35. No more fear

[moonshadows]

"Tari?" Varian's voice wobbles slightly, making me glad Anduin's already in bed. He stumbles into my sitting room, weaving but upright, and stops. "I tried, but there were so many toasts. I'm...I'm not drunk enough to not remember this in the morning. I'll just..." he gestures vaguely towards his bedchamber.

"You'll come over here," I say calmly, putting a ribbon in my book.

He hesitates, visibly concerned. "I don't want to scare you."

"Then you won't." I pat the couch beside me. "Come. Sit. I don't want you to be miserable, Varian."

Slowly, he crosses the room and sits. He's definitely not so drunk that he won't remember it in the morning. Once, this would have terrified me, but - I smile softly, thinking of the new life still invisible inside me - I trust him. His hair is sticking up, and I smooth it back down. It's obvious that he's still not comfortable; he's halfway across the couch from me and very tense, hands balled on his knees. This will never do. I put him through enough; I won't make him suffer if I can help it.

"Varian..." Gingerly, I stretch my legs and tuck them back under me so that I am half-facing him. He looks at me forlornly. "Varian, you're not going to hurt me." I caress his cheek lightly and he shudders, leaning into the touch. "You've never hurt me."

He closes his eyes and swallows, hands still tightly clenched. "But I frightened you."

"And then you were so miserable about it that I had to fight to not take you in my arms and comfort you."

"Not the time you hit me."

"The next morning, I did." I trace the shell of his ear with one finger before stroking his hair. "Did you sleep at all that night?"

Eyes still closed, his lips curl into a bitter little smile. "No." That rigid posture is starting to soften under the gentle onslaught of my fingers. "You were right to hit me. I don't know what I would have done if you didn't."

"What are you afraid you'll do now?"

He shudders again. "Forget where the line is." Nervously, he licks his lips. "Cross it. Violate you somehow."

"Varian, do you trust me?"

One blue eye cracks open. "Of course I do," he says, sounding mildly offended.

"Kiss me."

I lift my chin defiantly, daring him to refuse, luring his pride out with my challenge. Somewhat startled, he leans over and brushes his lips against mine. Maybe he intended to retreat after that, but my hand in his hair prevents an easy escape, and my tongue teases his lips until they part, and I can hear his breath catch.

"Tari," he moans, breaking the kiss.

"Lean against me." Gently, I tug his tunic until he complies.

With him now resting against my breasts, I lean forward and tease his earlobe with my lips. His breath catches again, muscles tensing - but he doesn't notice my hand until the laces of his pants have been undone and I have taken his manhood between my fingers. Whatever protest he might have been about to make dies as I commence a two-pronged assault: ravishing his neck with my mouth while I knead him to full erection. He moans again, now limp and unresisting. The techniques I learned in self-defense prove a formidable weapon against the king of Stormwind, and my mouth muffles his cries as his pleasure takes him. Once the wave has passed he turns, sliding down slightly so that his face is pressed into my bosom.

I'm not objecting.

Several minutes pass in contented silence. My pacified husband embraces me somewhat awkwardly, all tension gone as if it had never been there. I am more than happy to hold him like an oversized baby, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. Finally, he chuckles.

"I've been a fool, my lady."

"How so, my lord?"

He shifts slightly in my arms, eyes opening to caress my face with adoration. "I've been afraid that I would hurt you, knowing how you were treated by him. But you are a warrior. I should have known that you would be able to keep me in check when you had years of experience battling a less civilized brute. I underestimated you, my lady wife, but somehow I don't regret that." One hand creeps up to caress my cheek. "I'm glad you had a weapon like that to use against me if I had ever stepped over that line."

I nuzzle his hand. "For you, my lord husband, that was a gift. I don't want you to be unhappy around me for so silly a reason."

"I don't think it's a silly reason," he says softly. "You suffered for years at his hand. Tari, you cried when you realized you loved me. I don't want to do anything that reminds you of him."

"Varian, I love you. I trust you. I'm bearing your child. If I thought for an instant that you would ever knowingly hurt me, I never would have married you." I smile, holding him closer. "It took me a little longer to move past my fear of you in the grip of the bottle, but...Varian, you let me hit you. Drunk enough to forget where the line was, sober enough to cross it, and you still didn't lift a hand against me even in self-defense." Carefully, I bend my head to kiss him. "No more fear, okay? You're not going to hurt me. I'd rather have you in my arms than huddling miserably in another room."

"I'd rather be in your arms," he says dryly, "but I'd also rather be sober for it. I'd rather be giving you pleasure than just taking it, and I'd much rather not be hung over in the morning."

"Tell them the scent turns my stomach? With how touchy it's been recently, I don't think anyone will dare argue."

"I'll do that." He grimaces. "My mouth is going to taste like something died in it by morning."

"Well, here..."

With some careful maneuvering, I shift so that I can reach the carafe of water that sits on a table close at hand. My stomach's been delicate enough that water and toasted bread are always on hand, now. I pour a glass of water and hold it for him while he drinks, then stroke his hair as he lays back down, head in my lap.

"I'm going to fall asleep if you keep that up," he says drowsily.

I can't help but smile. "Can you make it back to your bed?"

"Won't know until I try."

Gingerly, he sits up and almost immediately bends over, head between his legs. I rub his back until he straightens up again.

"I'd feel better if you spent the night in my bed," I say softly.

"I'm...I'm okay."

He doesn't really look okay.

"Not for your sake; for mine."

He looks a little startled at that, but one hand on my navel brings a quiet sound of understanding. "Of course," he says, taking my hand in his. "Bin mog g'thazag cha."

Slowly, carefully, we escort each other to my bed. I never thought I would feel comfortable and secure trying to sleep with a wine-scented man holding me, but the lingering scent of hazelwood reassures my subconscious mind that this is not Blackmoore. With my husband holding me to his chest, nuzzling my neck, everything is right in the world and I drift off to sleep with a smile on my lips.