August 19, 2015 by Lyn
Lost in this moment with you
I am completely consumed
Some warm, sweaty, pleasurable time later, she lay in bed, as close to him as she could, twisted to face him while she traced his tattoos with a finger.
“I don’t want to be your pet.” The words were out before she’d had a chance to filter them.
He lay still for a moment – had she offended him? How bad would this be? He moved then, slightly, looking into her eyes with his own fathomless smoldering furnaces.
“What do you want to be?”
She’d outmaneuvered herself; they were back to those answers she hadn’t given him that afternoon. It was a horribly soul-baring question, and one she which she wasn’t entirely certain of the answer.
“In relation to you, or in general?” she hedged.
“In whatever context you meant that.”
That… should be easier to answer.
“Good question,” she asked, talking to give herself room to think about it. “I know that I agreed to be your slave for a week.” The word came off her lips more easily than it should have. “That was the deal, and I can live with that. I’m not complaining about it, at least.”
“You could always ask me to let you go… but that aside. Go on.”
She laughed shortly. “And give up my turn? No, I’m doing fine. It’s just…” she frowned, spurred on by his command to go on and still trying to make the words tidy and proper, “there’s a difference between being a slave and being a toy, a pet. I’m not like Agatha’s little lapdog. I don’t think I’m capable of being that.” I’m too proud, she didn’t say.
“You don’t think I could make you that, if that was what I really wanted?” His words held a slight edge as he traced a finger around her jawline.
“I think you could destroy me, if you really wanted to,” she answered honestly, and, it surprised her, without fear. “And if you destroyed me – you could make me a lapdog.”
“Fortunately, I’m not interested in a lapdog.” He smiled sharply, his hand rising to her cheek. “There are plenty of those available, and I’ve never felt the need.”
“I’m glad.” She leaned into his hand, allowing a little tension to slide from her shoulders. “I prefer to not be destroyed.”
“So – the rest of the question? What do you want to be, in relation to me?”
“Yours.” She frowned as the answer came out unwanted. “I mean…” But she really did want to be his. “Your lover. More than that.” She looked into his eyes, acceding, for the moment, to being naked in front of him. “I want to be the woman you would fight for, as you did in my vision. I want…” a strange thought, since she’d never been what would be called a fighter, “to fight at your side. Um.” She blushed. “That may be a metaphor.”
He nodded slowly, taking that all in without taking his hands off her. “Well. For now, at least, you’re mine. We’ll see where this goes, for the rest of that.”
“I’m yours, for now,” she repeated, liking the sound of it. She kissed him, lightly, trying to discern exactly what it was he was feeling about the rest of it.
He certainly wasn’t displeased, if his kiss was any indication, but he offered no actual words of illumination as he pulled the sheets over them. “Good night, Shahin.” She sighed, snuggling against his warmth – his room was colder than hers, but he was warm enough that it didn’t matter much . “What do you want me to be, to you?” she asked. It wasn’t quite the question she wanted to ask, but it was a start.
A long, quiet moment followed, nothing but his warm breath against her, then: “For now, this is enough.”
It was a nice answer. Being enough was a peaceful, non-challenging state, a restful place. “Now,” however, was a very short and transient time.
“And later?” she pressed him.
“Later… is not your concern, while you are mine,” he smiled, pulling her tightly against him. “I’ll handle everything.”
She wiggled in his hold, enjoying it, but unable to let go of the thought. “Why don’t you want to talk about it?”
“I’m not the precog, remember? But don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of your future.”
“Cheater,” she murmured, “but I’m not worried, just curious. And my future is only yours to take care of for five more days.”
“Maybe,” he smiled. “A week later… we’ll see.”
“Mmm,” she twisted to smile at him with a little bit of glee. “I imagine that we will.”
“Meanwhile, there was another facet of that question. You differentiated the question about what you want to be into ‘in general’, and ‘in relation to me’, and only answered the latter.”
She frowned, conceding the point. “I did,” she agreed. “Were you wanting the answer to the first half?”
“You seem to want to talk still,” he smiled. “So sure.”
She harrumphed quietly. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “I’ve never thought too much about what I’d do after school, and that was before I learned that I have magical powers.” She lifted her fingers to make an icicle, and frowned when she realized his earlier restriction forbade that. Nonplussed, she dropped her hand and let her thoughts die unspoken.
“Yeah… well, I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Everything will change in the next four years anyway.”
She frowned. “Then why ask?” She was certain, now, that he was hiding things. “How much… how much more can four years change me?”
“Plenty. I’m not at liberty to explain it all though.”
She blinked at him, too surprised to dissemble. He was, as far as she could tell, completely serious. “O…kay,” she answered hesitantly. “So, if it won’t matter in four years, why should it matter now?”
“Just curious, really. And it’s better if you didn’t have some kind of grand plan for the future.”
“I only gave you a week,” she snapped, beginning to panic. The gaping maw of an endless hole was open before her, and… why did it feel as if Emrys was the only thing holding her back from the pit, when it sounded as if he was throwing her in himself?
“Gave me a week. You gave the school four years, minimum. Seriously though, there’s nothing you can do about it, so don’t worry about it.”
She frowned at him, even as the worry bled away. “I,” she murmured softly, “am going to kick my mother so hard the next time I see her.” Still, she was relieved. He wasn’t the problem, wasn’t the abyss, the school was. And if the school was the abyss, then maybe it wasn’t insane to think he could save her from it.
He kissed her forehead softly, smiling. “Yeah, family issues are pretty common here.”
“You, too?” she asked lightly. His arms were so warm and comforting, as if he could protect her from everything…
“Almost everyone,” he answered noncommittally.
“Mmm,” she murmured, worn with fighting against his vagueness. “You don’t like to talk about yourself, do you?”
“I don’t like to talk about my family.”
“Plans for the future, then, my master?” she tried the words out, liking the way they tasted on her tongue.
He smiled broadly, shaking his head. “I try not to plan too far ahead. I’ve got a couple years left here myself.”
“Live in the moment, is that it?” It didn’t sound that bad. In the moment, no-one was dying. In the moment, she was in his arms.
“Not quite so simple, but close enough. A lot will happen in the next year that you just weren’t planning for. Just let me take care of everything.”
“Mmm… for a little while,” she agreed softly. His arms were the safest place in the world, and she didn’t have a thing to worry about while he was taking care of her.
“Okay, then. We’ll talk more tomorrow if you want.” He held her tightly against him, warm and secure, and closed his eyes.
“Thank you.” She rested in his arms, staring off into the dark of his room. He would protect her. He would keep her from the abyss.
Careful, a tiny little voice whispered. That’s its own abyss. She could only surrender so far before there was nothing left, before she forgot this was a challenge, a game she was trying to win.
But his hands were around her and no-one would hurt her while she was here. Hadn’t she already won?