Chapter Text
It is something of a mercy that Adrienne does not have the time to feel her grief at first. There is much still to be done. She is never alone, and she only sleeps when exhaustion overtakes her.
In the quiet that follows, the uneasy peace following Thordan’s defeat, Adrienne feels as though she may come well and truly undone.
There is a howling void where Haurchefant once was. If not for the utter emptiness he has left in his wake, it would be impossible to believe he was really gone. Instead, his absence is everywhere, unavoidable, suffocating. And unlike so many times before, Adrienne is forced to confront a grief that is immediate and deeply personal. She hardly knows what to do with herself.
A quiet and inexplicable sort of anger takes root in her, perhaps for want of any more suitable emotion. She focuses on her own shortcomings, what she could or should have done instead, and she trains somehow harder than ever before. She takes fights she shouldn’t—picks fights, even—with foes who ought very well to best her, and she dares the Echo to fail her.
She suffers a few nasty injuries, to be certain, but no one of consequence ever sees her fall. She has plenty of gil to her name now and uses it to go to far-flung places where no one has ever heard of her. There is always some daunting task that needs tackling, and she is far from the only adventurer who has ever attempted to tackle such things.
Sometimes she fools herself into thinking she could live the rest of her life like this. She is nothing special, after all. Hydaelyn can choose someone else. What good is it, being the Warrior of Light, if she cannot save someone important to her? Someone who would take a blow meant for her without a second thought?
She ventures further to the northeast than she has ever been, seeks out beasts she could never have imagined even when no one has complained about them. Indeed, she becomes the aggressor, the invasive species encroaching upon their territory, and it is only a matter of time before she is rightly struck down.
Black magic has ever been her passion, and it has never failed her so spectacularly before. Has she grown overconfident in her skill, she wonders vaguely as she falls hard on one knee and her would-be prey bears down upon her? Has she lost her touch, relied too heavily on the Echo and not enough on her own intuition?
Will they really be all right without her? Will anyone truly miss her when she is gone? Her, Adrienne, and not merely the Warrior of Light?
She comes to her senses feeling somehow both warm and cold, and far more comfortable than she’d have expected. Her vision clears to reveal the sharp face and striking blue eyes of a middle-aged Miqo’te man.
“Steady now,” he says when she tries to right herself, and she realizes her head is in his lap. She feels it then, the cool tingle of healing magic radiating from his hand upon her sternum, and for better or worse, it puts her at ease. She relaxes and lets him work.
“I am in your debt, it seems,” she says, offering him a wan smile.
“Certainly not,” he counters firmly, but not without an air of good humour. “I am glad to have happened upon you in a timely manner. There.” The healing magic ceases. “How does that feel?”
Adrienne wonders at her sanity then, for she finds she is reluctant to move. Her knee still twinges when she stands, but she feels more than well enough to be on her way. She’d fully expected to wake alone and gravely injured, if she woke at all.
“Good as new,” she says airily as she turns to take in her rescuer more fully. He is tall for a Miqo’te, and surely has at least a decade on her. His hair is long and almost white, but bears a flaxen tinge, suggesting it may once have been blonde. He wears a rather dashing red coat and carries a curious weapon, one Adrienne could swear she’s never seen before. “Truly,” she continues, “I owe you my thanks.” She inclines her head curiously. “I wonder if you wouldn’t at least allow me to buy you a drink for your trouble?”
He is as expressive as any Miqo’te she has ever met. His eyes widen and his lips part subtly as he takes in her offer, and he seems to take note of her obvious interest. Though, if he can surmise to what end precisely Adrienne is interested, then he knows a fair bit more than she at the moment.
“No trouble at all, I assure you,” he says with a hand to his heart. Then, with a hint of a smile, he adds, “But I would be a fool to turn down such an invitation.”
Unsurprisingly, he is more familiar with the area than she, and she gladly lets him lead her to a suitable establishment. Perhaps she ought to have been more wary of following a stranger into an unknown place, but then again, she reasons, if indeed he has some nefarious designs upon her person, he will almost surely find himself outmatched.
“It occurs to me we haven’t even been properly introduced,” he says when they are seated. “I am X’rhun Tia. And…might I know your name?”
“Adrienne,” she offers, before she has time to think, and very nearly winces when his brow furrows thoughtfully. She’s only just realized how little she wants to be recognized at the moment.
“Adrienne,” he echoes, studying her features carefully. “Now why does that strike such a familiar chord?”
“It’s not so uncommon,” Adrienne deflects, rather unconvincingly to her own ear, and focuses her attention on her drink.
“Perhaps not,” X’rhun Tia agrees charitably. “Even still, you’ve the look of an experienced warrior about you. Pray forgive me if I overstep, but I cannot help but wonder—were your unfortunate straits earlier merely the result of a misstep? Did you misjudge your foe, or yourself?”
Adrienne looks up sharply, but X’rhun’s gaze is not unkind, and his question seems quite genuine. It is the sort of thing a teacher or a mentor asks of a prodigious student, a means to guide her through assessing her own strengths and weaknesses, but Adrienne has been a student to none for some time now.
The truth, she finds rather quickly, is almost embarrassing, and she is loath to tell him, afraid of what a passing stranger will think of her. How can she begin to explain? How can she expect him to understand?
But X’rhun quickly proves to be full of surprises. He inclines his head thoughtfully, and still there is that undercurrent of kindness about his voice, steady and unobtrusive, but undeniable. “Or,” he amends, “did you perhaps proceed with a certain…disregard for your own wellbeing?”
Adrienne flounders for words, though whether they are to concede or to defend herself is anyone’s guess, for it seems her face gives her away long before she has time to say anything at all.
“’Tis nothing to be ashamed of, my friend,” X’rhun assures her quickly. “I daresay any warrior worth her salt has felt the same, at one time or another.”
“You are too generous, I think,” Adrienne mutters. She means to thank him again for his aid, and most especially to turn the conversation away from herself, but it occurs to her that she doesn’t know exactly what he did to help her in the first place.
“I am fortunate you came along when you did,” she continues, her curiosity mercifully overtaking her embarrassment. “But I must ask—what manner of mage are you? I’ve never met anyone who wields anything like that.” She gestures to his strange weapon.
A subtle smile, easy and confident, returns to his lips. Adrienne finds it a most becoming expression, and she leans forward unconsciously as he speaks.
“Forgive me for saying so, but I did notice my blade had caught your eye,” he says. “Red magic, it is called, in essence a combination of spellcraft and fencing.”
“And what about the healing?” Adrienne presses. She hardly notices how close she’s drawn until X’rhun leans forward in turn.
“Red magic was created by practitioners of both white and black magic, and as such draws on both disciplines,” X’rhun tells her. “I certainly could not take the place of a proper healer, but the skill has served me quite well on a number of occasions, this one not least among them.”
“I can imagine,” Adrienne agrees richly. The intensity of his gaze is almost too much to bear, but she finds she cannot look away.
“Does it interest you?” X’rhun asks her, perhaps in jest, for she can feel how her own fascination rolls off of her in waves. “I could teach you, if you like. You wouldn’t be the first fellow traveler to persuade me to do so.”
Adrienne narrows her eyes, but there is no real accusation in her words. “I see,” she drawls playfully. “And I suspect I also wouldn’t be the first fellow traveler to whom you played the dashing rescuer, only to beguile her with your charms?”
To her surprise, X’rhun’s confident manner cracks, and he lets out a soft huff of bewilderment. “You flatter me,” he very nearly stammers. But as soon as his uncertainty has come, it is gone. “Or you insult me,” he adds lightly, though he does not seem remotely offended. “And I should dearly like to find out which,” his hand comes to rest lightly upon Adrienne’s knee, and Adrienne feels a fresh wave of embarrassment at how such a simple touch sends a thrill coursing through her, “if indeed you are as beguiled as you say.”
For what seems the first time in ages, Adrienne feels herself smiling. “I suppose I am,” she concedes quietly, and she rests her own hand atop his.
Adrienne learns that while X’rhun is familiar with the area, he is, by his own admission, a serial traveler, seldom able to abide staying in the same place for very long. As such, he leads her to a nearby inn where he is staying.
She has other questions she’d like to ask him, to be certain, but she finds herself unwilling to be any more forthcoming about herself, and so supposes that many of her own questions might be a bit unfair to ask. She wonders as they walk through the little town whether X’rhun knows who she is and is pretending not to, or whether he has merely taken her dismissal of the familiarity of her name as reason enough not to pry.
Whatever the truth, it is surpassingly nice to be just Adrienne for the evening, nothing more than a fellow traveler, chasing intrigue and a fleeting sense of connection in the arms of a kindly stranger.
Adrienne is not shy, exactly, but she has never done anything like this before, and the fact begins to weigh on her by the time the inn room door closes behind them. She shifts her weight and rubs her wrist awkwardly as she takes in her surroundings, unsure of how to proceed. It’s a cozy little room, not unlike a dozen others she has seen before, decorated in dark woods and deep forest greens. The bed is small, certainly better suited to one than two, and there is but one armchair by a small hearth on the far side of the room.
X’rhun’s hands upon her arms as he approaches her from behind draw a small gasp from her lips, and send just as sharp a thrill coursing through her as his hand upon her knee. It occurs to her suddenly to wonder just how long it has been since she has been touched so gently. She turns her head to catch a glimpse of him and feels the flick of his ear against her temple.
“You seem a bit nervous,” he breathes, lips just barely brushing her neck. His voice is far softer, far gentler than it was before. It’s as though his words are a secret, meant only for her. “Pray, tell me if I have presumed too much.”
Adrienne turns to face him. “You haven’t,” she assures him. Indeed, his merely asking to ascertain her feelings serves to calm her nerves significantly. She grasps at the fabric of his coat, and his hands come to rest at the curve of her hips as she pulls him against her. Each leans a bit closer in turn, halting and hesitant before their lips brush at long last, and then Adrienne wonders whether anything could have rent them apart.
X’rhun is self-assured and eager, and Adrienne feels nothing short of desperate. She tugs clumsily at his gloves until he removes them for her, and she claws at the fastenings of his coat until she pries them loose and pushes the offending garment roughly off his shoulders, wrapping her arms around him as she hears the sound of heavy fabric hitting the floor. She can feel X’rhun smiling against her lips, and he moves to undo the fastenings on her robes with far greater finesse.
Before she can rid him of any more of his clothes, however, he stays her hands. She pulls away and catches her breath at last, eyeing him with what she hopes reads more as curiosity than near-deranged frustration.
X’rhun is a sight to behold with mussed hair and the disheveled white shirt he wore beneath his striking red coat. His eyes seem darker, somehow more intense now than before, but there remains an undeniable kindness about his expression. “Indulge me?” he asks her, still holding her loosely by the wrists. “It isn’t every day a man is fortunate enough to entertain such a beautiful woman, after all.”
Adrienne averts her gaze with a soft huff of laughter. “You flatter me.”
X’rhun ducks his head so that she is forced to meet his eyes. “If you knew me a bit better,” he says, still smiling, but quite serious now, “you would find I’d do no such thing.”
It is perhaps against her better judgement that Adrienne allows herself to return his easy smile, and that she allows him to divest her of the rest of her clothes without parting from any more of his own. His hands are warm and rough against her skin, and the fabric of his shirt against her breasts, while not unpleasant, serves as an acute reminder of the disparity between them.
He does not afford her much time to reflect on this, however, before he leads her over to the solitary chair by the hearth. She holds back, watches him, cautious and curious in equal measure, indulging him as he has asked.
X’rhun sits. He pulls her gently into his lap.
Adrienne feels her face flush hot as she obliges him. She couldn’t rightly say what so embarrasses her, only that she feels suddenly quite vulnerable, far less like she is indulging him and far more like she is trusting him.
He runs his hands lightly over her arms, slow and soothing, perhaps sensing her unease. Adrienne could not have anticipated exactly how perceptive X’rhun would be, and in truth it is almost more unnerving to be read so easily than to bear any discomfort she might feel privately.
“Are you all right?” he asks her, lips brushing against her shoulder.
Adrienne turns her head to catch a glimpse of him, and he presses a quick kiss to her cheek that surprises her into a smile. “I’m all right,” she assures him, and finds that she means it. “This is a little strange. I don’t know what you’re planning.”
“Planning!” he echoes, amused. “You make it sound nefarious. Do you take me for a villain, Adrienne?”
Perhaps it is more telling how the mere invocation of her name sends a shiver coursing through her. “No,” she tells him honestly, “but I suppose I wouldn’t know, would I?”
X’rhun chuckles softly and presses another kiss to her shoulder, long and lingering as he slips his hands beneath her arms to pull her more tightly against him. The crisp cotton of his shirt against her bare back is oddly grounding, and she begins to relax into his touch. He loops an arm about her waist to hold her steady, and with his free hand trails his fingers down the length of her sternum, over her belly, and down between her legs.
He takes in a shuddering gasp when he finds her wet, and she feels more than hears his breathing grow ragged as he explores with the tips of his fingers, tracing the shape of her, testing how sensitive she is to his touch before he finds her clit.
“X’rhun,” Adrienne breathes sharply, digging her fingers into his thigh to steady herself.
He holds a moment, and it seems to her that even his breathing stills before he continues, drawing slow circles over her clit as he speaks. “Do you know many Seekers of the Sun, Adrienne?” he asks her, voice low and rich, but…strangely hesitant.
Adrienne struggles to think. “Not many, I suppose,” she manages, turning her head in a vain effort to see him.
“In…the naming tradition,” X’rhun continues, “the first letter indicates the tribe into which one was born. It is…customary, amongst close friends, and certainly in more…intimate circumstances, to forego such a formality, in favour of…the given name.”
It is a highly convoluted thing to say, particularly when Adrienne’s mental faculties are compromised thus. Halting though his words might be, the movement of his hand is achingly steadfast, and Adrienne feels acutely that she may very well have reached her peak already, had she not been forced to focus her attention on unraveling what X’rhun is getting at.
X’rhun’s fingers travel just slightly lower to curl inside of her, and somehow understanding courses through her with all the force of an electric shock, something well beyond the scope of rational thought. “Rhun,” she sighs, low and rich with desire.
The change it elicits in him is immediate, and well worth the trouble. He presses fevered kisses against her shoulder as his arm tightens around her waist, and he begins to thrust his fingers into her, insistent and almost rough. Adrienne curses softly, rocking her hips forward in desperation for more.
“Did you like that?” she tries to tease, but she is in no position to lord anything over anyone. Her voice is thin and breathy, and her words falter. “Rhun? Ah!” She lets her head fall to the side with a shuddering sigh as X’rhun scrapes his teeth lightly over her shoulder, his actions more than answer enough to her senseless question.
She is so close to her release that it’s almost frustrating, and struggling to get the right angle only worsens the feeling. A part of her fears he will grow tired or impatient before she is satisfied, but before she can move to touch herself, X’rhun loosens his hold upon her waist—slowly, giving her time to steady herself without his support—and trails the fingers of his free hand downward to attend to the matter for her.
“I did not mean to leave you wanting,” he tells her, and by the Twelve, it’s almost uncanny how well he seems to read her. “Is this better?”
“Gods, yes.” Her knees are somehow too weak to support her, and she grasps blindly at the arms of the chair to hold herself steady.
“Too much?” X’rhun asks her.
“No, gods, please don’t stop—“
“More?” he dares, low and dark, just shy of her ear, and she could swear she feels the word in the very depths of her soul.
“Yes,” she breathes.
It feels forbidden, an admission to a desire she should not entertain, and she very nearly apologizes in the seconds that follow. But X’rhun withdraws his hand only to curl a third finger inside of her, and whatever thoughts she might have entertained before that are lost. She thinks, distantly that she hears herself scream as he begins to move within her, but hasn’t even the wherewithal to feel embarrassed. She comes hard, clenching around his fingers and very nearly sobbing as pleasure overwhelms her.
X’rhun withdraws his fingers slowly, carefully, but Adrienne still shudders violently at the change. As the world comes back into focus, she becomes acutely aware of the evidence of X’rhun’s own arousal, pressed lightly against her backside by virtue of her sitting position. She takes in a few deep breaths before she finds it within herself to stand, turning to take him in as she reaches for his hands.
There is a certain thrill in it now, knowing that he remained fully clothed whilst he wrought such bliss upon her, while he breathed what seemed a question out of a dark fantasy against the bare skin of her shoulder. But Adrienne was never a woman easily sated, and now that this nebulous more has been offered, she is rapt with curiosity for what else it might entail.
X’rhun follows her lead willingly, but the way he watches her, she gets the sense that she is being studied. “Not tired, I see,” he remarks.
Adrienne raises a brow in mock-surprise. “Was that your intent?” she wonders, forsaking his hands for the fabric of his shirt to draw him into a kiss, slow and deep.
“No,” he says between kisses, so she can feel the shape of the words against her lips. “But the possibility did cross my mind.”
“You must have had some misfortune with the stamina of your conquests,” says Adrienne lightly as she undoes the buttons of his shirt. “I would express sympathy, but such is part and parcel of playing the dashing rescuer.”
X’rhun laughs breathlessly. “I pray I may one day redeem my sordid reputation in your eyes,” he says, shrugging his shirt off his shoulders.
Adrienne considers him as she trails her fingers over his newly-exposed skin, tracing the path of a particularly prominent scar that goes from his shoulder to just over his heart. “Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you this,” she says thoughtfully, dragging her fingers lower over his torso, “but it’s almost unnerving how well you seem to read me.”
She hooks her fingers into the waistline of his trousers and dares a glance upward into his eyes. “Are you perceptive by nature, I wonder?” she continues, reveling in the awe-stricken look with which he graces her as she undoes his belt. “Or is it because you feel the same?”
“And—“ he takes in a sharp gasp as her fingers graze the bare skin of his waist once more, “—how might that be?”
Adrienne affords him an appraising look, casting her gaze downward to where her hands linger and then back up to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. “Oh, wanting to be seen, for what you are and not just what you can do,” she says. “Wanting to be offered—“ She drags her nails lightly upward, drawing a delicious shiver from him before she drags them back down, “—what you wouldn’t ask for yourself.” And as she lowers herself to kneel before him, she divests him of his trousers at long last.
“Oh, you needn’t—“ he stammers, “—you were favouring your knee, before, you should—“
“Shhh,” Adrienne bites back a chuckle, and something terribly warm and fond threatens to take root in her chest. “Grateful though I am to my dashing rescuer,” she continues, poorly concealing her amusement as she teases at the waistband of his smallclothes, “I dearly hope he does not think me truly infirm.”
“Anyone,” he breathes, while she rids him of the remainder of his clothing, “would be a fool to underestimate you so, I think.”
“Right you are,” she grins before she takes him into her mouth.
His ears fold back against his head, and he lurches forward with a low, guttural sound as he takes a fistful of her hair. It startles her into a soft whimper before he seems to remember himself and loosens his grip, gently combing his fingers through her hair in a silent apology.
She grasps for his hips to steady herself and pulls away with a wet gasp. She brushes her cheek against the length of him as she looks up to meet his gaze. “Do it again,” she entreats him, in a voice she hardly recognizes as her own.
X’rhun watches her, sharp-eyed and slack-jawed for what seems a long and silent moment, nothing else in all the world but his ragged breathing and the soft caress of his fingers in her hair.
“I don’t wish to hurt you,” he says at last.
There is a gravity in his words, a seriousness that settles heavy on her chest. She offers him a smile of reassurance and runs her hands lightly over his thighs, a motion meant to soothe. Would that such a deep-seated principle lay within the hearts of more people, she almost says.
“You’re not going to hurt me,” she tells him.
Not now, at least, she amends privately. Not like this. Indeed, she is quite certain he will not hurt her until their night together is long over, and she must be on her way with this terrible fondness for him making an unwelcome home in her heart.
X’rhun’s tongue darts across his lips uncertainly as he threads his fingers through her hair once more. Adrienne turns her head to press a handful of lingering kisses along the length of him before she takes him into her mouth once more.
X’rhun’s grip on her hair tightens, not nearly as much as before, but enough to send a thrill through her, and she rewards him for his acquiescence by humming her approval as she takes him deeper. She can feel his thighs begin to tremble beneath her hands, can feel the way he struggles valiantly to keep his hips still.
He swears softly, and his grip tightens just a fraction more. It is not even nearly enough to hurt, merely enough to drive her forward, to excite her with the mere suggestion, and, far too soon, to drag her away from him.
She looks up, merely curious as to why he has stopped her, and finds him gazing upon her with far more intensity than she had bargained for. He releases his hold on her to caress her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
“Captivating though it is to see you this way,” he breathes as he comes to kneel along with her, and takes her hands in his as though he means to lead her in a dance, “I should dearly like to see you a bit more comfortable.”
Adrienne bites the inside of her cheek, a poor attempt to hide a smile that feels overly fond for the extent of their acquaintance. “A gentleman to the end, I see,” she says, but she accepts his help to stand.
Privately, she might concede that he was right to get her off her injured knee; it’s just that she hadn’t expected him to care, even in spite of her own dismissal.
X’rhun chuckles softly and pulls her against him into a kiss. “And now I think you give me too much credit,” he says when they’ve parted. “Perhaps,” he turns her around, pressing another quick kiss to her lips before he lowers her down onto the bed, “I merely wish to have you on your back.”
Adrienne settles onto the bed with a soft exhalation, not quite amusement, and drags X’rhun along with her, wholly unwilling to part from him for long. “Ever dissatisfied with your portrayal in song and story,” she teases airily. “Are you to play the villain, after all? To relish in my undoing at your hands, perhaps?”
“If I’m not mistaken,” X’rhun says, trailing his fingers down past her belly and between her legs once more, “I think you’d quite like that.”
“Right again,” Adrienne agrees richly. She loops her arms about his shoulders and drags him down into a kiss. She feels him parting her, positioning himself against her, and fairly trembles from the anticipation alone.
“If that is the case,” says X’rhun against her lips as he begins to ease into her, “then I suppose I shall have to take up the mantle of villainy, after all.”
Adrienne arches up into him with a high-pitched whine, and he buries his face in the crook of her neck as he buries himself in her. He moves with painstaking slowness, and yet Adrienne feels she could come from the sheer promise of what’s to follow.
“By the gods,” X’rhun murmurs against her skin. He looks up into her eyes, his own steely gaze dark with lust. “Is this all right?”
“More than all right,” Adrienne assures him. “Please,” she entreats him, far too desperate to be embarrassed by the unmitigated need in her own voice. “Please, fuck me, please.”
He traces the curve of her jaw with trembling fingers as he begins to move in her, lips parted and brow furrowed as though fascinated by the very sight. The intensity of his gaze is almost impossible to bear, and the delicious friction between her legs leaves her struggling to keep her eyes open, but she cannot look away from him.
She brings her shaking hands up to thread her fingers through his hair, even dares to reach up to thumb at his ears, just to see how he will respond. His eyes fall closed and a profound shudder rolls through him as his hips jolt against her. His hands travel the length of her body, caressing her breasts, her sides, before finally settling at her hips, adjusting their positions subtly.
X’rhun watches her carefully as he begins to move, faster, sharper thrusts of his hips now, but Adrienne is only wrestling with her own impatience. She wants more, wants him closer, clawing at her, desperate for his own release, but what will happen next? Will the night be over then? For all his attentiveness thus far, will she be left abruptly cold once he has gotten what he wants from her?
Again he reaches up to trace the curve of her cheek with his fingers, the other hand steady upon her hip. “What are you thinking?” he asks her.
Adrienne smiles weakly. “Perhaps you ought to tell me,” she teases, dragging a hand idly over his torso. “You’ve done quite well thus far.”
X’rhun seems to take this as a personal challenge. The movement of his hips slows considerably, and he catches her hand and brings it to his lips, studying her carefully. “I ask,” he begins, “because there is a hesitancy about you now. I wonder if there’s something you want, or—more importantly, if there is something you don’t want, but are afraid to say.”
I don’t want this to end, Adrienne very nearly confesses.
“Oh,” she tries, though her voice comes out thin and wavering, “I was just…hoping it wouldn’t be over, so soon,” she says.
Charitable as ever, X’rhun raises a brow, his manner light and teasing despite the obvious tremor in her voice. “So soon?” he echoes. “It seems I am not the only one who may have had some misfortune with the stamina of his chosen partners.”
He turns her hand to press a kiss to the pulse point at her wrist. Adrienne’s heart flutters unhelpfully.
“Rest assured,” X’rhun’s easy, self-assured smile returns, and he releases her hand to lean in close, “I will not leave you wanting.”
Adrienne considers him a moment, feels herself returning his smile before she arches up off the bed to capture his lips clumsily. “All right,” she says quietly, and kisses him again. It is a simple affirmation, the outward evidence that she has decided to believe him, to allow herself, for better or worse, to live in this moment, to sink into this feeling almost like the barest beginnings of happiness.
She wraps her arms around X’rhun’s shoulders and draws him close, losing herself in slow, sweet kisses and the slow, sensual rocking of his hips as he moves in her. A different kind of climax begins to build low in her belly, something that feels almost frightening in its intensity.
X’rhun parts with her lips only to leave fevered kisses along her jaw, to dip his head to the crook of her neck and to kiss it so fiercely she’s sure it will bruise. “Oh, Rhun,” she cries out, grasping a fistful of his hair to keep him there.
As she had expected, the use of his given name has a profound effect on him yet again. He takes in a shuddering breath and his hands find her hips once more. He takes up those faster, sharper thrusts that send little shocks coursing through her, and she repeats his name like a chant, or an unholy prayer, the timbre of her voice rising as he loses himself at last.
He is truly magnificent to behold then, and it is this, more than anything else, that drives Adrienne over the edge once more. He looks deeply into her eyes, the full force of his attention upon her as his pace grows frenzied. The hair falling over his face does little to obscure the icy blue of his eyes, the subtle curl of his lip.
Adrienne struggles to keep her eyes open as she finds her release, unwilling to look away from him even for an instant, and she feels his own release follow soon after, feels rather than hears the stuttering in his breath as he buries himself fully in her in sharp, faltering thrusts.
When she regains some control over her limbs, Adrienne reaches up to run her fingers through X’rhun’s hair. He is still at rest atop her, face buried in the crook of her neck, and she can even feel his lips forming lazy kisses against her collarbone. When he begins to stir, she wraps her arms about his shoulders, wholly unwilling to let him get too far.
X’rhun complies readily, relaxing into her embrace. “If I am to make good on my promise,” he tells her, punctuating his words with a soft kiss to her cheek, “you shall have to release me eventually.”
Adrienne hums with mock-thoughtfulness. “No, I don’t think so,” she drawls.
X’rhun lets out a huff of amusement. “Oh?”
She reaches up to thumb at his ears, delights in the low sound of approval that she could swear she feels as though it came from her own body. “Your promise, as I recall, was that you would not leave me wanting.”
“Hmm, so it was,” he agrees hazily.
“So,” Adrienne turns her head, experimentally pressing a kiss to his temple, “stay. Just a little longer.” Again he hums his contentment, and again she feels her heart flutter unhelpfully.
“As long as you like,” he says warmly. “Though, if you don’t mind—“
He adjusts slightly to pull out of her, and Adrienne, still oversensitive from her orgasm, feels a shiver course through her. X’rhun moves to lie at her side and pulls her securely against him, and she moves a bit lower so that she can tuck her head beneath his chin. How long has it been, she wonders idly, since anyone has held her like this?
“You’re sure I haven’t left you wanting?” X’rhun asks her after a moment.
“I’m sure,” says Adrienne, nuzzling closer to him and wrapping her arms about his waist. Indeed, she has seldom felt so wholly satisfied in all her days.
“And your knee?” X’rhun amends, unconvinced. “I could heal it properly, before we—“
“I should be most grateful,” Adrienne hums, holding him tighter when he makes to move, “in the morning. Have I left you wanting, X’rhun Tia, or are you always so fretful?”
He chuckles softly, but there is a distinctive melancholy in the sound that catches her off her guard. Even still, X’rhun relaxes into her embrace at last, and sets about tracing his fingers in mesmerizing patters across her back.
“Forgive me,” he says.
Adrienne hums her sleepy absolution, already long lost to the realm of the waking. The nihilistic recklessness which led her to this moment is all but forgotten now, rendered little more than a vague and distant curiosity, well beyond comprehending in her current state.
Sometime later, and so quietly that Adrienne will later wonder whether she misheard him, or imagined it entirely, X’rhun continues, “If nothing else…I would only have you remember me fondly.”