SWORD ACADEMY (censored)
CENSORED 41: FIONA

Ainsley’s given me a lot to think about. I was wrong about her. Even if violence is a piece of who she is, it’s only a piece. We all have those pieces. That’s what I love conceptually about Sociology. It lets me study and analyze human interactions, encouraging me to dig for the details.

Those details are what Frank offered me when he gave me his background file, all the tiny pieces making up the whole puzzle that’s him, and I know just how to thank him for the special gift. I’m going to give him a special gift of my own. Another Fiona first.

I look over at the exit. It’s another Earth Guard on duty, so there’s a good chance I know exactly where to find Frank. I walk out of the Registry with clear intent, shoving right through the door leading to the upper Dormitory levels before climbing the stairs to the very top floor. My earth spark smooshes inside me with contentment over this choice being made. It isn’t nervous, just happy this is finally playing out.

I raise my hand to knock softly on Frank’s door. “It’s open!” he whoops.

I take a deep breath to steel my resolve, then step inside. He’s doing push-ups on the floor by his bed and falls flat on his face mid-rep, clearly shocked it’s me entering. I start to lose my nerve, turning to leave, but he’s on his feet and walking toward me before I can run like the coward I am. His green rings and white flecks call to my earth spark which promptly plants my feet where they stand.

“You read the whole thing?” he asks from a few steps away. The distance feels profound, but I understand why he’s maintaining it. He’s trying to be respectful of my personal space, gauging my reaction before crossing over the threshold.

I twist my hands in front of me, having a hard time maintaining eye contact with him. “I read the whole thing.”

“And?” he quakes.

I force my back up straighter where my shoulders were slumping. “And I might not be enough to satisfy you, Frank, but I want to try.”

His lips curl up at the side in a dopey half-smile that makes my heart rattle inside my chest as my earth spark shakes with excitement. “We’ll just take it slow,” he bumbles. “There’s no rush. We don’t have to jump into anything.”

I frown, disappointed by the prospect of waiting. I’m ready. My arrival was meant to announce that readiness clearly so I wouldn’t have to vocalize it. I might want him, but I’m still terribly embarrassed by the desire.

He mirrors my frown as he tries to figure out what I’m thinking. Then he bridges the gap between us with purpose, taking my shaking hands in his strong ones. My earth spark pours into the connection, sweeping through him to caress everywhere it touches with gentle pressure coaxing him forward in a way I can’t with my words.

I stare at my feet. “I don’t want to take it slow.”

“It’s going to be slow,” he repeats, but he sweeps me off my feet and carries me toward the bed all the same.

He lays me down before his lips find mine. His kiss is slow, trained. He resists me when I try to deepen it, maintaining a deliberate crawl with minimal increase in a way that fills the hourglass of my heart. Time seems to slow around us as he works my clothes off, taking his time to kiss every inch of me. His movements are gentle, soft strokes and touches to ensure I don’t miss feeling a single one. They’re ingrained in my memory now.

He kneels below me on the bed, eases my thighs apart, and leans in to inhale me. “Sweeter than I knew a flower could smell.” The air from his breath sends a quiver along my skin. My entire body blushes. “Now I’m going to taste you.”

“Wait,” I squeak as he inches closer.

He stops immediately, rising up to look me in the eye. A moment passes, and he starts to get scared he’s pushed me too far. He moves to sit beside me on the bed, his eyes begging forgiveness as he cups my cheeks. I block my earth spark from reaching out to him.

“Let me in,” he vibrates.

As much as I want to do that, I don’t want the moment to be confused by my earth spark connection to him. I want this to be private between us. He needs to see I’m choosing him for him. My spark is just an extension of that, not the sole reason. I want to give my whole self to him, but first he needs my background file. The piece that’s only me.

“Please let me in.”

I shake my head and close my eyes, dreading the potential fight with my earth spark to take control of the situation in the way I need to. I’m passive by nature, so I don’t in any way relish the idea of confronting my spark, but Frank deserves this from me. I deserve it too. My earth spark senses that. It just smiles knowingly instead of being angry or upset with me, nesting right up in a corner to have a little nap. My wristband falls softly to the bed beside us when it does, a souvenir of our absolute unity.

Frank gasps when I open my eyes. I know what he’s seeing. I’d been slack jawed over Grady’s eyes after he tamed his earth spark. Where we all three have similar green rings, Grady and I have matching white and black flecks.

“I’m sorry,” I clatter. “I want this to be just us. I need you to know I’m choosing all of you, Frank. But when I give you this piece of me, I need you to see my choice isn’t being swayed by my earth spark’s choice. It’s already chosen you, and I’m choosing you too.”

He presses his lips to mine again in a deeper kiss that awakens new parts of me. I grin against his lips, finding myself a little braver than I was before. “You were in the middle of a job,” I clonk. “Your break’s over. You best get back to work.”

His brow crumples as that smile I adore gets impossibly wider. He shifts back to his previous position and gets dutifully back to work. His mouth meets my china cabinet with absolute care, his tongue polishing the knob with delicate strokes. He keeps his word. It’s the slowest, most thorough squeegeeing ever. He’s making sure I’ll never forget a moment of it.

My hips rise up when my hutch starts building to an inevitable release. I’m desperate for more of his mouth on me.

More pressure.

More speed.

More everything.

When my insides start rattling, his hands are there, his fingers working to ease the doors open that are stopping his advances. Any sort of pain I might’ve experienced by exposing my porcelain is smothered by the feeling of his slow tongue movements guiding me through every last second of my earthquake.

He rises on the bed, pushes his body between my spread thighs, and pauses to gaze into my newly changed eyes. My cheeks are burning from how hard I’m blushing. I’m shaking beneath him with want by the time he lines himself up at my entrance, worried if he doesn’t polish my plates soon they might smash from the pressure of my desire for him.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and I know he’ll stop if at any point I feel uncomfortable regardless of how far we’ve gone.

“I’m sure,” I consent. “I want to let you in.”

There’s no pain or discomfort as he inches his way in. He ensured there wouldn’t be by preparing me first. He maintains his measured pace, sliding in and out of me so slowly I can feel his squeegee at every singular point of contact. My porcelain rattles around him time and again as he makes love to me. There’s no rush, only the gentle and steady build of our growing bond.

And while his hands continue to caress every inch of my body, his thrusts increasing to a new pace marking it as his turn to come undone, I make another decision. My earth spark should share in this final moment. So, as his arms tighten around me, the strength of his squeegees at the precipice of his release sending me tremoring into yet another earthquake, I send my spark through that single point of contact. He groans his pleasure, spills into me that very second, and vibrates against me as he rides out his aftershocks. Then he collapses right on top of me in a heap of spent flesh.

He guffaws. “What was that?”

“I think a plate just smashed,” I clank.

He nuzzles my neck, shifting us so he’s laying under me with my face resting on his chest. “No, I think your flower just bloomed.”

I clack a laugh.

“We’re going to grow a whole garden,” he promises, leaning down to kiss my forehead.

“You’ll have to pick up the pace if you want a whole garden.”

“I’m in no rush,” he buzzes, “and I’m going to cherish every single flower.”

And he will. Despite my insecurities, he’s made me feel like the center of his universe, like I’m the gravity binding him to this earth.

“I think I love you, Frank,” I squoosh quietly.

“That’s good,” he pipes in, “because I know I love you, Water Lily.”

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