Arya's mouth closes around her other nipple, and Aru's fingers still on her clit as a sharp gasp escapes her. His tongue works the stiffened peak in slow, deliberate circles, pulling thin streams of milk from her with each draw of his cheeks. Her hand tightens in his hair, nails scraping his scalp, and the gold chains between her breasts catch the dim light as her chest heaves. She comes apart beneath his mouth — her thighs clenching, her back arching off the soaked sheets, a broken moan tearing from her throat as the orgasm ripples through her in waves. He keeps suckling through it, greedy and relentless, until her body goes limp and her grip on his hair loosens.

The room settles into the sound of their ragged breathing.