CONTENT WARNING. This is as graphic as this story gets and I'm probably going to recategorize it as mature so I'm not responsible for corrupting the hearts and minds of the youth. If sexual content bothers you, skip to the next chapter (currently halfway finished). It will still make sense. 

- S.

______

"You didn't have to threaten to revoke his papers, Irei. He didn't do anything wrong."

"Papers? I was this close to punching him in that smug, chiselled jaw of his. Giving him some real scars to leverage in his portrayal of Samhid Et Amin, which was a bit overacted, in my opinion."

I smile. "Are you jealous, ambassador Nara?"

He frowns. "Should I be?"

"Of course not. It's not like anything happened. He only kissed me."

"He kissed you," Irei repeats, his tone darkening by degrees. "You let him kiss you? Did you kiss him back?"

"Of course not," I repeat, exasperated. "I pushed him away the second after. I don't see why this has to be a big deal. Nothing happened, no one got hurt. It's inconsequential."

"Inconsequential," he says, as if tasting the word and finding it rather bitter. "I discover my lover in a locked bedroom, in the arms of a ridiculously handsome, charming foreign actor, and it's absurd that I'm upset?"

"I never said absurd, Rei," I murmur, stepping closer to him.

He takes a step back, sighing, hand pressed to his forehead. I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting. "You're right. Maybe I have no right to be upset. It's not like I have a claim on you."

If his distance stung, this burns like shards of ice being driven deep into my chest. "No claim on me?" I ask, my own voice rising now. "The fuck do you mean, you have no claim on me?"

"I mean we never agreed to be exclusive, and I shouldn't have assumed. Lovers are shared in Kama all the time."

I step back as if he's slapped me. "Have you-" I ask, unable to catch my breath, hating my stupid heart for beating so wildly, "have you had another?"

"Of course not," he replies gruffly.

"No, look me in the fucking eyes when you say it!" I snap. "Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm the only one you've touched since that kiss on the night of the Feast of Liars. Tell me I haven't been a goddess-damned fool, sleeping under your roof, working for you, sucking you off in your office while you've gone out and fucked someone else because in Kama, such things happen all the time."

"Shards, Shira. Calm down. When did this become about me, anyways? You were the one alone in a bedroom with another man. If anyone has a right to be upset, it isn't you."

"Well, right or wrong, I'm fucking upset!" I shout. "No, I'm livid. You made me so many pretty promises, you were so solicitous, and now you say you have no claim on me? You're fine with sharing me with a stranger? You know what, why don't I just stop by Lyu's house tonight and take him up on his endless offers of company?"

"Damn it, Shira, lower your voice! Someone is going to come up here and ask us why we're yelling in a crowded hotel."

"Then I'll tell them it's because you're an idiot! Case closed!"

"If I'm an idiot, it's your fault!" he throws back. "I'm the head ambassador of Kama. I'm a diplomat who has travelled to twenty countries, forged treaties with emperors, and negotiated trade deals with kings! And after all that, the one person who rattles me, who mocks my good sense, who troubles my mind and pushes me past all restraint, is a five foot nine Shikkan boy with huge brown eyes who wears orchid tunics and tucks flowers behind his ears!"

He sighs, dark eyes meeting mine, and warmth spreads outwards from my center. The ice melts, giving way to another kind of burn entirely. "You push and pull me like a tide, Amshira Amarin. I've tried to resist it, I've tried to be sensible and decent, but I'm drowning. And you know what? I don't even care. I don't care that harboring you means risking my position and possibly my life. All that matters is keeping you next to me, not in the arms of some prancing actor and not a world away in the desert where you were raised. But I'm too fucking scared to ask you if that's what you want, too, or if this is only until your mother's ship docks at the eastern harbor."

"Irei," I say softly, my voice reaching out to him.

"You said to look at you," he continues, voice soft as a whisper, dulled further by my own heart pounding in my ears. "Well, look at me." So I do. His eyes are deep, fluid pools that make me question which one of us is truly drowning. Fear flashes from their depths like metal glinting off of the sea floor, and I hear Avamir whispering you frighten him. "Do I look like a poised, inscrutable diplomat? Do I look like a man in control?" He laughs a little, shaking his head. "You've mastered me. I never had a fucking chance."

"You know," he says hoarsely, "I haven't fucked you yet because I have it in my head that holding something back, even something small, might make it hurt less when you leave. I felt so strongly about you before I ever touched you, and each kiss just drove that feeling deeper, until it was like a stake through my center. What happens when I'm inside of you?" He asks. "I just- I want you more than I've ever wanted anything and I don't know what to do with that, okay?"

"You really are an idiot," I sigh, softening. Melting, really. "But you're wrong; you do have a claim on me," I pause, feeling myself at the edge of a great precipice. All that's left is to jump off. "I'm in love with you."

He's silent for a long moment. "What did you just say?"

I stare into his dark eyes, refusing to blush and look away, to let this moment pass. "I said I'm in love with you, Irei Nara. I lost it because I was worried you cared less than I did. I couldn't share you, or be something casual or temporary to you. I'd rather watch you kill Meprizio in this very room than consider that you might just- just let me be with him, then come back to you as if nothing had changed. Such things may happen in Kama, but they can't happen between us."

"Okay," he breathes. "I promise they won't. If you like, I'll slit the pretty actor's throat and sign that promise in his blood. I'll kill a whole army of men if you'll just say it again."

"I love you, Irei'kionaxi Nara. I love you so fucking much."

He closes his eyes and smiles gently, like a man receiving a benediction. "I love you, too. I've known that for a long time. Before I ever kissed you. And after hearing you say those words, I'd sooner lock you in one of the manor's empty rooms than have you return to Shikkah."

I laugh, but it feels a little like I'm crying. "This wasn't supposed to happen, was it?"

"No," he says, pulling me toward him. "But let's let it, anyways." And then he's kissing me. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling it back as he pushes me against the bright red wall. I knock a glass cat to the floor by accident and it shatters. Irei catches the lamp before it meets a similar end.

"Not our room," he whispers, kissing along my ear. I shudder. "We probably shouldn't wreck it, should we?"

"Probably not."

"But you know what?" he asks, his hands wrapping around my waist.

"What?"

"We're going to anyways," he announces with a grin, lifting me with little effort and tossing me onto the garish canopy bed. The scarlet duvet is warm and soft against my back and several pillows fall unheeded to the floor.

"Well, you are the head ambassador of Kama. We can do whatever the fuck we want."

"Whatever I want?" He asks, eyebrows arching, mouth twisting into a wry smile. "Choose your next words carefully, my prince."

So I don't choose any words at all. My mouth crashes into his and my arms wrap around his neck, dragging him down until he practically falls on top of me. The weight of his chest pressing into mine makes me feel paradoxically light. My legs hook around his thick thighs as he frantically pulls at my beaded tunic. There will be hell to pay when Reesah learns what he's done to her careful embellishment, but I don't care if he shreds it. Damn the clothes. Damn the bed. Damn the world, so long as Irei Nara is holding me and pressing his lips against the soft hollow of my throat.

"I should have told you before," I say in between kisses. "I'm not going back, regardless of what happens between us. I can't spend the rest of my life pretending. If my title somehow magically came back to me, I'd abdicate. It's not the life I want. No sexless political marriage. No sparkling Amarin heirs lined up in a row. No state dinners and family council meetings and dodging rumors and whispers about my parentage. No more lying."

"Oh, Shira," Irei croons. "Don't stop lying, whatever you do. At least not until you lie with me."

I throw my head back and laugh. "Then take your fucking clothes off."

"Yes, sir."

"Cheeky, aren't you?"

He brushes his cheek against mine, the stubble tickling my tender skin. "I prefer charming."

I open my mouth to make a witty retort and he kisses me, his tongue warm and slippery as it surges against mine. It doesn't matter, anyways; I have no words. My brain is suffused with the heat of his embrace, rendering me nearly senseless, obliterating all thoughts beyond the sensation of his hands on my skin.

But, oh, what a world is contained in that touch. In his palm running over the taut smoothness of my stomach, tracing the swell of my pectorals, dipping into the shadowed hollow of my clavicle before gripping the nape of my neck, hard. He parts my thighs with his own, leaning forward until the pressure against my groin makes me groan. His hands grab my hips, lifting them into his own, and our bodies meet through our clothing. And fuck, it's delicious.

I'm pulling at his shirt almost frantically. He takes pity on me, lifting it over his head and tossing it to the floor in one fluid motion. In the gentle light of the penthouse my eyes trace the topography of his chest and arms, the cut of his waist, the sharp jut of his hips and the breeches already slipping off of them. His chest is rising and falling so rapidly I reach out and press my palm against it. He's shaking gently under my hand. I think at first it's in response to the touch, but it persists, and I look up at him with something close to awe in my eyes.

"You're scared, aren't you?" I breathe, wrapping my arms around his neck but not pulling him close. I want to watch his eyes as he answers me. They dart to the corner, then back again, meeting mine with an intoxicating honesty.

"I'm fucking terrified," he whispers hoarsely. "Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Of a, what was it? A five foot nine Shikkan boy with huge brown eyes who wears orchid tunics and tucks flowers behind his ears?" I say with a small smile.

"Of the way those brown eyes unwind me like a fucking clock," he corrects. "And of what your mother and my sister will do to me when they find out."

I laugh. "You've gone toe to toe with kings and warlords and you're frightened of two women?"

"It's a perfectly reasonable reaction. I've seen your mother angry before, and she's like an avenging angel. With the liberties I've taken, I wouldn't be surprised if she drove some holy spear through my chest. "

"There's only one spear here worth talking about," I grin, grinding my hips against him, enjoying the sharp intake of breath, the hitch in his voice when he says "well, I did tell you that this is a sacrament."

"Pity," I reply as I fumble with his belt, unbuckling it and starting on his breeches. The fabric is straining lewdly, revealing the fullness of him in tantalizing outline. "I was looking for the sweetness of a sin."

"Then you came to the right fucking place," he says, tongue diving into my mouth, hands fisting in my hair, the edges of him unravelling as I, too, come undone. His hands are at my waist, deftly stripping my breeches from my legs. I catch my breath as the cool air assaults my burning skin, then again when his fist closes around me. Then his hand is replaced by his mouth and it's my turn to twine my fingers around and around his thick, dark hair, unsure if I'm trying to push him off or make sure he never lets me go. The pleasure is so intense it's blinding, and sharp, and for a moment I feel a little fear at the thought of what we're doing. It passes and I hold his head in place as my hips rise involuntarily to meet him.

"Fuck," I groan. My voice is full of hairline fractures, like glass the moment before it shatters. "R- Rei, I- please- don't stop-"

And, goddess bless him, he doesn't. There's a haze enveloping me, warm and thick as syrup dripping from a spoon, and just as sweet. Sweeter, even, as his hands still my trembling thighs and the wetness of his breath tickles my skin. The cry he wrenches from my lip sounds like a wounded animal, some rabbit trapped in a hunter's vice. Though right now, our every vice seems a virtue.

Those hairline fractures quickly spread everywhere Irei's body is touching mine. His hands braced against my hips. His hair in my fist. His head in my hands. And his mouth, goddess, his mouth...

"Fuck," I hiss, pulling savagely at his hair as a wave crests above me. Before I have time to take a breath it's crashing down with a violent roar, pushing me into the waiting grasp of deep ocean currents. They take me down to where the light is thin and the creatures, strange. His eyes, I think, are deep, fluid pools that make me question which one of us is truly drowning.

I shout something resembling his name and he finally lets me go, his tongue tracing lazy circles onto the inside of my thigh as small aftershocks travel over my pale skin like an electric current. He is a quake, the end of a city, a crack in the earth waiting to swallow me whole. And maybe that should frighten me, but all I feel is an absurd bliss as the throbbing heat dissipates and my mind slowly unclouds.

Before I can truly come down, though, he's lifting my hips. Through the strong afterglow I feel him shaking, this time not with fear, but with restraint. I'm relaxed, pliant, and he takes full advantage. I suppose I shouldn't say advantage, not with the way I'm bearing down onto his hand, seeking after that incomparable fire, that heat that is wholly and completely his. And, when we're together, ours. Then his fingers are gone and he's pressing my knees back, and I'm pressing myself into him, lost to all notions of propriety. As he enters me, a small scream escapes my quivering lips.

"Are you alright?" He asks, arms locked as he holds himself still, giving me time to adjust.

"I- yes," I sputter, my voice breathy. I can't seem to draw in enough air. "Just, Arisha wasn't so- big-"

"You do know I'm trying to control myself, don't you?" he grunts into my neck. "Do you really think that talking about my size is helpful?"

"Cry me a fucking river," I hiss, my snarkiness heavily undermined by the gasp he wrings from my unwilling lips. Damn him, and his hips struggling not to surge forward, and his fingers laced loosely through mine. What was it that Avamir called Tyro?
"You're a terrorist," I mutter, wrapping my legs around him, urging him forward, into me. Knowing that it will hurt but also knowing that I can bear that pain easier than I can bear these few inches between us. "You're a fucking terrorist and I don't know how they let you work for the- the government."

"Me?" He growls, nipping at the side of my neck, his tongue licking the salt from my skin. I shudder violently against him, whimpering, but I'm nearly beyond caring. So what if it's obscene? So what if he knows exactly how much I want, no, need him? So what if they can hear us beyond these walls? In this moment, all that matters is the fact that he loves me. That he's making love to me. And it's all beautifully romantic, but I want something more. And I can tell from the expression on his face that he does, too.

"Yes, you," I pant back.

"You have upended everything I've ever known," he says in a strangled voice. "You've pushed me past every limit, past caring how this choice impacts me, and you have the nerve to call me the terrorist?"

"You think you're the only one?" I reply, completely unguarded, letting him see the raw intensity in my eyes. Seeing that intensity mirrored in his own.

"No. I know I'm not," he concedes.

"If you know," I whisper, my lips pressed light as a whisper against his ear. "Then stop trying to keep me from breaking. Break me yourself."

"Shira-"

"Fuck. Me." I growl, biting said ear, twisting its lobe around my tongue. "Shards, Irei, when have I ever said I wanted you to be gentle?"

"Alright," he grunts, surging forward so fast that I cry out, my head falling back to the mattress. One of his hands cradles it, his gentleness completely at odds with his acerbic tone and the violence he's inflicting upon my very willing body. "Please forgive me for being concerned with your welfare, Amshira. If this is what you want," his voice tightens, and I smile to myself knowing I'm not the only one being pushed past all semblance of control. Knowing his reason, his preconceived notions and defenses, are failing him, too, and fast. "No. If this is what you need, then this is what I'll give you. But I'm not stopping if you change your mind, alright?"

"Don't worry," I grin up at him. "I won't."

He laughs, but it's a broken sound. He's shattered, too, yet somehow these shards of us fit together like they were made to. It's absurd. It's impossible. It's happening, and I have a strong premonition that I'll need it to happen again, and often, if I'm to maintain any semblance of sanity.

His kiss is more of a bite than anything, wrenching my mouth open. His hands become talons and I know he's leaving a row of circular bruises on my hips. I know that the place on my neck he's sucking will be a bright, angry mark by the time he's through. His name spills from my lips like a prayer, or an epitaph, because he's absolutely, most certainly killing me right now. But his stopping would be another kind of death entirely, and one I couldn't bear. I can barely bear this, this bruising intensity, this beautiful brutality. When my name is ringing in my ears and I can see his heartbeat throbbing in his neck, the muscles there tensing like loaded springs, I know he's close. So am I.

"I'm- almost-"

"Hush," he says softly, his hips slapping lewdly against my own. His hand wraps around me and his tongue spears my mouth and his body shudders against mine, sending me into a perfect freefall. Everything breaks in one instant, reality cut through by something sharp and strange and beautiful. He stops saying my name and instead burrows his face against my shoulder, leaving a thin sheen of saliva connecting us when he pulls ever so slightly away. I grab him, holding him still, keeping us joined because, goddess, I never want this moment to end.

"Can we just stay like this for a moment?" I whisper drowsily. "This is nice."

"Of course, love," he murmurs into my hair. "But only for a moment. Because the moment after that, I'm going to have you again."

"Thank the goddess for small miracles," I laugh, and he starts laughing, too, both of us covered in sweat and spit and breathing hard. We're still twined together when I fall asleep, and the last thing I notice before oblivion overtakes me is his hand gently stroking my cheek.

I love you, I want to say, but my words are gone, so I just press my body closer to his own and let the waiting darkness envelop me.

Somewhere high above us, Etaín Kaldanza's ghost is smiling.

______

This chapter was super fun to write and I'm happy with how it turned out. But alas, the making out must end (at least for now). Next chapter is back to O'otani's drama, then part four begins. I'm estimating that the story is about 75%-80% complete at this point if anyone wanted to know. I'm also working on an updated character list/ glossary/ pronunciations guide.

Thanks for reading, and comments are always appreciated! I like to talk about my fictional people way too much.