Chapter 3 #4
The sense memory – of that quiet, impossible morning on Creche Athal's ship, the feeling of his body beneath mine, all around mine, how much my heart had hurt and how fiercely I loved him knowing all the while that he was the cause of so much of my suffering, that he was imperfect and flawed and still mine – came over me in a sudden wash.
I felt the throb in my chest, felt my pulse quicken.
We haven't talked yet, he'd said then, his tongue swiping an apology across my skin – hot and slick while his hips moved against mine.
And I supposed I hadn't let him talk to me at any great length since.
We'd spoken a bit on the justiciar's ship about what it meant for me to be declared.
He'd argued with me about my contract. He'd looked so eager, so full of yearning and guilt, when I said I'd help him and help his creche.
Crestfallen when he realized that what I wanted was a work contract.
And yet –
"Is it because I won't accept your apology yet?" I asked, flat.
"No, Sashen," said Araxis, insistent. "No.
I – While it is true that I would not wish to give you the caldathess unless we have reconciled, it is – I have not earned the right to bestow it on you.
I have not yet atoned. I may never." He said it like it was essential that I understood, although I didn't.
I sighed, loud, and hauled off the lacy top, rifling through the rest of the closet for a high-necked shirt I tugged on before sliding the overlayer back in place. "There are three options, as I see them," I said, voice tight with irritation. This was so stupid, and he'd just –
He hadn't explained or told me it might be an issue. He'd left me to wander around, ignorant. I couldn't keep doing that. I hated not knowing.
"Either you give me the mark," I said as I turned back to look at him, "or I stay covered up or you come up with a reasonable cover story.
Feel free to blame it on me being a weird human or whatever.
Say whatever you need to if you want. But it's going to be one of those three, because I'm here for you, Araxis. "
And then, fully aware that the sinnenthi in the meeting room was waiting on me to make an appearance and we were taking a long time here in our bedroom, I strode forward and caught the front of Araxis's lovely black jacket.
"I'm going to kiss you now," I said, "so that Nishel thinks we're late because you've been tending to me.
I don't want anyone else thinking that you're anything less than a perfect sinnenthi. "
Araxis had one single, wide-eyed moment to look shocked and for his cheeks to silver.
I had about a half-moment to wonder if this was a good idea, but I was so angry and lonely and I missed him so much that the rush of all of that obliterated anything like good sense, and I reached out and shoved him like I meant it.
He was strong enough that I was certain he could have resisted the push, but instead, Araxis let himself stumble backwards, his back hitting the wall, and I stepped in close and pressed my mouth against his – hard and unyielding.
The contact was electric, a jolt of starfire crackling along the surface of my skin; a lovely sound tore from Araxis's throat, one of his hands curving around my waist and pulling me in – all instinct, reflex.
His lips slid open against mine, and I really and truly couldn't help myself: I licked into his mouth, devouring him, my hands sliding to hold his face with hard fingers as I shoved my leg between his thighs, pinning him in place with the weight of my hips against him.
It wasn't a gentle kiss; it felt, almost, like I was being a bit mean about it. But the heat that flared, violent and bright, inside of my body at the taste of his mouth, the smell of his skin, the way his fingers spasmed against my waist – hungry –
His hips rocked against mine, a sharp, jagged breath catching in his throat and I bit at the plush flesh of his lower lip, a rush of heady power surging through me as he made a sound I could only describe as a whimper, desperate and needy.
Distantly, I was aware of the rumble of conversation in the meeting room, and I didn't care. I didn't.
Except –
I had to. That was why I was here.
I pulled away, took a half step back, and huffed out a hard breath.
I flicked a hand up, brushing a wave of hair from my face as I tried to ignore the sudden throbbing beneath my skin, the way I could feel my pulse in every corner of my body, alive and hungry.
"Alright," I said, a little hoarse and warm and uneasy, all at the same time.
"Nishel of Creche Miras wanted to meet your virra.
Let's make sure he leaves with some stories. "
Araxis stared at me, his jacket a little rumpled – and for how brief that kiss had been, he looked dazed.
He looked absolutely ruined. I tilted my head, shifting away so that I couldn’t keep staring, because the longer I did, the longer I let myself be transfixed by the sight of him, the more I wanted to step in and kiss him again.
But I couldn't.
Instead, I stepped in and smoothed the panels of his jacket, and I tucked myself against his side as we made our way into the meeting room, where I would continue to play the part of perfect virra to his perfect sinnenthi – all the while wondering if he was really changing at all.