The Princess and the Blade

[Soran Nightblade]

"That's my good Ivis."

The sound of the word on her tongue made his stomach do a flip. And her grip on his horn... he shuddered and dove firmer against her, lapping in hungry circles. His fingers grazed up her legs and spread her wide so his lips could seal over her. Pleasure spread through him in a rush as he engulfed her relentlessly. He moaned, the deep sound buzzing against her.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara’s back arched, body coiling tight. Heat flooded through her and she felt entirely too embarrassed that she was so close to the edge already, hating her magic for the blessing and curse it was. Then, he started purring or buzzing—she wasn’t really sure—and she came apart. Her hand tightened around him almost painfully, a soft cry tearing from her lips as she quaked against his touch.

Her trembling legs folded around him, and she melted into his bed.

As the last threads of her magic bled away, Tenara fought the familiar bubble of uncertainty and embarrassment that sometimes came after—when she didn’t know if it was his want of her or her magic’s intoxicating nature that drove him to comply with her request.

Tenara reached down and pulled at the layers and layers of skirts to free him, a soft apology ready to dance from her lips.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi raised an arm over his head so the fabric could slide away without catching at his horns. He honestly would have been happy to stay right where he was, but he was anxious to see her face. When he was free of her dress, his eyes sought hers. He looked breathless and flushed from excitement, although he sobered a notch as he attempted to assess her mood. "What concerns you?" he asked with a light touch against her knee.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara's cheeks darkened even more at the look on his face, and the fact he could sense her worry. He'd once described her magic as a drug... and even after being with him for weeks, she still felt so uncertain if it was her magic, his need for a Yurivis, or their feelings for each other drawing them together. She reached out and stroked down his horn, into his hair, and then along his face, tracing his jaw. Her thumb brushed the wetness on his lips. She mulled the words dancing around in her head, still trying to catch her breath.

Her body buzzed at his touch, and she wanted more. She wanted his bliss, to watch him shatter apart beneath her touch, but she also needed to know. "It's not the magic, is it? Or not just the magic. You would tell me if... if you didn't want this—if you didn't want me, right?"

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi held her gaze carefully as he rose to sit next to her on the bed. "I don't know if it's a comfort or not, but I've thought about it too," he said, his palm steady on her thigh. "Am I under a spell? Why don't I want to resist? Where do these instincts come from, and should I trust them? Why am I so ready to accept something I've always hated?"

He dropped his gaze to the sword on the table beside them. "But you know, I've been hit with enchantments before. I've been enticed with offers of physical safety. I've even had drug-induced ruts with no relief to turn to but those trapped in my company. And yet, the attempts never succeeded. Not once did those techniques actually work." He looked into her eyes again. "I don't things it's a stretch of arrogance to say that I'm not easily coerced when it comes to these matters."

He touched his hand lightly to her cheek. "So, please hold your head high as my Yurivis, and have faith that my trust in you was duly earned."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara’s throat grew tight and her eyes watered a little. Perhaps it was the hormones, the clash of sensations—aftershocks of bliss coupled by relief from his words. She pressed her cheek into his large hand, closing her eyes at the warmth of his touch.

After a minute, she took his hand from her cheek and kissed his palm, then his wrist. Then, she shifted, leaning up to kiss his lips, tasting herself there. The world shifted unnaturally again, tilting one way while her head went the other. She swayed and grabbed his shoulders to steady herself.

A soft laugh bubbled out of her as she righted herself. The vertigo would pass, and then the headache would come, but until then…

“You’re turn,” she said against his lips, hands going to his belt. “I didn’t stay for dessert so you’ll have to do.”

—-

Tenara drew back to see his face better, not knowing a bead of blood edged her nose. Then, she felt its warmth, and paused her attentions to Havi’s belt to reach up. She touched the wetness, and drew her fingers away, seeing bright red against warm skin. Her gaze fluttered up to meet Havitharon’s eyes.

If he knew making him whole was hurting her in some way, he wouldn’t want her to do it. That’s why, for the most part, she’d hid what was happening—the vertigo, the headaches. They were easy enough to bury in sleep, which she often wanted after using magic and making love. This—she couldn’t bury a bloody nose so easily and wasn’t certain how to explain it away.

“The air is… dry,” she said, tilting her head back and covering her nose to stifle the flow. But tilting her head tilted the world with it and Tenara bent in the direction vertigo demanded, which was unfortunately backwards off the bed.

[Soran Nightblade]

"Tenara!" Havitharon lurched forward and caught her wrist just in time. He hauled her back upright and grasped her firmly at both shoulders in front of him. "This is a desert. The air is always dry," he frowned as he studied her dilated eyes and her bleeding nose. His thoughts were already racing for possible causes. "Did you accept drinks from anyone outside your family's table tonight?"

[Emora Deen]

Tenara settled next to him, leaning into the strong grip of his hands. She shook her head, frowning. "No," she said. Come to think of it, she hadn't had much time to drink or eat anything with how many people had wanted her attention. She dabbed at her nose with her fingers. Elias had once said he didn't need a drink to drug her... But no, she was certain this was related to the sword. "I'm probably just tired after using magic. Sometimes it hits like a ton of bricks..."

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi scooped her across his lap like she weighed nothing and helped her lean backwards in the crook of his arm. He pinched the bridge of her nose gently with the other hand, tilting her head back. It was a practiced movement, as if he'd done it for others before. "Your magic does this? 'Sometimes'?"

[Emora Deen]

Tenara leaned back in his arms, closing her eyes as he guided her because the world wobbled again at the tilting of her head. But, once settled, she felt secure in his guiding touch. "Well, not the nosebleeding. That's new," she murmured, sounding nasally with his pressure on her nose. She appraised his face and the concerned knit of his brow. "I'll be okay. Don't worry. Just need... to lie down."

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi didn't look ready to set her down, not by a long shot. "This is new? Are you saying it gets worse each time?"

[Emora Deen]

Tenara hesitated in answering. She appraised him again, shifting slightly in his arms. "No," she said, and hated lying to him so much that she shrunk in his arms and meekly murmured, "Yes... I mean, not until just recently." She tried to sit up, to put her hand on his chest. "It's okay, though. I'm fine. I just have to rest a little more afterward. That's all."

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi didn't force her to stay still, but he wasn't thrilled about letting her up. He had to release his light pinch on her nose as she moved, which left him frowning at the renewed trickle of blood as she faced him and placed her hand on his chest.

"It's okay, though. I'm fine. I just have to rest a little more afterward. That's all," she said.

He watched her for a long moment, displeasure warring with concern in his eyes. "May I help you rest, then?"

[Emora Deen]

Tenara smoothed her hand over the silk coat he wore before glancing down at her dress. Wrong move. The world tipped, and she bent with it, melting against Havi's chest. She plugged her nose with her fingers before the blood dripped onto her gown or his coat. A pang splintered through her head and she flinched at the ache, smoothing her cheek against him. The headache was coming on a little sooner than normal too...

Rest. She just needed rest but resting in this dress—mostly the corset—would be impossible.

After a minute, her free hand fumbled out from where it was wedged between them and felt along the back of her dress for the lacing on her gown. "Will you help me out of this dress? Grab my nightgown or one of your shirts?”

[Soran Nightblade]

"Stay horizontal, please," he spoke quietly as he guided her onto her side. He began navigating the lacing at the back of her dress with patient focus. He wanted to ask more questions. A half dozen sat ready to spill from his lips, but he didn't want her to irritate her nosebleed further. She looked like she was in pain.

"Had I known, I would not have pushed your body so," he murmured as he finally loosened the lacing enough to slide the dress from her hips. "I'll fetch your garment... try to remain still." He stepped away, and returned a minute later with a nightrobe and towels. After placing the robe over her to keep her warm, he sat beside her and began cleaning her face and chin with a wetted towel. The silence felt large between them. Everything that happened to her tonight, from the corrupt dance partners to her sudden illness, seemed to trace back to him and the sword. He gently replaced her fingers with small shreds of cloth and wiped her fingertips clean one by one. When he reached the last finger, he just held it quietly and gazed at it, as if dazed.