Chapter 19
Klaus carefully rolled Talia beneath him, watching her face for any sign of hesitation. The primitive instincts he thought he'd suppressed were surging to the surface, urging him to claim her, but he had to be sure.
"Are you certain?" His voice was ragged. "We can stop."
"Don't you dare stop." She wrapped her legs around him. "I want this. I want you."
He settled into the cradle of her thighs, the heat of her slick against him. He carefully notched his cock against her small entrance and pressed. Her body resisted at first, fighting to accommodate him, and he stopped.
"Relax," he murmured against her ear. "Breathe."
She took a shuddering breath and the resistance eased.
He slid deeper. She made a soft sound, not quite pain, not quite pleasure, as her tight little channel fluttered around him.
By the Horns he'd never experienced such pleasure, never even dreamed it was possible.
He wanted to move, to drive deeper, but her small teeth were clamped down on her lower list.
"Too much?" he asked.
"N-no. Just give me a minute."
"Should I withdraw?"
"Don't you dare." Despite her protest, she was quivering beneath him.
Remembering what had pleased her, he slid a careful finger between their bodies and found the small nub at the apex of her thighs, hot and swollen.
He stroked it gently and she gasped, her channel convulsing as a flood of wetness coated him.
"Oh. Oh, that's good," she gasped as her legs tightened around his hips. "More."
Keeping his finger on her pleasure spot, he slowly worked his way deeper, burying himself in her warmth. She was tight. So impossibly tight, and he felt every inch of her as he finally slid home. He paused, fully seated inside her, to let her adjust, but she was already wiggling impatiently..
"Move," she gasped. "Please, Klaus, move."
He withdrew slowly and drove in again, establishing a slow, steady rhythm. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, her legs tightening around him.
"More."
He gave her more, faster and deeper, watching her face as pleasure and need and passion washed over her.
She reached up, her hands circling the base of his horns, and his control vanished.
He drove into her with everything he was, everything he had, pouring weeks of suppressed desire and unacknowledged emotion into each thrust.
She met him with equal passion, her hips rising to meet his, her small body taking all he had to give, her breathy little cries mingling with the sound of snow beating against the workshop windows.
"Klaus," she gasped. "Don't stop."
He couldn't have stopped if he'd wanted to, and he didn't want to, not for anything in the universe.
She was everything. Her scent, her taste, the way she moved, the sounds she made—nothing had ever felt this right, this perfect, this inevitable.
This was more than pleasure, more than physical release.
This was connection, belonging, a homecoming he'd never known he needed.
She came apart under him with a soft cry, her body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses, and he followed her over the edge, driving into her one last time and spilling himself into her warmth. His shuddering release seemed to last forever, draining him completely.
When he finally raised his head, he found her watching him, her dark eyes soft and warm. He carefully rolled to the side, pulling her with him so she lay draped across his chest, her head over his heart.
He could hear the snow falling outside. Or at least he thought he could, but perhaps it was just the rush of blood in his ears.
He listened for a moment and decided he could indeed hear the snow, the soft whisper of flakes against the workshop windowpane, the occasional howl of the wind.
He should get up. He should make sure the fire hadn't gone out. He should check on the Nimbus, in the small pen they’d built for him in the corner of the barn
But he couldn't move. Talia’s hair was spread across his chest like a dark river, and the scent of their joining filled the small workshop.
He tightened his arm around her, trying to make this moment last, to hold onto it, but he knew this was temporary.
In just a handful of weeks, the nanobots would finish repairing his ship and then he’d have to leave.
The thought was an unwelcome intrusion, and a cold knot formed in his stomach.
"You're thinking too loud."
He looked down and found her watching him. He could just see the corner of her mouth turn up in the dim lamplight.
"I do not think audibly."
"You're thinking about leaving." Her tone was gentle, not an accusation.
"Yes." No point in denying it. "My duty—"
"Is to your people." She propped herself up on an elbow, the workshop blanket she’d pulled over them pooling at her waist. "I know."
He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I do not want to discuss leaving."
"I didn't say you did." She leaned down and kissed him, a soft, fleeting touch. "I'm just not going to pretend it isn't happening. That wouldn't be fair to either of us."
"Fairness is a subjective construct."
"So you keep telling me." Her smile was sad but genuine. "But it's real enough to me."
He should get up and begin the cleanup of the workshop, to restore order and efficiency.
He should make sure that everything was secure.
He should not be lying naked on a workshop floor with a human female who made him feel both more alive and more inadequate than any battle or training exercise ever had.
But he stayed. He traced the line of her shoulder, followed the curve of her hip.
"You are very quiet," she said, her breath warm against his chest.
"I lack the vocabulary to describe how I feel."
"I know."
"I will have to leave," he said softly. "But until that moment, I am yours. Completely. If you will have me."
Her eyes were bright with tears, but she nodded. "For as long as you're here."
"For as long as I am here," he agreed.
They lay there in comfortable silence, listening to the storm, feeling the gradual return of cold air against heated skin.
"We should check on Theo," she said without moving. "Make sure he's still asleep and not concerned about the storm."
"He is fine. I would hear if he was distressed."
"You have excellent hearing."
"One of several Tandroki advantages." He traced lazy patterns on the silky skin of her hip. "Though I am discovering humans have advantages as well."
"Oh?" She raised her head and peered up at him. "Like what?"
"Emotional capacity. Generosity despite scarcity. The ability to choose connection even when logic suggests otherwise." He cupped her face, feathering his thumb over her bottom lip. "You have taught me that strength manifests in many forms."
"You're getting better at this whole emotion thing."
"I have an excellent teacher." He kissed her gently. "Though I suspect I will require significant additional instruction."
"I think that can be arranged."
The cold was becoming harder to ignore. She shivered, and he instinctively pulled the workshop blankets more snugly around them.
"The storm should pass by morning." He listened to the wind's howl. "The temperature will drop significantly with its departure."
"Another homestead maintenance challenge." She settled more firmly against him, seeking his warmth. "Good thing I have a handy Tandroki warrior to fix things."
"I have created a prioritized list for post-storm assessment."
She laughed. "Of course you have."
"Snow accumulation on the roof will be the primary concern. The structural integrity should be maintained, but excessive weight could cause stress fractures. Additionally, drifts may block external access, requiring excavation."
"So romantic." Her smile was audible in her voice. "Talking about roof integrity after we—"
"Would you prefer a different topic of conversation?"
"I'd prefer to stay warm." She burrowed closer. "And not think about being buried under snow."
His arms tightened around her. "You will not be buried. I will ensure your safety."
"I know." She pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "It's still comforting to hear you say it."
The intimacy of the moment wrapped around him, warm and suffocating in equal measure. He wanted this. He wanted her. But the knowledge of its temporary nature lingered like a shadow at the edge of his awareness.
"Tell me about Tandrok," she said softly, surprising him.
He had shared little about his home world, partially because it was classified military information, and partially because discussing Tandrok felt like discussing a life that no longer seemed to belong to him.
"What specifically would you like to know?"
"Everything. What it looks like, what the cities are like, what people do all day when they're not crashing their ships and being rescued by incompetent frontier women."
"You are not incompetent."
"Humor me." She propped herself up on her elbow again, her expression genuinely curious. "I want to understand where you come from."
He considered how to explain. How to translate the rigid geometry of Tandroki society into terms she could understand.
"Our cities are organized for maximum efficiency. There is no wasted space, no organic development, no... clutter. Our environment is controlled." He nodded at the snow-covered window. “This would never occur.”
"It sounds very sterile."
"Perhaps. As a society, we value discipline and control above all else. We honor our heritage and our bloodlines." He paused. "We do not celebrate your Longest Night. We have few comparable celebrations, although there are a few ceremonial occasions."
Her expression softened. "That sounds lonely."
"The concept of loneliness is illogical. We have purpose and structure." He could hear the defensiveness in his own voice.
"But no joy. No laughter. No... this." She gestured between them, to their tangled limbs and discarded clothes. "Do you have families?"