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"Yeah, the little bastard is punctual, all right," Trillian said, leaning down to slip one of my nipples into his mouth. He sucked gently, and I moaned, leaning back against the tile. I was tired, but his touch felt good, and I realized I was up for some destressing.
"How do you spell relax?" I whispered, holding his head with my hands.
"I think the answer is f-u-c-k-m-e," he answered, sliding his way up my body. He was hard—ready—and I could see by his eyes he was planning on planting his flag as many times as possible before Smoky got to me.
"Sometimes I think I should have been a sacred harlot," I whispered, my breath ragged. The oath we'd forged acted like a perpetual aphrodisiac, and the longer we were together, it seemed the stronger it got. "Delilah and Menolly… their hormones are in check, but mine never seem to stop. I need you, Trillian. I need you to touch me, I need you to fill me up and never stop reminding me that you own me."
As he trailed his tongue along the side of my neck, I pushed him back, then slid down on my knees. The water cascaded down in a waterfall of warmth as I brought my lips to his leg, working my way up his inner thigh, over the taut, jet muscles that convulsed at my touch. Hungry for the taste of him, I sought him out, letting him slowly press his length into my mouth. I gave one long, slow lick along the hardened ridge, from base to tip, and he shuddered.
"You're too passionate to be one of the sacred whores," he said, bracing his hands on my shoulders as he planted his back firmly against the tiled wall. "They perform for men out of duty. You do this out of love… love for the act, love for the passion, love for…" He didn't finish it, but I could hear the word "us" on his tongue.
I nibbled and teased, pressing my mouth against him as I slowly let his girth part my lips again. He groaned and gently thrust forward as I wrapped my tongue around the head, sucking hard, tasting the droplets that gathered on the tip. They were salty, warm, filled with desire.
After a moment, Trillian pushed me back, panting roughly.
"Stop… before I come," he commanded. I stopped, and he lifted me up and pressed me against the tiles. I lifted one leg, balancing it on the rim of the tub, and he dipped slightly, then came up to press against my lower lips, sliding thickly in with ease and familiar comfort. I gasped as his fingers sought my clit, and the next thing I knew, he was teasing me, cajoling me to follow his lead.
"Oh Great Mother, hard. I need you. Hard, Trillian. Give it to me hard." All the sexual tension from Smoky's visit and the stress of the evening had built up in my body, and this was my only release. This was the only way I could ever get outside of my head—escape from my thoughts.
He thrust against me, and we set our pace. With one hand, he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back as he pressed his lips against my neck, sucking deeply. Territorial markers.
"You want me, you've got me," he said, his voice raspy. "Never run away from me again, Camille, or I'll tear the world apart to bring you back. I don't care how many men you fuck, but never leave me again. Not for fox-boy, not for the dragon, not for the freaking gods themselves."
I grabbed his shoulders as he plunged so deep and so hard that I was afraid we'd topple over, but a second later, he fingered me again, and I suddenly forgot about the tub, about the water, about everything as I found myself rising, spiraling up and out toward the apex, where a deluge of sensation ricocheted through me. A moment later, I collapsed into his arms, spent, relieved, savoring the release that only sex could offer.
I woke early, long before sunrise, to the sound of chimes echoing from my study, across the hall. The Whispering Mirror! I slipped out from beneath Trillian's arm, which was draped over my side, and gave him a satisfied peck on the cheek. He murmured in his sleep, then turned over as I slid into my silk robe and hurried out the door to cross the hall.
Encased in an engraved silver frame, the Whispering Mirror was our interdimensional videophone to Otherworld. Originally, it had been programmed to contact the OIA. Now, with a little rewiring thanks to the elves, it homed in on Queen Asteria's court.
I sat down at the vanity table it was affixed to and removed the black velvet cloth draped over the mirror. The glass sparkled with a vortex of colored mists.
"Maria," I said, activating it. Instead of responding to our voices, it now responded to a code word. We'd chosen our mother's name.
The swirling mist in the glass slowly began to clear, revealing Trenyth, Queen Asteria's advisor and assistant. He looked almost as tired as I felt. He blinked, staring at me with open surprise. I glanced down and realized my robe had slipped open and that I was popping out of my spaghetti-strap nightgown.
I adjusted my breast, giving him a dippy grin. At four in the morning, I just couldn't get upset over offering him a little peep show. "Nothing you haven't seen before, so don't look so shocked. Do you know what time it is here? I've had three hours of sleep. We spent half the night fighting off two dubba-trolls. I'm beat. What do you want?"
"I'm sorry to wake you, but there's been a bit of an emergency over here," he said.
I recognized the urgency in his voice, and all my snarkiness slid away. "What do you need?"
Trenyth, like most elves, managed to keep an impassive expression on his face. He was unreadable unless he chose otherwise. "Is Trillian with you?"
I nodded. "Yes, why?"
"Fetch him. I need to talk to him. Now, if you will." He sat back in his chair, waiting, offering no other explanation.
Worry replacing curiosity, I pushed back the bench and hurried toward my bedroom. What could Queen Asteria want with Trillian? He'd been a runner for her and Tanaquar, but they'd grounded him Earthside for awhile when he was shot by one of the enemy's arrows. Worse than the wound, he'd been outed as a spy, which put him squarely in danger back in Otherworld.
"Trillian, wake up," I said, shaking his shoulder until his eyes flew open. "Trenyth is on the Whispering Mirror, and he wants to talk to you."
Within seconds, Trillian leapt out of bed. He stood there, a naked, gorgeous god, casting a quick glance around the room. I held up his smoking jacket. Actually, it was more of a midcalf robe, one I'd bought for him at Yuletide.
"Here, this what you're looking for?"
"Thanks," he said, as he slid into it and belted it. He hurried across the hall, with me following, and took his place in front of the mirror.
Trenyth straightened his shoulders. "Trillian, I have…" He stopped when he saw me. "Camille, this is security business. You'll have to leave the room."
