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"Easier for me than you, I think," I said. And then Asterion's fingers dug into the soles of my foot and my breath caught in my throat.
He hummed, a low, rumbling note. "I've been tired before, and I'll recover quickly."
I stared at him, his eyes closed as he worked his hands into tender, aching spots on my feet, sending that tugging sensation up my leg and deeper into my core.
"I might recover quickly too...with the right treatment," I whispered.
Asterion puffed air through his nose again, an expression of doubt I was coming to learn from him.
I sat up, pulling my foot from his grasp, but he only moved onto the other boot. "Do you assume I'm broken beyond repair, then?"
"No."
My jaw worked and I waited for more, but Asterion didn't tease me and tempt me like Conall. He just worked gently and thoroughly at my stiff feet, and this time when I didn't pull away his hands moved up to my ankle, rolling the joint, stretching and twisting, then higher up to knead at my calf.
It did feel good, better than a whiff of fine perfume, almost as good as the cups of thick chocolate. But while he soothed and stretched and dug knots out of the muscle of one leg, the rest of me tightened. It didn't matter what Marius told me of Asterion, or what the minotaur showed me of himself. I waited.
I waited for force, for his grip on my leg to bruise, nails to dig, for him to drag me to him.
His hand slid down my calf, around my ankle, and then a quick squeeze on my foot.
"You'll claim your recovery when you're ready," Asterion rumbled.
His eyes were shut, his body stretched and lax on the bench, legs spread wide and head tucked into the corner. I chewed over his words, over the aching hollow in my belly, my toes curling and flexing, the warmth of his hands still soaked into my skin.
He didn't stir as I pulled my feet down from his lap, or when my skirts whispered and slid, or even when the cushion by his head dented under my fist. The carriage bounced on the road and I wavered, standing over the dozing minotaur, studying his peaceful, slack expression.
When I'm ready?The suggestion didn't make sense, as if I weren't quaking with need, as if I hadn't withered away, as if I had time to wait to bereadyto recover.
Asterion rumbled as I braced my knee next to his hip on the bench, golden lashes fluttering up from his cheeks.
"Théa?"
"Please," I whispered, settling myself over his lap, grasping his face in trembling hands.
He blinked again and the carriage rocked, forcing our bodies to jostle together. Those fanned lashes fluttered, and the buttons of his coat scraped against the belly of my gown with his deep breath.
"Take what you need," he said so softly I barely heard the words under the rattle of the carriage. His hand lifted to brace against my back but not to haul me closer, just to keep me steady on his lap.
Isn't this enough?I wanted to cry.Can't you help,takethe rest?I trembled on his lap, still waiting for force,needingit, until a flicker ofnéktartwined through the air between us, thin and shy. I brushed my thumbs over his cheeks, back and forth, and the wisp of pleasure tightened to a thread. His pleasure, not mine, but sweet and curious and something for me to grasp onto.
"Tell me...what you like about this," I murmured, curious as to why such a simple touch might offer anynéktarfor me.
Asterion's hand soothed up and down my back once, stilling at the base of my spine, and I thought he might ignore my question.
When his voice rose, it was dark and low, a private speech just for my ears. "I like the weight of you on my lap, light but steady. I like that you take my gloves off, demand to see me as I am. Your hands are warm, and they don't hesitate when they reach to touch me."
I stroked my hands down to his throat, and the muscles flexed as he sighed out a breath and swallowed.
"You don't frighten me," I said. It was not quite true. I was afraid of what I expected from him, from any man or monster, but he'd never offered any proof to my fears.
"Good."
Still, he didn't pull me closer, shift himself between my thighs. I leaned in, rested my chest to his, wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my cheek on his shoulder. His other arm joined the first, draping around my back.
He sighed again, and on his breath came morenéktar, richer than a cheap alleyway fuck with a human, sweeter too. The clawing softened to a pleading, but Asterion's offerings didn't dwindle in the minutes that passed.
My eyes stung and my throat tightened and my chest was sore. I wanted to bite at Asterion's warm, soft skin, to tear my way inside of him, as if I might hide my hollow places inside of his.
