Work Text:
The Exarch's breath caught in his throat as his eyes fixated where the Warrior had appeared on the Beehive’s stage. Her outfit was reminiscent of what he had seen her wear for the side bit of dancing she had picked up on the source, yet somehow it covered far less, leaving very little to the imagination. And oh how he had imagined her.
Blood rushed straight to his groin at the first sway of her hips and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, praying the folds in his robes and the general darkness of the room away from the stage would keep his reaction hidden. He had not anticipated her eyes meeting his just moments later, nor that she would make her way off the stage and directly over to continue her dance mere ilms away from him.
Up close, her outfit seemed to cover even less. His eyes swept over her form, greedily absorbing the image to store away in his memory for later. Thin fabric covered just the swell of her breasts, the hard outline of her nipples clearly visible through it, and the bottom triangles of cloth covered less than most smalls would.
He couldn't have prepared himself for the moment she stopped dancing before him and climbed into his lap. His cock twitched with interest, and though he was sure she could feel just how hard he was from her current position, she seemed unphased. Her hands drifted up and for a moment he thought she meant to remove his hood, and in that instant he might have been tempted to let go of all reason and allow her to. Instead her hands landed on his shoulders as her hips began to steadily rock against him.
He couldn't help the moan that tumbled out of him as she rubbed against his length. The corners of her lips twisted into a smile and she leaned forward, a breathy whisper reaching his covered ears, "Touch me, Raha."
His hands immediately moved to the scales at her hips before wandering over the curve of her arse, motioning to pull her tighter against him. It was then that his brain caught up to her words and his hands froze as he wondered how.
"Don't worry, no one else is here." Her words seemed to try to reassure him, as if the pause in his movement had come from worry of an audience rather than hearing his name spill from her lips. His eyes did flicker in that moment to glance around them, but her words were the truth. The establishment had suddenly become completely empty except for them.
A dream ? His brain helpfully managed to supply. The thought brought with it a brief rush of disappointment when coupled with the Warrior removing herself from his lap. The feeling was brief as the realization came that she was simply lifting his robe, allowing the fabric to pool at his waist.
Her hand moved to rub his length through his shorts, drawing a low whine from his throat before moving to the waistband and he lifted his hips just enough to allow her to remove them. Her attentions returned, skin to skin contact setting his nerves even more alight as she pumped him once, twice.
Any last semblance of self control snapped in that moment and he reached to grab her hips again and pull her back into his lap. One hand rotated to slide forward and across the smooth plane of her stomach before dropping to rub at her covered core as she began to rock against him once more.
His cock was near throbbing now, begging for direct attention and release. His fingers moved to pull aside that small bit of fabric that covered her heat, and she immediately moved to sink down on him. Her hips rolled in perfect rhythm against him while her tail wrapped around his calf and her hands moved once more, this time to remove his hood and card her fingers through his hair.
Their breath was coming in pants now as he worked to piston his hips up to meet hers. The simmering heat in his groin continued to coil, the rhythm of their hips becoming more and more erratic until he came with a cry of her name. His vision flashed white as he released inside of her, the purple light of the beehive slowly fading to black and then away as he returned to consciousness from where he had fallen asleep at a desk in his study.
Awareness crept in slowly and then all at once as he withdrew his hand from where it had been still pressed against his now softening cock and he felt a fresh surge of shame at the wet, sticky feeling left behind in his shorts. Guilt for imaging the Warrior in such a way, somehow more vivid and real than where his thoughts wandered on the nights he had intentionally chased pleasure from his own hand.
A cold shower would help. While necessary to clean himself up, he hoped it would also help clear the images from his mind long enough to manage to face the Warrior later in the day without embarrassing himself. Later though, later those images would absolutely be put to use once more.