32. Clever fingers
Oct. 2nd, 2011 11:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I am going from the study to my sitting room when I encounter my husband in the hall. Normally this would not be an incident - or, more recently, it would be an opportunity to explore the exciting new twist our relationship has taken - but Varian's steps are unsteady in a way I haven't seen in a few months. Critically, I watch my lord husband and gauge how inebriated he is, somewhat surprised that I have skipped straight past panic and gone into unnatural calm. He pauses, one hand against the wall, and the calm melts. Just then, he looks up and sees me.
"Taretha!" Joy and fear chase each other across his face as I walk towards him. "No, don't come near me! I'm drunk." He flushes in shame.
I guess the mulled wine had been a temptation too great to resist. He tries to retreat as I come closer, but stumbles and falls against the wall. I slip one arm around his waist and drape his around my shoulders. "Come on, my sitting room is closer than yours."
"No...don't..." Despite his protest, he does not resist as I begin walking him towards my rooms.
"Don't be silly, you're not going to hurt me."
The lost and confused look he gives me confirms it. "I'm not?"
"No, Varian, you're not." The door isn't hard to get open, and he makes no further protest as I maneuver him onto a couch in such a way that he winds up lying with his head in my lap.
"I don't want to do whatever it is that's so bad you won't tell me what I do when I'm drunk." He grips one of my hands tightly, eyes bleeding remorse and apology.
"Shh." I touch his lips briefly before stroking his wild hair. "You're not going to hurt me. You're not going to scare me. I still love you."
He blinks, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "Tari..."
Again I touch his lips, silencing him. "I love you, Varian." When he flails with the hand I am holding, I bring it to my cheek.
"Even though I'm drunk?"
"Even though you're drunk." It's painfully gratifying, being able to meet that forlorn look with a tender smile. Knowing that even though he is extremely vulnerable, I am not hurting him.
"If I don't remember this in the morning, will you tell me?" he pleads.
"Are you sure, Varian? It might hurt your pride."
"It's worse, not knowing. Please, Tari."
I lay a kiss on his palm before pressing it against my cheek again. "For you, Varian."
He smiles brilliantly. "Thank you, Tari."
Shortly after, his eyes slip shut and he sighs, unconscious. I keep stroking his hair for a few minutes, then carefully slide out from under his head. His boots are easy enough to tug off, and my bed has more than enough covers to spare one for him. I kiss Varian's forehead as I cover him, and he murmurs and smiles. The page sleeping in his little closet comes awake at once, vanishing with my scribbled note. With that taken care of, I retire for the night.
I wake at dawn, wrap a warm dressing gown around myself, and tiptoe out into my sitting room. As requested, there is a carafe of juice and another of water waiting on the table, along with a plate of toasted bread and one of winter apples and sliced cheese. My husband is stirring unhappily on the couch. He struggles with the quilt, then freezes as it sinks in that he is not in his bed. I pour a glass of juice and kneel by the low table, close to his head.
"Taretha?" he croaks in confusion.
"Can you drink?" I hold the glass for him as he levers himself up enough to suck down the cool liquid. When he flops back grimacing, I stroke his hair and make soothing sounds. "Do you want me to help you sit up?"
He swallows. "Not yet." Wincing, he turns head until he can see me. "What...?"
"You don't remember anything?" I smile so that he knows I'm not upset.
"I remember trying to get back to my rooms."
"Mine were closer."
He reaches for me, and I take his hand with the one not stroking his hair. "Did I...?"
"You didn't hurt me. You didn't scare me." I lean forward to kiss his forehead. "You were worried that you would, though."
"I'm sorry," he sighs.
My finger on his lips startles him. "You didn't do anything wrong," I say softly. "I brought you here and put your head in my lap and held your hand and stroked your hair until you passed out."
"Tari..." He reaches for me again, blinking back tears and failing to stop them, struggling to sit up. Between the two of us, we get him half-sitting and half leaning against me, face buried in my shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around me. "I don't deserve you," he whispers fervently.
"I don't see why not; you put up with me long enough," I tease. "Come on. Let's get you sitting up and get some fluids into you."
It takes slow, gentle maneuvering to get him sitting upright, and again I hold the glass while he drains it.
"Oog." He slumps against me, face on my shoulder. "Don't let me do this to myself again. I don't care if you have to kick me in the junk and drag me out by my hair." One hand flails at the bread.
"You have to sit up if you want me to feed you, my lord," I tease gently.
Varian rolls to the side, flopped against the back of the couch. "You're pampering me and I don't even feel good enough to appreciate it." He takes a bite of the dry toast I press against his lips and mumbles his thanks. "You'll have to forgive my confusion, my lady. I thought for sure you'd be upset with me for this."
I swallow my bite of cheese and feed him another bit of bread. "I was never mad at you for getting this drunk, Varian." At his incredulous look, I swallow a laugh and kiss him lightly. "Less drunk, yes. You frightened me when you were drunk enough to forget where the line was and sober enough to cross it. But when you stopped being able to stand upright on your own..."
He motions for a drink and I hold the glass to his lips. "If you weren't mad at me, why wouldn't you tell me what I did?"
"Last night, you said it was worse not knowing than knowing but having your pride hurt. Do you still feel that way?"
He gropes with one hand for mine and nuzzles it. "I told you once that I'd rather surrender every battle, and my pride, than have you look at me the way you looked at Blackmoore." Those vulnerable blue eyes blink at me as the implication sinks in. "Tari...did you refuse to tell me what I did in order to protect my pride?" At my nod, he looks astonished. "Even before..."
I can feel my face grow warm. "Yes."
"Tari." He releases my hand and lifts my chin with two gentle fingers, forcing me to look him in the eyes. "What did I do that you refused to tell me?"
"You cried, Varian." At his look of shock, I cup his cheeks in my hands. "You’d come to my door too drunk to keep your feet, and you'd wail my name and declare your love through your tears." I can feel the blood rush to his cheeks. "You cried like a cat being tortured and bemoaned that I didn't love you. Eventually, you would obey when I asked you to go to bed."
"And you- all this time, I thought I'd been some kind of horrible brute, and you were protecting my pride. Why?"
"You know why," I whisper, face burning.
"Yes," he says, voice low and husky. "I do."
His lips are warm and gentle against mine. When he breaks the kiss, it is with a groan.
"As much as I would like to keep doing that," he breathes, eyes half-closed, "I would be making a promise I cannot keep right now."
My hands trail down his chest towards his manhood, but he grimaces and catches them.
"No, please. Do not reward me for this." He kisses my knuckles. "Let me acquit myself in my own eyes and get cleaned up. You've already shown me more kindness than I expected." Molten devotion burns in his eyes. "I am in your debt. Give me time to feel like a man again, and then let me repay you." He gives me a crooked grin. "And please - do not let me do this to myself again. If you're going to pamper me, I want to not feel like death warmed over while you do."
I can't help but grin. "For you, Varian."
===============
When I next see my husband, I smell him first. He is damply clean and freshly shaven, with the hazelwood oil he knows I like dabbed on his wrists and throat. I am on my way back from the library with a fresh volume of history when he steps out from the alcove he was hiding in, arms encircling me from behind. The scent he wears and the familiar orcish growled in my ear forestall a panic reaction, and my pulse races for an entirely different reason.
"I'm feeling much better now," he says huskily, lips teasing the flesh of my neck and nibbling gently at my earlobe. "Shall I demonstrate for you?"
My breath catches and I find myself leaning back against him, head tilted so that he can more easily ravish my skin. "I do recall a debt you owe me."
"I am a man of honor. I would be more than glad to repay you for your earlier kindness."
Before I can react, he has swung me up into his arms and I wrap mine around his neck, lips on his ear. He shudders and groans softly.
"Unless you want this debt discharged in the hall, my lady, I beg you hold off for a little."
I laugh, deep in my throat. "As you will, my lord."
With my face buried in his hair, I lose track of exactly where he is taking me until he lays me down on a broad, resilient surface, and I recognize the heavy blue bedcurtains. I don't have much time to look at them, however, as my lord husband swiftly blocks my view with his scarred face and proceeds to pick up where he left off earlier in the day. My hands pluck at his tunic and he pauses long enough to pull it over his head and toss it carelessly behind him, treating me to a view of his gloriously bare torso as he rears up, straddling me. While he is distracted, however, I go for the laces of his trousers.
"Not yet, my lady," he chuckles as he descends on me again, pulling me into his arms so that we lay side by side and he can grope for the laces of my bodice.
I'm not objecting, not with my tongue tangling with his and my hands roaming over his chest and back. I do free one leg and drape it over his hip, grinding against his hardness even as his fingers find my nipple. I break the kiss and arch back, inviting him to apply his mouth elsewhere, and he does.
This time, when my fingers pluck at his trousers, there is no objection - only a grunt as his hard length shoulders free of the cloth, and a gasp as I take the hilt of his sword firmly in hand.
"Tari," he moans, hips thrusting involuntarily against mine. "Don't - Light, that feels good! - don't..."
His protest is in vain; between my firm grip and his traitorous body, he is soon shuddering as his seed pumps out between us, splashing hot against my wrist. The look on his face is indescribably precious, and with my other hand I caress his hair.
"That's not how it was supposed to go," he sighs with muted disappointment, pulling me closer. "Light, Tari, you have clever fingers."
I smile into his neck. "So do you, my lord."
This time, it is his breath that catches as I ravish his skin. "Well, I would be a poor strategist if I could not improvise..."
One hand presses between my legs, and even through my skirts I can feel the delicious pulse of reaction. Varian crouches over me like a wolf on a kill, one hand pulling my skirts up as the other teases one nipple and his tongue torments its twin. Unlike the first time I felt his strong fingers there, I do not flinch when I feel his rough, warm hand between my legs. The first incandescent spark of pleasure makes me moan, and I can feel him grin around the flesh of my breast.
The symphony he plays on my flesh is slower than the first time, a leisurely exploration in what notes he can coax from my throat. Time ceases to have meaning as the wave builds with infuriating slowness, only to ebb as he pauses to change positions. His mouth moves from breast to clavicle to lips to the other breast, while the hand not teasing my folds explores the smooth flesh of my arm, side, or flank. My cries are becoming more instant when he makes a deep sound of pleasure and withdraws his hand entirely. I open my eyes in fury at being denied, only to find myself facing a predatory smile of anticipation.
Varian enters me in one warm, wet slide, my body tightening around him much like my hand had. My breathless cry is swallowed by his kiss, and he wastes no time searching out that secret spot and stroking it with the head of his manhood. My legs wrap around his waist, trying to pull him deeper inside me, but he knows what he's doing and holds himself steady. It's not long before the wave builds again, the fires of pleasure stoked by each thrust. I can feel my core twitch and I gasp his name, but then the shuddering wave steals my breath and I throw my head back in a frozen scream, dimly aware of his lips on the exposed flesh of my throat, his moan a vibration as though he were lending me his voice. My name escapes his lips as a gasp as my hips buck against his, driving him deeper, and he groans as his pleasure takes him a second time. After a long moment, he gathers enough strength to roll over, taking me with him so that I am half-draped on his chest.
For several minutes we simply lay in contented silence, hands drifting slowly over each other's bodies.
"Oh, Tari, you are the most precious treasure in Stormwind. The Light could hold no greater blessing for me than your smile."
"I think you value my smiles too highly," I tease. "Clearly, your fingers are the greater treasure."
He laughs at that. "Oh, no, my lady. If we are measuring fingers, then yours are more precious by far. If I had known you could do that, I might not have stopped you this morning."
"I wouldn't want to reward you against your will." I smile into his shoulder.
Varian props himself up enough to kiss me soundly. "Tari, you can do that to me whenever you like." He smiles gently at me, stroking my hair with his other hand. "If surrender to the Horde is the price I must pay for your attentions..." he grins, infectiously. "I always did look good in red."
I nestle closer. "Don't surrender, Varian. I enjoy fighting with you too much."
"For you, Taretha, anything."