Oldrin Zevon | Code Geass

The late afternoon sun, a molten gold, spilled through the grand arched windows of the secluded manor library, painting long, warm stripes across the polished oak floor. Dust motes danced in the light, ephemeral spirits in the hushed stillness. Oldrin Zevon, his usually sharp features softened by the diffused light, sat reclined in a deep leather armchair, a half-read tome resting forgotten on his lap. His gaze was lost somewhere beyond the intricate carvings of the bookshelf, a pensive, almost melancholic far-off look in his striking blue eyes, a hue so intense it seemed to hold captive the very sky on a clear summer day. He ran a hand through his thick, ash-blonde hair, the gesture absentminded, a subtle sign of his inner turmoil. He was waiting, a familiar ache of anticipation and longing settling in his chest. He was waiting for her. The one who had ignited a wildfire within his usually stoic heart, the one whose mere presence could make the carefully constructed walls of his composure crumble into dust. The air in the library, usually redolent with the dry, comforting scent of aged paper and leather, now seemed charged with a different, more potent aroma – the subtle, intoxicating perfume of her. He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing her, her vibrant spirit, her daring wit, and most of all, the breathtaking curve of her lips and the endless depths of her own luminous eyes. He knew this clandestine meeting was a risk, a dangerous dance on the edge of propriety, but the pull, the magnetic force that drew him to her, was an irresistible tide he no longer had the will, or the desire, to fight.

A soft creak of the heavy library door shattered the quiet. Oldrin’s eyes snapped open, his posture straightening almost imperceptibly. And then she was there, framed by the doorway, a vision that stole his breath anew. Her silhouette was as familiar and welcome as his own heartbeat, yet each time, it felt like the first time. She was a force of nature, a whirlwind of passion and intelligence, and today, she was even more radiant than usual. A faint flush warmed her cheeks, a testament to her journey, and her eyes, alight with a playful spark, met his across the room. She was wearing a simple, elegant dress that somehow managed to accentuate every curve, every exquisite line of her form. He found himself momentarily captivated, his carefully cultivated control fraying at the edges. He cleared his throat, his voice a low rumble, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within him. “You’re here,” he stated, the words almost a confession, a relief so profound it bordered on weakness. He stood, the book tumbling to the floor with a soft thud, unnoticed. He moved towards her, his steps measured, each one a deliberate step closer to the precipice of their shared desire.

She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent a jolt of heat through his veins. “Did you doubt me, Oldrin?” she murmured, her voice a silken caress that echoed the very essence of her allure. She closed the distance between them, the space shrinking, the air crackling with unspoken words, with a history of shared glances and stolen moments. He could feel the warmth radiating from her, smell the faint, sweet fragrance of her skin, a scent that was uniquely hers and that he had come to crave above all else. His hand, almost of its own accord, reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against her arm. The contact sent a tremor through him, a raw, immediate response that made his jaw tighten. He longed to pull her into his arms, to bury his face in her hair, to feel the press of her body against his. But the lingering formality, the subtle dance they always performed before succumbing, held him in check.

“Never,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion. “But the anticipation…” He let the sentence trail off, his blue eyes locking with hers, conveying a universe of unspoken desire. He saw the understanding bloom in her gaze, the mirroring of his own longing. She reached up, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light yet searing. “You are too good for this, Oldrin,” she whispered, her thumb brushing across his lips. “This… furtiveness.” He caught her hand, his grip firm but gentle, pulling it closer to his chest, pressing it against the frantic beat of his heart. “And yet,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “I find myself wanting nothing else.” He leaned in, his gaze never leaving hers, his breath mingling with hers. The library, the books, the world outside – it all faded into insignificance. There was only her, and him, and the precipice they stood on.

The kiss, when it finally happened, was a revelation. It was a slow, languid exploration, a desperate claiming, a testament to the weeks of unspoken yearning that had built between them. Her lips were soft, yielding, then insistent, mirroring the growing urgency in his own. He tasted her, savored her, his hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. He felt the rise and fall of her chest against his, the frantic rhythm of her heart matching his own. His tongue tangled with hers, a dance of passion and discovery, each movement a deepening of their connection. He moaned softly, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, and felt her respond with a muffled sigh against his mouth. The heat between them was palpable, a tangible force that threatened to consume them both. He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“We shouldn’t…” she whispered, though her eyes betrayed a different desire. Her hand cupped his cheek, her fingers splayed against his skin, a grounding touch in the swirling vortex of his emotions. “But I want to,” he confessed, the words torn from his very soul. “More than anything.” He looked at her, truly looked at her, taking in the flushed beauty of her face, the slight tremor in her lips, the undeniable invitation in her eyes. He knew, in that moment, that he was lost, irrevocably lost, to her. His fingers traced the delicate line of her collarbone, then dipped lower, finding the soft swell of her breast beneath the fabric of her dress. He felt her arch into his touch, a soft gasp escaping her lips. His thumb brushed over the hardened peak, eliciting a responsive shiver that ran through her entire body. The subtle movement of her hips against his was a silent, potent plea that he readily answered.

He lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. She didn’t protest, didn’t pull away. Instead, she buried her face in the crook of his neck, her fingers tangling in his blonde hair. He carried her deeper into the library, past the towering shelves, towards a secluded alcove where a plush velvet chaise lounge sat bathed in the last vestiges of sunlight. He laid her down gently, her eyes never leaving his, a mixture of vulnerability and fierce desire swirling within them. He knelt beside her, his gaze raking over her with an intensity that made her blush deepen. He slowly, deliberately, began to unbutton her dress, each movement a deliberate act of unveiling, of adoration. The fabric parted, revealing the creamy expanse of her skin, the tantalizing swell of her generous breasts. They were perfect, impossibly perfect, their size and shape a testament to nature’s artistry. He leaned closer, his lips finding the curve of her neck, then trailing lower, his breath a warm caress against her skin. He inhaled deeply, savoring her scent, a potent aphrodisiac.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, her fingers digging in slightly as he continued his exploration. He reached the buttons of her dress at her chest, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of her décolletage. With a soft sigh, he drew the fabric aside, exposing her full, magnificent breasts. They were a breathtaking sight, heavy and full, with rosy nipples that seemed to beckon him. He looked at them, his blue eyes filled with a reverence that mirrored the depth of his feelings. “You are… exquisite,” he breathed, the word a reverent whisper. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against the tender skin of her cleavage, then moving to find a taut nipple. He circled it with his tongue, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. He felt her hands clench tighter in his hair, a silent signal of her overwhelming pleasure. He teased it with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth, suckling gently. Her back arched, a low moan escaping her lips. “Oldrin…” she cried out, her voice thick with emotion. He continued his ministrations, his tongue exploring every inch, his mouth a testament to his growing desire. He felt the delicious, subtle tightening of her muscles around his lips, the tremor that ran through her as she neared her climax.

He pulled away, his own arousal a burning, insistent ache. He stood, his gaze still fixed on her, on the exquisite tableau she presented. Her dress was now completely undone, pooled around her hips, leaving her upper body exposed. He reached for his own jacket, his movements quickening with his mounting passion. He shed it, then his vest, revealing the taut muscles of his chest. He unbuttoned his shirt, the fabric falling away to reveal his own bare torso. He wanted to be as bare as she was, to feel the full press of her body against his. He unbuckled his belt, his trousers following swiftly. He stood before her, naked and potent, his enormous cock throbbing with an almost unbearable need. He looked at her, his blue eyes blazing with a desire that mirrored the fire in her own.

“I have wanted this,” he confessed, his voice raw, “for so long.” He reached for her again, his hands tracing the curves of her body, his fingers brushing against the delicate skin of her thighs. He felt her tremble beneath his touch, her breathing growing shallower. He knelt before her once more, his gaze fixed on the dark curls that hinted at the treasures hidden beneath. He parted her thighs gently, his fingers sliding between them, exploring the soft, yielding flesh. She moaned, her hips arching, pressing against his touch. He could feel the slick wetness that coated his fingers, a testament to her own arousal. He licked his fingers, tasting her, the flavor of her intoxicating. He looked up at her, his blue eyes filled with a fierce, possessive love.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice husky. He lowered his head, his tongue finding her clitoris. He teased it, circled it, laved it with his tongue, feeling her respond with a gasp, a shudder, a tightening of her muscles. He felt her fingers rake through his blonde hair, her nails digging into his scalp. She cried out his name, a breathless, choked sound that sent a thrill through him. He continued his ministrations, his tongue working its magic, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. He felt her body arching, her moans becoming louder, more insistent. And then, with a final, desperate cry, she came, her body convulsing around him. He held her, stroking her, until the tremors subsided and her breathing returned to normal.

He looked up at her, his own arousal reaching an almost unbearable peak. He had never felt so alive, so connected to another human being. He shifted his position, his huge cock now pressing against her thighs. He looked into her eyes, seeking permission, understanding, and finding it in abundance. He carefully guided his immense cock towards her entrance, feeling the slick wetness of her wetness. He eased himself in, slowly, deliberately, feeling the satisfying resistance, then the yielding. He was inside her, filling her, a perfect fit that felt as if it were meant to be. She moaned, her body welcoming him, her legs tightening around his waist. He began to move, slowly at first, then picking up the pace, their bodies grinding together in a rhythm as old as time. He watched her face, the pleasure contorting her features, her eyes closed, her head thrown back. He felt her coming again, her body clenching around him, and then, with a roar of his own, he came as well, burying his massive cock deep inside her, his seed a testament to their shared passion.

Afterwards, they lay tangled together on the chaise, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths slowly returning to normal. The library was now bathed in the soft glow of twilight, a warm, comforting darkness settling around them. He held her close, his lips brushing against her temple. He felt a profound sense of peace, a quiet contentment that had eluded him for so long. He had found something precious, something rare, in the depths of her passion and the sincerity of her love. He looked down at her, her eyes now open, gazing up at him with a soft, lingering tenderness. He saw his own love reflected in their depths. “I love you,” he whispered, the words a simple, heartfelt declaration. She smiled, a genuine, radiant smile, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “And I you, Oldrin,” she replied, her voice a soft echo of the passion they had just shared. The quiet of the library was now filled with the gentle rhythm of their breathing, a testament to the love and desire that had found its perfect, exquisite expression.