Other-husband visit

[moonshadows]

I didn’t need to look up to identify the stormcrow circling above Eldarath Keep, not with the wards picking up on my other husband’s signature as he crossed them. Eyes still on my students, practicing in two rows of four, I opened the link and sent him a pulse of affection. My star had left for Darnassus just two hours ago; I was expecting Malfurion to take the opportunity to visit and give them the same time alone we would have.

He treated me to a bird’s eye view of myself as he circled lower, stormcrow’s eyes zooming in on my breasts and the curve of my hip, the soft skin where my wings connected to my back and the line of my ear, his thoughts of running tongue and finger over them and hearing me cry out. From my perch on the low fence surrounding the practice ring, I smiled.

Insatiable, I teased gently, throwing a memory of a kiss at him as he fluttered to a landing beside me. What will your wife say?

Most likely ‘Oh, Illidan, yes!’, he retorted, assuming his own form with a grin. How’re the students?

Progressing well. I’ve got high hopes for some of them. Her, him, and him. Mentally, I highlighted the human, the troll, and the slim kaldorei male.

How’s Illidan dealing with it?

I met his somber tone with one of my own. It hasn’t been easy on him. He feels guilty for the things he did the first time, and he’s terrified that he’ll do them again because he doesn’t know any other way. That’s why I’m teaching them the basics; he can watch me take what I learned from him, and see how I teach it so that by the time they’re ready for more advanced techniques, he’ll be ready to teach them. It was not an easy time of his life, Furion. Rebuilding those memories… I restrained the urge to shake my head. He lost sanity, lost himself, nearly every day back then. Reaching for those memories is shaking him. He’s not damaging himself, but it’s a near thing. He really needs this week.

Malfurion’s concern washed over me, warm and comforting. And how are you holding up?

I tossed a smile at him. I’m fine. This is nothing compared to when I was putting him back together. Are you hungry?

Famished, he replied, only half thinking of food.

The eight aspiring demon hunters turned to look at me as I clapped my hands. Then, seeing Malfurion next to me, they bowed in unison. “Excellent work,” I called, my voice carrying easily in the ringing silence. “Ja’kim, you’re getting cocky; I want you facing Nartuk tomorrow. Kathleen, you’re favoring your right side. I want a hundred strikes against the practice pole before sunset, left side only. Sar’theril, you’re too slow. You’ll be fighting Cloudrunner tomorrow.”

The three students I’d called out grimaced, but bowed or nodded their assent. They knew that having their flaws singled out was a mark of approval; with me, silence was damning with faint praise. It wasn’t that the slender night elf male was slower than his classmates, for instance; it was that he was slower than what he was capable of, and sparring with a bulkier opponent would teach him bad, slow habits. None of them had forgotten the blinding speed I’d demonstrated. Of course, the chance that they’d face a demon that fast was slim indeed, but being a demon hunter did not lend itself to settling for ‘good enough’ – not if one had hopes of surviving more than a handful of years.

“Everyone, Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage.” Again, they bowed and I smiled. “Some of you may be aware that he is the twin brother of your master. What you may not be aware of is that, being twins, they share everything.”

Furion didn’t need any silent cue to step forward and sweep me into a kiss just a breath more intense than was normal, his hands spread over my back and hip as if drinking in the feel of my skin. I wondered if Illidan’s tension had bled over to his twin. He broke the kiss reluctantly, the heavy fabric of his kilt hiding how desperately he wanted me.

“There is no scandal here,” I continued, my tone sharp and warning. “No gossip to spread. Illidan Stormrage has two wives; Tyrande Whisperwind has two husbands. What you just witnessed is common knowledge here, and expressing surprise or outrage will only reflect badly on you.” I listened to their thoughts for a moment; not all of my students were comfortable with what they’d seen, but they were even less comfortable with the thought of expressing their discomfort and voicing disapproval of the private lives of some of the most powerful night elves alive. Nartuk, surprisingly, was completely serene. Apparently, he’d known a pair of female Mag’har twins who were mated with the same man. “You are dismissed for the day. Kathleen-”

“A hundred left-side strikes on the practice pole, Shan’do Jentessa.” The human bowed. “I remember.”

We watched them file silently out; six to the main building, two to the thick wooden pole in the corner. Cloudrunner, it seemed, was joining her human friend for extra practice. I approved.

The portal I opened led to the solarium, something that did not surprise my other husband in the slightest. However much the growing things might have relaxed him, the anticipation of what was soon to come made him tense enough that when I teased his ear with my tongue, he clung to me as if drowning and moaned.

It is difficult to explain what it’s like, having two husbands, sharing them with Tyrande. I can’t in all honesty say that I love one more than the other, despite being Illidan’s Champion. But the way Malfurion and I relate to each other is…more casual, more relaxed. We began with hostility and guilt, resentment and anger, all of it centered around our love for Illidan. When those tangles became unsnarled, what remained was simple, profound intimacy. Illidan is a complex man, burdened by destiny and the struggle to remain who he is beneath that shapeless weight; Tyrande feels the same burden upon her slender shoulders. Malfurion serves to balance Tyrande, supporting her silently without her needing to ask; I perform the same duties for my star. But alone, neither of us has to wear the mantle of being our mate’s other half. He is soft and grounded where Illidan is sharp and volatile; I am young and gentle where Tyrande is sternly ageless. Usually, our time together is lazy and comfortable.

It worried me to feel his desperation.

“Furion?”

“Tessa,” he breathed, lipping at my ear, his hips bucking against mine.

Clearly, we weren’t going to get anywhere until we’d gotten that out of the way. I tugged his beard gently, urging him away from my ear and to my lips, where he once again kissed me as though drowning. I unfastened his kilt and tossed it to one side, where it joined the leggings I writhed awkwardly out of, and his member fairly burned my skin where he pressed it against my belly. A mental touch, and his emotions poured into me, the dam of his willpower breached. As one, we lay on the thick moss and gasped as he slid inside, heated flesh quenched for the moment only to be stoked again as he moved on top of me, ravaging my breasts with gentle teeth and urgent tongue, one hand stroking my horns and spurring me on. Desperate with his need, I bucked beneath him, driving him deeper until the world stopped in an overflow of pleasure so intense that it took several minutes before either of us roused from the blank afterglow.

When I was able to think past the haze of comfort, I was not surprised to find my head pillowed on Furion’s shoulder while he nuzzled lazily at my hair, one hand laying pleasantly on my wing. What was surprising, however, was the complete absence of that desperation I’d felt from him earlier. He nearly purred as his hand roamed deliciously over my membranes, making me wonder idly if he would be up for another round soon.

“Mmmm, I needed that,” he sighed just as I opened my mouth. The words I’d intended to say were swallowed in a lazy kiss.

Although mollified, I wasn’t entirely placated, and I levered myself up enough to mock-glare at my other husband who grinned unrepentantly back at me. Despite myself, I glanced to the side and confirmed that yes, he wasn’t entirely limp. There would be a second round soon, but not before I’d gotten an answer. “Furion…” Some of my concern flowed through the link, dampening his afterglow with guilt.

“Morning-glory, forgive your thickheaded husband,” he murmured as he pulled me back down, kissing me tenderly. “Insecurity is one of the traits I share with Illidan.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. Where my star had been drawn to Tyrande for ten thousand years like a moth to the moon, yearning but never putting himself forth out of the belief that he could never have what he wanted so badly, so had Malfurion swallowed the love for me that had blossomed in the wake of their reconnection. Even knowing that he could have me with a single word, Illidan had held himself back for years, convincing himself that I could not possibly feel the way he wanted me to. With the longer-than-usual period of time between visits – a combination of my new students, children growing older, and an entirely unrelated incident requiring a state visit to Stormwind – he, like his brother, had convinced himself that he was unworthy of my affection.

Grinning despite my mock-glare, I pulled out of his grasp and sat up, hands on my hips. “Malfurion Stormrage, you know better than that.”

“I know,” he agreed, more abashed than cheerfully anticipatory despite the glorious readiness his body was proclaiming.

“I’m going to have to teach you a lesson again, aren’t I?”

He was echoing my teasing tone now as he said, “Perhaps.”

His hips were warm as I straddled him, leaning down for a kiss that kindled familiar heat between my legs, his hands cupping my breasts. “Silly stag,” I breathed into his mouth as one hand slid up my horn and the other slipped down my flank. “You know I love you.”

Whatever response he may have wanted to make came out as a deep groan as I sheathed him, his golden eyes rolling momentarily back, hands on my hips urging me down, the wind of my wings making his hair flutter. Although not quite the same as when my star does it, the application of wing motions to sex still works quite well when it is the female that mounts the male, and I gleefully set about riding my other husband until our mutual pleasure overwhelmed us once again and I slumped, contented, to be cradled gently on his broad chest.

“I know, morning-glory,” he whispered into my hair. “I’m a fool. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Furion.” Sated and content, I let my quiet joy bleed into his mind where it soothed his insecurity and guilt. For long, lazy minutes we drifted, reveling in just being near each other. “If it starts to get that bad again,” I murmured into his neck, lipping at the curve of his ear, “tell your brother. We don’t want you suffering when the solution is so enjoyable.”

He hugged me tighter. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Tessa.”

“Shh, it’s okay now.” Lazily, I stretched and rolled onto the moss, and he rolled over to admire my nude form. “We’re both entirely unsuitable for public appearances, you know.”

“I know.” One finger trailed lightly down a horn, turning into a caress as he continued the motion down my cheek. “We should put our clothes back on, if nothing else.”

I laughed, the sound drawing a shy smile out of him. “You’re as bad as your brother, Furion.”

“Ah,” he said, golden eyes twinkling, “but am I as good as him?”

“Furion! Are asking me to compare night to day?” Laughter blunted my supposed outrage.

“I would be a hypocrite if I did,” he replied, cheerfully unashamed.

The solarium had a pool, a small one, just big enough for the four of us to share comfortably. Malfurion pulled me to my hooves, then scooped me up and carried me to the edge. We bathed languidly, using the act as an excuse to touch each other, until his stomach growled. He climbed out of the pool and shook his head, droplets of water flying from his verdant mane, while I pretended to be outraged at being splashed. A quick portal brought us to the master bedroom with its extensive closets, and soon enough he had a heavy kilt that matched his hair wrapped modestly around him, while I was draped in violet silk embroidered with leafy vines. That the leaves and vines spelled out my claim as Malfurion’s other wife in Nathrezim runes did not in any way detract from the beauty of the design, although I felt sure that Furion’s admiring gaze was more for the curves beneath the cloth than the ones atop it.

The mage-students greeted our arrival with cheers as we entered the dining hall, something that I bore with tolerant amusement and Malfurion flushed slightly over. He still wasn’t entirely used to having his sex life be a matter of public approval, although a seed of Illidan’s usual smugness was growing. The students on serving duty scrambled to get a heaping plate and brimming mug to the high table before we got there, while my aspiring demon hunters looked nervously around at the sudden celebratory expressions.

“Welcome back, Malfurion,” Rainbird said happily as we passed her table, and we paused long enough for a hug of greeting. “We haven’t seen you in too long.”

“Believe me, it was not my choice,” he retorted with a smile at me. “No doubt your shan’do feels the same way, but such are the burdens of leadership.”

Rainbird’s eyes slid to me, and one eyebrow arched. Silently, she hurled a question at me, and I held up two fingers in response.

“Hey now,” Furion protested, seeing my gesture. “I’ve only just arrived! You can’t expect me to perform on an empty stomach; I’m not my brother, able to sustain myself on mana alone.”

“No worries,” Rainbird laughed as the students nearby passed the exchange to their fellows in a wave of whispers. “We’ll let you eat before we start whispering about your tally. We know you’ll need to keep your strength up. Just don’t tire her out enough that the new students think she’s a pushover, hmmm?”

I waved one hand dismissively. “Unlikely. Not that you can’t keep up with me,” I teased, nibbling one ear lightly. “I’m more than capable of being terrifying regardless of whether or not I can stand up on my own.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he rumbled with false gravity, then grinned at Rainbird before continuing on to the high table.

We ate, we drank, we laughed and chatted with teachers and students bold enough to approach, glorying in just being near enough to touch each other. Alysa, the other female kaldorei demon hunter student, sidled shyly up to ask if it was true that he shared me and Tyrande with his brother, and Malfurion’s hand was warm and tight around mine as he explained what it was like to be born twins. It didn’t matter which of them had fallen in love with one of us first; they were twins, they were two halves of a whole, and they could no more keep their love neatly segmented than they could feel with only one half of their bodies. She slipped away again, mind radiating awe, and was replaced with the young Mag’har male.

“Archdruid,” he said with a bow. “Shan’do. I would share my reasons for being here, if I may.”

“Of course,” Furion murmured.

“I did not choose this path lightly. There are those among my people who feel that because we were spared the demon’s blood curse, we are somehow better than our green-skinned cousins. It has led to strife in the past. I had a visit from one of my ancestors – yes,” he said as my other husband’s eyebrows climbed, “I could have been a shaman. But this ancestor…” He trailed off, weighing his words. “We were taken in by Sargeras because he came in the guise of an ancestral spirit. Had there been one able to see demons for what they are, the slaughter of the draenei…all the war…countless human and orc deaths could have been averted. Draenor would not have been shattered, and we would not be refugees transplanted onto your world. I remember Osha’gun,” he said solemnly to me. “I was a child when Illidan Stormrage moved the sacred mountain and the spirits with it, and the blood of Draenor is on my people’s hands. A world died because we were deceived. Orgrim Doomhammer sacrificed victory on the shores of Lordaeron to uphold the honor of my people; I can do no less. And so, even though many of my people would not understand why, I have chosen to embrace the demonic in order to better seek out threats and protect this world.” He spread his hands. “Your brother was the first to walk this path, Archdruid. I trust that you hold no grudge for his choice. I hope you understand, even if my clan does not, why I have chosen to follow him.”

“For a long time,” Malfurion said slowly, “I did not understand. Illidan suffered unspeakable things because of my close-minded actions, but he has forgiven me and there is accord between us. Without his aid, all of Mount Hyjal would have burned at the hands of the Twilight’s Hammer, and it was at my urging that he agreed to again train demon hunters to help us protect this world. I am glad to see you here, and grateful that you have chosen to sacrifice the glory and honor of the shaman to keep my twin company on his dark and once-lonely path.”

“There is honor in this path, too,” Nartuk said quietly. “Shan’do Jentessa is the firstborn child of the famous Ryxl Ironheart, even if most people forget that fact with Dranosh being the Warchief’s Champion. None would dare suggest that any path she treads is less than honorable, not with Ryxl’s very vocal approval – and it would take a great fool indeed to suggest that Ryxl Ironheart would support anything dishonorable.” He took a deep breath and faced me. “He said, the first day, that any actions or words you witnessed may as well have been said or done before him. I am grateful for the opportunity to share this with you, and with him.”

He thumped a fist to his chest and bowed, retreating with admirable grace and swiftness.

“Would that I had been so wise at his age,” Furion said dryly as the orc wove his way back through the tables.

“But then he wouldn’t have needed me,” I protested, distracting him neatly by nibbling the edge of his ear.

We were halfway through a lengthy kiss, his hands on my breast and thigh, before he remembered we were still at the high table and pulled back, blushing to the tips of his ears and halfway down his chest. A few of the closer students called out encouragement, making him blush harder and avert his eyes from my wicked little smile.

“Tell me my brother doesn’t…”

“Take me at the table?” I asked with a laugh. “No. Kissing, some stroking, and usually a dramatic exit.”

Furion’s lips twitched. “Is that so? Well then, I suppose I have expectations to live up to.”

“Before dessert, Archdruid?”

The student who’d managed to secure the honor of bringing us a berry tart with whipped cream stood discreetly to the side, struggling to keep his face blank. Malfurion looked at him for a long moment, then considered the cream-laden pastry. One finger swiped a sweet glob from the top, then spread it on the soft curve my low neckline left exposed. Without a word he bent his head and licked it off my skin.

“It’s delicious,” he deadpanned to the student. “I believe we’ll take that with us. Tessa?”

Laughing, I teleported us – and the tart – to the master bedroom.

“What about the tart?” I asked as he laid me on the bed and began unwrapping me from my silk, kissing every bit of skin as he exposed it.

“Mmm…I’m debating whether I want to eat it later, or eat it off of you.”

Teeth gently teasing one nipple; I stuck the tart in a ward to keep it as it was and set it off to the side. “Maybe you could eat it off of me later?”

“Oh?” The teeth paused, to be replaced with warm, rough fingers. “Is there something you want?”

“You know what I want.” I moved my legs slightly, the last fold of silk falling away.

“Who’s the insatiable one now, my little morning-glory?”

I grinned. “I can’t help it if my other husband happens to be as skilled as only ten thousand years can make him.”

Furion conceded the point with a laugh, ego neatly stroked. This was something Illidan would not, could not beat him at, and it warmed his heart to have that small corner of security with me. Then his breath puffed against my belly. My legs spread easily at his touch, his breath moving lower, and then the gentle motion of his tongue began.

He teased me, he stroked me, he stoked the fire that his touch sparked until it threatened to burn me alive, melting my bones and making me cry out as he sucked and swirled and lapped and did things I had no names for.

“Oh, Morning-glory,” he moaned into my soft folds.

One hand vanished, and I imagined him stroking himself to hardness. “Furion…”

“I know,” he said, amused at my pleading. “I know what you want.”

Hardness and heat filled me and I cried out, core tightening enough to make him grunt as he settled himself and leaned forward to brace himself on the bed, toying briefly with one nipple before claiming my mouth and gently dominating me. The slight bulge of his belly was warm against my own as he thrust slowly, a tactile comfort I never got with Illidan except while I was pregnant.

I love you, he repeated soundlessly with every thrust, again and again until it felt like he was pushing the words into my mind, making love with his thoughts as well as his body, and when we came it was a gentle explosion, a sigh of bliss washing us away-but-not, two minds floating in a milky sea of I love you for an endless moment until with a groan he rolled over and panted beside me. That lasted only as long as it took his breathing to calm; then he pulled me to him until the hard-and-soft of his abdomen was warm against my folded wings, and his muscular arms gently encircling me.

“Just let me hold you,” he breathed into my hair. “It’s been too long.”

“I agree.” For a moment, I just reveled in his scent. “I missed you.”

Far away, in Darnassus, I suspected Tyrande was saying the same thing.

Seconds stretched into minutes; minutes flowed together as we lay there floating on joy and shared pleasure. Then his stomach growled again.

“I know,” he chuckled. “I’m insatiable.”

“Mmm.” I floated the tart close enough to pluck out of the air as we shifted in the wide bed until he was laying on his back, and I was teasing him with the still-warm dessert. “Did you want to eat this off of me?”

“You’ve worn me out, morning-glory,” he mock-pouted. “I need a chance to recover, you know.”

Through the link, our mutual joy shimmered and echoed in the teasing words; we both knew how it was going to turn out. When I held the tart to his lips, it was no surprise. Furion gingerly took a bite, getting whipped cream on his nose. I licked it off, then took a nibble of my own. When he’d swallowed, he opened his mouth and waited unrepentantly until I brought the pastry back to his lips. Between Illidan having practically given up food years ago and Tyrande’s ingrained dignity and poise, the intimacy of feeding and being fed was something neither of us got to indulge in with our other mates.

“Well,” Furion said as I kissed the last bits of berry from his lips, “we’ve done the frantic reunion sex, the I’m-sorry-I’m-a-fool sex, and the your-tongue-is-amazing sex. We’ve hit he solarium, the bedroom, and the dining hall. We’ve bathed, cuddled, made out in front of the students, and had dessert. What’s next on our list?”

“Watching the sun set from the highest tower, I think. Unless you’d rather do that in the solarium.”

He thought about it.

“It’s getting a bit nippy at night,” I offered, and he grinned.

“Tower it is. And when you get chilly, I’ll hold you and keep you warm.”

I feigned surprise. “I thought we were saving sex on the tower for tomorrow night.”

“Not that kind of-”

My lips on his ended the protest. “I know,” I murmured as we parted.

His arms came up around me, holding me to his firm chest. “Does this mean we can have sex on the tower tomorrow night?”

“If you want to.”

He echoed my grin. “There’s something to be said for being in private while in public. I can almost understand the allure it holds for my brother.”

“Mmm. Where do you want to sleep tonight?”

“In your arms, morning-glory.”

“Furion!”

He grinned at my supposed outrage, making me laugh. “The solarium, where the flowers are almost as beautiful as you.”

“Flatterer.”

“Only because I can,” he said with a gentle kiss.

I didn’t argue. I never argued, not since he’d shared his perception of me and the heartfelt assurance that if anything ever happened to my star, he would take me in and do his best to be the husband I’d lost. A childhood of being smaller, weaker, different, had made me crave the praise he loved to lavish on me and Tyrande. Not that I got no compliments from Illidan, because he showered me every day with searing thoughts of pure appreciation, but ten thousand years of abuse had impaired any natural eloquence he might have once possessed. Furion loved to compliment us, but Tyrande accepted it as her due where I still reacted like a young maiden. Illidan was grateful to his brother for saying the things he could never find words for; Tyrande thought it was adorable watching me react the way she had never been able to manage. It was another sparkling facet in our relationship.

“The real question,” he murmured into my neck, teeth grazing my skin delightfully, “is if we should put our clothes back on before going out to watch the sunset.”

I thought about it.

“Let’s just bring a blanket. If we get chilly, we can share it.”

I didn’t have to say that Illidan would have used his wings; we’d had that conversation, and the discussion about nightsaber form, long ago.

“Excellent idea.” Furion sighed theatrically. “But this means I have to let go of you.”

“Fine…” I rolled my eyes to hide my smile.

The magic was only marginally more difficult to execute as I teleported us to the top of the highest tower and flipped us upright, the blanket we’d been lounging on now draped around our shoulders. He started as he found himself suddenly on his feet, and his arms tightened around me.

“How…”

“I’ve been practicing,” I answered smugly.

Malfurion laughed, deep and rich. “I should have known.”

In silence, we stood and watched as the sun set the sky ablaze, streamers of pink and gold that deepened into red and brilliant orange while the sky faded into purple. Furion held me close while I leaned back against him, the blanket insulating him from the cool stone wall. He still smelled of growing things, my grounding, undemanding oasis in a world that required much of me. Our thoughts intertwined, and when he caught my impression of him as a patch of nurturing earth he added me as a vibrantly purple flower growing from his soil. Silently, I confessed to him Illidan’s private memory-image of Tyrande’s flaming blossom on his emerald grass.

He still treasured me? Furion asked in awe. After all those years…all the hate…

It was you that pulled him home, more even than Tyrande. He could trust you to watch over and protect her, and he knew that she was happy, but…he missed you.

I can’t thank you enough, Tessa. Not just for fixing him, or bringing him home, or even for showing me how wrong I was – for reconnecting us. I know, I know, Tyrande asked you to. But you made it possible. He ducked his head, eyes closed against tears. If anything ever happened to you, he would shatter. You know that.

Memories of his terror at the thought he could accidentally kill me, even after all this time. I know.

If anything ever happened to you… In the image, the flower withered and the soil, lacking anything to hold it together, crumbled and was scattered by the wind.

“Furion…” I twisted in his arms until I could embrace him, my head ducked against his chest, his heartbeat thudding in my ear.

He didn’t say a word; even his thoughts were trembling as he held me with trembling arms, the blanket enfolding me in makeshift wings. We stayed like that until the trembling eased and his breathing evened out.

You are so precious to me, he said silently, and you ask for nothing.

If I did, I teased, would that make it easier to remember that I love you?

That startled a chuckle out of him.

“You know you don’t have to buy my love, silly stag.”

“Even a bee brings a gift to every flower,” he retorted, heart light. “What can I bring you? What would make my morning-glory’s heart sing?”

I did him the courtesy of thinking about it, discarding ideas right and left until one stood up to the rigorous examination I put it through. “A picnic lunch,” I said finally, smiling at his astonishment.

It was perfect. Time spent alone, lazy and carefree, in the woods. Food to be eaten and toyed with, fed lovingly to each other or used as props before the inevitable lovemaking. And above all else, the message that he was the gift that made my heart sing.

“I’ll make sure to bring one next time,” he whispered fervently, holding me tightly again.

“Furion?” Lightly, I tugged his beard until I could catch his lower lip in a grazing kiss. “Let’s go inside.”

“Ah,” he said, smiling through the kiss. “It’s time for the slow-and-tender sex, followed by falling asleep in the arms of one of the most amazing women to ever grace Azeroth.”

“Flatterer.”

Tenderly, he kissed me until I was quite warm – and so was he. “Because I can,” he murmured.

I teleported us to the solarium.