A Night Not of Duty
Warm water poured from the fixture on the ceiling in a steady rush.
It was convenient enough, yet set beside the Main Palace or the Emperor's Palace the place was exceedingly plain—plain enough that it might have seemed wanting for an emperor and his empress. Neither of the two standing beneath the stream thought any such thing. They couldn't. Under the warm water they sought each other's mouths as if they had lost their minds.
Lips met, and as they always did, their tongues tangled. Hyperion's hands stripped the soaked clothes from Laniakea in a rush. The fabric clung to her, drenched through, and still he had it off her easily, because she moved to make the undressing easy for him. The moment she was bare he hauled her hard against him, as if he could bear it no longer, and kissed her again.
Caught inside that solid body, drowning in a kiss that stole her breath, Laniakea felt a sharp tingle climb the small of her back—and, at the same time, the insistent prod of him against her belly. Their tongues kept mingling, and now it was her hands that moved. They could not manage his buttons. Again and again her fingers slipped. It was not even a complicated garment. How could it be this difficult? When she failed for the umpteenth time, a soft huff of laughter sounded above her head.
"Don't laugh at me—mmph!"
Stung, she shot him a glare and tried to set her hands to work again, but Hyperion swallowed her mouth once more, as if even that laugh belonged to him. Then he seized his own clothes and yanked. Through the rush of falling water she thought she heard buttons tear free and scatter. She had no mind left for it. His other hand had closed on her hips and crushed her tighter still against him.
That part of him she had felt so many times pressed firmly into her belly. Ground there in a slow, heavy drag, it left her unable to breathe for a moment. It was not fear. This was unmistakably anticipation.
She never quite knew how they left the bath. The next thing she knew, they were on the bed. No water dripped from their hair, so Hyperion must have dried them somehow even while he kissed her without pause. A fire burned in the hearth, and still it could not yet drive off all of spring's chill. Without thinking, Laniakea drew the body above her down.
Skin still faintly damp clung, and the familiar heat she had felt all day in the hand that held hers washed over her.
"Haa..."
A breath of relief slipped out of her unbidden.
Hyperion kissed every part of Laniakea's face, one after another. His mouth traveled her cheek, her jaw, and down along her shoulder. After lingering a long while over the round of that shoulder, he followed her arm, and there he found the bracelet still circling her wrist. He undid his own, then undid hers.
Treasures of the imperial house, and yet to the two of them now they were nothing but cumbersome things that might scratch the other's skin. It was said that one who wore the bracelet could see their partner truly, but that did not mean one went wholly untouched by it. When he cast them aside, his face came into her eyes more sharply still.
All at once Laniakea understood. At the very beginning she had not even been able to meet his gaze, and somewhere along the way, looking at him had ceased to frighten her. Speaking to him had been so awkward that she offered only short answers, or silence, and somewhere along the way, when something weighed on her, she had begun to lay it in his hands as a matter of course. She had never once fallen asleep beside another person, and waking to warmth in the place beside her had become the natural order of things. Since when had she grown this used to him?
While she wondered, Hyperion was kissing the tips of her fingers. How fiercely he was roused below was painfully clear against the body pressed to hers. Swollen taut, it twitched as if it might push between her legs at any moment. His body was that far gone, and still his hands were endlessly gentle. Laniakea watched him as he moved, slow and unhurried.
Today had been the day she had longed for. A day she had stepped out of the Imperial Palace and walked through the world where people lived. She had dreamed of it more times than she could count since childhood, and after she came of age the hunger had only grown. Even in those imaginings, though, she had rarely managed to take the step. She had not known where to go, or how, or how to ask, or how to buy. She had known nothing. And so the fantasy of walking the capital had always brought her excitement and anxiety together.
Today, when the dream became real, she had not felt fear even once. The day had been so full of wonder and delight that she hardly knew how it had passed, and she had been able to feel that way because Hyperion was with her. As if to tell her not to lose herself, he had held her hand tight and led her into a world of marvels. He explained whatever her gaze came to rest on, and while she looked he waited, quiet. That alone was a happiness almost too large to hold—enough that even if she never left the Imperial Palace again for the rest of her life, today's memory could keep her happy forever.
When he said there was somewhere else still and drew her onward, she had honestly thought there was nothing left that could surprise her. Then she saw the plants, spreading on without end, and for a moment she thought she had come to heaven. She had looked at the man who led her there. In the eyes that met hers lay a quiet expectation, and a pride he could not hide. Faced with that boyish hope of praise, she understood. This perfect day had been made whole because he was in it.
The mouth nuzzling her fingertips moved again. It traveled back up her arm, closed gently on her neck without hurting, and turned downward. Following the soft, full curve, his lips found the peak he had been sucking without rest. He had been gentle until now, and for a moment he hesitated. The conflict did not last. A wet tongue licked up over the hardened tip.
"Ah..."
A moan she no longer hid slipped out between her lips. All of this was familiar—his presence, and the sensations he gave her.
I like it.
Everything he gave her, she liked. Aside from the spirits, he was the only one who went this far for her. So she wanted to do the same for him. Just as he had given her the thing she had wanted most, she wanted to give him what he wanted.
The stimulation went on, but Laniakea let the strength leave her body. He must have felt it. For a moment his movement stopped. Then he took her breast into his mouth with a hunger close to ravenous, and a large hand stroked and rubbed her bare skin without pause. Every time he sucked hard at the tip and bit, her body flinched and wetness gathered between her legs. Flesh grown used to him answered faster than ever. His tongue sucked at her nipple, crushed it, pressed it, then drew at the tender flesh of her breast in wet little pulls.
"Nng! Mmh—hnn!"
Moans turned in an instant into cries of pleasure. Jerking under his mouth, Laniakea's body flushed deeper and deeper red. She no longer felt the cold at all. Every sense had narrowed to the stimulation he gave her.
After sucking at her breasts for a long while, Hyperion began to move lower, reluctant in every inch of the retreat.
"Hnn!"
The moment his lips started to circle above her navel, a moan broke from her and she twisted. He had only kissed her belly, and wetness flooded between her legs. He must have known. A rasping tongue kept circling the place she felt it most. While that tongue worked, his hand slipped into the damp cleft of her thighs. At the intrusion she shook her head and writhed. She might have grown used to him. She had not grown used to the shame.
The hand that had pushed in was caught between her legs. He could have forced his way with strength to spare. Instead Hyperion turned his head, met the eyes of the woman who had looked aside, and whispered.
"Laniakea."
Ah. It was only her name, and she knew at once that whatever she did now, she would lose.
"Spread them for me."
A voice of perfect tenderness asked for something utterly indecent. She could not refuse. What he gave her was always sweet.
Laniakea let the strength go out of her legs. In that instant his fingers pushed into the thoroughly soaked opening, and the secret place, melted soft, took two of them at once without resistance. The wet, slick sound shamed her of its own accord. Even to her own mind it was a lewd sight and a wanton noise. The fingers stirring inside her soon withdrew.
Was it because he had spent so long opening her before, or because she was already soaked through? She was already undone down there. The moment he understood that, Hyperion spread her legs with his knees. Wet flesh parted with a soft sound, and her most intimate place lay bare before him.
He swallowed, throat working hard. He took himself in hand—risen so stiff it nearly reached his belly—and set the head against the place below that was spilling wetness.
Ah.
He bit his lip to hold back the curse that nearly tore out of him. Since that disastrous first night, sinking into her again was a rapture fierce enough to drive a man mad.