Jax held her, his arms a secure, warm anchor in the sea of new sensations she was adrift in. He didn't rush her.
He simply stroked her back in long, slow sweeps, his touch a silent promise of safety. Her deep charcoal wings were still draped over them, a soft, living blanket that smelled faintly of ozone and night air.
He could feel the frantic beat of her heart against his chest, gradually slowing from its hummingbird pace to a more steady, rhythmic thrum.
Her breathing, once ragged and desperate, evened out, becoming deep and calm. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, her raven hair tickling his skin.
The scent of her, a mix of sweet arousal and her own unique floral perfume, filled his senses.
He felt a profound sense of satisfaction, not just from the physical act, but from the trust she had placed in him. This was more than just dual cultivation; it was a sacred act of healing.
