Movement No. 38
Yasmeena
“Marry me,” she says, and shock moves through my body, crashing like ocean waves against a dark shore.
I laugh. I don’t mean to, but it comes out anyway, broken and misplaced. A single tear falls down her cheek, and it undoes me. This wasn’t how I pictured this moment for us, and everything seems to move with glacial speed. I’m suspended in time, my thoughts a messy whirlwind of the last few months.
Growing up, I was never the type to dream of wedding dresses or rings, too busy fighting every day to survive, but something changed when I met Tempest. My animosity gradually turned to admiration, and I found myself wanting those things.
The vows and the kiss and the promise of forever, it all sounded nice when the concept was attached to her, but then she put an end to it all. Packed up her things and left, taking my hopes and dreams with her.
“It was your idea to tell everyone the engagement was a farce. You ended things. You fucking left me,” I say, my voice coming out more raw than I intended.
“I thought it was what was best for you.”
I lean into her, pressing my forehead into hers. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I know that now, but I thought it would be selfish to ask you to come with me and give up everything you’ve worked for,” she says, her voice merely a whisper.
I pull back, my brows furrowing. “Why would I have to give anything up? I’m assuming you’re not asking me to sweep the den and live as a housewife. I would still be a spy for The Devil’s Masquerade, still be the representative of the felion.”
“Of course, and we could even still perform in The Sinner’s Circus from time to time. In fact, I think I’d really like to,” she says, fidgeting nervously with her hands.
“So then what would I be giving up?” I can’t comprehend where she got this thought from, but I need to scrub it from her mind.
She shrugs, and for a minute I think she’s not going to answer.
Her eyes look tired. “I spent my entire life thinking I was a mistake—that I was unlovable. I think deep down, those same thoughts still creep into the forefront of my mind. I know you can achieve greatness, and I was afraid of ruining that. I didn’t want to be the cause of more destruction. ”
I place my hands on her hipbones and pull her back into me, kissing her with more passion than I’ve ever done anything. “The greatest thing in my life is you,” I whisper against her lips.
“I want to do it all over. No political schemes, no planned exits. I want it messy and terrifying and real,” she says. “I want this to be real.”
I feel every emotion possible all at once. Rage over the way her father was able to plant such seeds of doubt and insecurity into her mind. Grief over the childhoods we deserved versus the ones we got. Joy over this declaration of love. Hope at this promise of a future together.
“I know we started this on a bed of lies, but I’m willing to work every day of my life to earn you—to deserve you,” Tempest says, and I lean in and kiss her again.
“Do you remember when we swore not to kiss?” I ask as tears stream down both our faces.
“Yes,” she laughs, the sound like music to my ears. “We were so arrogant.”
Tempest picks me up and places me onto the bed, before she climbs in, wrapping her arms around me. I’m enveloped in her citrusy scent, and a deep sense of desire threads its way through my core.
Moving, I shift one thigh over Tempest’s body, and then the other, straddling her. We just stare into each other’s eyes for a moment before my mouth crashes into hers, rough and needy. The familiar slide of her rough tongue against mine drives me wild, and I ache to touch her. Taste her.
We’ve wasted so much time denying our feelings. I don’t want to waste a second longer.
Our lips part long enough for me to speak, voice heady and breathless. “Do you want me to touch you, princess?”
She nods, her eyes tracking down my body. “Please.”
Tempest sits up, wrapping her arms around me so she can unzip my dress, and I shimmy out of the tight lycra fabric. I lift her beautiful gown up over her head, until her soft breasts and strong abs are bare for me.
I’m practically salivating at the sight.
Her nipples are pink and hard, begging to be touched, and I pull one into my mouth, rolling it with my tongue. Tempest moans, bucking her hips as I sweep my tongue across her chest and suck on the other rosy bud.
Continuing down the length of her body, I press gentle kisses across the muscular planes of her abdomen, moving further down with each one.
She arches into my touch as I kiss her inner thigh and pull off her lace panties,
“Fuck,” I let out at the sight of her, wet and whimpering.
Tempest didn’t want to let me touch her before because she was afraid of becoming too attached.
Now that we’ve laid it all out on the table, I’m going to work to ensure she’s too attached. I plan on ruining her for anyone else. I want to satisfy her so well she can’t even touch herself without thinking of me.
My fingers glide past neatly-trimmed silver hair, and gently part her, running my tongue across every surface of her glistening cunt.
I look up and see Yasmeena’s golden eyes are full of fire, and I can’t help but watch as they roll back in her head. My tongue moves with expert precision, from entrance to clit and back again.
“Yas,” she moans. “Yasmeena. More, please.”
“Anything you want, princess,” I say, before swirling my tongue against her center.
I slide two fingers inside her, and the noises that come from her sweet cunt are delicious and depraved.
I’ve spent so many nights wanting to touch myself to the thought of this exact moment, unable to because she was resting in the bed beside me.
The taste of her, the sounds she’d make, the way her pretty pink pussy would look splayed out like this for me.
She’s everything I’ve ever dreamt of and more.
It’s like she was made for me.
My fingers hook up into her, and I thrust them in and out in quick succession. I watch as her hands grip the headboard as she moans in pleasure.
There’s a part of me that hates that this is the first time I’ve gotten to taste her. It’s the part of me that wishes we could go back in time, so we didn’t start our story with lies and manipulation.
But there’s another part of me, a stronger part, that is so grateful for the trials we’ve gone through, because they made us stronger. This love didn’t come easily, and it makes me savor every moment.
I never want to take Tempest, or this life we’ve worked so hard to build, for granted.
Tempest keens as I feverishly suck on her clit, my fingers pumping, and it causes her hips to roll and legs to quiver. I groan against her cunt as she comes apart, breaking at the seams, her body pulsing.
I slide my fingers from her, feeling breathless and giddy.
We lie together, a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin, and she kisses my forehead.
Magic hums at my fingertips, and I take water from the air, making it into cute little shapes.
A dolphin, a harlequin hat, a heart. Tempest laughs before her magic must sing too, and she waves her hands in the air, freezing the figures, creating tiny ice cubes that fall down beside us.
“Do you love me?” she asks, and I can hear the whisper of anxiety in her tone.
“I do,” I answer honestly, not having to think twice.
I love her more than life itself.
Her voice takes on a dramatic, silly tone. “Do you swear it? On the moons themselves?” It’s a defense mechanism, trying to cover up how deeply she feels, and I see right through it.
I shake my head. “I don’t swear on the moons, because the moons change. They wax and wane, shifting through phases. My love for you will never change. It is constant,” I say, playing her game.
She kisses me, our eyes locked on one another, and her voice drops to a whisper. “That was really cute and poetic and all, but you’re still a nuisance.”
“How am I a nuisance?”
“Because you still haven’t answered my question from earlier tonight,” she says and tickles me.
I scream-laugh, my muscles kicking in instinct. “What? What question?!”
Tempest stops, and pushes a strand of my dark hair out of my face. “Will you marry me?”
Oh. Though it’s not something I ever dreamed of for myself, it’s all I can hope for now. Even when we got engaged the first time, I always thought I’d find an out before the wedding, whether it was the treaty or something else.
Marriage and relationships weren’t something meant for me. They only lead to heartbreak, which was a luxury I couldn’t afford, at least not when I lived on Ira. I see now just how wrong I was.
When you love someone, not choosing them feels a hundred times worse than the potential for heartbreak, and I’m tired of hurting. I plan on choosing her every single day, for the rest of my life.
Following my own advice, I smile against her lips. “Yes.”
Let love free you.