The Princess and the Blade

[Emora Deen]

Tenara looked down at the robe and the horn and blushed. His soft curse caught her attention, and her gaze focused back on him. "Do you not want me to? Wear the horn, I mean?" she asked. She dropped her hands at her sides to keep from fidgeting with it, and curled them in the velvet at her thighs. "Or do you want your robe back? Its a bit damp..."

[Soran Nightblade]

"Yes... I want the robe back," Havi said, heat melting into his voice. "But this," his fingers ghosted over her skin beside the pendant. He didn't finish his sentence, but instead let the breath fall from him in a tight rush. He shook his head as he realized he'd nearly moaned. "Strange... it's far too soon for me to be in rut," he wondered aloud. Maybe the story Felicity read to him had gotten into his head more than he realized.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara titled her face up to him, shivering ever so slightly at the feel of his fingers grazing across her damp skin. Then, he mentioned his rut and her thighs tightened together at the thought. She wanted it. To be locked with him. Bound to him. Tangled together endlessly.

Tenara pulled the sash around her waist and shifted the velvet from her shoulders, letting the robe glide down until it hooked on her elbows. Then, she gathered it into her arms and held it out. Not quite at him, but off to the side for him to take if he wished. She stood bared to him, her skin ghosting with small goosebumps in the cool winter air. "Is there anything else you want?" she asked softly, her gaze locking on his lips and wishing they were on hers, on her neck, her chest, her...

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi almost didn't have the presence of mind to accept the robe she was trying to hand him. The sight of her sent a throb through his lower half. "May I.... dry your hair?"

[Emora Deen]

Tenara bit her lip to keep from smiling too big at Havitharon’s adorable request. It certainly wasn’t the one she thought he would make when asking for his robe back. She nodded and slowly turned so he had access to her hair. She had taken little care to dry it, and without the robe to soak up the water, it dripped trails down her spine.

[Soran Nightblade]

The robe fell, forgotten, beside Havitharon's feet. His gaze draped over her like warm silk as he touched her shoulders and guided backward, until the backs of her knees touched the chair behind her. He pushed on gently until she had to sit back. His knee pressed between her legs on the cushion. Then he leaned forward and ran his tongue over a bead of water that nestled in the crook of her collarbone. His lips closed over the spot, sucking at her skin. When he was satisfied, he moved to a wet rivulet of hair that clung to the side of her breast. He closed his mouth over the wet strands and sucked at it slowly. His tongue lapped at the liquid dripping from the tips of her hair.

He sighed and continued lower, following the rivulets of water over the curves of her skin.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara’s head spun at the feel of his mouth on her skin. Hardly hair drying, but who was she to complain. She angled her face up, her head back, allowing him access to her collarbone. She melted back into the cushioned chair as his mouth danced lower, tasting all the water trailing her skin and then her hair.

She tilted her face down, watching as he drank the water in.

And then he moved lower, and her skin jumped where he touched. A day ago, she thought he’d never want her this way again, and now he was tracing tendrils of water with that mouth… A fluttering sigh left her lips, and she reached out to brush her hand along his head and hair. The tips of her fingers danced along the base of his horn but she was scared to touch it—scared she wasn’t allowed to anymore.

Her hips shifted against the cushion, her body rising eagerly to meet his mouth.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi's breath grew ragged against her skin as he felt her body curving to meet him, seeking him out. Moreover, he could smell the slickness between her legs. The air was thick with the scent of her desire for him, and he suddenly wanted to drink much more than her hair. "I think you need drying here, too," he breathed, blowing hot air over her belly as he knelt in front of her chair. His arms looped beneath her thighs and guided them wide. He inhaled her scent and pressed his tongue where it desperately wanted to be, tasting her wetness.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara sucked in a breath, her hands curling over the arms of the chair and gripping tight. She watched him with unfiltered adoration as his mouth devoured her. Her breath turned quick, restless. “That’s going to have the opposite effect of drying,” she huffed before a soft, pleased moan slipped out. She curled a hand bashfully over her mouth and she melted further into the chair.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi looked up at her breathless appearance as he circled his tongue over her clit. Her damp hair was clinging to her skin, and his horn rested between her breasts as she panted. He closed his lips around her center and rubbed his tongue over her, sucking hard. "Haa... Tenara..." he moaned. His low voice thrummed against her skin. "Forgive me... I know it's not what you wanted, but... the sight of it... is driving me crazy..."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara was almost too distracted by his mouth to understand what he meant, and then she understood where his gaze had locked. Tenara’s hand slipped away from her mouth, fingers tracing the gold chain to the black sliver of horn. “This?”

The pendant? He liked to see her wearing a part of him? She liked wearing it. It felt wrong to like such a thing, since he was harmed by it but… It felt less wrong to see how it lit lust like an inferno in his eyes.

She took the pendent in her fingers and tilted the point of the horn towards her skin. She traced the curve of her breast with it, drawing featherlight circles back to the opposite one. “Hah…” She trembled at the sensations burning through her. She traced a teasing line up her chest, neck, and chin, and pressed the point to the soft, roundness of her bottom lip.

Sheepish worry and the flush of desire tinted her cheeks crimson. What if he didn’t approve of what she’d done with his sacrifice? What if that wasn’t what he meant??

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi winced as his hard-on tried the limits of the carefully tailored trousers Laurius's team had provided. "I'm not sure explaining will make any sense... but it's a bit like you're claiming me," he muttered. "For decades, those black rings symbolized my rebellion, and now my Yurivis is wearing them like jewelry while watching me do this." He thrust his tongue inside of her and groaned.

[Emora Deen]

“Ohh!” Tenara arched into the chair, gripping the pendent so tight the point dug into her palm. Her other hand reached down and curled around one of his horns, pulling his face closer to her center, begging for deeper contact. “Havi…”

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi closed his eyes and sucked at her opening, then stretched himself inside with a firm, flicking movement, as deep as his tongue would let him. He swirled the pad of his thumb against the small bud of flesh just above as his tongue swept into her again and again.

[Emora Deen]

She came unmoored. Pleasure built until it shattered. She quaked around his tongue with a feirce moan, her trembling legs folding in over his shoulders and neck, as if to lock him to the task. Her hips rocked to the rhythm he set until the crashing wave of bliss ebbed and she stilled beneath his touch, stroking appreciative fingers through his hair.

“That mouth,” she murmured, tracing her skin with the pendant again because she knew how much he liked it now. “Do you like the way I taste, Havi?”