Heirot

Havitharon wasn't sure exactly what happened after she pinned him. His mind went white with the sensation of her pressing down on him. Her voice felt like hands sliding all over his body. Her grip on his horns both settled and aroused him until it hurt to breathe. It was too much. It was so good. He felt her tightening, bearing down on his length and throbbing around it. When she orgasmed, her cry tore a matching cry from his own lips. "Please," he shuddered, unsure if he was begging her to stop or keep going. She clenched down on him as she came, and it dragged his own climax from him without any hope of restraint. He pressed hard inside her, pulsing relentlessly.

"Please..." Was he begging for mercy? She couldn't tell. She could barely register the sound of his voice over the consuming fire burning its way through her, an endless heat filling her. She rode him, even after cresting the wave of bliss, hungry and desperate and greedy, watching him writhe and squirm and buck beneath her.

Havi huffed out moaning gasps as he struggled for more contact. He pressed as deep as he could, knotting feverishly inside her. As the knot tightened, his muscles reflexively gave out. He collapsed under her, still twitching with each wave of release. Soft curses spilled from his throat.

Tenara stiffened at the feel of him growing and tightening again inside her. This time, she wasn't unnerved or confused by the sensation. She relished it, closing her eyes and exhaling a ragged breath. She sank over him, melting against his belly and chest, her skin slick with sweat, and listened to the alien language spilling out of his mouth, a musical cascade of words she assumed to be words of adoration. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his heart thumping in his chest.

He stretched his arms around her narrow back in a cherishing embrace. "I got swept away again. Was I too rough?" he asked, his feverish fingertips stroking her shoulderblades.

"Hmm?" Tenara hummed. His words reached her ears, fuzzy and half-formed in her mind. It took her several seconds to parse them through the fog. "Never," she whispered. "Not at all. I like the sweeping away." She snuggled into him, enjoying the feel of his fingers on her back. "You're going to put me to sleep doing that."

She couldn't sleep. She needed to get up, to go and meet her father and her aunt and find out how to get free of the sword. Tenara clenched her eyes. Her hands tightened against his sides. She didn't want to be free of him. Could she separate from the sword and still keep him? Would she be able to see him if he turned incorporeal? Would she be able to make him real again, if he did? She willed the thoughts away, out of her mind so she could enjoy this.

Enjoy him.

Buried inside, knotted and tight. Hers. He was her Ivis.

"My flame," she mused wearily, pressing a kiss to his chest. A little nap wouldn't hurt.

'My flame'

His hands slowed on her back, stroking her gently. She was real. Powerful and vulnerable, patient and kind. She claimed him. This pure, beautiful creature claimed him. With no ulterior motive, no hope of producing children, no need of his power.

"If you're weary, then sleep. You didn't rest well last night," he murmured. Fever-warm fingers drifted through her hair and brushed her scalp. He didn't care if he was on the tile floor. He could have slept on a pile of discarded armor and still been happy with her on top of him.

He knew the chances of staying with her were slim. He hadn't explained enough for her to understand the role she'd taken on for him, much less hold her to it. He'd seen the kind of man she was attracted to; a male of her own species whose looks were nearly opposite his in every way. This kindness wasn't something she could give him forever. Even if it was, her family would find a way to relieve her of him soon, and it would likely leave her better off.

The back of his mind had already realized he was going to lose her. But he could have this peace, even if it was just for a little while.

Tenara nodded against him and drifted off with the still new sensation of being knotted to Havitharon, and the rightness of it.

She was much too weary to care about the fact she was naked, face-down on an impossibly beautiful creature, in the middle of the bathroom floor.

She woke an hour later, fuzzy numb in her mind and limbs. She didn’t feel Havitharon’s knot anymore, but felt the aftermath of his size in the distinct, dull ache between her legs.

She groaned, lifting her head slightly and wiping her hand across her face. She looked at him, drowsy and content, wanting to stay with him all day. Unfortunately, she knew she’d pressed her luck already with time, and before long, someone would come looking for her.

"I need to go," she said softly, tracing circles on his skin. "Just for a little while. You could come with me. In fact, you probably should. It concerns you, too."

"I will come," he said. He rolled to the side, sliding gently out of her, and helped her sit up. He knew without looking that without the knot, she would need... several towels. The thought filled him with odd sense of pleasure. "I will help you clean." He stroked her cheek as he got to his feet. A moment later, he returned to her side and lifted her gently to the bed, where he cleaned her with attentive thoroughness. Any sense of embarrassment at the situation was completely lost on him. Caring for her body was an instinct, and his instincts would rule him for the next few days. At least now that she'd tamed his initial blaze, he wouldn't be tempted to attack anything else that came near him.

He kissed her stomach when he was done, then stood before he got too tempted to kiss more than that. "I should clean myself and dress," he said. He shifted his weight, but paused. He got caught in her gaze, and suddenly felt reluctant to leave her presence without her instructing it. It was out of character, but he could accept it. It was natural. The time to avoid this instinct to attend to his Yurivis had passed the moment he welcomed her claim on him. "I will be but a minute," he said, unsure who he was trying to persuade.

She smiled at him, her cheeks still burning crimson from his thurough wipe-down. She had known he was giving a lot of himself, but even she had been surprised at just how much. It was a good thing they were different species or the fact he was half-sword. Tenara suspected that since he didn’t require food or drink to live, he was likely not able to help create life. It was actually a really comforting thought.

“Go on. Wash up. I’ll just… wait here.” She slipped into her nightgown, and grabbed up the robe she’d left on the end of the bed the night before. “We should probably stop by my room so I can get changed…”

He was quick. When he returned to her, he was wearing the clothes he'd been given the day before. "Okay," he obliged, opening the door for her. When the guards standing outside whirled on him, he was taken off guard. He went still and managed not to throw a punch.

"Where is the princess?" Demanded one of them, barring his path.

Havi took a step back, drawing the door wider so they could see her.

---------

Vlad tried not to droop over the side of Atul's throne as he heard out the reports from each of their advisors. He hadn't seen his daughter in weeks, and he was eager to be done with his meeting. Besides that, Lelana was loose in the palace with unstructured time on her hands, and that rarely worked out for the best. It cast a whole new perspective on what Sinead must have experienced keeping him as her pet monster all those years. The thought made him smirk, confusing the advisor giving his report.

"Kingsoul?"

"Nothing. Continue." Maybe he'd be lucky and be finished here before lunch.

Tenara drew the robe tight around her as the guard’s gaze fell on her. It wasn’t that she was indecent, but she felt exposed. Not to mention she was walking like at least one of her legs was asleep—and was hoping she’d walk that away by the time they reached her room.

“All in one piece,” Tenara said, waving the sword at her side. She grabbed Havitharon by his sleeve. “We have a meeting with my parents.”

“He’s not supposed to leave,” someone said.

“Well, he is,” Tenara replied. “I’ve got a handle on him.” Her cheeks burned. “Anyway, off we go.” She pulled Havitharon with her, out into the hall.

Havi obliged her, following at her side until they reached her rooms. A few servants passed them in the halls. They bowed deeply to Tenara and stared at Havitharon. Their curiosity proved word of his presence has spread in the palace. It was possible they didn't even have business in this wing, but we taking turns trying to get a peek at their princess and her strange attache.

Havi barely noticed their presence. His mind was beginning to work through the options that might lie before them today. They reached Tenara's room quickly and let themselves in, only to be greeted by a stranger flopped casually on Tenara's bed. "Hello, niece," Lelana smiled, a bit deviously, at them. "I was getting bored."

“Aunt Lelana,” Tenara said, her breath coming in a surprised rush. “I thought you’d be pestering Daddy.”

“I did, but he said he was too ‘busy’ to entertain me,” she said, waving her hand in the air to show her skepticism of his claim. “So, I came here, to snuggle. But, you weren’t here, so I went and found your mother, and, since she absolutely adores me, we had a lovely conversation that started with ‘get’ and ended with ‘out’.” Lelana stretched, rising from the bed. She was beautifully wrapped in a bright red sheer and chiffon gown, a compliment to her dark hair and eyes. “So this is him?” Lelana mused, waltzing around Havitharon as if she were inspecting a piece of art.

“Havitharon,” Tenara introduced. “This is my Aunt.”

“The Barely Tolerated Black Sheep of the Family,” Lelana said with a wicked grin. Instead of trying to shake his hand, Lelana reached out to give his bicep a squeeze, as if to test he was solid.

“I wouldn’t…” Tenara warned.

Havi's muscles went taut, perhaps exactly as Lelana wanted them to. The sudden stiffness in his frame made him even taller. He was actually quite familiar with this kind of physical assessment on his own world. He didn't care for it, but he didn't hate it enough to upset Lelana. Yet.

"Lelana," he addressed her, his entire countenance stripped of any sign of emotion. He wondered what she meant about being a black sheep. "What is a sheep?" he asked seriously.