Scar | Wuthering Waves

The wind, usually a chaotic dancer through the desolate plains of Solitarium, seemed to hold its breath. Scar, clad in his familiar, dark attire that clung to his muscular frame like a second skin, stood silhouetted against the dying embers of the sun. His crimson eyes, usually sharp and observant, were softened by a rare, introspective glow. He was waiting. Not for a client, not for an enemy, but for Jianxin. The thought sent a familiar tremor through his chest, a sensation he’d long since learned to embrace rather than suppress.

He leaned against the rough-hewn stone of a ruined structure, the silence broken only by the distant chirping of nocturnal insects and the soft rustle of his own movements. Every shadow seemed to hold a promise, every whisper of the wind a prelude. He traced the intricate patterns on his gloves with a thumb, a nervous habit that resurfaced whenever his carefully constructed composure threatened to unravel. Jianxin. The name itself was a melody in his mind, a stark contrast to the harsh realities he typically navigated. He remembered their first real conversation, outside the usual professional politeness, the way her quiet strength resonated with his own hidden vulnerabilities. It was a pull, an undeniable magnetism that had grown from cautious respect to something far deeper, far more intoxicating.

He could feel her presence before he saw her, a subtle shift in the air, a delicate fragrance that was uniquely hers, a blend of incense and something wild, like mountain blossoms after a storm. Then she appeared, emerging from the twilight like a moonlit phantom. Her white robes flowed around her, a beacon of purity in the encroaching darkness, yet her eyes, when they met his, held a depth that mirrored his own unspoken desires. A small, knowing smile played on her lips, a silent acknowledgment of the shared anticipation that hung between them.

“Scar,” she greeted, her voice a low, resonant hum that vibrated through him. She approached slowly, each step deliberate, drawing his gaze with an almost hypnotic grace. The air crackled with unspoken words, with the weight of shared glances and tentative touches that had led them to this precipice. He pushed himself off the stone, his body tensing with a mixture of nerves and burgeoning arousal. He found himself studying the elegant curve of her neck, the way her dark hair cascaded down her back, the subtle swell of her chest beneath the fabric of her robes. It was a dangerous fascination, one that threatened to consume him entirely.

“Jianxin,” he replied, his voice rougher than intended. He held out a hand, palm open, an invitation he’d rehearsed a thousand times in his mind. She placed her slender fingers into his, her touch sending a jolt of heat up his arm. Her skin was cool, smooth, a perfect counterpoint to his own calloused hands. As their fingers intertwined, a silent vow passed between them, a promise of shared vulnerability and unbridled passion. He could feel the tremor in her hand, a mirror of his own racing heart. This was not about contracts or missions; this was about two souls finding solace, and something far more primal, in each other's embrace.

They walked in comfortable silence, the path they chose leading them away from the ruins, towards a secluded clearing bathed in the soft glow of the rising moon. The air grew thicker, charged with an electric current. Scar’s gaze kept drifting to Jianxin, to the elegant sway of her hips, the way the moonlight kissed the contours of her face. He could almost taste her, a sweet, forbidden fruit that he craved with an intensity that was both thrilling and terrifying. He found himself fantasizing, his thoughts growing bolder, more explicit. He imagined her hands, usually so steady and precise in combat, tracing the lines of his body, her touch igniting a firestorm within him. He imagined the feel of her lips, the soft pressure, the deepening hunger. And he imagined, with a visceral thrill, the sheer, overwhelming power of what he could offer her in return.

Jianxin, sensing his unspoken thoughts, turned to him, her eyes alight with a knowing spark. “You seem… preoccupied, Scar.” Her voice was a silken whisper, laced with amusement and a hint of anticipation. He met her gaze, his crimson eyes darkening with desire. He could feel the blood pounding in his veins, a rhythmic drumming that echoed the unspoken desire in his heart. He wanted to shed the pretense, the carefully crafted facade of indifference he so often wore. He wanted to be completely, utterly vulnerable with her, to lay bare the raw, untamed longing that simmered beneath his surface.

“Preoccupied with… the impossible,” he admitted, his voice barely a breath. He reached up, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. Her skin was impossibly soft, and the contact sent a wave of heat through him. He could feel her breath hitch, her eyes widening slightly, a testament to the intensity of the moment. He leaned closer, the space between them shrinking, filled with the potent aroma of their mingled breaths, the silent hum of their racing hearts. “With the thought of… exploring the depths of your stillness, Jianxin. Of finding a tempest within your serenity.”

She didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. “And what makes you believe there is no tempest within me, Scar?” Her challenge was a soft invitation, a dare that ignited his resolve. He could feel the desire coiling in his gut, a fierce, almost painful ache. He wanted to unravel her, to peel away the layers of control and discover the raw, untamed passion he suspected lay hidden beneath. He imagined her moans, soft and breathy at first, then building into a crescendo, a testament to the pleasure he would inflict, the ecstasy he would bring forth.

He gently cupped her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her jawline. Her skin was warm, alive beneath his touch. He could feel the subtle tremor that ran through her, a clear indication that he was not the only one consumed by this burgeoning inferno. He lowered his head, his lips hovering mere inches from hers. The world narrowed to this single point, this exquisite, agonizing moment of anticipation. He could feel the heat radiating from her, a silent siren call that drew him in. He wanted to taste her, to explore the delicate sweetness of her mouth, to lose himself in the intoxicating embrace of her. He imagined the feel of her lips parting under his, the soft sighs that would escape her, the way her body would instinctively mold against his.

Then, with a soft sigh, she closed the distance. Their lips met, tentatively at first, a gentle exploration, a delicate dance of discovery. Her lips were soft, yielding, and the kiss deepened with each passing moment, fueled by a desperate hunger that had been simmering for far too long. Scar’s arms wound around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He could feel the incredible warmth of her body against his, the subtle curves of her form pressing into his hardened flesh. A groan rumbled in his chest, a sound of pure, unadulterated need. His tongue met hers, a bold, possessive exploration that elicited a soft whimper from her. He tasted the lingering sweetness of her, the intoxicating essence of her being. He wanted more, so much more. He wanted to feel her skin against his, to peel away the layers of their carefully constructed defenses and plunge into the heart of their shared desire.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with hers, their breaths mingling in a fevered rhythm. His hands roamed her back, his touch growing bolder, more insistent. He felt the elegant curve of her spine beneath his palms, the subtle tremor that ran through her as his touch grew more intimate. He traced the line of her ribs, his fingers teasingly brushing against the soft swell of her breast. She gasped, a soft sound of pleasure that echoed the thrumming desire in his own blood. He pulled back slightly, his crimson eyes devouring her flushed face, her parted lips, her dilated pupils. He saw his own hunger reflected in her gaze, a shared recognition of the tempest that had finally broken free.

“Jianxin,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He lowered his head, his lips finding the delicate hollow of her throat. He felt the rapid beat of her pulse beneath his mouth, a wild drumbeat that mirrored the frenetic pace of his own heart. He kissed her neck, tracing the line of her collarbone, inhaling her intoxicating scent. He wanted to brand her, to leave his mark on her, a testament to the profound connection they shared. He imagined the feel of her trembling against him, her hands tangling in his hair as he explored the most sensitive parts of her body. He imagined the sighs of pleasure that would escape her, the soft moans that would fill the night air.

Her hands, surprisingly strong, cupped his face, her fingers gently caressing his jaw. “Scar,” she murmured, her voice husky with desire. Her eyes, usually so serene, now blazed with an unquenchable fire. She leaned into him, her body pressing against his with a newfound boldness. He could feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against her, a testament to the raw, primal hunger that had taken hold of him. He wanted to claim her, to make her his in every way imaginable. He imagined the sensation of her skin against his, the raw, unadulterated pleasure of their bodies intertwined. He imagined the feeling of her nails digging into his back as he drove deeper, filling her, making her his own.

He pulled her robes open, the moonlight illuminating the pale, smooth skin of her décolletage. Her breasts, full and perfectly formed, spilled out from the loosened fabric. He stared, mesmerized by their beauty, by the delicate pink tips that already hardened with desire. He brought his lips to them, his tongue teasing the already sensitive aureoles. She gasped, her back arching as he suckled gently. Her fingers tightened in his hair, a soft groan escaping her lips. He felt a surge of possessiveness, a deep, primal urge to make her feel every sensation, to drown her in pleasure. He continued his ministrations, his tongue tracing intricate patterns around her nipples, bringing them to a fever pitch. He heard her moans, soft and breathy at first, then growing louder, more insistent, a testament to the exquisite torture he was inflicting. He wanted to hear her cry out his name, to feel her body tremble with the sheer force of her pleasure. He imagined her legs wrapping around his waist, her body clinging to him as he thrust deep within her, filling her completely. He imagined the exquisite friction, the rhythmic pounding, the building crescendo of their shared ecstasy.

He moved lower, his hands sliding down her abdomen, tracing the curve of her hip. He felt the delicate tremor of her skin beneath his touch, the subtle clenching of her muscles. He reached for the fastenings of her undergarments, his fingers fumbling slightly with nerves and anticipation. As the fabric parted, revealing the pristine beauty of her core, a raw, animalistic hunger surged through him. He saw the delicate petals of her femininity, moist and inviting, a stark contrast to the icy control she usually maintained. He knelt before her, his crimson eyes devouring the sight, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He wanted to taste her, to feel the silken texture of her flesh against his tongue, to explore every inch of her exquisitely sensitive core. He imagined her hands on his head, guiding him, urging him on, her moans growing louder, more desperate, as he unleashed his devotion.

With a ragged breath, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against her inner thighs. The scent of her, a potent blend of desire and pure femininity, filled his senses, driving him to the brink. He kissed her lightly, a possessive claim, and then, with a soft sigh, he lowered his head further. He tasted her, a sweet, exquisite nectar that sent a jolt of pure ecstasy through him. Her breath hitched, her legs trembling as his tongue began its intimate exploration. He savored the experience, drawing out each sensation, prolonging the exquisite torture. He felt her squirm beneath him, her soft moans echoing in the night. He moved with deliberate slowness, teasing, caressing, drawing her closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure. He wanted to hear her cry out, to feel her body convulse with the sheer force of her orgasm. He imagined her fingers raking through his hair, her nails digging into his scalp, as he continued his relentless assault, driving her higher and higher, until she shattered in his mouth.

“Scar… please…” she gasped, her voice a broken whisper. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her fingers digging into his flesh as she fought to maintain control. He felt the tremors running through her, the building intensity of her arousal. He increased his pace, his tongue working with a practiced, fervent rhythm. He felt her hips arching towards him, her body desperate for release. Then, with a choked cry, she climaxed. Her body convulsed, a wave of exquisite pleasure washing over her, her moans echoing through the clearing. He held her, letting her feel every tremor, every sensation, until the last vestiges of her orgasm subsided. He felt a profound sense of satisfaction, a deep, possessive joy at having brought her to such heights.

When she finally calmed, her breathing ragged, her eyes still glistening, he looked up at her, his own body thrumming with a primal hunger. He needed to reciprocate, to offer her the same intensity, the same overwhelming pleasure. He rose, his eyes never leaving hers. He felt the undeniable weight of his own arousal, the sheer, imposing size of his cock, a testament to his desire for her. He wanted to show her, to make her understand the depth of his longing. He wanted to feel her gasp in awe, to see the wonder in her eyes as she took him in. He imagined her tentative touch, then her bold embrace, as she accepted the gift he was so eager to give. He imagined the first tentative penetration, the initial friction, the way her body would open to him, welcoming him with a desperate hunger that mirrored his own.

He reached for his own clothes, his movements deliberate, his gaze locked with hers. He shed his tunic, revealing the sculpted physique of his body, his skin glistening in the moonlight. Then, he let his pants fall, revealing the undeniable evidence of his arousal. He saw the intake of her breath, the widening of her eyes, a flicker of awe mixed with a potent surge of desire. He felt a thrill of possessiveness, a deep satisfaction at the sight of her reaction. He stepped closer, his hardened cock pressing against her thigh. He watched as her gaze traveled downwards, her eyes lingering on the impressive length and thickness. He imagined her hesitant touch, then her bolder exploration, her fingers tracing the throbbing veins, her lips parting in silent anticipation.

“Jianxin,” he rasped, his voice thick with raw need. He reached for her hand, guiding her fingers to his aching shaft. She hesitated for a moment, then her touch, surprisingly gentle, began to explore. He felt the warmth of her skin against him, the delicate pressure of her fingers as they traced his contours. A low groan escaped his lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He watched her face, her eyes closed in concentration, a soft flush spreading across her cheeks. He wanted to push her, to urge her on, to see the desire bloom in her eyes. He imagined her lips parting, her tongue tasting him, her breath hitching with each lick, each stroke. He imagined the sheer, overwhelming pleasure that would flood through him as she worshipped him, as she claimed him with her mouth.

Her touch grew bolder, more confident. She wrapped her hand around him, her fingers caressing his length. He felt himself hardening further under her touch, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through him. He watched her, his gaze intense, as she began to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate at first, then growing more confident. He felt the friction, the exquisite sensation of her hand enveloping him, drawing him closer and closer to the edge. He could feel his breath catching in his throat, his body tensing with anticipation. He wanted to pull her close, to feel her lips against his, to taste her again, but he was captivated by the sight of her, by the raw, unleashed passion in her eyes. He imagined her moans growing louder, her body trembling with the building intensity of his pleasure. He imagined her hands on his head, guiding him, urging him on, her breath hot against his skin as he climaxed in her mouth.

“You have no idea…” he breathed, his voice a rough whisper. He guided her hand further, urging her to take more. He wanted to feel her lips, to taste her again, to drive her to a climax that would rival the one she had just given him. He watched as she tentatively parted her lips, her gaze fixed on his. Then, with a soft sigh, she leaned forward, her lips brushing against his shaft. A shiver ran through him, a tremor of anticipation. He felt the soft, yielding pressure of her mouth, the gentle suction that sent waves of pleasure through him. He closed his eyes, surrendering to the sensation, his body arching instinctively. He heard her soft moans, the gentle rhythm of her tongue, the increasing pressure as she took him deeper. He felt himself nearing the edge, the overwhelming tide of pleasure threatening to consume him. He imagined her grip tightening, her tongue working with a feverish intensity, driving him over the brink. He imagined her desperate pleas for him to finish, her body writhing with anticipation as he finally let go, his climax erupting within her mouth.

He pulled back slightly, his body trembling. He looked at her, her lips glistening, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and desire. He saw the raw hunger in her gaze, a mirror of his own. He gently cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. “My turn,” he murmured, his voice husky. He pulled her to her feet, their bodies pressing together, skin against skin. He felt the heat radiating from her, the exquisite softness of her form against his hardened flesh. He wanted to feel her against him, to drive deep within her, to lose himself in the exquisite pleasure of their union. He imagined her legs wrapping around his waist, her body molding against his as he thrust deep within her, filling her completely. He imagined the exquisite friction, the rhythmic pounding, the building crescendo of their shared ecstasy. He imagined her moans growing louder, her body arching against his as he brought her to a shattering climax.

He led her to the soft grass, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over them. He lowered her gently, her pale skin a stark contrast against the dark earth. He knelt before her again, his gaze never leaving her face. He wanted to worship her, to show her the depth of his devotion, the intensity of his desire. He traced the delicate curves of her body with his fingers, his touch reverent, adoring. He kissed her stomach, her hips, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He felt her trembling beneath his touch, her soft moans filling the night air. He wanted to hear her cry out his name, to feel her body convulse with pleasure as he brought her to the brink of ecstasy. He imagined her hands on his head, guiding him, urging him on, her breath hot against his skin as he continued his ministrations. He imagined the sheer, overwhelming pleasure that would flood through him as he drove her higher and higher, until she shattered in his mouth.

He moved lower, his tongue delving into the very core of her being. He felt her gasp, her body arching against his. Her moans grew louder, more insistent, as he continued his relentless assault. He felt the exquisite tension building within her, the desperate need for release. He savored each sensation, prolonging the exquisite torture, drawing out each moment of pleasure. He felt her nails dig into his scalp, her body trembling uncontrollably. Then, with a choked cry, she climaxed. Her body convulsed, a wave of intense pleasure washing over her. He held her, letting her feel every tremor, every sensation, until the last vestiges of her orgasm subsided.

He rose, his own body thrumming with a primal hunger. He wanted to show her, to make her understand the depth of his longing. He wanted to feel her gasp in awe as he claimed her, to see the wonder in her eyes as she accepted the gift he was so eager to give. He stepped closer, his hardened cock pressing against her thigh. He watched as her gaze traveled downwards, her eyes lingering on the impressive length and thickness. He imagined her hesitant touch, then her bolder exploration, her fingers tracing the throbbing veins, her lips parting in silent anticipation. He imagined her hands on his head, guiding him, urging him on, her breath hot against his skin as he climaxed in her mouth.

“Now,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. He guided her hand to his cock, his shaft throbbing under her tentative touch. He felt the warmth of her skin, the delicate pressure of her fingers as they explored his length. A low groan escaped his lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure. He watched her face, her eyes closed in concentration, a soft flush spreading across her cheeks. He wanted to push her, to urge her on, to see the desire bloom in her eyes. He imagined her lips parting, her tongue tasting him, her breath hitching with each lick, each stroke. He imagined the sheer, overwhelming pleasure that would flood through him as she worshipped him, as she claimed him with her mouth. He imagined her grip tightening, her tongue working with a feverish intensity, driving him over the brink. He imagined her desperate pleas for him to finish, her body writhing with anticipation as he finally let go, his climax erupting within her mouth.

He pulled her up, their bodies pressing together, skin against skin. He felt the heat radiating from her, the exquisite softness of her form against his hardened flesh. He wanted to feel her against him, to drive deep within her, to lose himself in the exquisite pleasure of their union. He guided her legs around his waist, her body molding against his as he entered her with a deep, powerful thrust. A gasp escaped her lips as he filled her completely, the exquisite friction sending waves of pleasure through him. He felt her tight embrace, her body clinging to him as he began to move. The rhythm was slow and deliberate at first, a dance of mutual discovery, their bodies finding a natural cadence. He watched her face, her eyes closed, a look of pure bliss on her features. Her moans grew louder, more insistent, as he continued to drive into her, their bodies becoming one. He felt the exquisite pleasure building within him, the overwhelming urge to climax. He pulled back slightly, then plunged deep within her again, a guttural groan escaping his lips. He felt her tighten around him, her body arching against his. The rhythm quickened, their movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. He felt the overwhelming tide of pleasure rising within him, the primal urge to release. He watched her eyes flutter open, her gaze meeting his, a silent communication passing between them. He felt her tighten around him one last time, her body convulsing as he poured himself into her, his climax erupting in a torrent of raw, primal passion. He held her close, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths mingling in the aftermath of their shared ecstasy. The wind, which had held its breath, now sighed softly around them, a gentle lullaby to their intertwined souls. He kissed her forehead, a silent promise of something deeper, something more enduring than the fleeting passion of the night. He knew, with a certainty that resonated through his very being, that this was not an ending, but a profound beginning.