Archive of Our Own

“What’s wrong, Lue-Reeq?  Hunt marks giving you trouble?”

The man in question looks up from his tankard, a brilliant smile coming to his face the instant his eyes meet yours, but his usual energetic greeting rings hollow tonight.  He attempts to perk himself up when you point questioningly at one of the table’s empty chairs, asking for permission to join him, and he gestures towards it eagerly, invitingly.  You sneak a surreptitious look into his mug as you sit, noting that it’s still well over halfway full, and that (surprisingly, at least for the Lue-Reeq of the past) it’s the sole item on the table, aside from your own tankard, now.  Still--either he’s not even close to drunk, or Cyella’s been keeping him topped off.

Judging by his behavior, it’s the former, not the latter.

He still hasn’t answered your question, but you can see that he’s making one of his ridiculous faces while struggling with that answer, so you don’t press him, content to simply sit in silence and sip at your drink.

“...It’s...nothing, really.  Nothing of import!”

You continue to wait, but when he goes back to fidgeting with his mug, turning it absently in his hands, you decide to prompt him a bit.  He clearly wants to share whatever’s on his mind--needs to, rather than wants to, perhaps--and you’re used to being the person who gives others the gentle but necessary shove they need to start moving forward.  Besides, the two of you had teamed up and succeeded in taking out one of the Cardinal Virtues; whatever it is that he’s hung up on, you’re certain that you can get it sorted out together.

“Even so, it’s clearly weighing on you.  I’m here to listen, if you’ll have me.”

You say it with a friendly smile, but something about your word choice seems to send a startled jolt through the young man sitting beside you, and you catch the way his lips pucker and his eyes drop tellingly to your mouth before he looks down and away again.  You have to ponder his behavior for a moment, but with a reaction like that...  Had a turn of phrase as innocent as ‘have me’ caught him so flat-footed?  You’d said it plainly, with no teasing heat or flirtatious wink or anything of the sort, behaving just as you always have the entire time you’d worked together.  And yet...

Lue-Reeq seems to steel himself as he stares down into the depths of his drink, and he forces a self-deprecating laugh.  “A generous offer, my friend!  You do always seem to be here to listen to me when I need it...though these concerns are decidedly less...serious...than my previous troubles.”

He still can’t seem to bring himself to look at you, but you nod anyway, and then simply wait again, letting him organize his thoughts.  He’s a bit stop-and-start with his story, but you don’t interrupt, simply watching him expectantly, studying the shift of his eyes and the nervous flicker in his ears that belie the light, nonchalant air he's putting on.

“Last night, Cerigg was deep in his cups, and actually managed to convince Granson to drink one also.  Well, part of one.  Taynor was adamantly against such a thing, of course, but Cerigg was already too far gone, so the boys left them to their devices.  Left the Wandering Stairs entirely, actually, telling me to keep an eye on the other two.  Which I did, and quite admirably so!  But...once the boys were safely gone and Miss Cyella was out of earshot, they started talking about their, ah...past experiences with the fairer sex...”  He swallows hard, and you can see the movement in his throat, and then he adds with a hint of strain in his tone, “...In detail.”

You raise an eyebrow, not that you expect him to see it, but though you wait yet again for Lue-Reeq to continue, this time he seems well and truly stuck.

“And?”  You finally can’t help but prompt him.  “Sounds like a pretty normal conversation for people who’ve been generous in their libations.”  A sudden thought strikes you, and you find yourself asking before you really stop to think about it.  “Didn’t you join in?”

Lue-Reeq gives a strangled-sounding cough that you’re fairly certain was intended to be a laugh, and despite how he ducks his head, you can see that his cheeks are burning.  This might just be the first time you’ve ever seen him blush, and you find your gaze lingering longer than you’d expected, though you snap back to the present when he does manage to speak.

“Yes, well, I...found that I hadn’t much to contribute, really.  In fact, I...I may have been somewhat misleading when I intimated the breadth of my own, er...experience.   In truth, it...rather pales in comparison to theirs...”

You blink slowly at that, pausing mid-drink, then lower your tankard back to the table before it ever touches your lips.  “...Wait.”  Looking at him dead on, you lean in, pointedly trying (and failing) to catch his eye, both of which are pointedly turned up and away from you.  You lean one way, then the other, only to have him avert his gaze again both times, so you give up and sit back with an exasperated little sigh.  When you speak, the disbelief on your face is echoed by the disbelief in your tone of voice, which you keep mercifully low--you’re not out to publicly shame him, you just want the truth.  “Do you mean to say that you lived the high life in Eulmore, home of a nightclub like the Beehive, and yet you never-?”

“N-no!”   Lue-Reeq hiss-whispers back at you, and before he can remember not to, he’s meeting your gaze, under which he seems to fold in on himself, even as he desperately scrambles to set the record straight.  So desperate, in fact, that you have to wonder why he cares so much about whether you consider him to be a man or not in that regard.  “I-I did!  I mean, I have!  But...it was just...”

Maintaining steady eye contact is once again a struggle he’s losing, but at least he’s making the attempt this time.  It’s honestly a little endearing, seeing him try so hard to look good in your eyes, literally.

“It...wasn’t anything of particular note.  I was interested and eager, of course, but I always ended up simply...letting it happen.  Additionally, I am fully aware that those women were only there with me because of my father’s money--I’ve no doubts that they were paid handsomely after the fact.  And as for the...encounters themselves...well.  After hearing the tales woven by my companions, I found that I had nothing to boast about.  All of my own experiences seemed dull or outright empty compared to theirs...though I suppose that’s only to be expected.”

That’s when Lue-Reeq finally fails in his struggle completely, his eyes darting between yours then back down to your lips one last time before dropping away entirely.  By now you’ve gotten a fair idea of what’s going on here, and though you think it’s pretty obvious, you also don’t like to presume.  He is of high-class blood, after all; perhaps he’s simply shy of speaking about such things with a lady, or just ashamed at having to admit that he’s clearly nothing special in bed.

Regardless of whether or not either is actually the case, the young hunter forges ahead again: as far as he’s come, as much as he’s already admitted, you’re not surprised that he seems determined to get through the rest of it.

“Cerigg can seem rough around the edges, but he’s so world-wise, so confident and infinitely capable.  The way he talked about his past conquests was nothing short of impressive!  But to be entirely forthright, what was even more impressive than Cerigg’s bawdy tales was...”

You’ve continued to study him steadily, and your interest sharpens as he huffs out a sigh and returns to staring into his tankard...because now you’re certain that there’s something almost wistful in his gaze, a softer sort of yearning.

“...But what Granson had to say was even more...even more.   Everything Granson talked about, the way he described Miss Milinda’s every touch and sigh... It was unseemly for us to listen, I know, for it was unlikely that he would’ve wished to share such intimate details of the past had he been sober, but I couldn’t help it.  It was captivating!   There was such heat and passion... it was truly moving.”

“It was love,” you amend mildly, punctuating your easy statement with a lengthy drink from your mug.  You’re gratified to see Lue-Reeq’s reaction to your comment--he’d finally stopped toying with his tankard and had started to take a drink, only to draw in a sharp breath in the middle of it when you’d said love, his ears standing up straight and his tail fluffing out in way that’s both amusing and somehow satisfying.  Not to mention pretty cute, in the bargain.  You can’t help the smile curving along your lips as you watch him choke and sputter and pull a worn but still elegant-looking lace-and-embroidery-edged handkerchief out of a pocket in that frilly vest-top he always wears, dabbing at his mouth in a hurried but still very proper sort of way.

You suddenly find yourself wondering what he’d look like if he couldn’t maintain that prim and proper appearance any longer.  If he were to be pushed and pressed and teased past any ability to maintain his grasp on any remaining shreds of that carefully-constructed mien of youthful carelessness and genteel respectability.

That curiosity is doubtless part of why you say, once Lue-Reeq has recovered from his coughing fit (though his cheeks still remain a fetching shade of pink):

“...So.  What do you want to do about this?”

This time you’d waited until he wasn’t taking a drink, but even so, the Mystel bounty hunter still sputters a bit, giving a small but noticeable twitch of startlement, slitted eyes going wide as he looks over at you and stammers out, “I-I beg your pardon?”

Begging, hm?  Not yet, you aren’t...no, not yet, you think, but wisely hold back those words, in favor of other far more benign ones.  “As I noted before, it’s clearly weighing on you.  So...what do you want to do about it?”

You put a little extra emphasis on that one word, and from the telling way he looks at you, you know that he’d picked up on it.  Whether or not he’d taken it as a come-on, you’re not quite sure, but the lack of additional color in his cheeks suggests that he hadn’t.

Even so, he bites his lip as he looks across the table at you, then gives a reluctant shake of his head.  “What I want to do...I must confess that I’m not certain of that.”

From the way his eyes dip to your mouth yet again, and this time flick even lower, running down your throat and even briefly grazing over the swell of your breasts, you very much doubt the truth of his statement.  And you decide to call him on it--or rather, you want to determine what it is he wants.  Both from you, and otherwise.  If he’s just self-conscious about speaking of such “vulgar” things with a female friend, or if he’s only looking at you like this because this subject has made him suddenly and perhaps painfully aware that you are, in fact, a woman, then you’ll leave him be about all this and instead offer to let him join you for a hunt to take his mind off your companions’ bawdy banter.  You have absolutely no intention of forcing anything on him that he doesn’t want, or that he isn’t certain that he wants.  But you have to push him a little first to figure that out, one way or another.

Which is why you smile, letting just a shade of mischief enter your voice as you say, “In that case, I might have an idea.”  He blinks at you, clearly interested and just as clearly oblivious as to what your idea might be, so you continue, “How would you feel about...reinstating our partnership for a little while?”

Lue-Reeq blinks again, looking pleased but mystified.  “You know that nothing would give me greater joy than to reform our indomitable duo, and that I have never felt happier or more alive than those sublime days when we worked side by side towards the same lofty end!  But what could such a thing possibly have to do with-”

His words cut off abruptly, his eyes going wider than ever, his mouth dropping open in a silent o of shock as the other shoe finally drops--though in truth, you’d helped him along by propping an elbow on the table and leaning forward, resting your chin in your cupped hand, and then pointedly, playfully tugging at the neckline of your tunic, giving him an increasingly excellent view of your cleavage.  You haven’t stopped smiling at him, but now it’s become more of a wolfish smirk, and your eyes are smoldering and half-lidded; judging by your libidinous expression alone, right now you certainly deserve the friendly moniker of sinner that’s so prevalent here on the First.

The swiftly-rising color in his cheeks indicates that yes, he’s finally understood what you’re suggesting, but once again you test it anyway, and give him a saucy wink.  His jaw snaps shut at that, and he sits up straighter in his chair, his back and shoulders going almost comically stiff, and you can see disbelief, uncertainty, and something very much like eagerness and hope mingling on his face as he stares at you, obviously trying to figure out if you’re serious or if you’re simply having him on and making a playful jest.  You haven’t really been the sort to enjoy a laugh at his expense before, but there’s always a first time, and you know how he thinks well enough (when he does stop to think, anyway) by now to watch those slow-but-steady wheels in his head turning, to see him reasoning that if you are just mocking him, then perhaps he’d deserve it, for daring to think that someone as strong and remarkable as you would have even a passing interest in a spoiled, foppish fool like himself.

And so you pick up where you’d left off to remove that doubt from his mind, and also to make the terms of this arrangement explicit.

“But I do have to warn you, even before you think on this proposal and come to any sort of decision...this partnership can only be temporary, with a clear goal and end in sight, just as before.  You were right about what you said when we last broke off our partnership.  I can’t stay here all the time.  I do have countless other journeys ahead of me, and...I can’t bring you along for most of them.”

Lue-Reeq’s nod is almost more of a twitch, tense and lurching, and he has to clear his throat before answering, still a bit hoarsely, “...I understand.”

To his credit, he does, you can tell that much, otherwise you wouldn’t even consider going through with this.  You’re not out to hurt him, to mess with his head or to break his heart or anything of the sort.  You want to show him a good time, and prove to him that he’s capable of showing you a good time as well.  It’ll be a crash-course in lovemaking, something shared between two trust-bound friends: nothing more, but certainly nothing less.  And so you smile across the table at him, and this time it’s warm instead of heated, pure and simple honest affection rather than bare-faced lust.

“...And yet, I also recall something else you said that day, Lue-Reeq: that our connection wasn’t anything so powerful as that between Renda-Rae and her companions.”

He nods, remembering those words, and while his face is still burning, there’s a light in his bright blue eyes that’s familiar, the usual energy and enthusiasm rising, returning to its proper place, though that bright glimmer of hope from before is there as well.  “A-aye, I do recall saying such.”

“Well then,” you very nearly drawl, your eyes once again dancing with mirth and mischief as you scoop up your tankard, reaching over to tap it lightly against his in a toast to your (potentially) resumed partnership before raising it to your lips again, “Here’s a chance for us to strengthen--or should I say deepen--that connection.”

This time your suggestive line hits the mark dead-center, because once again Lue-Reeq gapes at you a little.  And even though you close your eyes as you pull deeply from your tankard, you can feel his eyes on you, his gaze running over your face, your well-muscled arms, your full breasts--then catching and lingering on the soft line of your throat as you swallow, draining your drink to the very dregs before placing the mug back on the table in front of you with a satisfied sigh.  When you open your eyes, you find that he’s still staring at you, lips slightly parted and slitted eyes blown wide with desire even in the golden lamplight that suffuses the Wandering Stairs.  He gives a little jump on being caught out doing so, ears lying flat and hands turning into cringing paws in front of his chest, and hurriedly goes to take a healthy quaff of his own drink--only to find your hand suddenly resting on his arm, warm and weighty as it gently holds him in place.  He stares down at it for a long moment, as if memorizing the curve of your fingers around his arm, then looks up to meet your gaze, his own having gone a little tentative and uncertain.

“Lue-Reeq.  I don’t know how much you’ve had already, and a little more is all right.  But, if we’re going to do this, you should be sober.  We both should be.  There’s nothing wrong with wanting to take the edge off if you’re nervous, to apply a little liquid courage, as they say, but I still want your head to be clear.”  You give his arm a brief squeeze before pulling your hand back, and he watches it go with something like a pout alongside shades of that wistful expression from earlier before you tilt your head, catching his gaze with your own again.  “This is your choice, and I don’t want you to feel pressured or pushed into it.  You’ve had other people make decisions for you all too often, I’m sure.  I want this to be something you decide on--and that you can throw yourself forward into with your usual energy and excitement.”

You could leave off there, but...no, you can’t.  Sometimes things pop into your head that you probably shouldn’t say, but you generally can’t help saying them anyway.  It’s what you’ve started thinking must be the Azem side of yourself, that teasing, snarky little aspect of your personality that just can’t stand to let the choice opportunity for any sort of verbal deathblow slide past unremarked.

“...Also...despite how it’s often spun in songs, reeling drunkards put in a poor performance as lovers, if they can manage it at all--and I’m certain that you’ll want to perform well for me, won’t you, Reeq?”  He turns an impressive shade of red, even as he gives a decisive nod, but no, you’re still not quite through yet:  “Besides, if you’re three sheets to the wind and muddled with drink, you won’t be able to remember it very well.  And after all, you do want a story worth sharing for the next time Cerigg gets lost in his cups, don’t you?”

That question earns you the most flustered, adorable reaction yet--he pushes himself halfway to his feet, as if tempted to bolt, his ears are nearly flat against his head, and his tail not only fluffs out, but curves in a nearly ridiculous arch.  His face is a picture of wide-eyed alarm, and he drops back into his seat and flails his hands back and forth in front of himself, as if seeking to dispel the very notion just as he would a pungent cloud of smoke.

“I-I could never!  It would be boorish in the extreme, to--to take such liberties as to speak of you in such a way-!”

You wave away his visible panic with a soft laugh, and that calm, low sound from you causes him to go still, freezing in place for a moment with his arms still outstretched before letting them drop back to his sides.

“All right then,” you chuckle, “if you’re truly so concerned about being known as one to kiss and tell...simply fail to mention my name when you share your tale.”  He subsides even more at that, seemingly mollified, at least until you add with a wink, and meaningful punch of one closed fist into an open palm, “Unless, of course, they doubt the truth of your tale about all our indecent exploits.  In which case, you should direct them to me, and I’ll set them straight.”

At that, he’s flustered into silence yet again, and you can’t help but smile even wider.  It really is just too easy, and far too much fun.  But no matter how much you’re enjoying this, you know that it’s time to give him some space and let him make his choice.

A quick dig into one of the many pouches on your person produces the necessary coin to pay for both your drink and his, and you see Lue-Reeq drawing breath to protest, so you hold up a hand, signaling for silence.  He obeys without question, freezing in place before letting that breath hiss back out of his lungs, which is gratifying in more ways than one, and very interesting besides.  Still, you take the time to explain as you lower that hand again, “No, it’s on me this time.  You buy drinks and meals for everyone else often enough, and I know how hard you work for your money now.”  You can feel your expression soften as you look at him across the space between you, really and truly look at him, your gaze full to the brim with happiness and warm acceptance for the bravely flourishing young man sitting so close and yet so far.  “Regardless of what you decide about our renewed partnership, you can allow me to do this much for you, I hope.”

He returns your smile with a matching warmth, and gives a nod of acceptance.  You nod in return, then push yourself up and away from the table, circling around the edge of it as you go…which gives you cause to pass behind him.  You don’t miss that chance to drag your fingertips across his back, from one shoulder to the other, the lightest and most fleeting of touches, but you feel him give an involuntary shiver before craning his neck to look after you.  You let your hand linger in the air above his shoulder for a moment, then carefully let it come to rest there.  You can feel the heat of him through his clothing, the muscles your hand settles on unexpectedly steely and solid, and you suddenly realize just how long it’s been since you touched someone else.  Days, certainly.  Weeks, probably.  Months, mayhap.  You’ve been busy, occupied with other things, and it’s only now that you’ve finally found some time for yourself, to wander a bit and retrace your steps, that you become aware of just how long it’s really been since you’ve done something like this.

Perhaps you need this partnership every bit as much as Lue-Reeq does.

But that isn’t anything you need or want to voice at the moment--you don’t want to sway his decision in any way, after all.  So instead, you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting your hand fall back to your side, leaving him with some quietly-murmured words:

“Think it over.  There’s no rush--I don’t need an answer tonight, if you’re at all unsure.  You can let me know tomorrow, if you like.  And if you simply don’t bring it up at all the next time we meet, that will see the matter closed as well, with no hard feelings.”  You offer him one final smile as you turn to go, calling back a subdued, “Good night, Lue-Reeq,” as you weave your way through tables and chairs, heading for the nearby Pendants and your room there.

You happen to glance back over your shoulder at one point, and find your former hunting partner staring down into his drink, a surprisingly thoughtful frown putting a single line between his eyebrows.

He stays that way for nearly half a bell, though you’re not there to see or know it.  Cyella comes by to collect your empty tankard and the coins you’d left to pay for the drinks, but Lue-Reeq is so deep in thought that he hardly notices her.  Sensing his deep ponderings (such as they are), the Storykeeper leaves him be without interruption.

Finally, the Mystel hunter seems to come to a decision: he gives a determined nod, unfolds his arms from across his chest, and takes up his lukewarm drink with a firm hand.  Tipping it back, he drains it with the same gusto that you’d shown for your own, then sets the empty tankard down and stands to his feet.  Sharp blue eyes shift to the path you’d taken, obviously heading towards the Pendants, and with both resolve and an eager bounce in his stride, Lue-Reeq goes on the hunt once more.

After leaving the Wandering Stairs, you’d retired to your room for a quick bath and a change of clothes--something lighter and more comfortable, easy to relax and sleep in.  It’s also a little bit more frilly and fancy than what you usually wear to bed when you’re alone, though you’ve also covered yourself with a short Hingan-style robe, both to ward off the night’s chill and also just in case.   As hard as he’d appeared to be thinking over your offer, you don’t really expect Lue-Reeq to come calling tonight, but he’s surprised you in that manner before, so there’s a set precedent already.  And supposing he does knock, there’s no sense in spoiling a good surprise before you’re ready...though seeing the look on his face if you did answer the door in nothing but the pretty little outfit you’ve got on under that robe might be worth it.

The open window is letting silvery moonlight spill into the room, and you’d turned down the lamps to enjoy it--brisk as the night air can be, somehow you never get tired of looking up at that expansive indigo starfield that you and the other Scions brought back to the people of Norvrandt.  You’ve just begun to steep some fragrant herbal tea, hoping to help yourself sleep, followed by lighting half a dozen candles here and there, something to set the mood just in case your would-be partner proves to be impulsive, impatient, decisive, or a mix of all three, and decides to take you up on your offer tonight, when you hear a sudden knock.

It’s a firm sound, not hurried but not tentative, and you pause with your head turned towards the door, a darkened match still smoldering in your hand from lighting the last of the candles.  For a moment, you simply stand there and consider your options.  You don’t know for certain that it’s Lue-Reeq--it could be someone else with an important message of some sort, or it could be Ryne, or Lyna, or Gaia, or any of the other hunters from your little group, or even someone from your time spent helping the crafters and gatherers of the Crystalline Mean.  Regardless of who it is, there’s some small part of you that’s tempted not to answer at all, to protect this moment of peace and solitude you’ve found; but the majority of you is humming with curiosity--and, if you’re honest with yourself, not a little desire.  You want it to be Lue-Reeq, you realize.  You want him.   Somewhere along the way of extending that offer of this new sort of partnership, you’d let yourself start to imagine what it might be like.  The things you could show him, the lessons you could teach him, the orders you could give him...

...By the Twelve, you must be more desperate and touch-starved than you’d thought.  Maybe it isn’t Lue-Reeq himself who has you feeling this way though.  Mayhap even if he isn’t the one at the door, if it’s someone else whom you find interesting enough, you might just be tempted to… But no, then again, mayhap not.  You’re certainly not inexperienced, but you do have high standards, and to be honest, you’re not at all sure that you could match Cerigg’s purportedly bawdy tales either...which is perhaps all the more reason for you and Lue-Reeq to work together.

Either way, you should answer the door before whoever it is gives up, or causes a racket loud enough to disturb your neighbors.

There’s no Glynard standing there this time when your door rattles open: just Lue-Reeq himself, looking a great deal more calm and composed than you’d expected.  Then again, he is the sort who doesn’t always seem to take things seriously enough--or at least, that’s the front he puts on, the disposition of an easy-going, cheerfully self-confident fool.

“Sorry to pay you a visit so late at night, but I found that my response to your proposition simply wouldn’t keep.  Or perhaps I merely couldn’t keep it to myself...  Regardless, I remembered my way here from the previous time the barkeep at the Wandering Stairs guided me up to speak with you, and you look to be fully awake and alert, not as though I’ve rousted you from your bed, so no harm done, eh?”

He’s babbling, though he seems at ease, and you just give a small, silent shake of your head and step back, opening the door further to admit him before closing it behind him.  You hesitate over locking it, but eventually decide not to, and when you turn around, you find Lue-Reeq oohing and ahhing over your ‘charming accommodations’ once again, rubbernecking like a tourist on their first visit to Kugane.

“I’m making tea, if you’d like some,” you offer, and gesture to the basket of fruit on the table as well.  You’d recalled Lue-Reeq favoring the apples last time, so you’d requested a whole basket of them at the front desk of the Pendants, wanting to have them on hand just in case.

“Ah, yes!  Tea would be lovely, thank you!” he chirps as he snags one of the offered apples, settling in the same seat he’d chosen before and biting into the shiny red fruit with relish.

You’re both quiet for a time, the room silent aside from the burble and hiss of boiling water, the low roar of the fire in the stove itself, and the crisp crunch of him steadily munching his way through that apple.  It’s a companionable silence, easy rather than awkward or uncomfortable, reminiscent of time spent waiting side by side, alert for any sign of a mark, with nary a word spoken for bells on end.  Thanks to your previous partnership, you know how to simply be still around each other--something that had honestly surprised you, considering how animated and loquacious Lue-Reeq could be.  But though it had taken a period of adjustment, he had soon been able to read the variations in your expression and your subtle motions just as you had read his, quickly understanding the meaning behind an uncertain shifting of weight, a tensing of shoulders, a flickering-quick sideways glance.  He still isn’t as good at reading you as you are at reading him, and everyone else for that matter; but it’s something that you’ve done your whole life, a sort of discourse that you’ve always been aware of, while it’s a largely new language for him.

He has been a fast learner though, you muse to yourself as you pour steaming-hot water from your kettle into a teapot, setting the mesh bag of herbs inside steeping.  It won’t be long now, so you gather the rest of what you’ll need: honey, a spoon, a pair of smooth, lovely earthenware cups you’d bought in the market at Mord Souq.  You use the retrieval of those cups from a nearby cabinet as an excuse to glance over at your visitor now, hoping to read a few lines from the novel of his body language.

And what you find there is more or less what you’d expected.  His guard is lowered completely, here in the dim, candlelit safety of your room, and his trust in you is such that he feels no need to be wary in your presence.  You’ve already seen him at his worst--while at the lowest ebb of his confidence, as well as his most childish and bratty--and yet still you accepted him as a friend and companion.  Correctly, Lue-Reeq seems to sense that there’s nothing he can do while simply being himself that you would find off-putting enough to send him away, nothing that could cause your regard for him to drop if it hasn’t already.

That said, there’s an anxious sort of tension in his movements, a restrained restlessness not unlike the expectant jitters he sometimes got before a hunt.  There’s a heavy amount of determination in him also, in the set of his jaw, the tilt of his chin, the firm way his feet are planted flat on the floor; there’s some undeniable threads of nervousness as well, a slight shake in his hand, the quickness of his breathing, how quickly he’s eating that apple, but you can’t blame him for that, you suppose.  You already know that he has little confidence in himself and even less in his skills as a lover, and here you are, perhaps his first real friend ever aside from the esteemed Miss Olvara, proposing that you share an entirely new level of intimacy and vulnerability.

...When you think of it like that, perhaps you’re actually a little nervous yourself.

But not so much that you can miss the other sentiment he’s carrying with him, this one written in the subtle dusting of color in his cheeks, the softly shy curve of his mouth--and particularly in the wide pupils and admiring gleam in his eyes as he pointedly shifts his gaze from the starshot sky outside your open window over to you.  It’s a very gentle look, full of warmth and affection--and that’s all well and good, but it reminds you that there’s something else you have to really emphasize before this meeting goes beyond an innocent midnight tea party in your private quarters.

He accepts the steaming cup with his usual cheerful gratitude, remarking on the blend of spices, and you take the conversational bait, such as it is.

“It’s nothing fancy.  Mostly ginger and lemongrass, some lemon verbena and rosehips, and a bit of a few other things.  The honey’s probably what makes it feel like it’s really warming you up though--did you want another spoonful?  There’s plenty.”

Lue-Reeq shakes his head, however.  “In my estimation, what you added already has perfectly balanced the various flavors.  Anything more might upset that delicate sense of harmony-”

He cuts himself off suddenly, and you glance up at him with an unspoken question in your eyes, though you almost immediately realize the cause: wanting something extra sweet at the moment, you’d opted for an additional spoonful of honey for your own tea.  Even you, for all your dexterity, hadn’t quite managed to transfer the syrupy amber contents from jar to cup without incident, leaving a large smear of honey beading on your thumb after the serving-spoon had returned to the jar.  Without thinking about it, you’d stuck that sticky digit into your mouth, sucking off any traces of honey--which was when Lue-Reeq had gone so abruptly silent.

Realizing what you’d done, you hastily pull your finger away from your lips, but his eyes linger there, and once again you can see that same longing from before, and you know that now is the time to say what needs to be said.

“Reeq,” you say, your tone quiet but firm, and his eyes quickly snap up to yours, something like guilt flooding his face at being so obviously caught out, never mind why he’s here at all, what you’d invited him here for in the first place.  You push that aside for now though, and continue on.  “Before we actually do anything, before we take this beyond just talking about it...I have something to say.  A warning, of sorts.”

His gaze doesn’t waver as he gives a nod, ready and receptive to whatever you’re going to say, and there’s a part of you that aches to have to say this at all, but it’s only fair.  Anything other than total honesty isn’t a good way to begin something like this, and the truth is something you both deserve.

“No matter what we do or say here tonight, I can’t promise you anything other than my continued friendship.  I know that perhaps that isn’t...entirely what you want, or what drew you to Granson’s stories so much, but...well.”

You pause for a moment, suddenly wondering if you’re being selfish by offering something like this at all, but the point you’d been wanting to make in the first place still rings true in your head and your heart even now, so you speak it aloud:

“But friendship is a kind of love also...and I do care about you.  Quite a lot, in fact.”  You’re searching his face now, and for once you’re finding it difficult to read, so you push on to ask, “Are you really all right with that?”

Lue-Reeq has also been studying you this whole time, his own expression one of intent focus, but after you ask that question, his face eases back into one of his usual smiles.  Or perhaps not quite the same as usual, tinged with sadness as it is.  Those bright blue eyes drop to his hands, both of which are cradling that cup of herbal tea, and his smile goes even more melancholy.

“...Perhaps you’ve already heard this story, but...no matter.  ‘Tis worth telling twice, if so.  When I was a boy, there was a time that my parents punished me by cutting my purse strings.  Without all that coin to spend freely as usual, I suddenly found that the number of my companions had decreased as well, soon leaving me with naught.  It was much the same more recently, when you and I briefly parted ways during our partnership due to my, ah...misguided apprehension.  Those whom I had employed, who had so readily spoken with and worked for me when I had money...saw nothing worthwhile when I hadn’t any resources at my disposal.”

There’s a lump forming in your throat, and part of you wants to reach across the table, to rest a comforting hand on his arm, for yourself as much as for him.  But you don’t want to distract or interrupt him, and you want to be sure of what he’s saying before you take any sort of action, even something as platonic and innocuous as a friendly pat on the back.  As he continues, he raises his eyes to meet yours again, and that lump in your throat rises as well at the overwhelming amount of gratitude you find there in his gaze.

“But you...you followed after me, slogging through the swamps of the Greatwood without any promise of reward, much less suitable compensation.  You fought at my side--you saved my life, of that I’ve no doubt--and it’s because of you that I found my current group of companions.  I’m grateful to you beyond words, and no amount of coin could equal what your friendship is worth in my eyes.”

There’s another question on your face, you can feel it, and Lue-Reeq’s smile widens, brightens as he reads it as well.

“What I’m saying, my dearest friend, is that the promise of your companionship is more than enough for me.  ‘Tis likely far more than a foppish fool such as myself deserves...the very idea of it not being enough is utterly and entirely laughable.”

You can feel that lump in your throat and the accompanying tightness in your chest easing away on hearing those words--though part of you also suspects that he doesn’t have any significant experience with romantic feelings, so perhaps he’s simply speaking from a position of naivety--and you find yourself smiling back at him across the table.

“To our friendship, then,” you say, raising your tea, and Lue-Reeq grins and reaches across the table to lightly clink his cup against yours.

“To our renewed partnership,” he corrects you, and there’s a hint of a startlingly rakish gleam in his eye that makes your breath catch.  With that matter settled, you both subside into your thoughts again as you finish off your tea.  Lue-Reeq waves away your offer of a refill, though you can tell that it’s due to that rising hint of impatience, not because he doesn’t actually want any more.  You’ve seen the amount of food and drink he can put away; one cup of tea doesn’t come anywhere close to being filling for him, regardless of how much honey you’d added to it.

“You know,” he suddenly says, a pensive look crossing his face, and you can tell from that expression that he hasn’t really stopped to think this through, that he’s just impulsively speaking a thought or idea aloud--an unfortunate habit, perhaps, though one typical of him.  “It’s similar to how things are with Miss Olvara.  We share no blood, and yet we share a bond, like something very nearly approaching family... Yes, now that I think on it, ‘tis quite plain!  As world-wise as you are, and as much as I admire and look up to you, it’s as though you’re...well.  Almost something like...an elder sister, perhaps?”

“Does that mean you want to call me ‘onee-san’?”

The words are out before you can stop them, and the look of shock and mild horror on Lue-Reeq’s face echoes your own internal mortification.  That was too far, not at all something you should’ve said...but then again, you do sort of view him as something like a younger child who needs to be protected, don’t you?  And you are at least a couple years older than he is, aren’t you?  And anyway, he does want something scandalous to share with the other bounty hunters, doesn’t he?  It’s not a fetish that you’d ever really considered before, not the sort of thing that anyone with actual siblings would find at all alluring, but...he definitely isn’t your brother, and perhaps it also helps that no one in your life has ever actually called you ‘onee-san’.  Perhaps that makes it acceptable...even a little bit interesting.

But not unless it’s something Lue-Reeq wants as well…although the bright flush in his cheeks does make you wonder, even as you listen to him stutter and verbally trip over himself.

“OH, no!  No, no...b-besides, that would be...to call you that while we’re...engaged in such acts would be...”

“So?” you shoot back, calm as the surface of Longmirror Lake and utterly unruffled as you finish off the last of your tea, setting the cup down with a pointed, purposeful amount of force before meeting his gaze levelly.  “It’s not like we’re actually siblings.  You can call me whatever you like.”

Your gaze drops to follow the delicate movement of his throat as he swallows hard, and his eyes widen as you push to your feet, coming around the table...but only to scoop the teacup up from in front of him.  There’s an intentional sashay in your stride as you turn your back on him, taking both your cups over to the sink to rinse them, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as you take your time cleaning and drying those two dishes.  As before, you sneak another glance at him as you put those cups away--and as you do, you come to a stop, your hand still raised, frozen in the air like a statue...

...Because the look he’s giving you now is nothing short of pleading.  How much longer are you going to make me wait?  Even in the dim lighting, you can see that burning question reflecting in his eyes, in the slight pouting pucker of his lips...and you force yourself to turn your head, to complete the motion of replacing those cups, to unhurriedly dump out the rest of the hot water in the kettle and place the leftover tea on a warming-stone, just in case either of you want more later.  A quiet sigh comes from behind you, and you smile to yourself, relishing this sense of control, well-pleased with being able to force your sometimes still spoiled-seeming companion to be patient for just a little longer.  You’ll more than make it up to him soon, after all.

“...Please?”

Once again you pause, this time in the middle of drying your hands on a towel, and when you turn to look at him, the movement is quick, intended to catch whatever expression he was wearing when he quietly voiced that single-word plea.  He isn’t hiding anything though, a hungry sort of hope obvious on his face as he gazes at you, uncertainty warring with desire in the way his eyes flit between your face and your figure.

“Reeq?”

You make his name a question as you leave the towel on the counter in a crumpled heap, drifting towards the table but stopping just out of reach.

He licks his lips.

“Please,” he murmurs again, then adds even more softly, as if testing it out for himself, “...Onee-san?”

You find yourself moving forward again almost without thinking, leaning a hip against the edge of the table close beside him, well within his personal space, yet not quite touching.  He’d taken a second apple from the basket, you notice, but so far he’s only taken a single bite from it; you reach out slowly, catching his wrist and pulling his hand towards you, guiding the fruit he’s holding up to your own mouth.  You take a bite that eclipses his somewhat, keeping steady eye contact with him the entire time as you slowly chew and swallow, lick your lips, then slide over to perch yourself on the edge of the table in front of him.  Your legs end up on either side of his, your hands come to rest on his (startlingly broad) shoulders, and you lean in meaningfully...and Lue-Reeq tips his face up towards yours, eyes already half-lidded, expression yearning.  Your lips meet his gently, and you’re surprised by how soft and plush his feel.  As much time as you spend traveling all over the world, both the First and the Source, sometimes going from desert climes to biting chill and back in the space of a few hours, your own lips are often dry and chapped; tonight, you’d had the presence of mind to apply a soothing balm after your bath, so they should at least be better than usual.

The kiss stays gentle, soft and sweet and searching, and you end it after what feels like both an instant and an eternity, pulling back to study his face, to gauge his reaction...and you have to stifle a laugh, because for a few seconds, he stays there as if frozen in place, eyes closed, head tipped back and lips slightly pursed, as if hoping that you’ll change your mind and resume what you were doing right away.  Then his eyelashes flutter, his eyes easing open to gaze up into your face with something like wonder...and you watch as his catlike pupils expand with increasingly visible desire.

The apple that had still been in his hand up until now drops to the floor, forgotten, as he reaches forward to grasp the edge of the table on either side of you, knuckles flaring white as your name leaves his lips in a rough whisper-

And you answer by leaning forward again, this time to crash your lips into his with far more force and hunger.  He reels in shock for an instant, then answers in kind, and you can’t help but be a little amused at finding yourself swallowing his moan of mingled want and satisfaction already.  Almost frustratingly, his hands stay on the table, gripping hard--but you want to touch him, want to be closer to him, want him to be touching you.  Soon you’re in his lap, thighs clamped around his waist, the front of your body pressed close against his, without an ilm of space left between you.  He does touch you then, though more out of a reflexive attempt to steady your balance--but when you give a roll of your hips, grinding yourself down onto him, he gasps into your mouth as his fingers suddenly dig into you, trying to pull you even closer.

He isn’t a bad kisser, but you can tell that he isn’t really all that experienced at it either.  You can’t help but wonder if the girls he’d been with before had really even kissed him at all, or if they’d just gotten things over with as quickly as possible.  Even the idea of that sends a pang through you, something in your chest squeezing tight while at the same time, a burning sense of indignation spreads through you.  He’s a good boy--a good man --if a little foppish and frivolous, and he deserves to be kissed breathless, kissed until his lungs burn and those soft lips are red and swollen and kiss-bruised.  He deserves to be treated better than just as a way to get a quick paycheck; he deserves to be cherished.  And on that realization, while you still fully intend to show him a thing or three and give him enough material to entertain Cerigg for the next few months, you decide to keep parts of what you’re doing tonight soft, gentle, maybe even tender.

Which is why you gradually put on the brakes, slowing the both of you down little by little, breaking away entirely every so often to press wandering kisses along his jaw and neck or drag your tongue up the side of his throat, before going back to kissing him, slow and unhurried, and with feeling.   He tastes sweet, like honey and your herbal tea and the apple you’d both been eating, and there’s a steady hunger in the way he kisses you back, eagerness mixed with faint apprehension in every press of his mouth and slide of his lips against yours.

“How are you doing?” you murmur when you both break away again to catch your breath, and you search his face for any shadow of uncertainty or regret.  “Is this...really okay?”

That earns you a chuckle, the vibration of which buzzes against your own chest pleasantly, close against him as you still are, and when he speaks, there’s a faint rough edge to Lue-Reeq’s voice that you’ve never heard before that’s equally pleasing.

“Heh, it’s far more than just okay...and if it isn’t too terribly greedy of me, I still want...” He makes no attempt to hide how his eyes drop to your mouth and stay there as he says a little breathlessly, “...More.”

Tempting as it is to simply give in and give him exactly what he wants, instead you pull back another few ilms and quirk an eyebrow at him.

“More...tea?” you say, your innocent tone belied by the devilish smirk you can feel curling along your lips.  You shift in his lap, preparing to climb off, though it’s mostly just an excuse to move against him again.  “All right, I can heat it up again-”

You don’t even fully get to your feet before his hands come up, clamping down on the edge of the table again, making a cage of sorts with his arms without really grabbing or grasping at you.  His expression is almost slightly pained as he looks up at you beseechingly, ears laid back against his head so submissively, it’s nearly more canine than feline.  The wavering puppy dog eyes he gives you complete the image, and he leans forward slightly, narrowing the distance between you again.  “Never mind the tea, I’m already...heated up quite enough...!  But...”  He hesitates, uncertain, and you give a small nod and reassuring smile to encourage him, though it only makes the color in his cheeks flare more fiercely, seeming to fuel his embarrassment rather than soothe it.  He ducks his head, clearly flustered about the rest of what he has to say, but he manages to get it out anyway, chancing an anxiously oblique look up at you.  “...I’m simply...n-not quite certain what I should be doing.  About--about how much or where I’m allowed to touch you.”

“Anywhere you like,” is your instant response, delivered while looking at him straight on, your matter-of-fact tone and bearing a sharp contrast to his flustered lack of composure.  “I’ll let you know if you end up somewhere I don’t want to be touched, but I don’t think it’ll be an issue.”  You maintain that steady, serious gaze as you turn the question around on him.  “What about you?  Anywhere I shouldn’t touch?”

His gaze drops again, his expression going closed and thoughtful for a moment before he gives a soft laugh and looks up, sheepish and tentative and so very trusting.  “If you’re fine with ‘anywhere,’ then surely I will be as well!”

You give a nod of understanding, though your voice goes firm as you remind him, “All right, but if you don’t like something, or if you’re not certain about anything at all, no matter how large or small it may seem, you have to tell me.  And I’ll do the same for you.  Agreed?”

“Agreed!” he practically chirps back to you with a cheeky grin, and then leans forward, squinching his eyes closed and puckering his lips at you obnoxiously.  It’s really just about the most unalluring face he could have possibly made, and you’re not sure if he knows that and is being ridiculous on purpose, or...if he’s acting in earnest.  Either way, your reaction is the same: you give a little laugh and ease back off his lap completely, reclaiming your seat on the edge of the table, tipping your head up imperiously as you look down at him.  It’s all you can do not to laugh again at the way he’s pouting up at you now, but you soothe his sulky expression away with a smile and by reaching out to playful trail your fingertips along his jawbone.

“Reeq...how would you like to do something right here on the table?”

His dejectedly-drooping ears perk up at that, his whole face coming alight as he snaps back with an eager, “Yes, of course!”

“...Do you trust me, Reeq?”

“Of course!” is his reply once again, though he expands on it a bit this time.  “After what we’ve been through together, how could my trust in you be anything short of absolute?”

It’s a good answer, and more importantly, you can tell that he truly means it.  You hadn’t been entirely certain where you should start tonight, but this seems as good a place as any; so with that, you stand up and step away, placing yourself just out of arm’s reach.  His eyes watch you, wide and hungry, and his mouth opens in a small, soundless o as your hands go to the cloth belt around your waist, removing it before gracefully slipping out of your robe, revealing all the lace and frills you’ve been wearing underneath.  You briefly turn away to drape the robe across the back of a chair (and perhaps also to give your fellow hunter a chance to ogle you from behind), and when you turn around you’re greeted with another of those ridiculous faces, precisely like the ones he’d made while inspecting your ‘charming accommodations.’

This time you can’t hold back that brief glissade of laughter, though you soften it with a wink that’s both playful and seductive.  “I was going to ask if you like what you see, but I’m fairly certain that I already have my answer.”

As you step closer, you reach out towards him again, one finger curling teasingly under his chin as you help him reel his jaw back in; then you ease yourself back onto the table, and this time you’re not perched on the edge.

“Hunters enjoy a challenge, right?” you half-purr, and Lue-Reeq gives a jerky nod of agreement, his eyes never leaving all the newly-visible bits of skin you’d just bared, locations of particular interest being your thighs and chest.  “In that case, how about this: if you can get my smallclothes off...then you can have something else to eat, if you like.  And don’t worry,” you add quickly, seeking to forestall any flailing or fretfulness, “I’ll teach you how.  All you’ll have to do is follow my instructions...though of course you’re free to do a bit of exploring on your own, if that’s what you want.”

Eyes still steady on your lower half, the Mystel hunter licks his lips, though it’s an action born of a mingling of both anticipation and uncertainty.  “I do want to, but...I must admit that I’ve never done such a thing before.  As you know, my previous experiences were a bit, er...rushed, perhaps...though to be entirely honest, the desire to do such a thing hadn’t truly crossed my mind until-”

His shoulders suddenly go tense, his eyes widening in something like alarm as he presses his lips together tightly, looking for all the world as if he’d very nearly let slip a state secret of the highest importance.  But you’re curious, and if he doesn’t actually want to do this, well, you’re certainly not going to force him.  It would be disappointing, and perhaps a little unfair, considering what you’re planning on doing to him next, but again, you’re not here to force him to do anything.

“Until?” you prompt him, eyebrows raised in a look of mild inquiry.

He swallows hard, glancing up at your face only briefly before admitting, “...Until I heard Granson and Cerigg’s tales...at which point I...no, it was naught but a fool’s idle daydream, but...I suppose that I had entertained a few passing thoughts of doing such a thing with...y-you...”

That last word leaves him so quietly that you almost don’t catch it, and he looks so overwhelmingly ashamed of his confession, of the fact that he’d clearly thought of you in a way that might’ve been inappropriate or unwanted, you can’t help but reach out to him again, your hand gentle as you cup one side of his jawbone, tilting his head up towards yours to show him that you’re not angry or disgusted or anything of the sort; you’re smiling, the expression encouraging, as is the way you lean in to press a brief, chaste kiss to his lips and the words you follow it up with:

“Not so idle or foolish anymore, is it?  Come on then...show me what you daydreamed about.”

You’re close enough that you can hear his breath catch, but then Lue-Reeq nods and quickly strips off his gloves before placing his hands lightly on your thighs.  His gaze drops back down at that, marveling a bit at how soft and smooth you are against his palms, pausing a moment to rub his thumbs across your skin…and then he lets his hands wander upwards along the outside of your legs, slipping up beneath the lacy shift you’re wearing to grasp at the top edge of both your ruffled shorts and the sleek silk of your smallclothes.  Hooking his fingers into them, he drags them slowly downwards, and you lean back on your hands, tilting your hips to give him room to slide them both off entirely.  While not particularly long, the fall of your shift still obstructs his view, and he hesitates for a moment with that frothy clump of lace and silk still clutched in one hand, looking up at you anxiously, uncertain as to what he should do next.

In response, you simply smile even wider…and lay yourself back on the table, bringing your feet up to rest your heels on the edge of it, then spreading your legs wide for him.

He’s touching your legs before you even finish shifting position, reassuring you that he really does want this, that you don’t have to repeat your only if you want to message from before.  His hands are warm, larger than you’d realized, and despite the way he grasps a bit roughly at your thighs at first, his touch soon goes cautious with inexperience, fingers lightly running up and down the insides of your legs.  Soon he’s leaning forward even more, brushing the inside of your thigh with one smooth cheek, meeting your eyes a little bashfully before pressing a series of ticklish, feathery kisses against your skin, watching your face for your reaction with every move he makes.

“Are you trying to tease me?” you ask through a breathy half-laugh, though you’re quick to add, “You’re doing a good job.  Taking your time, touching me with those beautiful hands and that sweet mouth...feels nice, and the anticipation makes me want you even more.”

He gives a little shiver at that, at hearing you say so openly that you want him, and his gaze slides away from your face to stare at something closer, this new part of you that he’s never seen before.  There’s curiosity and wonder on the Mystel’s face as he looks at you--and your breath catches a little when he leans in to press a soft kiss there, the action unhurried and oddly reverent.  You don’t want to rush him, so you wait until he’s pulled back again to start giving him instructions, telling him how to lick and suck and ever so gently nip at you, encouraging him with a mix of words and gasps and the movement of your body.

“Your mouth on me feels so good, Reeq, you’re doing so well--yes, ah, just like that…keep going-”

Your breath catches in your throat as he suddenly does something with his tongue that you hadn’t mentioned, lightly flicking at that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs in a way that sends a jolt of something like electricity skittering through your whole body.

“H-how-” you find yourself gasping, taken by surprise at his unexpected knowledge, slight though it is.  “How do you know what to-?”

Your words are cut off in a gasp by another pert flick of his tongue, and your legs reflexively clamp together around his head, one of your hands reaching down to bury itself in his soft, sleekly shaggy hair.  He somehow seems to expect this, too, and his hands come up to push your legs back down--he’s surprisingly strong, though both of you know that you’re the stronger of the two of you by far, though in this case...you’re content to let him win, though you still strain against his hold every so often, a mingling of reflex and a perverse desire to keep him on his toes.

And then, once he’s got you pinned in place...he laughs, the heat of his breath against you making you quiver, and it takes some effort on your part to parse what he’s saying after that long, low chuckle escapes him:

“ ‘How,’ you ask?”  He does it again, Light damn him, and then he angles a look up at you from his comfortable position between your legs that’s pure wickedness.  “I’ll remind you that I was paying attention to Cerigg’s stories, after all...”

You let out a shuddering, unrestrained moan as he bends over you again, melding what you’d taught him with a handful of other rather salacious things that he must’ve also learned about from that night of drinks with the boys.  And for a time, you simply let go, responding honestly to what he’s doing for you and to you, your gasps and groans and panting breaths filling the otherwise-silent room.  You’re not shy about making noise, but you’re not faking it either, and if what he’s doing just isn’t doing anything for you, you (rather breathlessly) direct him to use his mouth in another way.  He’s observant, focused on your words and particularly on your body’s reactions, seeming to savor the way he can make you tremble and twitch beneath him.  He certainly isn’t the most skilled partner you’ve had, but he’s definitely the most enthusiastic and attentive, which goes a long way towards making this enjoyable.

And yet, though he’s definitely working you up to something little by little, now it’s your turn to be impatient, and to do a bit of begging in the midst of your instructions.

“Reeq,” you groan, and though it’s already far from the first time you’ve said his name like that, you feel him give a delighted quiver at hearing that single syllable spoken with such breathy strain, his very name a sort of supplication--though you have more to say this time, and you swallow down another groan and force your eyes to focus on him as you let filthy words fall from your lips, telling him exactly what you want and need from him.

“Reeq, please--I need more.  I need you, I want those long, skillful archer’s fingers of yours buried inside me up to the knuckle-”

Before you can even finish the rest of what you’d been intending to say, he obliges, pausing in what he’s doing just long enough to lick two fingers, swiping them briefly up and down your sex to dampen them further before pressing them inside you.  It’s a delicious sort of pressure, a slow slide that’s all too brief and that makes you very nearly consider telling Lue-Reeq to forget everything else and just take you here and now on the table.  If he were more experienced, and if this wasn’t your first time together, you might do just that, but as it is, you want to take things more slowly.  You want it to be more about him and less about you, though of course you’re still hoping to get something out of it all.

Tilting your hips, you clench hard around his fingers, and this time it’s him who’s letting out a low gasp.

“Come on then,” you murmur, giving his fingers another pointed squeeze and enjoying the fact that even in this position, literally spread out beneath him, you’ve managed to take back some semblance of control, however briefly.  “Keep going.”
 
That’s all the instruction, or perhaps invitation, he needs to bury his face between your thighs again, this time with the added movement of his hand, slick fingers sliding smoothly in and out.  Much as you’d like to savor this, to make him work for it, it’s also been a while since anyone else has touched you like this; within a few short minutes, you’re already on the edge, and he actually has to struggle a bit to keep your hips and legs pinned down.  And then, with a particularly firm swipe of his tongue followed by just the right amount of suction right where you need it most, paired with his fingers driving into you mercilessly, he pushes you over and you come undone around him, beneath him.

He might still be naïve (regardless of his claims to the contrary), but he isn’t completely inexperienced when it comes to this sort of thing.  He doubtless knows what’s happened, what he’s done, but that doesn’t stop him: he continues the movement of his hand, continues to drag long, flat strokes of his tongue over you, though whether he’s attempting to draw out your pleasure as long as possible, or he simply doesn’t know that he could stop, that most men would be satisfied with doing this much and leave off a (for some) tiresome task as quickly as possible, having done their due diligence--well, you suspect that it’s a mix of both, though judging by how eager he still is, you can’t imagine him finding this tiresome.

It’s more than a little flattering, really, and it’s tempting to let him keep going, to let him push you over again and again, as many times as he wants--but no, tonight is supposed to be more about him, and in any case, you’re starting to feel so sensitive that hot tears are prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“R-Reeq-!” you start to say, start to squirm in a nascent attempt at pulling away from his relentless touch--and then he stops, looking up at you with wide eyes, his expression strikingly innocent and curious, though the sheen of slick smeared across his mouth and chin and the way his fingers are still buried deep inside you both belie that innocence.

“...Oh?  Is anything I’ve done lacking?  My apologies-”

“No,” you interject with some force, the words a ragged gasp, “No, you’ve done very well.  I just--I need a moment--to collect myself, and if you keep doing all that, I’m going to--again-”

Understanding dawns on his face, and he doesn’t let you finish, dipping his head back down, and judging by the delighted quirk of his ears and the predatory lashing of his tail behind him, he’s clearly intent on pushing you over into that again, regardless of how you squirm and keen and cry out beneath him.  That second high hits you harder, and while a more experienced lover might slow and help you ride it out soothingly, Lue-Reeq doesn’t know how to do that, nor do you have the capacity to explain it at the moment.  All you can do is desperately pull away from him, his hands and his mouth, pressing your legs together tightly and twisting onto your side, resting the burning skin of your forehead against the cool wooden surface of the table beneath you as you struggle to catch your breath and master yourself.  Again, you’re sorely tempted to simply have him take you right here on the table, but you reject the idea just as quickly as you had before.

Another time, you promise yourself, forcing your breathing to even out, calming the galloping thunder of your pulse little by little.  Tonight is for love-making, for gentleness and exploration, not simply letting him get you off as quickly as possible.  There’s room for some experimentation for both of you, but you don’t want to skip any steps or rush any of it.

Considering the sort of shape you’re in due to the rough sort of life you live, you’re quick to recover.  After just a few breathless minutes, you’re pushing yourself up on your elbows to give him another smirk.

“...Well, you’ve passed this part of the test with flying colors--the oral exam, I suppose?” you add, and are gratified when, even after the unspeakable things he’d just been doing to you, Lue-Reeq still flushes prettily at your double entendre.  “In any case, I think it’s about time for me to return the favor.  Would you like for me to do that for you, Reeq?”

“Yes!” he all but yelps out, his reply so quick that it clips the end of your question.  “Y-yes, please!” he amends when you raise an eyebrow at that almost-interruption, though his words are still strained and pitched higher than usual.

You can’t help but chuckle at his obvious eagerness, but you also can’t resist the urge to tease him a bit...and honestly, he’s still wearing far too much clothing for your tastes.  You’ve yet to see him so much as shirtless, but you remember the strength of his arms, the breadth of his shoulders, the steely muscles running through both.

Your own muscles still feel a little rubbery, your whole body relaxed in a way that it hasn’t been for months, but you manage to shift yourself off the table and regain your feet with a fluid sort of grace that your hunting partner clearly finds smoothly sensual, judging by the way his eyes are locked onto you the entire time.  The dampness between your legs doesn’t bother you--it’ll be very necessary later, and you’ve never been the sort who minds making a mess--you clean them up all the time whether they’re yours or not, after all, so why not enjoy the fun of making one yourself every so often?

“...How could I deny such an earnest request?” you murmur as you drift closer, stopping just out of easy reach to give your next order.  “In that case...stand up.  I want to take a look at you.”

He obeys without the slightest hesitance, though he’s clearly feeling a bit awkward about how tight the front of his pants look at the moment.  You don’t mock him for it though, or even tease him this time; as you’d said, you simply look at him, letting Lue-Reeq see the way your eyes trail up and down his body.

...His still fully-clothed body, which is a problem you’re going to have to rectify here and now.

“Ohhh yes,” you smirk at him, your voice a low, sinful purr, “I definitely want to do the same sort of things to you that you just did to me...”  You take another step forward--and then take one to the side instead, circling around behind him.  He starts to turn as well, but a light hand on his shoulder stays that movement as you add, “...But only if you’re a good boy.   You want to be a good boy for me, don’t you, Reeq?”

Swallowing hard, he gives a quick, wordless nod, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Good...”  You let that hand on his shoulder trail across his back, an echo of the way you’d touched him earlier down at the Wandering Stairs.  “Because right now, good boys hold perfectly still.  Do you understand?”

He gives a shaky nod, his slightly hoarse response also an echo of something he’d said earlier: “...I understand.”

You give a satisfied hum of acknowledgement at that...and step forward to embrace him from behind.  He gives a start at the unexpected display of affection, but the surprised tension eases away swiftly enough that you can tell that it’s not at all unwelcome.  You press yourself against him as he relaxes under your prolonged touch, and for a brief eternity, you simply hold him, and he simply enjoys being held.

“...No one has embraced me so in years...not since Miss Olvara, when I was yet a young child,” he admits quietly after a time, and you wonder if you’re imagining the hint of sadness, the shade of wistfulness in his voice.  Your arms tighten around him in response, and you press your face into the space between his shoulder blades.

“...Let me know if you don’t like it,” you mumble into his shirt, and he gives a soft laugh, his own arms coming up to rest lightly atop yours, the best attempt he can currently make at returning the embrace with a minimum of currently-prohibited movement.

“I would, I assure you.  In all honesty, I...I-I’m actually enjoying this...quite a lot.”

Enough so that he’s willing to put aside all his lust and arousal for the moment, apparently.  He must be every bit as touch-starved as you are, if not more so, and you make a mental note to be a little more physically affectionate with him from now on...even as your hold on him loosens and your hands start to drift a bit.

You start with his vest, unfastening that odd, brooch-like pin holding the top of it closed, before letting your quick, clever fingers drop to the pair of buttons beneath it.  You don’t pull the vest off of him yet though, content to let your hands delve into the pocket of space they’ve made beneath it, skimming over his clothed stomach and teasingly toying with the buttons of the dark, ruffled shirt he wears underneath.  You’ve always thought his fashion sense a bit odd--this sort of fancy frippery had its place, and for somewhere like Eulmore it was fitting, albeit still too extravagant for your tastes, as was most of the attire favored by the wealthier inhabitants; but for a hunter who would be out in the wild, moving through the brush and sands...gods, those pants alone nearly gave you fits.

It’s more than satisfying that you’re going to have a completely valid excuse to take them off of him.

(And if, perhaps, they were to go missing during the night...well, it could only have been that odd bird that hangs around your room so curiously often, couldn’t it?  In any case, you have more than enough coin to buy him something far more suitable for a young hunter.)

You continue toying with those buttons, playfully running your fingers around their edges before popping them through their holes, until his shirt is hanging open, at which point you step back, breaking that point of comfortable contact between you.  It’s necessary, however, for you to reach up and tug at both shirt and vest, sliding the noticeably fine material off his shoulders and down his arms--and then tossing it carelessly to the side before stepping in again to start exploring his back.

He’s more muscled than you’d expected, considering his spoiled upbringing, but you’ve seen much more impressive builds many times before, and the almost complete lack of scars is telling as well.  That’s not to say that the sight you’re presented with here and now isn’t pleasing--it is, certainly, and you let him know it in every light brush of your lips and every sliding stroke of your fingertips against his warm, smooth skin.  Much as you’d like to tease him, much as you’ve reminded yourself to take your time with this, before long you’re kissing your way up his shoulder and across his arm onto his chest, pressing a lingering kiss to a collarbone before taking a half-step back to take in the rest of him.  Again, he’s got some nice definition in his chest and abs, though he isn’t chiseled or completely clean-cut--perhaps there’s still a tiny hint of fading baby-fat pudge around his hips, further evidence of his former epicurean lifestyle--but he makes a very pretty picture, all told.

He gives a start when you abruptly take a knee in front of him, your hands working at his belt, and you can see his pupils widening with pure and simple lust at seeing you there, kneeling in front of him in a manner that’s extremely suggestive.

You’re careful not to touch anything but his belt though, and when your hands do move to unfasten his pants, your touch is light--frustratingly so, judging by the way his hands are clenching and unclenching at his sides again.  He’s growing desperate for you to touch him, but you’re still not finished undressing him yet, and you take your time removing his shoes and socks, very intentionally leaving his by now visibly-straining smallclothes for last.

There’s impatience in every line of his body by the time you get to your feet and reach out to strip those away too, letting them fall to the floor and pool around his ankles; you catch at his arms and steady him as he steps out of them--and you almost laugh when he kicks them aside with a low, irritated huff, as if that particular piece of clothing had personally affronted him by its very existence.  While he’s distracted, you let go of his arms, once again taking a step back to take him in--all of him, this time.

He’s very hard, and obviously very ready, judging by the moisture beading on the tip of his cock, and...honestly, you’re a little impressed.  He’s definitely on the larger side of things compared to the other Miqo’te males you’ve seen--or maybe Mystel men are just built differently, quite literally.

He’s also been very good, and hasn’t moved so much as an ilm, aside from when he’d returned your embrace and when you’d helped him out of both his pants and his smallclothes.  And while it’s clearly taking some effort, judging by the amount of hot color darkening his face, he isn’t cringing away in embarrassment or trying to hide any part of himself from your view--and you realize that it likely helps that he’s already seen so much of you, that you’d been shameless and utterly untroubled about allowing him to see your most secret places.  Perhaps he can also sense that he doesn’t have anything to be embarrassed about.  Regardless of all that, it’s long past time for you to stop teasing him; so you smile at him, and without moving closer, say in a sultry purr:

“You’ve been such a good boy, Reeq...I’m definitely going to reward you.  Where do you want to sit?”

Lue-Reeq’s eyes briefly flick to the side, across the room towards your bed, but there’s an impatience and an urgency to him that causes him to simply settle back in the chair close behind him.

“H-here...here is fine,” he manages to stutter as he gingerly seats himself, and you can see him drawing breath to beg, can already see the words forming on his lips, glinting in his eyes: please, please don’t make me wait much longer.

You have no intention of delaying things any longer: you want this too, after all, and you don’t hide the way that you lick your lips as you look at him--specifically a certain part of him, which you can see makes the Mystel briefly reach out, intending to quite literally take things in hand on his own if you won’t do it for him, though he catches himself before he actually makes contact.  His hand clenches into a white-knuckled fist at the effort of holding himself back--and then he doesn’t have to any more, because you’re there, kneeling between his legs, looking up at him with a brazen amount of heat in your gaze.

Still, you can’t help but playfully copy what he’d done to you, running your hands lightly up the insides of his thighs, leaning forward just enough to press and rub your cheek against one of them, giving him a half-lidded stare as you feather light kisses along the skin there.  He hisses out your name through gritted teeth at that, and you notice that his hands have clamped themselves onto the side edges of the chair’s seat, all the sleekly-corded muscles in his arms and shoulders straining with the effort of following your orders, of not moving.

“This...’reward’ of yours feels a great deal more like punishment,” he grumbles, a clear note of petulance in his voice alongside the strain and the low gasps he makes as you press a lingering, open-mouthed kiss high on the inside of his thigh.  You know that, should you both consent to doing this again, he’s going to get you back for this, that you’ll likely be sporting a matching blood-bruise of your own in this exact spot; but you welcome the idea, and can’t fully repress a little quiver of anticipation at the thought.

But for now, you decide, it’s time to put Lue-Reeq out of his misery, in the kindest and most direct way possible.

He’s just drawn another pointed breath, doubtless to complain about being made to wait yet again, but whatever he’d been about to say cuts off, that breath leaving him in a gasp as your hand wraps around him firmly.  His eyes are wide as he breathlessly watches you lean in and delicately swipe your tongue across his tip, clearing away the wetness there.

“P-please-” he whimpers, followed by a rushing, desperate, “please, onee-san-” but that’s as far as he gets before your mouth is on him and your hand is squeezing him, firm but still careful.  You don’t have anything here in your rooms that could safely work as a lubricant, so instead you make use of what you have, taking him farther into your mouth while you briefly let your hand fall away, dipping down between your legs for some of the slick wetness there to supplement what your mouth and tongue are leaving behind.  As your hand curls around him again, you pull back, raising your head to meet his gaze more directly, finding his eyes already a little bit glassy and glazed with pleasure even from just this much.

“Let me know what you like,” you remind him softly, and he gives a choked laugh as your hand slowly pumps along his now adequately-slick shaft.

“L-like that,” he manages, followed with, “like your mouth on me--around me--a-and oh, Wicked White, your tongue-”

You give him a beaming smile, then bow your head to give a soft, lingering kiss to his head, thoroughly enjoying the strangled noise he’s making as your lips press against his velvety-soft skin.  You keep your eyes locked on his, watching his expression twist with pleasure, loving the way he bites his lower lip and briefly squeezes his eyes shut every so often, glorying in the often-unsteady and quickening rise and fall of his chest as you stroke him with your hand, trace his grooves and veins with slow, sensuous swipes of your tongue, and take him into your mouth with every bit as much eagerness as he’d shown towards doing the same sort of thing to you.  Your other hand comes up as well, and you lightly drag your nails along the insides of his thighs before letting your touch drift even higher, to explore what hangs between them.  From the way he’s acting, you surmise that this isn’t the first time he’s had this sort of thing done to him, at least, but his reaction when you give some gentle attention with your tongue to that area as well leads you to believe that, like the kissing, whoever had done this to him hadn’t done it with very much care or consideration.  Which really only makes you all the more determined to make this as good for him as possible.

He’s very vocal through all of it, doing nothing to hold back the gasps and moans and cute little keening cries he makes when you do something he finds particularly good, and it isn’t long before you can tell that he’s starting to get close.  Loathe as you are to do so, you pull your mouth away from him, uncaring of the glistening strand of spit that briefly stretches between you, and even the steady movement of your hand slows as you ask him a very important question, something you’d forgotten to ask before.

“Do you want to finish in my mouth, or somewhere else, Reeq?  I need to know-”

“Y-y-y--mouth--p-please-!” he stutters out, almost sounding close to tears.  For the first time, he releases his death-grip on the side of the chair, his hand coming up to rest on your head, fingertips burying themselves in your hair in a desperate unspoken message.  “I-I’m-!”

He doesn’t need to finish that broken sentence, and you don’t need to be told twice.  You take him in again, bobbing your head and sucking and stroking him as before, still keeping that steady eye-contact, watching and waiting to see his expression when he comes undone.

You don’t have long to wait before it happens, his whole body wracked with shudders, the hand on your head having slipped off to clutch at your shoulder instead, gripping at the frothy material of your night-shift like a lifeline, his other hand coming up to brace himself hard against the nearby table as his eyes fall closed, and he spills himself down your throat with a strangled-sounding groan.  It’s always a little difficult for you not to gag at this point, but you manage it well enough, swallowing down both his spend and your body’s rejection of it.  Your mouth still moves around him gently, your hand still carefully pumping him, trying to help him milk every last drop of pleasure out of this moment.  When he’s gone completely soft, you cautiously pull back, your cleaner hand rising to rub at your slightly-stiff jaw.  And as he sighs in deep contentment and slumps back bonelessly in the chair, you study his face for a long moment before pushing back to your feet.  Lue-Reeq will undoubtedly need a moment to recover, so in the meantime, it’s up to you to take care of both him and yourself.

First you do a bit of light stretching, mostly to ease the tension from your neck and jaw, though your legs are a little cramped as well from having been kneeling so long.  Next it’s a trip to the sink to wash your hands and face, then you dampen one of your kitchen towels a bit and return to Lue-Reeq’s side, tenderly wiping away both the sweat on his brow and chest as well as the lingering stickiness around his mouth from before.  His eyes ease partially open, then close again as he leans into the pleasant feel of the cool cloth against his skin, a weary smile curving along his mouth as he lets you take care of him a little.

That done, you take down those cups again, filling them with slightly-cooler tea, without honey this time, and you’re already sipping from your own even as you press the second one into his hand.

“Tea,” you say, perhaps unnecessarily, or perhaps not since he doesn’t open his eyes before raising the cup to his mouth, guzzling it down in one go.  You’re fairly thirsty yourself, and down your own quickly also before bringing over the teapot to refill his cup.

Something on the floor catches your eye as you’re returning the nearly empty teapot to its warming stone: that second apple Lue-Reeq had started on before, that you’d both taken only a single bite from.  You scoop it up out of habit, not liking to leave things like that laying about, and you look it over briefly.  Your floor is clean--clean enough to literally eat off of, even--and you’ve eaten fruit off the ground outside before many a time.  There’s no dust or dirt on the apple, and it had even landed with the bitemarks facing upwards; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is.

You find your previous perch on the edge of the table again, and bite into that apple with as loud and messy of a crunch as you can manage.  Lue-Reeq’s eyes remain closed, and he doesn’t move or react--save for the obvious twitch of his ears in your direction as you chew and swallow.  You take a second bite, every bit as emphatic as the first, and this time you’re gratified when he shifts a bit, his eyelids fluttering as his eyes come open halfway--already focused intently and intensely on you.

Too casually for it to actually be anything but intentional, you lean your weight back on one hand, primly crossing your legs at the ankles as you use your tongue to chase a drop of juice that had dribbled down onto your wrist, flicking your gaze away from the fruit and over towards your hunting partner--and you catch the way he swallows hard, hungrily.  Slowly, without breaking eye contact, you raise the apple to your lips again.

You take another bite.

Once again a glistening droplet of juice drips down onto your hand, though this time you catch it in your palm.  You take your time chewing this bite, savoring the sweetness and slight hint of tartness, the flavor like and yet unlike any of the apples you’ve tasted back on the Source.  You swallow that mouthful, and start to dip your head to lick away the drop that had fallen on your palm-

When suddenly a larger hand is catching hold of yours, firm but gentle as it wraps around your wrist and pulls your hand towards him...enabling him to drag the wet heat of his tongue across your palm.  Copying what you’d done previously, he keeps solid, intentional eye contact with you as he trails his lips and tongue over your skin, pressing a long, lingering kiss to the heel of your hand, nipping lightly at the base of your thumb, tracing the inner curve of your pointer finger with his tongue before taking the tip of it into his mouth and giving it a pointed suck.

It’s your turn to swallow hard at that, the rest of your fingers fanning across his jaw, your thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth, across his lower lip, down onto his chin.  This isn’t quite like anything that anyone else has ever done to you, and you’re left feeling a little off-balance, uncertain about how to react to how he’s looking at you--something like the way you’d imagine a farmer might look at an oncoming storm front moving in over his drought-stricken land.

Unable to think of anything else at the moment, you hold the apple out towards him, and still without breaking eye contact, he takes a greedy bite, chewing hurriedly before taking another, at which point you let the piece of fruit slip from your hand, dropping onto the table beside you as you reach out to cradle his cheek in your palm instead, leaning in to kiss him hard, your mind made up about what you want.  Once again he tastes of apples and your herbal tea, with traces of something else as well perhaps.  His hand tightens around your wrist and he moves closer, his other hand coming to rest at the small of your back, pulling you closer as he slips between your legs, pressing against you as he kisses you back just as passionately, this kiss quickly growing heated and messy.  He isn’t completely ready for you again just yet, you can feel that much, but he’s getting there, and you know that if you don’t do something now, you will end up doing this on the table, which isn’t the most comfortable position for either of you.

Which is why you break that kiss off, pulling away to press a ragged half-whisper of “Bed, now,” against his jaw.  That’s a command that Lue-Reeq is more than willing to obey, immediately pulling back and giving you room to slide off the table--then suddenly flashing you an impish grin and scooping you up, and you get a faceful of his bare chest (which isn’t at all unpleasant) while he’s carrying you across the room to deposit you on atop the soft covers of your bed.

“There now!  What do you say?  Have I swept you off your feet yet-” he begins, looking very pleased with himself.  You don’t let go of him though, and with a wordless sound of startlement from the Mystel man, you pull him down onto the bed with you.

Your bed here at the Pendants isn’t huge, but it’s big enough that you can maneuver a bit, and before he knows what’s happening, Lue-Reeq finds himself flat on his back in the middle of it, with you kneeling over him.  Once the initial surprise at the sudden reversal of control fades, you can tell from his expression that he’s thinking something along the lines of this isn’t a bad place to be.   You watch as he relaxes back against your pillow, content to let you take charge--and for now, that’s what you want...though due to what he’d said before, about simply allowing things to happen during his past experiences, you’ve got it in your head that, before the night is through, you’re going to see to it that he takes control of things for a change.

But not just yet.  There’s a few things you still want to do first...and after all, you had promised yourself that you’d make him beg, hadn’t you?

First of all, you lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his head and bracing yourself over him, not touching him save for the insides of your thighs brushing against his hips.  Lue-Reeq seems unbothered by having you looming over him so suddenly; his only response is to smile up at you warmly and slide a gentle hand along one of your forearms, his thumb tracing the underside of your arm, rubbing across the soft skin over your pulse at wrist and elbow before finally settling low, gripping loosely just above your hand.  He isn’t doing anything at all with his other hand...and you decide to remedy that straightaway.

Now you’re the one taking hold of his wrist, and though he gives you a curious blink at first, understanding quickly dawns when you guide his hand up between your legs.

“Touch me,” you say, an unmistakable order, one that he’s more than happy to obey.  He does pause briefly when his fingers first make contact, eyes widening in a mingling of surprise and wonder at what he finds, and you can’t help but smirk down at him and keep talking.  “See how wet I am already?  And it’s all because of you, Reeq.  You, with those clever fingers and everything you did with your mouth and tongue.  You, with all those cute little noises you made for me while I returned the favor.  You, with how gorgeous you are--and even better, how brave and true and good you are.  You’re a good boy, Lue-Reeq...a fine man and a first-rate hunter.”

His hand had gone still as you’d spoken, the tips of two fingers just barely pressing against you, something in his eyes longing as he gazed up into your face, watching the movement of your lips as you praise him, his expression that of someone desperate for approval who’s finally hearing exactly the sort of thing that he’s needed and wanted to hear all his life.

“...But now,” you begin, the smirk that had faded as you’d gotten more serious with your praise coming back full-force as you grasp his wrist more tightly, positioning his hand, his middlemost two fingers just-so, “Right now, I need you to show me what a bad boy you can be.”

You hear his breath catch on a gasp, both at your words and the way that you sink down onto his fingers as you finish saying them.  His fingers curl inside you reflexively, and you clamp down on them meaningfully before pinning his wrist against his thigh and pulling yourself most of the way off of those fingers, only to lower yourself onto them once again.  You know it’s not the best or most comfortable angle for him, but he doesn’t complain, seeming to glory in the feeling of having you pleasure yourself on his fingers, grinding yourself against his palm.  You need one of your hands to brace yourself, and you’d been using the other to hold his wrist in place, but before long, you can’t help reaching out to grasp at his cock again.  Your touch is more teasing than anything, a brief squeeze or a slow pump before your hand slips away again to trace the curve of his hip or skim across his midriff, but right now the majority of your focus is what you’re doing to yourself, riding his hand until you’re breathless, until your free hand stops touching him and starts touching yourself, right where you need it most.  Lue-Reeq is breathing nearly as hard as you are, his expression focused and intense as his attention flickers between watching your face, the movement of your hand, and the way his fingers disappear inside you and then reappear in a slick, smooth slide.  His ears are turned sharply forward, alert and listening to the sounds you make, the indecently wet noises of his fingers plunging into you, the quiet creak of the bed as you move against him--and they perk up even more as he feels your inner walls start to grow tellingly tight.  He’d had his fingers inside you before when you’d come, so he knows what that feels like already, knows what’s coming--and now that you aren’t holding his wrist in place any more, as you get closer to the edge, he takes some agency and helps you along, thrusting his fingers up into you--and this time around, taking the time to learn where to apply pressure, where exactly to rub, locating that sweet spot at the apex of your thighs with his other hand and focusing in on it with the same narrow-minded concentration that makes him both a good hunter and a bad one-

But those are thoughts for another time, because right now you’re coming undone around his fingers for a third time tonight.  You sit down on his hand, pinning it in place again as the shudders of pleasure wash through you, though he still wriggles his fingers inside you, either trying to prolong things or perhaps simply because he doesn’t know what else to do.  It’s an almost ticklish feeling, and before long you’re pulling yourself up off his hand--leaving quite a mess in your wake.  Lue-Reeq stares down at his hand, covered with your slick and glistening in the moonlight--and you catch his eye and give him another smirk, tilting your chin imperiously as you give him another order:

“Why don’t you clean yourself up a bit, hmm?”

Again he blinks with something like curiosity--at least until you reach out to direct his hand again, pressing the tips of his fingers against his mouth, at which point understanding dawns once more.  He falls to the task with an almost laughable eagerness, and you can’t help but chuckle as you shift yourself to sit atop his lower abdomen.  He gives a noticeable twitch beneath you as your warm, wet heat presses against the largely bare skin just below his navel, and you find that you rather enjoy the feeling of that fine trail of bluish hairs leading downwards brushing against your unclothed core.

“Such a good, obedient boy,” you murmur as he recovers from that temporary distraction, remembers that he’s supposed to be cleaning his hand, and you smile down at him fondly as you catch his eye.  “Watching the way you look when you taste me is incredible.”

He makes a noise low in his throat at that, and visibly slows what he’d been doing when he sees the way you’re watching him, very obviously doing his best to make a show of the way he licks at his skin and sucks on his own fingers.

By now, you can feel the evidence of the fact that he’s ready for you again; shifting even slightly backwards would have his firm shaft pressing against your backside.  You don’t do that yet though, more than content to let him take his time, every low hum he gives coupled with the way he only breaks eye contact to briefly close them in a look of bliss clearly an attempt to tease and titillate you the same way you’ve been doing to him tonight.  Once his hand is clean, however, it comes to rest on your thigh, a mirror image of his other hand in gently but needily grasping and exploring that soft expanse of skin.  It’s just started to flit thoughtfully along the edge of the ruffled shift you’re still wearing when you decide to move things along.

“...It seems to me like there’s something you want, Reeq,” you say with a meaningful smile as you press your arse back against him slightly.  His hands clutch roughly at your thighs for perhaps half a moment, before relaxing their grip again as he gives a wordless nod and a quiet whimper; but that isn’t good enough for you this time.  “What is it, Reeq?” you ask, your tone making it clear that you expect an answer.  “What is it, exactly, that you want me to do?”

“P-please, onee-san-”

“That’s very good, I do want to hear you beg and plead for me, but that still isn’t an answer to my question,” you point out, your voice steel covered in soft, plush velvet.  “I asked you to tell me what you want.   Is that really so-”  You press back against him again, this time slowly rubbing your backside against his shaft, “-hard?”

“Y-you,” he manages to stutter, then pauses for the space of a heartbeat or two as he collects his thoughts.  “I want you... ”

“Good...but go on.  What else do you want?”

“I-I...I want you wrapped around me.  Want you...on top of me, holding me down, s-sinking down on me, taking me in completely...”  He swallows hard, mustering his courage to add, “I want...want you to take your time with me.  Want you to--to s-stop and just kiss me sometimes, while I’m deep inside you.  Want this to...to last.”

His words are tentative, but you can tell that it’s not because he’s unsure about wanting any and all of that; rather, it’s that he isn’t certain that he’s allowed to want it, much less ask for it.  He’s never done this with anyone he really knows before, much less anyone he truly cares about, and you’ve been firm about the boundaries between you, about what this does and doesn’t mean, about how much of you he can realistically expect to receive.

...He’s afraid, you suddenly realize.

Afraid of overstepping, of saying something that might make you decide to put a stop to this.  Of being a failure, of not being able to meet your expectations.  Of wanting too much.

So you do the only thing you can think of in the moment to allay his fears: you lean forward and kiss him, forcefully and with pointed pressure at first, though you soften it as your mouths move together, the slide and pull of your lips against his growing unhurried, gentle, almost tender.  The way you cradle his face in your hands as you finally break off that kiss truly is tender, as is the brief brush of your lips across one of his cheekbones, and the smile you give him as you sit back again and say:

“Everything you just said--I want that, too.  I want to be on top of you, want you buried deep inside me, want to stop everything else sometimes just to kiss you breathless.  And I fully intend to take my time with you.  To make you beg and plead and scream for me, and then give you everything you’ve asked for and more, until neither of us can stand it any longer.”

You underline those words with action, lifting yourself off him and reaching back between your legs to grasp at his cock, guiding him in--though you pause with him lined up just so, pressing against your entrance, finding his eyes first, locking your gaze with his before slowly sinking down onto him, taking him in ilm by gradual ilm.

By the time he’s halfway inside you, Lue-Reeq’s mouth falls open, a thoroughly undignified groan spilling from his lips already, and it’s clearly a struggle for him to keep his eyes open, focused on yours.  It’s a fight he loses as you fully seat yourself against him, his head falling back against the pillow as his eyes squeeze shut, both of you shaking a little at the pleasurable sensation of being so intimately joined.  This feeling of fullness is something that you’ve missed, and it feels far better than usual somehow--perhaps because the man beneath you is someone you do cherish, a person whom you trust and already feel close to in ways that are more than just physical.

For a time, you don’t move, content to trace the dips and grooves of his ribs and abdomen with your fingertips while he adjusts to the feel of having you wrapped around him like this.  Once again, he doesn’t seem to know quite what to do with his hands, clutching at the blankets beneath him before fumbling his hands up your exposed thighs to grasp at your hips instead, his touch clumsy due to his eyes still being closed.  His chest heaves unsteadily when you smooth your hands down his sides, then press your hands flat against his chest, bracing yourself--and start to move.

You take it slow, starting with a roll of your hips that makes his eyes snap open, and you take advantage of the fact that he’s watching you again, leaning forward and raising yourself up off him a few inches before setting back into place, squeezing him tightly as you come to rest once more.  The noise he makes is strangled but definitely positive--so you do it again, again and again, still slow but rhythmic.  Despite your best efforts, you do eventually start to pick up a little speed...which is when you come to a sudden and complete stop.  Lue-Reeq had fallen into your rhythm with you, tilting his hips and even thrusting upwards into you as best he could, and your abrupt and total lack of movement brings him up short as he tries to move with you as before, only to find himself all but pinned in place.  His eyes go wide at that, desperation in the way he gasps and clings to your hips, wordlessly urging you to move again, please.

But you are unmoved, either physically or mentally: and though there’s a throaty quality to your voice that isn’t generally there, it’s still steady as you reach out a hand to cup one side of his face again, smiling down at him benevolently.  “...You said something very good before, Reeq, and I want to hear it again.  Again, and again.   Now, what was it...?”

He gives a low whine beneath you, trying to squirm, but you might as well have been carved out of stone for how much he manages to shift you.

“Oh yes, I remember now...it started with ‘please’...”   You trail off meaningfully, and when he doesn’t immediately pick up where you left off, you clench down on him hard, earning yourself a choked gasp as well as most of the words you want to hear from him.

“P-please!  Please keep going, d-don’t stop--a-ah!”   You still don’t move, but you do squeeze him again, and he manages to find the rest of it.  “Pluh...ugh...please--onee-san!”

His reward for that achievement isn’t the one he was asking for at the moment, but to your credit, you do move a little as you lean forward to kiss him, swallowing down those whimpering moans as you start to rock against him again.  He clutches at you, more desperate than a drowning man, his fingers catching at your arms, your shoulders, your hips, his breath nearly leaving him in a grateful sob when you pull back to move over and against him again in earnest.  By now you’ve found a few more things to say yourself, and you aren’t shy about sharing them as you fall back into the same steady rhythm as before.

“Gods, you feel so good--I wanna fall apart around you, Reeq.  Wanna come so hard that I see stars, and wanna see you do the same.  I wanna feel you to spill yourself inside of me, hot and messy-”

That earns you another strangled sound, and the way he moves beneath you is decidedly more forceful...and that, coupled with how close to the edge you’re starting to feel, tells you that once again, it’s time to change the game.

Leaning in, you give him another hard, passionate kiss, one last pointed roll of your hips--but this time when you move against him, instead of just lifting yourself up a few ilms before sliding back down, you lift yourself off of him entirely.

Your body screams against doing such a thing, against the loss of that delicious pressure and the hard heat of him buried inside you, your legs unsteady with lust and the beginnings of weariness from the physically-demanding position you’d just been in, and Lue-Reeq is too surprised that you’re pulling away to even try to hold you in place.  He looks dumbstruck, utterly lost and more than a little hurt as you stretch yourself out on the bed beside him, the wall on your other side keeping the distance between you minimal.

“Wh-what...?” he stammers as, with some effort, he rolls over on his side to gape at you--only to find one of your fingers pressed against his mouth, urging him to subside into silence.

“I wanted to see what it was like to be on top of you, wanted to sink down onto that perfect cock of yours, wanted to hear you beg...and now that I have, it’s your turn.”  He still looks mystified, more than a little frustrated, and halfway tempted to either attempt to pull you back on top of him or else take control of things himself--which is exactly what you want, in fact.  You make a show of laying yourself back, spreading your legs invitingly as you explain further, “You said earlier that you’ve always just sort of let things happen before...so I decided that wasn’t going to be the case with me.  This time...well.  If you want to bed me fully, to have the sound of me gasping and moaning and crying out ringing in your ears--if you want to finish inside me--then you’re going to have to earn it.  If you want any and all of that...come take me for yourself.”

The words--the challenge, rather--have scarcely left your lips before he’s doing just that, all but scrambling onto his hands and knees in a way that would be comical if it wasn’t so flattering, that he wants you this badly.  Eager as ever, I see, you murmur approvingly as he nudges your legs further apart, kneeling between them and bracing himself over you--then he pauses, visibly faltering for a moment before sitting back on his heels and issuing a command of his own:

“...Sit up.”

It’s softly-spoken, a quiet demand rather than a forceful one, almost more of a request, and you obey it immediately--at which point he all but tears that frilly, ruffled shift off of you.  It’s the roughest he’s been so far, or perhaps just the most desperate and determined, his touch ungraceful and clumsy due to both desire and nerves, and he tosses that filmy scrap of clothing to the floor beside the bed carelessly, all his attention focused on you, your body, the parts of you that he’d had yet to fully see.

Before, when you’d been on top, his eyes had periodically been drawn to the undeniable bouncing of your bosom, and his hands had followed, grasping at you through your shift but somehow not quite daring to make any attempt at pulling that final piece of clothing off of you.

Any such hesitance vanishes now--and good riddance, you think smugly as you arch into the warmth of his hands as they slide up your stomach and come to rest over your breasts.

“Let me know if I need to stop,” he says, voice oddly tight, and you nod and murmur your agreement, at which point it’s his turn to lean in and kiss you soundly.  It isn’t a long kiss, because he clearly has other things in mind that he wants to do with his mouth instead, but even so his hands aren’t idle during it.  The way he touches you is so impatient and enthusiastic that it’s almost greedy, how he grasps and squeezes, pausing to roll your nipples between his fingertips with an amount of pressure that at times edges into painful.  His mouth is hungry on your skin as well, licking and sucking and, due to inexperience or excitement or an unlucky combination of both, at times biting down just a shade too hard, finally earning a hissed reprimand from you followed by a hasty but sincere apology from him.  He’s more careful after that, gently tonguing the tooth-marks he’d left around one of your nipples before, lapping at them as, you imagine, an attempt at soothing those minor hurts he’d unintentionally left in his wake.

Aside from that brief mishap, it’s largely enjoyable for you.  You’ve always admired how slim yet definitively masculine his hands are, though you’d never quite imagined how they might feel on you, even during the occasions where you’d had to bandage them up after he’d worn them raw and blistered while practicing his marksmanship.  You can feel the slightly rougher scuff of those new callouses against your skin every so often, and you find yourself appreciating the way that his hands are mostly soft but gaining character--just like Lue-Reeq himself, you suppose.

It takes perhaps longer than you’d really like (definitely longer than you’d’ve let it go on if you were the one in control), but he eventually satisfies his need to touch and explore that part of you, at which point his hands come up to cradle your head and shoulders as he gently lays you back again.  He stays there a moment, stretched out beside you, one arm half-pinned beneath you, and just seems to drink in your face, the fact that you’re here, that you’re with him like this in this moment, and what’s more, that you want to be.  It’s another of those expressions of his that you’ve been catching every so often all night, a look that wavers between wonder and disbelief and yet is also heavily shaded with happiness.  When he leans in to kiss you this time, it’s pure tenderness, a lingering warmth that makes your breath catch and your chest tighten in a way that you can’t explain.

It’s a slow, unhurried kiss, but there’s still the matter of how close to the edge you’d both been before, and there’s some very hard evidence pressing against your thigh that Lue-Reeq is still pretty worked up and ready to go.  You feel much the same, and as he breaks off that kiss, you move beneath him subtly (or perhaps not so subtly), spreading your legs wider in an obvious invitation that he quickly takes you up on, pushing up to brace himself over you yet again.

And despite the obvious impatience edging his every movement, he pauses there for a moment, seemingly to admire the view.  To enjoy the way it feels to look down at you like this, your body entirely bare and ready and longingly, achingly waiting for him to claim you again.  You see the way his eyes run over the curves of your chest, lingering on the scattered handful of marks he’d left on your skin before his gaze flicks back up, returning to your face and staying there.  He watches your expression closely as he ruts against you, rubbing the length of his shaft against the outside of your sex, the sound it makes wet and obscene, then watches even more closely as he changes position to press the head of his cock up against your entrance.  To his credit, despite the trembling in his arms and the obvious strain in nearly his entire body, Lue-Reeq still gives you a moment, a chance to tell him to stop, just in case you’ve changed your mind or are somehow not ready; then that moment is past, and he’s letting himself slowly, fully sink into you.  Judging by the hissing gasp that escapes through gritted teeth, followed by the awestruck look on his face, the sensation of being with you like this is nothing short of bliss, a feeling you can agree on.  On reflex, your knees come up, clamping loosely around his hips, and as you tilt your hips, that slight shift in your position lets him slide in just a little bit farther, earning you a low groan and some quiet, half-mumbled words:

“...S’like...coming home, in a whole different way... S-so warm, and...”

That’s as far as he gets before words apparently fail him completely, and part of you wonders if he might not just lose control right here and now.  His warmth and weight, the pleasant pressure of having him buried so deeply inside you, those are already drawing you back towards the edge, but you’ve still got a fair way to go before you’re pushed over completely.  You wonder if it’s the same for him, or if he’s still as desperately close as he’d been when you’d so abruptly cut things off before.

Grasping at his biceps, you give a pointed squirm beneath him, wanting to leave yourself fully in his hands for now, yet also not all averse to topping from the bottom should he show any further hesitance or uncertainty.  If he doesn’t know what to do, you’ll show him, and show both of you a good time in the bargain--but then, thankfully, the Mystel man seems to gather himself, pulling his mind back from wherever it had wandered, and now it’s his turn: he moves.

He takes it slow, just as you had when you were on top, though at first he seems to struggle a bit to find the right rhythm, the best angle, something that works for both of you.  Through it all, you move with him, humming approval and murmuring encouragement, and before long he seems to settle in, applying himself wholeheartedly to the task at hand, just like always.  He’s unexpectedly very good about how he moves his hips, the perfect sort of rolling snap to his movements that makes you gasp aloud with every thrust, and you wonder if maybe you really haven’t given him enough credit, if perhaps he’d had a little more agency in things after all during the intimate encounters of his past.

In this position, he’s doing most of the work, though you do your best to help him, wrapping your legs around his slim hips and linking your ankles at the small of his back, urging him onwards, pulling him deeper.  Sighs and moans fall freely from your lips, alongside half-whispered fractures of phrases--“gods, yes, just like that”--“so damn good, you’re such a good boy, so good for me”--”harder, please Reeq, harder, I need more of you”--and your hands are everywhere, grasping at his arms, clinging to his shoulders, burying themselves in his short, shaggy hair when he leans down to kiss you, even leaving desperate, shallow scratches across his sides and upper back.  Perhaps surprisingly, he responds well to that minor, negligible amount of pain, involuntary shivers wracking his frame when your nails drag along his skin just enough to sting but not quite draw blood.

Perhaps it’s your contributions that cause his control to finally slip, the scratching or the way you press the back of your heel against the base of his tail or the numerous kisses you shower his chest and shoulders and neck with at any given opportunity.  Maybe it’s the way you lock eyes with him and breathe out his name, hoarse and half-desperate as you move beneath him, with him, another perfect example of your partnership’s excellent teamwork.  Regardless of why, he comes before you do, though you think that’s only to be expected, all things considered.  That stuttering pulse of heat deep inside you is very nearly enough to send you careening over the edge yourself, though it isn’t quite, and once he’s stopped shuddering and jerking against you, Lue-Reeq realizes immediately by the tension still quivering through you, by how tight you still are around him, that he’s been remiss in his attentions.  Your hand is already there between you, putting pressure right where you need it, and one of his hands soon joins yours, allowing you to show him again how to rub tight little circles with just the right amount of force in just the right place--and he audibly gasps as he watches you fall to pieces beneath him, your back arching as your eyes fall closed, your face contorting with pleasure so intense it almost looks like pain, your mouth falling open to release a low, keening cry, the sound quiet but still the loudest you’ve been tonight.  And just as he’d done before when his mouth had been on you, he doesn’t stop immediately after you find your release, continuing to relentlessly apply pressure just as you’d shown him, rubbing until you feel as though you might go mad with the overwhelming sensation, until you’re writhing beneath him--but although you’re nearly in tears, he doesn’t stop until you breathlessly order him to.

You cling to him in the aftermath, enjoying the weight of him resting on top of you, pressing you down into the soft mattress, his body close against yours, the two of you still intimately joined.  He nuzzles at your jaw, his nose affectionately bumping the underside of your chin, and for a time he seems content to simply lie there, pressing soft kisses to your throat and collarbones.  You reciprocate by running your fingers through his hair, alternating between simply stroking it and lightly dragging your nails along his scalp, taking special care to be gentle when your fingers find and brush over and against the soft fur of his ears.  He heaves a contented sigh into the crook of your neck at that, clearly glorying in the attention, in being doted on like this, even in such a small way.  After a while though, he heaves another sigh, this one regretful, and starts to push himself up, to pull away.  You aren’t sure what prompted it--maybe he’s tired, or perhaps this position isn’t as comfortable for him as it is for you, or it could be that he simply believes it to be what you want, that he doesn’t want to linger and overstay his welcome--but you feel a faint flicker of something like dismay, and reflexively tighten your hold on him.

“Wait,” you say, “don’t...don’t pull out.”  When he angles an inquisitive look your way, you flash him a come-hither smirk that’s light and flirty, as if his naked body isn’t cradled between your thighs and his softened cock isn’t still (somehow) firmly lodged in your nethers.  “I want to try something...let’s see if we can get you hard again while you’re already inside me.”

Considering how his chest is pressed against yours, you can feel it when his breath catches at hearing you say such a thing, his already-wide pupils expanding farther, his lips parting in a low, startled gasp.  He suddenly looks very much like he wants to try that, too, but you need to be sure...or maybe you just want to hear him beg again, since it had sounded so very nice before, particularly that fetchingly-fractured please that he’d stammered out for you when you’d first sat astride him.

“Do you want to try that too, Reeq?” you ask, reaching up to brush a sweaty strand of hair off his forehead, out of his eyes, and when he starts to nod, you add meaningfully, “What do you say?”

“Y-yes,” he answers, his voice a hoarse whisper, though when he sees one of your eyebrows start to arch, he’s quick to add, “Please!  Yes, please...”

That’s all it takes for you to reach up with both hands and pull him down for a slow, deep kiss.

This actually isn’t something you’ve attempted before, so you’re not certain it’ll work.  But, you figure, all you have to do is keep him inside you while you tease and caress him in all sorts of ways, exploring his body as best you can in this position.  You’re concerned that if you try to clench around him too much before he’s hard again, you might actually push him out of you; so for now, you focus on kissing him slow and deep and messy, on running your hands down his sides, on squeezing his hips with your legs and keeping him close, rocking or grinding against him ever so slightly.  When he finally breaks off that kiss to breathe, you push yourself up on your elbows enough to nip and suckle at the softness of his throat, peppering his fair skin with red marks that might or might not bruise come morning.  He makes a wealth of cute whining whimpers as you drag your tongue across his pulse and press open-mouthed kisses along his collarbones, and soon he’s ducking his head down to return the favor.  While he’s busy once again mapping out your upper body with his lips and hands, your mouth is temporarily free, and you make full use of it to say the most provocative things you can think of at this moment, your voice rougher than usual, and punctuated with sighs and moans.

“Gods...you’re inside me right now, balls-deep and buried to the hilt, and I still don’t feel like I have enough of you.  Still want you so bad, Reeq, need you-”

“Wicked white, woman, the things you say with that--that perfect mouth of yours-”  He quivers against you, and you think you can feel him growing harder inside you already.  Curious, you carefully clench around him, earning yourself a low hiss followed by a weak chuckle as he presses his forehead hard against your shoulder.  “...How am I supposed to bear it?”

“Maybe another kiss would shut me up,” you suggest, already a little breathless-sounding, and you don’t have to say it twice.

His kiss is clumsy at first, hurried and almost unsteady, but once more you assert yourself, slowing things down, showing him again how best to tangle his tongue with yours--and after a while, utterly unprompted, he bites down on your lower lip and rocks against you with that same delicious roll of his hips as before.  You aren’t faking or forcing anything when you give a low cry in response--he’s hard again, you’d been so distracted by kissing him, by the feel of his hands on you, that you hadn’t really noticed.  Now, as he grinds himself against you, you can’t help but notice it, relishing the return of that pressure, of his hot, hard length sliding against you as he starts to thrust again in earnest, and already you can feel yourself getting closer–

And then he abruptly pulls out completely.

You can’t hold back an involuntary mewl of protest at the loss of all that pleasurable sensation.  Now it’s your turn to look up at him, bewildered and desperate, reeling from that jarring interruption of the smooth rhythm you’d found--which is when you realize that he’s getting you back for what you did to him before, the impudent little brat–

Words rush to your lips, a curse or a challenge or a muddled mess of both--but before you can get any of it out, Lue-Reeq gives you a toothy grin, and with an amused flick of his ears, he swiftly flips you over onto your stomach.  Startled but curious, you let him turn you over without protest--and then you feel a thrill of excitement as he presses against you from behind, and though his voice is half-breathless and likely more strained and wavering than he truly wants, the words he speaks are familiar:

“...Seems...like there’s something you want, my dearest friend...so what is it?  What, exactly...do you want me to do?”

Hearing those words sends a rush of heat through you, and even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hide the way his breath, hot on the back of your neck, makes you shudder.  But while you’re gratified at how quick of a learner he seems to be, not to mention how willing he is to try something new or attempt to turn the tables on you, even in a situation like this, you know that you have the upper hand--especially since you’ve seen how he reacts when you let all manner of filthy flirtations fall from your lips.

But he’s literally asking you for it, and who are you to deny a consenting man his own self-imposed ruination?

“I want you,” you murmur unhesitantly, utterly shameless, your voice pitched low and throaty, rough from your previous lovemaking.  “I want that thick, pretty cock of yours thrusting between my legs, rubbing against me until we’re both soaked with sweat and my slick.  Then I want you to press inside me, agonizingly slow, until you’re so deep that we both see stars.  I want you to pull back out quickly, all the way, then slowly press into me all over again, and again and again--and then I want you to stay buried inside me, and cover my shoulders and back with kisses.”

You hear his breathing hitch, a low, unsteady breath hissing sharply inwards, and feel his hands tighten their hold on you, but you’re not done yet.

“I want you to grip my hips so tightly that I’ll find bruises with your fingerprints on them tomorrow...and then I want you to take me hard.  Hard and fast, slamming yourself into me over and over--and when you can’t take it any more, I want you to lose yourself and let go and spill your hot, sticky seed deep inside me.  Then I want you to stay inside me while you reach around and rub at that spot that I showed you before, letting your seed drip out of me and run down to coat your fingers as you touch me, and finally push me over so hard that it feels like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces.”

Even in your current position, you manage to turn your head just enough to catch sight of the dumbfounded expression on his face, and it brings a self-satisfied smirk to your own.  You give your hips a little wiggle, rubbing your arse against him teasingly as you finish with a question of your own:

“Does that sound like something you can do?”

“Y-yes...of...of course,” he manages to choke out, but he doesn’t move to act on any of that just yet: he seems to be temporarily paralyzed by everything you’d said, how absolutely filthy everything you asked for is.  When he continues to hesitate, you take charge once again, shifting your position so you’re on your knees with your arms folded in front of you, forearms resting fully on the bed, leaving your arse up in the air, then gently instructing him on how best to position himself--both of his knees in between your legs, to make it all the easier for him to force your legs open wider.

“What are you waiting for?” you say once that explanation is finished, “I believe I painted you quite the precise picture, in ‘begging’ for what I want...so, now: get to it.”

Despite the fact that he’s supposed to be in control, Lue-Reeq is quick to obey your order, steel words wrapped in plush velvet once again; but as his cock slides between your legs, rubbing against you exactly as you’d asked, you let your eyes fall closed and do your best to let him take the lead again.

And to his credit, he does everything you asked for and more, right down to the kisses on your shoulders and the bruises on your hips.

You’re both a sweaty mess by the time he collapses on top of you; even once the last shudders of pleasure fade, you can feel his body shaking with exhaustion, and deservedly so.  He’s given you his all, and now it’s your turn to take care of him again, shifting the both of you on the bed so he can lie on his back with you curled up against him.  For a time, he dozes, and you can tell by the cadence of his breathing that he’s really and truly asleep, albeit lightly so, and you content yourself with softly stroking his hair and inwardly chuckling over how you’re definitely going to have to do some laundry tomorrow, after the mess you’ve both made of the blanket on top of your bed.

Time goes a bit fuzzy as you let yourself drowse beside him, uncaring of the way your skin sticks to his as your bodies cool, too comfortable to bother moving and too concerned with disturbing him to let yourself think about cleaning up; only when he starts to sleepily shift as he comes awake again do you peel yourself away, stretching out on your back beside him.  A smile curves along your lips as his eyes blink open, taking a moment to focus and find yours, and while the smile he gives you in return definitely still has shades of his usual blithely unconcerned mask, there’s some softness, some vulnerability there now as well.

“...Gods strike me down, but that was something,” he chuckles, his eyes taking in your disheveled appearance with obvious appreciation. “I...haven’t adequate words to express this properly, especially right now, but...it likely goes without saying that this night has been better by far than...although just better isn’t nearly...more incredible, mayhap...?  Or perhaps simply...far more...everything...than anything of this sort that I’ve experienced before.”

He takes your silent smile as encouragement enough to continue, stretching luxuriously and folding his arms behind his head with obvious self-satisfaction--though you know him well enough by now to recognize that all the preening that’s sure to follow is less the boastful blustering it appears to be and far more of a solicitation of your approval--an intense hope that you’ll agree with him, that you’ll say that tonight was good, very good, that he did well, that you’ve been every bit as satisfied by him as he has been by you.

“I suppose that now I do indeed have a story worth telling...if you still don’t mind, that is.”

From where you’re sprawled on the bed beside him, you simply grin up at the ceiling, chuckling a little yourself as you say in a voice thick with sultry promise, “The moon still rides high in the sky, and the night isn’t over yet, my friend...but we do have the morning as well, if you’d like to rest for now.”

Lue-Reeq makes a quiet choking noise as he unfolds from his previous posturing pose, rather like a collapsing tent, and out of the corner of your eye, you watch him fluster when you say that the night isn’t over.  You cast a sideways look his way, taking in how his face floods with color even as his eyes darken, a rather fetching blend of bashfulness and lust, and neither do you miss the way his gaze lingers on your lips then slides lower in a very telling way before he speaks again.

“Together we are unstoppable, even in intimate matters such as these...is what I would like to say, but I know my own limitations better than anyone.”  With obvious effort, he pulls his eyes back up to meet yours, a rueful little smile on his face, a shade of concern over disappointing you darkening the expression.  “I cannot match your strength and stamina, be it on the field of battle or here in the bedroom.  I fear that I am spent for now, much as I wish it were otherwise, but...the morning.  The morning sounds...promising.”

You nod your agreement, then lever yourself up on one elbow to smile down at him, once again reaching out to gently brush the hair out of his eyes, both your touch and your expression reassuringly kind, hopefully putting the worst of his current anxieties to rest.  “In that case, we’d best clean up a bit.  We could make that fun, too...but never fear, I’ll behave myself...for now.”

Lue-Reeq just returns that smile as you rise from the bed with your usual fluid grace, unhesitantly taking the hand you offer to help him pull himself to his feet, which are not nearly so steady and tireless as yours.  He marvels a bit at your poise and confidence, at your complete lack of self-consciousness as you lead him, naked, across the room.  You’re a fine sight in the argent and azure moonlight, and if his eyelids weren’t so heavy, if his muscles weren’t already burning, if his whole body didn’t feel weighed down by exhaustion, he’d use your linked hands to pull you back towards him, pin you to the wall or the floor or maybe even the table and have you all over again.  Gently, this time, and slow, and...

...And perhaps he isn’t quite so tired yet after all.

A sevenday after that particularly long, steamy night you’d shared with your reinstated partner finds you back in the Crystarium.  You’d had responsibilities back on the Source that couldn’t keep, forcing you to leave Lue-Reeq to his own devices after that very pleasant brunch that you’d shared, and said responsibilities had kept you away far longer than you’d expected.  You’d hoped to go on a hunt or some such with Lue-Reeq after that night, wanting him to understand that certain things wouldn’t change even now that you’d both seen each other naked, but well, so much for that.

Still, better late than never, and that’s really all you have in mind (along with getting yourself a much-needed drink and catching up on some of the local gossip) as you take an unhurried, wandering route through the markets of the Musica Universalis.

You hear them before you see them, just as you’ve started climbing the steps leading up to the Wandering Stairs:

“T'was then that I grasped the sultry minx by her hips and, after a swift withdrawal, I turned her over and spread her legs to drive into her from behind instead.  Ahh, how perfect she felt wrapped around me...I believe I could have died happy in that moment.  But by then she was begging for more, and of course one tries not to keep a lady waiting...at least not for too terribly long.”

You’d briefly paused to listen, one foot on the step above you, but you easily recognize the voice, and you’ve heard enough for now; sure enough, once you mount the stairs, you see Lue-Reeq and Cerigg sitting together at a nearby table, half a dozen scattered flagons between them.  Whatever else they might be saying is lost to the distance that stretches between you and the overlapping snatches of other conversations surrounding you.  Even so, you smile to yourself as you head to the bar to get a drink of your own, lingering at the counter and taking the time to have an unhurried chat with Giott, not seeming to pay the two men at that far table any mind, though you can’t help almost unconsciously reading their body language, the things everyone tells you without saying anything aloud.  Judging by the way they’re moving, both bounty hunters are still largely sober, the amount of alcohol they’ve imbibed just enough to layer a rosy glow on the world and loosen their tongues, while still leaving them mostly in control of their faculties.  There’s a lull in the conversations surrounding you, and you can hear Cerigg give a chuckle as Lue-Reeq finishes his story with a flourish; his hand only the slightest bit unsteady, the older hunter reaches out to clank his mug against the younger man’s before both drain their glasses, and if Cerigg’s voice is a little louder than normal when he speaks, that’s only to be expected.

“Now that’s a proper sort of tale for a night like this, friend,” he says as he pushes his empty flagon aside with a satisfied sigh, and Lue-Reeq can’t help but puff out his chest in pride--at least until Cerigg follows that compliment with, “ ‘Course, it does seem a bit strange that you suddenly have all these stories of your exploits, when before even Granson’s mild tales put you to the blush.  Not to put too fine a point on it, but I think that even a bounty hunter nonpareil such as myself would struggle to find this remarkable mystery woman you’ve described.”

Lue-Reeq fumbles for a moment, uncertain as to what had been decided that night, about whether or not he was supposed to reveal that his “remarkable mystery woman” was you, should Cerigg not believe his stories.  You’d seemed unfazed by the idea, utterly unashamed that everyone would know what the two of you had done together, which is more than a little flattering, but it also brings him up short.  His lordly upbringing has him reflexively wanting to behave like a gentleman, but even more important than that, his current lifestyle has made it clear to him that he wants to be a good partner as far as you’re concerned; and he has a very strong feeling that a true ‘good partner’ wouldn’t go around telling anyone who’ll listen about something like this.

Then again, the whole point of that night had been to give him stories to tell...wasn’t it?  He had thought so, at least at first, but by the end of the night--or rather, by late morning--he hadn’t been entirely certain any more.  He knew then and he still knows now that you’d meant it when you said that you couldn’t promise him anything beyond a deep, steady friendship; but the sheer amount of affection he’d felt in the way you held his hand as you both fell asleep tangled up together, the tender way you’d brushed the hair out of his face the next morning and greeted him with a soft kiss on the cheek, the warmth in your expression when you’d looked across the table at him during a late breakfast in your room that the two of you had worked together near-seamlessly to prepare...it had made him wonder, though not quite hope.

Either way, it’s definitely a quandary, and he’s still hesitating, trying to decide how to answer and cursing how stupid he is...when he catches sight of someone approaching the table: the Warrior of Darkness herself, you.  His whole body relaxes, his lips curving in a relieved, welcoming smile as he watches you walk towards the both of them, a mug of something frothy in one hand and a light in your eyes that he recognizes: you’re on the hunt.  For what, he has no idea, but he’d be more than happy to lend you his aid, regardless of what the mark might be this time.

“So, Glynard told me that Lue-Reeq has been telling quite a story of late,” you say by way of greeting as you settle yourself in one of the empty chairs at the hunters’ table.

“Aye, it certainly is that,” Cerigg says, casual yet meaningful.  As well as you know both of them, you hear the skepticism in Cerigg’s measured tone and see the way Lue-Reeq wilts slightly beneath the other man’s obvious doubt.  You look back and forth between the two of them, then raise your tankard meaningfully.

“Well then, don’t stop with the wild tales on my account.  I do love a good story.  I want to hear it for myself-”  Here you give your partner in crime a quick flicker of a wink, causing him to choke and sputter into his drink as you add, “-All of it, right down to the messiest details.”

That earns you raised eyebrows from Cerigg, though his expression is far too mild to be at all judgmental.

“I didn’t take you for the sort to be interested in such things, friend--though I’ll neither pry for details nor judge.  Start from the beginning then, if you like, Lue-Reeq.”

The Mystel hunter flounders a bit at that, and the way you arch an eyebrow at him while hiding a knowing smile behind your mug doesn’t particularly help matters.

“Yes, go on,” you say conversationally, settling back in your seat, “tell it just as you’ve told everyone else.”

“W-well, then...ahem.”

At first, he falters and seems to lack confidence as he recounts his memories of that night you’d shared, but when you don’t interrupt, and as you hum and nod and lean forward with obvious interest, he gradually warms to his subject.  A fierce blush blossoms across his face when you catch and hold his gaze, and while you try to be subtle about it, there’s a definite heat in your gaze by the time he’s nearing the end of his tale.  Hearing it all again--hearing it from his perspective--has you remembering how it had all felt, having his hands and his mouth and his body touching you, and you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t ignite a simmering sort of fire low in your belly.

By the time your grown-up little lordling is finished recounting his tale, you’ve finished your first drink and are working on your second, though in truth right now you’re thirsty for something other than any of the spirits on offer here at the bar.

“Well now, this time it sounded...rather different,” Cerigg says with a perplexed tilt of his head, “almost as if you’d been more inspired by Granson’s story than my own... 'Course it still seems to beggar belief in certain ways...”  He turns a skeptical look your way, clearly expecting you to take a similar view on this as he asks, “What say you, friend?”

But instead of agreeing with him, you give a thoughtful hum, tracing the rim of your flagon with a fingertip, smearing a bead of moisture you’d left on it around and around.  It’s steady and almost hypnotic, and you don’t pause your movement even as you answer Cerigg.

“Honestly, I say...that there’s really only one way to know, isn’t there?”

That sort of unexpected reply definitely shuts Cerigg up, something you can tell that the boyish, still-bratty side of Lue-Reeq can’t help but feel a bit smug about, though that brief flicker of childish arrogance is immediately doused when you look back across the table, locking eyes with him again as your hand stills over your tankard, and for a moment he forgets how to breathe, the way you’re looking at him is so obviously, intensely desirous.  There’s a faint purr in your voice that would go unnoticed by anyone who doesn’t know you well--and by this point, he’s definitely starting to think that he knows you quite well--as you turn a couple questions his way instead.

“What do you say, Reeq?  Would you like to show me just how true these stories of yours are?  Not that you really have to prove anything,” you toss out in a very offhanded but self-satisfied tone, and start to lift your mug to your lips, “since they’re all about me in the first place.”

Lue-Reeq gives you a startled look--you hadn’t truly discussed what you’d tell the others, and regardless of how good you’ve been to him and for him, he honestly hadn’t expected you to admit that you’d been with him--rather, he hadn’t expected that you’d want to admit to such a thing.  You’re the Warrior of Darkness, strong and beautiful and utterly unparalleled, the savior of the First...and he’s still scarcely more than a child and a fool who knows little of the world.  He’s nice enough to look at, he supposes, and he’s becoming a stronger, far more clever, truly skilled hunter; but even so, he can’t hold a candle to you, and he knows it.

Surely you would be ashamed to have it known that you’d stooped so far as to spend a night with someone like him.

...And yet here you are, utterly unashamed of the way you’re undressing him with your eyes from across the table, giving him a look over the rim of your mug that’s like to set his very blood on fire.

For a long moment, he can only stare at you, gaping slightly--an expression mirrored by Cerigg, though neither of you are paying the blond hunter any mind right now.  Then that moment passes, and a slow, smoldering smile starts to spread across his face.

Digging into a pocket, he scatters a generous handful of his hard-earned coin beside his most recent flagon, then pushes himself halfway to his feet, his eyes never leaving yours as he locks his elbows and leans heavily on the table.  “I say that I should very much enjoy having your company again, my friend,” is his reply, and that’s all the answer you need.  Without another word, you slip out of your chair and around the table, catching hold of him by the front of his stupid, fancy vest and hauling him after you towards the Pendants.  With a radiant grin as wide as the Empty, Lue-Reeq goes more than willingly--leaving a gaping Cerigg sitting alone at the coin-covered table, staring after the two of you in wide-eyed disbelief.

“...Light take me, they’re off.  But just a moment--wait, what do you mean, ‘again’?!”