'd had no time to hold back her cry. As soon as he was fully seated inside of her, he pulled back again before immediately thrusting once more. Again and again, he drove into her. Each snap of his hips had her crying out in pleasure, grasping at his upper arms for some sort of purchase. If she didn't, she was afraid she might float away completely.

When Illidan reached down and grazed her clit, almost lazily, she sunk her nails into his muscle, earning her a grunt. His touch had sent sparks through her body, shooting down to the tips of her fingers and toes. Each subsequent touch felt like he was pushing her higher and higher, urging her to reach the point of utter bliss like he had before.

"I'm sorry, I—" Eliana breathed, unable to finish her sentence.

"I know. It's all right." Illidan, too, sounded out of breath, strained as if he could barely contain himself.

A particularly intense rush of pleasure swept over her, and she arched her back as she slid her arms up along the length of Illidan's broad shoulders. "Illidan, I need—"

"I know, Eliana. I know," he whispered against her neck, snaking out his tongue to lick along her sweat-slick skin. Even that slightest of touches set more sparks of pleasure off in her core. "Fall. I will catch you."

He pressed her clit harder, rotating his fingers in a circular motion that stole her breath in its entirety. All she could manage now were short gasps that were strained with tension, much like the rest of her. Each brush of his fingers pulled that tension tighter, and tighter, and with one final thrust of his hips, she broke apart in his arms.

Unlike the first moment of bliss he'd given her, this time, she wasn't able to make any sound. Her mouth fell open, yes, but all she could manage to do was hold on to him, her fingers digging into the hard muscle of his back. All sounds of the forest faded to nothing, until all she could hear was the pounding of her heart—pounding for him, because of her love for him. That love swelled within her breast, threatening to spill over and take her whole.

Part of her wondered if it hadn't already.

From afar, she could hear the faint sound of his cries, felt the pace of his hips speed up until he stilled above her. It felt like eons had passed when the sound of the rain, falling against the canopy above them, came back to her. When she noticed the sound of his breathing again, she opened her eyes—she hadn't even realized she'd closed them.

In one motion, Illidan keeled over beside her, letting out one final, heavy exhale. He draped his arm over her waist, pulling insistently at her. A quiet laugh left her, before she rolled over onto her side, resting her head on his proffered arm. They were quiet for a long time, both of them listening to the sounds of the forest around them and the beat of one another's hearts.

Finally, Illidan spoke. His voice rumbled through his chest, and she could feel the vibration in her own head. "What are you thinking?"

Absentmindedly tracing circles on his chest with her finger, she shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing at all. It is . . . nice."

In truth, she felt tired. Her eyes felt as if they were made of stone, dry and heavy in her sockets. All she wanted to do was sleep, but they were in the middle of the forest, for one, and they were naked.

Nearly half-asleep as it were, Eliana barely felt Illidan press his lips to her temple. He said something to her, something that sounded vaguely like a question, but she didn't register his words. When she hummed, unable to form the words to ask him what he'd said, he chuckled.

"Nothing. Sleep, Eliana. I will watch over you."

And then her eyes slid shut, and the world fell away.