11. A Piece Of Heaven
Theos
Theos was restless. Haera had been asleep for longer than he was comfortable with, and he was torn. A new dahy was dawning over Vanzantia, the first hour of Mynphes approaching steadily. Cradled in his arms, arms still thrown around his neck in a tight squeeze, he was lost in deep satiated peace.
Touching her was fuel for the universe. Stars were burning brighter. Volcanoes were running so hot that the mortals who lived in the shadow of their great peaks were praying for mercy. Hot springs were healing the elderly in the human nations. The ocean warmed and surged, its currents flying along under the surface at hundreds of miles per houyra. Every force of creation and destruction in the universe was surging and swelling. His soul was on fire. He was on fire. He never wanted to let go.
He was stretched out atop her far too small bed, her thighs on either side of his. Every contour of her body settled against him as though she’d been carved to match his own. He could feel every curve and dip as though the layers of clothing between them had disappeared. It was an excruciating sort of pleasure. One that burned his soul with the ravenous desire for more.
Her weight felt good on him. Her five-feet five inches was miniscule compared to his seven-foot four frame, and her body was round, perfect for him to hold onto. Her hips and thighs were wide and curvy, and her waist dipped in, the perfect place for him to sink his grip into, and eventually his teeth. She was heavier than she looked, especially now that she was completely unconscious; no longer trying to make herself smaller than she was. He loved the way she felt on his chest, pressing into him with her whole weight. He sighed next to her ear, where his head was nestled into the crook of her neck. Perfect . She was perfect .
Her scent was doing things to his brain too. He was slipping into the seductive beckoning of sleep himself. He wanted to close his eyes and drift away, but he kept them open, attention trained on the fireplace he could see in the living room through the open bedroom door. Sleep for the gods was a purely optional affair. Entirely detached from their well-being, they were the opposite of mortals, who craved rest. Still, whenever he was completely relaxed, he felt himself begin to desire sleep. Haera needed his attention at all times, the same way the rest of the universe did.
The desire to trace every inch of her body with his hands was overwhelming. It throbbed through his veins, sending aches deep into his muscles. Demanding he touch her – that he knew every curve. He kept them locked firmly in place around her, pressing her into his chest even more. He wanted to hold her forever. He wanted to keep her safe. He wanted to make endless love to her. But he needed to undress her and check her body for bruises. He would settle for going at her pace. As long as they were moving towards that goal.
Though she had consented to being touched earlier, he’d sensed hesitance in her body. The resounding ‘no’ had pulsed to the surface of her skin as soon as his thumbs made contact with her belly. And then he’d shuddered from the sheer overwhelm of her softness. The quiet mewling noises she’d made had pierced into his heart like a plea for more. And yet, her muscles had gone rigid when his hands gripped at her waist. It was a puzzle that he hadn’t solved just yet. She wanted to be touched, but she was afraid of being touched. She was afraid to be seen. She was afraid to say what she wanted. She was afraid to admit that she was afraid. She was afraid .
These were all things he needed to uncover. All things he needed to heal and undo. Even if she did not want him to.
***
She was waking up. The bond tremored as awareness returned to her body, though she hadn’t yet stirred in his arms. Lowering his head into the crook of her neck, he breathed deeply, savoring the final moments of her unconscious complete relaxation in his arms. When she was back to full awareness, he knew she’d pull away; retreat into the shell of protection she’d so carefully wound around herself. And he would let her retreat into it, until she recognized that with him, she had no need for it.
A tiny sound when she stretched, like a moan, echoed into his ear and went straight into his cock. His eyes snapped shut, body stiffening so as not to react. The small, breathless sounds she made as her awareness deepened were sending him over the edge. It’d been hard enough that her full weight had been pressed into him. He’d found it torturously erotic, and had spent most of his time concentrating on not waking her up with the pressure of his arousal urging up at her thighs. Now, her quick sharp breaths and dainty sneezes were doing him in .
As he’d anticipated, when she was fully awake, she straightened. She settled in his lap, and he suppressed his arousal with a harsh internal focusing of his energy. One hand coming up, she pushed the curls away from her face, sniffling and sneezing. An image of him bringing her back to awareness with pants and moans entered his mind without permission. Gods.
─── ?? ? ?? ───
Haera
Theos’ attention was on her, as she expected it to be. The muscles in his jaw rolled as he tightened them. The freckles that danced across his nose and cheeks were differing shades of brown that seemed to bleed deep into his skin – like they were pools of colour, fuelled by something inside him. His attention never shifted, not even when her eyes were helplessly drawn to his lips. Why was he so attractive? It was hardly fair. Rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm to get the sleepiness out, she reached out with the other without thinking, fisting it in Theos’ shirt and holding on to him that way as she tried to get her bearings.
She appreciated that he hadn’t said anything. She hated being forced to speak as soon as she woke up. It was one of the things she’d despised about pack life. Waking up in the pack house after group huddles meant that once one werewolf was awake, everyone else was forced to wake up. For whatever reason, they completely lacked consideration for the fact that other werewolves were still asleep. Even then, it was better than being alone. She blinked away the moisture that wanted to form in her eyes from the sharpness of that thought.
She stared at Theos’ chest, brows pulling together. She’d just had the best sleep she had had in syrises – since she’d been expelled from Aegon and had to settle into living life all on her own. Werewolves were pack animals by nature. Whenever a member was separated from their home pack, the anguish of loneliness and the constant fear of attack was a burden they couldn’t get rid of. Living life permanently on the outskirts meant she’d grown to keep an eye on her own back. It meant she always slept feather lightly in case of attack – that she kept her awareness trained in five directions while walking down every street in case she needed to make a split-segund decision to run. She needed to know where the danger was, where the easiest escape route led, and gauge the distance between where she was and where she needed to run to, all in one thought. She’d learned those skills through many life-changing errors. For each failure, she had paid with her blood. Always with her blood.
Sleeping in Theos’ arms was…different. She had slipped into cold welcoming rest without even a thought for her safety. Reckless move, but she’d managed to get deep, healing sleep for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He was watching her, waiting for her to break the silence. Perhaps not so reckless when the attention of a god was fixed on her with such tenderness and…restraint?
Cheeks burning and shame filling her chest despite her best attempts to squash the feelings, she scooted forward in his lap until her hips and thighs fully straddled him. His hands settled around her thighs on each side, holding her in place gently. Scanning his face for any sign that he would rather she didn’t touch him, she slowly leaned forward, pressing her chest up against his. He offered her no resistance. In his eyes, she found only complete acceptance of her touch.
Sliding her arms around him once more, she buried her face in his neck. Slowly, his hands slid up her thighs to hold her at her waist, before climbing up her back to tighten around her, pulling her even closer to him.
“It’s good to have you awake again, little star,” he murmured into her ear. “I missed you. ”
She smiled against his neck. His hands moved around her back in soothing circles.
“I’m hopeful that you slept well?” he whispered.
She nodded. All her muscles were tensing one by one as she tried desperately not to press her face closer and sniff every inch of his skin. Fate’s sakes . Everything about him was a drug. She’d thought the roses were potent – that they were the pinnacle of otherworldly masculinity. He smelled better . Instead of just holding her attention, now, his scent wound around her heart and tugged, begging her to lower all her walls. Cooing, tremoring through the bond and inching into all her cells in desperate plea. His hands settled on her hips in a firm grip, and shame blossomed in her chest when she had to stop herself from bucking against him in some desperate banal plea. Pressing her lids together tightly, she pulled her head away, sitting upright.
“I did,” she finally managed to respond now that her mind wasn’t so clouded with his presence.
He watched her for a moment, the gentlest smile on his lips. He nodded. She nodded back, and a peaceful silence stretched between them, their gazes locked. His hair was pushed away from his face now, and it looked like he’d run his hands through it a lot while she’d been sleeping .
Realization jolted through her, souring the relaxation in her gut. Suddenly, she was painfully aware of their position. Her eyes lowered to her clasped hands. He must want to get her off of him. He was probably just being polite by letting her touch him. Why had she asked him to hold her? He probably wanted to leave or something. Gods, why was she so clingy?
She moved to slide onto the bed, but his hold on her hips tightened. When her movements stilled again, his forceful hold eased, his thumbs once again rubbing circles on her waist. What did that mean? She tried to ease herself away from his hold again with the same result. An immediate restriction on her movements, followed by soothing circles. She swallowed hard under his intense gaze, struggling with her thoughts.
Her glance up at him confirmed her fears. She could detect the knowing look in his patient gaze. Much worse, was the resolute determination in his eyes not to say anything first. She considered her options. If she lunged away to the right hard enough, suddenly enough, she might break free from his grasp long enough to scramble to her feet. Then, he wouldn’t have to deal with her clinginess anymore.
The slow, sensual movement of his hands solidified into a vice grip right then, and her heart tripped all over itself .
“I’m having a hard time believing you’re not reading my thoughts. How do you keep doing that?” she complained.
He smiled easily. Everything was so painfully easy with him. “You were calculating how far away you could get from me, likely if you did some form of sudden jerking. I saw it in the way you glanced down at my hands on your thighs, then at the bed and the passage next to it.”
She frowned. Were her thoughts truly so plain to discern from her features? She had glanced down at his hands for not even a segund.
“What you didn’t consider in your calculations,” he continued, tone hardening and amusement fading. “Was that if you did , by some stroke of once in a lifetime luck, manage to wrench yourself free from my grip, your ‘freedom’ would last for only a segund. Because when I lunge for you, I’ll make sure you end up underneath me, caged, with nowhere else to go except to face those thoughts you’re running away from.”
Her joints swelled with the confusing impulse to test his theory. His gaze narrowed a fraction.
“If I was reading your thoughts, this is what it would feel like. It would only feel like this the first time, until the connection is made between us,” he commented quietly, eyes roving over her face to catch the first sign that she was feeling it .
A wave of dizziness washed over her, followed by a sickening sensation of pressing – something nudging past the resistance of her thoughts. It felt far too intrusive. Far too familiar. Panic seared her senses.
“No, stop, please.”
Her arms flew up in defence, covering her face. The mental pressure stopped immediately, and her arms slowly lowered. One slid across her chest to press over her heart, and the other unconsciously knotted itself into his shirt again.
“Thank you,” he murmured quietly, eyes searching her face.
Her eyes darted up to him as she tried to get her breathing under control again.
“Thank you for telling me to stop , little star.”
She nodded, confused, but relieved. After a series of long deep breaths, she built up the courage to ask the question she had been trying to run from. There was no way to escape it. “Don’t you want me to…get off?”
Theos’ brows knitted slowly as he considered her question.
“You don’t think I’m too…heavy? Or that I’ve been touching you too much?” She whispered, embarrassed that she was even asking the question aloud. Of course he did. She hurried to clarify, words spilling out. “I can just get off and sit next to you if that would be better –”
His hands slid up her sides to pull her flush against his chest again.
“I love it when you’re like this. Feeling all of your weight on top of me is a piece of heaven.”