“Just stating the facts, ‘Dor,” I said. “So you might want to think about that, before you and your pals start talking smack...”
Another surprised-sounding laugh burst out of the Adhipan leader.
The laugh sounded real that time, and I couldn’t help but fight back my own smile.
Balidor still sounded amused when he replied, “As long as you recognize I am responsible for no one’s tongue but my own, Esteemed Bridge. Chandre is likely too traumatized by what she saw to speak of it any time soon. But you must, at least, be aware that Jorag won’t be able to control himself...”
“Tell Pagoj I’m telling Neela, if he backs Jorag’s story up,” I retorted. “You’ve got to know that I’ll deny everything.”
“Is this a security issue, then?” Balidor asked innocently. “Perhaps I should inform Deklan, since Wreg is currently indisposed?”
Fighting a smile for real that time, I only clicked at him.
“Whatever,” I said. “Six o’clock? To be on the safe side?”
“That is most suitable for me, Esteemed Bridge. I will arrange for dinner. On the upper deck, if that suits you...assuming the weather holds.”
“Dinner, huh? Now I’m definitely telling Revik.”
I heard Balidor smile again and clicked at him. Hearing him say something to Jorag then, or maybe Chandre, I reached up, switching off the earpiece right before I pulled it off, tossing it down on top of the white sheet on the bed.
Well, that was that.
I wondered just how fast the story of my morning would get back to Revik.
Then, remembering he already shared a construct with the rest of them, I found myself thinking it wouldn’t be long.
ABOUT FORTY MINUTES later, I was sitting cross-legged on the bed, going through the infiltration team’s notes about Dubai via the headset Revik left me. I must have been pretty absorbed in what I was doing, because I totally missed the ping from security.
Then I heard a low tone from the door.
Scrambling to yank the sheet around me once more, I got my feet and legs caught in the material that time, and didn’t manage to accomplish my goal before the door opened. I still struggled with pulling the sheet out from under my butt and legs as Revik walked in, holding some kind of tray.
His clear eyes narrowed to predatory when he saw me there.
Turning his head, he motioned sharply to someone behind him, shoving the door closed with his free hand as soon as he’d finished signing a message I didn’t catch. He didn’t move from his spot by the door as whoever stood outside rolled the wheel shut, re-activating the Barrier seal.
The light over the door shifted from red back to that lighter blue-green, right around the time I removed my headset and dropped it on the side table.
When I glanced back at Revik’s face, I found his eyes on me once more.
They lingered where he’d cuffed my wrist, right before he glanced at the monitor, which had been serving as my work station, along with his link.
I watched his face, but he had his infiltrator mask on, so I couldn’t see much.
Looking at him, though, I wondered if anyone had told him about Terian. This wasn’t exactly the reception I’d been expecting, given everything. In fact, I’d expected him to be angry. Not at me, necessarily, but definitely angry.
Even as I thought it, he moved.
Clicking softly, almost under his breath, he walked over to the table, setting down the covered tray. When he straightened, looking at me, I gave him a pointed look.
“Is that breakfast?” I said.
He gave me a wan smile.
“Coffee?” I pressed.
He nodded that time, walking over to the bed.
“Took you long enough,” I scolded him. “What were you doing for so long?”
He didn’t slow his cat-like steps.
As he walked, he reached for the back of his shirt collar with both hands. He began pulling it over his head, not stopping his unhurried walk as he did it. When he tossed his shirt on the floor by the bed, he already stood beside it, looking down at me. He kicked off his shoes, still looking at me. Frowning down at the sheet that wrapped around about half of my body, he leaned down, grasping hold of it tightly in one hand.
“Revik,” I said, my voice warning.
Ignoring me, he tugged the sheet sharply off my legs and torso, half-pulling me down the bed in the process. I couldn’t help laughing, even as I used my feet to scramble away, pushing myself backwards and away from him.
He caught hold of my ankle before I got far.
Instead of pulling me towards him, he pushed my foot backwards on the bed, forcing me to bend my knees, then, when he grabbed my other foot, to spread my ankles. Within seconds, I had my back to the headboard again, my cuffed arm mostly pinned behind me, my other hand gripping the pillow I half-sat on now. Revik lay with half of his body on the bed. He’d done it fast, faster than I could react to, really, apart from jerking away from him in reflex.
Gripping my ankles tighter, he pulled my feet apart wider, yanking himself closer on the mattress. Before I could decide exactly how I wanted to react to this new development, he lowered his head, putting his mouth on me. Then his tongue.
He’s really, really hard to argue with when he’s doing that.
By then, I’d been feeling his absence, too.
More than I should have been, probably.
My light flared out when he held my legs apart wider. He’d slowed the physical part of what he was doing, going deeper with his tongue, leaning on my thighs with his arms. He started using his light more deliberately once he felt mine start to open...using things I’d taught him, that he’d been pushing me to teach him for weeks now.
I felt that pain on him worsen, grow almost unbearable and he stopped long enough to lean his face on my thigh, panting. He groaned even as he started again, still going slow but without much in the way of restraint, either. A few minutes later, I let out a cry, as much from how bad his pain had gotten as what he was doing. When he clutched me harder against him, I gripped his hair in my free hand, tugging on it.
Once I felt my light slide out of control, his hands tightened on me again, right before he yanked me down the bed, resting more of his weight on my legs.
That pain on him worsened again, causing me to cry out.
Feeling seemed to want to bury me, or maybe just to overpower my light.
A strange combination of submission and aggression wafted off him, the longer he kissed me...or maybe just him alternating between the two, or holding himself back until he felt weak. I couldn’t read everything I felt there...or maybe I could, but I couldn’t untangle it, couldn’t make a story out of it inside my mind. Either way, the intensity of the feelings there forced me to let go. I couldn’t fight him like this. I didn’t even want to try.
Some part of me must have been holding back, though, because I felt it when I stopped, when I finally gave him what he wanted.
My light opened completely, even as I let out a deeper cry.
He was groaning then, kissing me harder, his fingers inside me, his free arm wrapped around my waist. He was still moving slow, though, painfully slow, and when I couldn’t get him to go faster, I cried out again, trying to fight off that controlling thing he was doing to my light...the structures he was simultaneously holding in me, and flooding with his own light. I cried out again when he didn’t stop, when he barely seemed to notice my attempts to push him back, and something about his control that time nearly made me frantic.
He ignored that, too, pulling on me harder, wrapping into me, winding our light together in sinuous, snake-like strands.
He let out another low groan when I let him, then he dug his fingers into my side, stopping me from coming when I reacted sharply to what he was doing to my light.
That pain I’d been sitting on, that had been sending sparks through my light since I woke up with him absent from the room, unwound around me in a kind of liquid pool. I found mysel
f gripping his hair harder, maybe hurting him by then. When I pulled on him with my light, asking him outright, he let out another low groan, stopping long enough to look up at me. His clear eyes looked glassed by then. I felt the heat in his light, and on his body.
I found myself looking at his chest, at where he was breathing harder, staring at my face.
“Fucking talk to me,” he said. “Ask. Out loud...”
I felt another shock of pain hit me, when his fingers slid into me deeper.
My back arched involuntarily, right before he moved abruptly up my body, clutching my hair in his hand, his other hand on my belly and breasts, his eyes following his fingers as he slid them back down me. A few seconds later, he went back to moving his fingers slow...excruciatingly slow inside me.
He looked up at my face, right before he started kissing me, using his tongue, turning me deeper into him, against his chest.
I gasped against the kiss, against the amount of light he flooded into mine, against the pain he threw at me, the fact that he still controlled all of it. I realized a few seconds later that I was fighting his light, fighting to get inside him. When he took his mouth off me that time, I could only look up at him, struggling to breathe.
“Ask me,” he murmured, kissing my face. “You know what I want...gods. Why are you so fucking quiet with me still? Am I doing this wrong? Do you need to show me again?”
I fought with the pain he tugged on in my light.
I shook my head, gasping when he did it again.
“No,” I said.
“Then ask,” he murmured. “Ask me...”
I didn’t want to ask him, though.
Stubbornness, maybe. Or maybe I wanted to make him work harder, considering how long he’d left me in here. Or maybe the real reason was that I could feel him holding back, too, that he wasn’t only doing this because it turned him on...he was using it as a means of dodging me, of avoiding that distrust of me that still lingered in his light.
Or maybe I was still pissed off at how little he told me last night.
About Dalejem.
Feeling some portion of my thoughts, he let out another groan, something closer to frustration that time. I tried to pull my light back, to control myself, but that time, I couldn’t. His pulling and frustration wound into my own, until I cried out, feeling my light slip through my fingers when he slid into me deeper.
Even so, when I lost control of it that time, the feeling came a lot closer to anger, a wanting to fight with him...physically, that is...or maybe just force him to do what I wanted, or maybe force him to open to me, to stop this fucking pretend dance where he said he trusted me but he didn’t. I hadn’t felt anything this intensely about that since I’d gotten back, but it must have been building there, somewhere, even while I pretended I was being patient, giving him space.
Right now, I couldn’t make myself give a shit about that, either.
He must have felt that, too, because when he looked at me next, his eyes had narrowed.
I felt pain there, rising in his light. Most of that still felt like separation pain, too, but looking at his eyes, I couldn’t be sure what he was thinking.
Which of course only made that anger worse.
“You want to hurt me?” he said, softer.
I thought about his words. Fighting to pull back my light, I shook my head.
“Then what? You’re angry at me?” he said. “For leaving you in here? Or is it the trust thing? What you were thinking just now?”
I felt my jaw harden. He didn’t deny it, I noticed.
But was I angry? I honestly wasn’t sure I was that, either.
“What did I say in my sleep last night?” I said, diverting. “About Dubai?”
He shook his head, smiling slightly as he clicked at me. “You want to talk shop right now? Really, wife?”
“Shop?” I said. “What do you mean, shop? What did I say?”
He only clicked at me more sharply, though, his light and face unreadable.
The pain in my gut worsened. I couldn’t even tell if it was his pain or mine anymore. He pinned me to the bed while I still fought with it. His control slipped again, right before he slid his hand back between my legs, his fingers still gripping my hair with his other hand. Slower again, painfully slow, he began exploring me with his light-filled fingers, caressing me so precisely and deliberately I thought I’d lose my mind when he didn’t stop. Within a few more seconds, I’d forgotten all about Dubai and shop-talk and being angry at him for not trusting me more and for not telling me anything about that seer, Dalejem.
A few seconds after that, I was talking to him, losing track of my own words, and he shifted his weight to one side, groaning, fighting with his belt.
I felt him wanting intercourse now that I was talking to him, even though some of my words hurt him...or maybe partly because of that. He wanted to fuck me before I stopped talking, to put his ear by my mouth while he coaxed me into taking my anger and frustration out on him in other ways.
I saw images flicker through his mind, of me hurting his back, biting his neck...hitting him with with my fists, with harder things...and I had my hand on him before he got off the belt.
Once I did, he stopped long enough to press against my palm, groaning again.
“You really want me to hurt you?” I asked him, softer.
“No,” he said. Groaning, he gripped my wrist. “...Yes. Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
I felt something in his light, something about trust or submission or maybe both things. I felt that wall in his heart, felt him thinking about it, too, and frustration and anger bled over my light, almost in spite of myself. His pain worsened when he felt my aggression, and his light grew more submissive again, even as I felt that longing in his light sharpen.
Something clicked as I watched his reactions unfold, and I found myself staring at him.
“You know you’re holding back with me?” I said, incredulous. “You want me to beat you up, to get you to stop it?”
He shrugged, looking down at me, his eyes predatory again.
“You are seriously fucked up, you know that?” I said.
“You knew that when you married me,” he said, kissing me as he smiled. “Well,” he amended, thinking. “...The second time you married me, anyway.”
The smile didn’t touch his eyes, I noticed.
I was still staring up at him, trying to wrap my mind around what he was telling me. It occurred to me that he wanted me to understand that about him...the request had been planned, it hadn’t just “slipped out.” It also occurred to me that he’d been nervous to ask it of me. Not shy, not exactly, but nervous about how I might react. Nervous I might say no. Forcing myself to relax back into the mattress, I turned over his words, trying to view them objectively.
He didn’t take his hands off me, though, and my pain worsened when he starting putting more light into his fingers again.
“You’re not doing a good job, if you’re trying to convince me...” he managed after a pause, going back to unfastening the front of his pants.
“Convince you of what?” I said.
I had my hand inside his clothes then.
His eyes closed, even as he shifted closer to me on the bed, giving me more access. He let out another low gasp when I started pulling on him from that other place, using structures I’d developed working as a consort for the Lao Hu. He cried out again a few seconds later, fighting to wrestle control back from my light, but I’d finally wormed my way past his defenses on that score, too. I could feel more of him again, and not only the parts of him that wanted sex.
For a long-feeling few minutes, he fought my hold on him, using words that time...words for which I only understood about half. I didn’t let go of him, though.
He let out another low groan. I felt the difference in his body already. His muscles had gone soft, even as he rested more of his weight on his back and sides, leaning against me. His hand wrapped around my waist, even as he turned
his head, staring at my face.
The submission felt willing that time.
I couldn’t read him worth a damn though, even now. The realization frustrated me, even as it turned me on.
“Convince you of what, Revik?” I repeated.
“Not to tie you up,” he murmured against my neck. “Not to lock you to my bed so I could imagine you in here. Gaos. I had a hard-on the whole time I was gone.”
I smiled a little, in spite of myself. “You did?”
“I’m going to do it again,” he said, his words a half-gasp when I continued to touch him. He leaned his face deeper into my neck. “I almost don’t care what you say.”
I couldn’t help smiling at that, too. “Almost?”
“I stayed away,” he said, his eyes on mine as he caressed my skin. “I stayed away longer than I wanted...until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wanted you to miss me. Did you miss me, Allie? I really, really wanted you to miss me...”
He let out another low sound when I pulled on his light.
His eyes slid out of focus, right before he looked up at me. I couldn’t hold his gaze; my eyes shifted down his tattooed arms, to his chest and then to his lower body, over which he still wore most of his pants. When I glanced up next, I saw pain tighten his expression, right before he looked away, gasping again.
Sometimes it scared me how much I wanted him.
It scared me and made me jealous and threatened me...all of which I knew to be ridiculous, especially now. I knew he felt the same way, at least sometimes. It angered me that a part of me still wanted to punish him for his life before we got married, as well as the parts of his sexuality that had nothing to do with me. And yeah, I was still pissed off about Dalejem.
Hell, I was still pissed off about Jon. Not the rational part of me, sure. But the rational part of me wasn’t what came to the forefront when Revik pulled and unraveled my light.
Honestly, I wondered if his fears around that kind of thing ignited mine, making them worse, making me act more possessive with him, too. Or yeah, maybe that was nothing but a load of crap. Maybe it was just easier to blame him.
Allie's War Season Four Page 84