Heirot

Tenara followed him into the bathroom, watching him shred the fabric of his shirt and stare at the bare space of his chest. Hadn't there been a mark there last night? Wasn't there supposed to be a mark?? His horns were glowing and he looked almost beastly. Then, his hands were on the countertop and it splintered. Tenara jumped, taking a small step back until her shoulder bumped the doorframe. She couldn't be skittish. She knew enough about beasts to know not to run from them, and she'd promised Havitharon she'd help him.

"W-what does that mean?" she asked, easing further into the space. She didn't know why she was asking him that. She already knew. It meant he didn't have his Flame-blocker-thing. He was going to go feral, if he wasn't already there. She took another step forward, coming to stand at his side. Her hand reached forward, fingers trembling just a hair as she placed her hand over his. "What do we do?"

Havitharon held onto the counter like he was going to fall without it. This feeling was one of his worst nightmares. He'd held off his rut all these years so he wouldn't lose himself to these desires or risk running to the wrong person when they struck. And now, he was alone with her. He remembered her words from the night before. That she would never treat him like a Yurivis would. If he forced her into that role, she would resent it. She wouldn't understand.

He looked at her, and the need for her to acknowledge him, to see him as her Ivis, was so deep that he nearly choked on it. She looked afraid. She wanted to run from him, not claim him. "Go outside. Don't...send anybody in. Come back in...three days." Even these simple instructions came at a high cost; his body didn't want to command her. It wanted to be directed, to be used and compelled and treasured.

Tenara appraised him, at the way the words seemed to strain out of him, as if part of him didn’t want her to go. “No,” she said softly but firmly. She wasn’t leaving him to whatever this was.

“Take a deep breath.” She stroked her hand down his arm, trying to soothe him. “Tell me how to help you. I’m here. I’m not leaving. We’re in this together, you know? We’re stuck with each other. You might as well get used to it. To me.”

Her hand on his arm, and her soft words spoken as commands, were like electricity jumping through him. His need strained painfully against the constraints of his pants. He muscles were simultaneously ready to rip someone in half and to collapse before her. "Tenara," he said. He couldn't even think of defying her, now that she'd decreed that she would stay. He dropped to his knees and pressed his head against her hip. His throbbing horns quieted by a fraction, but he was incapable of asking her to do more. How could he ever tell her how to do this? He could barely even form the words as a request, let alone frame them as directions. "Please..." His voice was full of breathless desperation. "My horns..."

Tenara’s hands shot up, away from her sides when he dropped and pressed against her hip. She could feel the heat of him through the thin silk. She glanced up at the ceiling, telling herself to be professional about this. But she remembered every morning conjuring him awake and every morning wanting him.

She cursed herself, and did as he asked, slowly running one testing hand over his horns. Fingers danced along the textured surface, before she took a breath and wrapped her hand around one. He’d said this was the way to help last night, to do as she has done before the bounty hunter. She’d grabbed them, though she didn’t do it as roughly this time.

“Like that?” she asked, and tried not to see this as something naughty. That wasn’t what it was. Right? Why did this feel like it was something that it wasn’t?

A tight grunt cut off in Havitharon's throat as her hand closed around him. Her touch was so torturously gentle, a pleasure magnified through the agony. He coiled his hands around the backs of her thighs and shuddered against her belly. "Yes," he groaned. It was all the answer he could give right now. Everything hurt. Everything in the whole universe was an enemy, except her.

A knock came at the door. "Tenara?" Vlad called through it, respecting the boundary for once. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Tenara swallowed at the sound of Havitharon’s voice, feeling things curl tight low in her belly. The feel of his hands on the back of her thighs made her wish they’d trail between them… She brushed her hand across his horns, hating the way her mind worked. And then her father’s voice appeared like the buzzing of an unwanted fly.

“Fine,” Tenara said, her voice cracking. “Please… just give us a few minutes.” She wasn’t really sure how long this would take, but given how it was going, she didn’t care.

Vlad gave the door a cross look, but didn't force it open. "Come to me when you're out," he sighed. He hoped to god his daughter knew what she was doing in there. But knowing Tenara, if someone tried to hurt his daughter, the whole castle would know. More importantly, he did not want to be left alone to keep Lelana occupied all morning. He sighed again and turned from the door. He was late to the Advisors' meeting, but they were used to that.

Havitharon's breaths rattled in his throat as he barely waited through their exchange. Her voice was like music. He pressed his mouth to her naval, reveling in the scent of her through her clothes. His hands slid higher, cupping under her buttocks, fingertips easing to her inner thighs, threatening to trail higher. He breathed hot air over her belly, and licked her through her clothes. "Tenara," he begged, throbbing.

Tenara’s eyes widened at his hands on her bottom, his mouth on her belly. Oh, dear… Her breath grew thick, her pulse jumping, and her hand on his horn tightened.

He wanted her. At least his body wanted her. Was it mad if she had him—if they had each other? Her father would call her mad. He’d say she was being manipulated—poor young woman with her poor, soft brain.

But she was a woman, one with desire and need and a want—a want to erase the mark of hands and lips and bodies she didn’t know, to have a choice in it. To choose him. To pleasure Havitharon, to be the reason his knees weakened and his breath quickened and why he cried out. To be the reason he burned. To be the fire starter and tamer in one.

She knelt slowly, still keeping her hand wrapped around his horn, stroking gently. Even on her knees, he loomed over her. She felt so much smaller than him. His hands could almost circle her waist, and judging by what he did to the counter, he could break her if he wished. That should have been frightening and it wasn’t. She was broken.

Tenara brushed the back of her bandaged hand against the place on his chest where the mark had been last night and no longer was. Then, she met his eyes, needing to know. “Do you want me, Havitharon?” She stroked his horn, needing to know if it was him or the magic. If it was the magic, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t be what he hated when the spell—when whatever this was—ended.

He was only able to bear having his lips drawn away from her because she was stroking his horns. "Yes. Whatever...you're willing to offer," he managed to say without begging. Nothing in the world mattered except her at the moment. She could pin him down and make him recite maths tables all night, and he felt it might make him come. The intensity of the rutt wasn't a shock to him; it was well known that this was to be expected. What did surprise him was that he wasn't resisting it. It was as if he really wanted a Yurivis, after all these decades of refusing. His distrust was far too deep-seated to overcome just because of the rutt. That meant it was because it was Tenara.

"I want it because it's you. I trust you," he said, leaning into her touch like a big cat.

Tenara's heart melted. He said he didn't trust anyone. Ever. But... for whatever reason, he trusted her now. He trusted her enough for this—to hold her and touch her and place his mouth upon her. She nodded, still holding his horn in her hand as she brought his head down and smoothed her mouth against his. She kissed him tenderly, drinking him in like sweet wine. Then, she gave his horn a gentle brush before she drew her hand away and took hold of his shirt, tearing it the rest of the way open and letting it fall off his arms. Her hands glided over the muscled contours of his chest, down his abs, to the lip of his pants. She took his belt in her hands and drew it off, discarding it into the corner of the bathroom. Then she opened his trousers, hooking her thumbs into the fabric and tugging them down his hips a little. When she had freed him to the cool air, she pressed her hands against his shoulders. "Lie back."

She would have led him to the bed, but she thought the cool marble against his feverish skin would be better.

Havitharon leaned back, buzzing with her gentle command. Even the cool tile against his hypersensitive skin wasn't enough to improve his focus. He felt her working his pants off, pressing him down, and it tore a sound that was equal parts pain, need, and ecstasy. He let her press him to the floor, his lungs heaving for more air than he could possibly get. His body made no mystery of his need for her. He was painfully erect, and larger than would be comfortable for even the most accommodating of women.

Her breath caught at the sight of him, at the size of him. She wondered if women on his world were as big as him, if they were all seven-foot goddesses that could handle such a thing. She stood up over him, staring down at his silver-gray skin against the warm red marble. She slipped the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders and stepped out of it, slipping down to the floor with him, curling near his side.

Normally, she would have covered him with her mouth and tasted him until he begged for mercy, but she remembered how much a fraction of her touch had affected him the last time. She wanted him to feel her around him, or... as much as he could. Tenara pressed kisses to his chest, up to his neck and his cheeks. She rested on an elbow, and curled a hand over one of his horns again, tilting his chin up, looking down into his eyes. Her bandaged hand gingerly reached for one of his and she guided it to the wet heat between her legs. "Help me," she said, wanting him to touch her, to ready her for what he offered.

His universe narrowed to just her body against his. His fingers reached her, exploring lightly along her sensitive skin. He was careful not to let his claws scratch her as he slid slowly, up and down. He leaned up, curling over top of her, and his mouth covered her breast. He moaned against her skin, fingers and tongue swirling. He wanted to do more. He wanted to taste her.

She moaned at the feel of his fingers and lips, the tongue tracing lines on her skin. She wanted his mouth lower, and so Tenara tightened her hold on his horn and guided his head lower. She rolled to her back and parted her legs, her breath quickening as need and desire transformed into a drowning sea.