Chapter 22
XXII.
Sleep did not come that night with her mind trying to fit things together in the dark.
By the time the morning peeked through her windows, she found the slumber she had so desperately sought.
She slept the day through and then woke when the sun peeked over the horizon again.
Her guilt for not seeing Baró the day before nagged at her.
She had opened things up and if she could not find sleep because of it, she could only imagine his level of restlessness.
Rivani did not have to imagine for long.
He remained where she had left him, in the solar, not sitting in front of the fire, but curled up on his side, asleep.
At least he could sleep. The great hall remained dark, but she found her way to the kitchens without using one of their precious candles.
She hadn’t had the forethought to put more oil in her lamp.
She fetched water for tea, not knowing if Baró might want any but anticipating it, and grabbed jars of food for them too.
Still sleeping when she returned to the solar, she padded her way around him to set the water over the fire to heat and arranged everything on the low table like she had done so many months ago when he had first accepted her invitation to break his fast with her.
She drank her tea and nibbled dried meat and fruit in silence, curled up on the chaise with the fur cape.
Baró had been wise to disappear during her ovulation.
She stroked the fur, using it as a proxy for the preferred object of her affections.
She respected his disinterest, but she could not keep the sensuous thoughts from her mind.
Baró would be appalled to learn how long she had wanted him, ached with the need of him in a way she had never ached for anyone.
At times, it grew so physically painful that she had to relieve the heated throbbing of her nethers before she could walk straight.
She prayed that he did not notice. He would have to avoid her if he thought she meant to coerce him into an intimate situation.
When she had finished her repast, she fed the fire and she settled herself beside him, stroking the fur of his face. She whispered his name several times, gently trying to rouse him until his eyes fluttered open and his brows pulled down in question.
“Rivani, dost thou need aught?”
His sleepy expression caused stirrings in several unexpected places at once.
“I am cold,” she lied. “May I join you?”
His eyes had already closed again, but he murmured something and opened his arms for her. She finagled her way into his embrace and rested her cheek against his shoulder. With the gentle rhythm of his heart thumping in time to hers, sleep found her almost immediately.
When she couldn’t find him, she jumped.
She stared at the dark ceiling and sighed.
She’d been asleep. Her braid had come undone and her hair lay in tangles.
She pushed herself up and stumbled on almost-awake legs.
Her scarf had disappeared. And she hadn’t been entirely dreaming.
Baró was no longer there to supply warmth.
Rivani wrapped her arms around her body, cold for reasons other than his absence.
What if he woke and did not want her there?
What if he thought it improper and left anyway?
The food she brought for him had not been touched and she worried she had made a right mess of things.
“I apologize,” he said from the doorway. “I did not intend to wake you.”
Rivani collapsed on the chaise. The vague idea that maybe he had been visited again in the night and tried to hide it teased her.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” he assured her as he sat on the edge of the chaise, his legs drawn up together as if trying to make his body not quite as large. “You slept a long time. I had to relieve myself and did not want you to wake in a warm pond.”
She smiled at the crude description but appreciated the sentiment as she had no desire to wake in a warm pond either. She twined her fingers in the ends of her hair.
“Were you alright with me against you?” She bit her bottom lip. Any description of being entwined with him would be inadequate. “I could do that every night,” she said at last. “But I know that touch with you is...” She trailed off, not sure how to describe the abuse he endured.
“Your touch is different from Hers,” he assured her, not needing her to finish her sentence to understand the implication. “You’re gentle. Appreciative. It must sound foolish coming from one such as I, but I feel safe in your arms.”
Grateful that she had not traumatized him with her forwardness, she slid her fingers down his arm to rest on his wrist.
“I will never intentionally hurt you,” she said.
His pulse quickened and in his eyes, relief and something else, something she thought unreciprocated.
“Baró?” She hoped it was not the byproduct of hormones or long-term celibacy. He angled his body towards her, unsure of her question.
“Rivani?”
She abandoned his wrist, stood, and breached the short span between them on the chaise. She sat on it again, sideways to face him, this time so much closer, where, if he permitted it, she could touch him.
“May I?” With his assent, she put her hands on his chest, enjoying the steady quiet thrum of his heartbeat.
Everything physical about him screamed powerful and primal animal.
And yet everything about his bearing asserted that he was still a proud and dignified man.
She ran her hands into the curled fur around his neck and face, letting her thumbs find the velvet fur of his cheeks.
With no expectation or warning for either of them, Rivani gave in to her desires.
Baró gasped when her mouth separated from his, stunned into silence, his lungs searching for air resulting in heavy, exhilarated gasps.
He could taste her when she parted from him, the salt of the meat, the herbs of the tea from her meal.
Words stalled. He wished to do something to renew and prolong this particular activity, but no coherent thoughts presented themselves.
Her hands had not left him, feeling the burn of his cheeks before her hands slid back down to his chest, bearing the weight of her as if she could no longer support herself.
“Why” begged to be asked, but he would not risk her withdrawal for explanation.
He did not need to know why. He needed more of her.
“May I?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Rivani slid her hands down the fur of his chest and crawled into his lap. He put his arms around her and stroked her back as she straddled him on the chaise. She groaned when he engaged his claws, massaging them through her shift.
“I am going to have to request back scratches more regularly,” she said as she arched into his touch.
He tilted his head and peppered kisses along the side of her neck, testing the extent of her permission and feeling like a naughty child indulging in something forbidden.
When she sighed in pleasure, his confidence renewed.
Her hands twined in the fur at the nape of his neck, encouraging him to be closer, to continue, to do more.
She put her face beside his and breathed in his ear.
“Please.” She kissed him again, working her mouth over his temple and cheekbone.
The sensations of this activity were not as foreign to him in the past few centuries as might be expected in his circumstances.
While he had not experienced the physical attentions of someone, She had filled his years with dream encounters where such sweet pleasures became nightmares.
The Magic had kissed him among other things, many times, but those came partnered with teeth, injuries, and restraints so that he could not resist. Those visits heralded violence and pain, mockery and derision, culminating in unwanted sexual events.
Baró never anticipated experiencing this again as a willing participant.
When Baró did not respond to her pleading with enough haste, Rivani coaxed his mouth back to hers time and time again. When tongues engaged, Rivani clung to his body with all the strength in her arms. His mouth welcomed her. After a few moments of impassioned exploration, Rivani pulled away.
He stopped, afraid he had hurt her or done something unwanted or had overstepped an unspoken line.
“Have Y done thee harm?”
She stared at him for a moment, still breathless. Then she laughed.
“Oh, no, Baró, not at all. Your teeth surprised me.” She loosened her grasp on his fur and cupped his face again.
She stroked the short velvet fur of his cheeks with her thumbs.
“You feel so good. You touch me so beautifully.” She stroked his brow.
“And for all the strangeness of your face and body, for as much as I sometimes do not expect it, it is magnificent. I delight in being able to know it, and touch it, and show it the appreciation it deserves. It is wondrous. What a fortunate person I am to know and care for the Fir’Darl, the most impressive god of the Rivani. ”
He cast his eyes downward and bit his lip with a canine, but he still smiled.
“Hast thou completelie lost thy drede of me thanne?”
“You are impressive in a different way now,” she assured him, kissing the tip of his snout.
“You, my Baró, are a force of nature. Just as I might observe a storm to witness the beauty and power of the sky, so I will do with you, knowing that the potential harm is such a small price when given such a rare opportunity. I would not change one thing about you for anything in the world.”
Baró removed his hands from her back and took hers from his face, cupping them within his own as he kissed her palms.