Donatello looked around distractedly as the Omatran noble assigned as his instructor for etiquette went on about about the importance of correct posture. He hadn't seen Jhanna since their first reunion ten days ago when he'd arrived at Court. He'd been so frightened she wouldn't want him here after he had travelled so far to pursue something with her. He risked a lot when he showed up fuelled by the memory of a single night of passion with the blue-skinned warrior nearly two decades ago and nothing else to offer the Prime Magistrate other than himself.
Against all odds, (he'd calculated on his travels the probability of his offer being accepted and his chances were negligible) he'd been accepted and taken in, informed of what was going to be his new role and started being prepared for it. They'd moved him into a lavishly furnished room, bathed and clothed him in fine silks. He was struggling to adapt quickly to a lot of the changes, for example, the bathing. It still made him feel incredibly awkward and uncomfortable to have strangers actually bathe him and massage oils and perfumes into his skin. When he'd tried to politely decline the attentions he'd managed to offend and had to backtrack quickly. Now he just endured it in silence.
He still had enough attention left over from his musings to nod and agree in the appropriate moments of the conversation while his mind wandered. It was a skill he'd honed to perfection during Leonardo's interminable lectures. Once the noble left for the day Donatello turned towards his empty room and sighed, not sure what to do with himself. Technically, he had free reign of the palace grounds as long as he was escorted by a guard but this was Omatran for: "you're not really allowed anywhere or do anything but it would be impolite to say so outright".
Knowing how straight forward and honest Jhanna was, he was surprised to see how ceremonious and elaborately polite everyone behaved in Court. It was a nice way of saying they seemed "fake" because as he'd come to learn, people here rarely truly said what they meant. The careful politeness and compliments were all just a facade.
There was a distinct feeling of artificiality about everything here. The correctness always disguised a certain aggressiveness behind the messages relayed with perfect poise and civility. He learned this lesson quickly and realised, to his chagrin, that he hadn't actually made any real friends during his time here and was uncertain he would ever. He'd learned to see beyond the forced correctness he received from most around him that hid an obvious disdain for his suddenly acquired position, usually reserved only for those of highly influential families who held titles within the court.
With no one to really socialize with (he abstained from the fake friendly reunions and idle chatter of the Court unless it was specifically requested of him) he spent a great deal of his time on his own. He suspected it was also due to the fact that no one really believed that the Queen had chosen him to be her Consort. At least, that was what he was told by those appointed to prepare him for court duties. Court duties, heh. So far it seemed they consisted in a lot of standing straight and being quiet unless called upon.
He was tempted to call everything off and head home but he wouldn't do so without seeing this through first. He needed to talk to her, to see her and make sure they were on the same page, or at least in the same book.
"Jhanna..." He sighed.
Maybe their night together didn't mean the same to her as it did to him. Maybe he had been accepted only for diplomatic reasons and not a mutual desire. She did accept rather quickly and without even talking to him to explain what was happening in person he had been told he would be her Consort. Consort to the Queen! It seemed a little fast. He'd expected there to be some kind of courtship or... something. He'd barely even been able to look at her!
He was told she'd had to leave immediately to settle some treaty dispute in the Western Regions, formerly Moriah's domain and now governed by her sister Eriah, and he understood that her duty would not stop just because he suddenly showed up out of the blue. When he asked the Council to accompany her to provide help he had been dismissed and mocked in their polite, courtly way.
A quiet knock at the door let him know it was already time for supper and the boy assigned as his attendant entered, walking softly to make as little noise as possible and keeping his gaze on the ground, never looking at him directly while he spread out the meal on one of the tables near a window where he preferred to sit. He was a young Omatran, looking to be no more than fourteen or fifteen with dark midnight-blue skin and light, almost white hair. The sides and back of his hair were cut short and the top was braided tightly against his scalp and tied back into a long tail. He didn't wear any jewellery even though the other servants in this part of the palace grounds did. He was probably low born, 'just like me', Don thought.
He had tried talking to him when he'd first arrived and managed to get his name. "Cereth," he'd stuttered quickly and nothing else, hunched in on himself as he tried to take up as little space as possible. Don had kept talking through the silence as he served him, trying to befriend him but he only answered when asked something directly in short concise answers or with a "One such as I wouldn't know about that, m'Lord."
He sighed and rose to walk over to see if he could manage to eat something before heading to bed. As he sat down to start poking through his food he realised the boy was still standing behind him, which was odd. Cereth would usually scurry away quickly and stay out of sight until he had to clean up and always did so silently. Donatello turned, wondering what the boy would need of him and watched him hesitating, glancing between the servant's door where he should be walking through and wringing his hands together.
"Don't despair," he said quietly. "The Queen will be back soon."
Donatello looked up and for a moment their eyes met before the boy realised what he was doing and bowed low, apologizing. Don stopped him before he started grovelling, "You don't have to do that with me, please. I'm not used to all of this." He waved a hand vaguely around with an embarrassed smile. "I guess I must look a mess for you to be so worried about me."
"I-I didn't mean...!" Cereth looked horrified at what he'd done but stopped short when he glanced back up to Don.
Donatello gave him a genuine smile and the boy froze for a moment before returning it timidly. "You seem different than the others... kind. I know you've been upset and... l-lonely." He blushed at his forwardness. "Don't fear, it won't be much longer."
Finished with what he had to say, the boy bowed low and scurried out of the room quickly. The talk with Cereth, though brief, had lifted Don's spirits. He'd try wandering the Palace again tomorrow and find out when the Queen was due to return. Maybe he'd look for Cereth and try talking to him again. Once Jhanna was back he could perhaps ask to her to be given access to the palace library or be allowed out of the palace into the city.
He settled into his bed and thought of her. His memory of that night would have to fuel him a little longer. It had been eighteen years ago but he felt like no time had passed. He brought to mind his first experience every once in a while, savouring every detail he could recall and then putting it away to cherish privately. Not even his brothers had known about it until he told them years after it had happened. He didn't go into details either, what they did and how far they went was only between them and he didn't mention it again until he'd made up his mind about coming here.
She'd spent the night with them after defeating Moriah. They shared their provisions and ate, retelling parts of the battle the others could have missed without sparing colourful descriptions and animated (if slightly exaggerated) demonstrations. Though it was amusing, he found he couldn't pull his eyes from her, he was absolutely taken with her strength, beauty and skill in combat.
Later that night, while the others slept she'd led him away from the camp into a clearing in the woods far enough to not be disturbed. At the time, he'd thought she wanted to speak to him about something but when he asked what she wanted, she'd smiled and kissed him, caressing his green skin, whispering how beautiful and strong he was.
He couldn't even respond, just stared at her as his world turned upside-down and inside-out and before he knew what was happening she'd pulled him down and pressed him into the cool grass, divesting herself of her armour and shimmying out of her body suit as she stood over him. He must have looked like a confused fish gaping at this blue-skinned goddess, wondering if this was all a mistake or some elaborate joke. Any moment now she'd stop disrobing and laugh at his credulousness but pieces of armour and clothing kept being discarded with small thuds on the grass as he watched in disbelieving awe.
To his embarrassment, he dropped down the moment she removed her last item of clothing, unable to hold his erection for even a moment, stunned that this was happening to him and not sure if he was awake or still dreaming. His cock twitched and bobbed under her hungry stare. If his world hadn't been been spinning he might have had the presence of mind to try and cover himself from her sight. When she hummed appreciatively he thought he could probably get off just like this.
He had never been looked at this way or touched how she touched him before, as if he were desirable, as if she couldn't get enough of him. Her fingers left burning trails wherever they slid over him and he hissed and moaned in pleasure, squirming under her helplessly as she raked her nails over his shoulders and down his plastron. His head was spinning and he wouldn't have been able to respond if they were attacked. He probably wouldn't have even been able to stand up without falling over.
He didn't know what to do with his hands. Her warm thighs pressed against his as she straddled him, his erection standing between them and he gasped whenever the slight movement of her body made it brush against her abdomen. It felt like electricity, a jolt of pleasure coursing through him even with the slightest touch. He tentatively moved his fingers from where they were buried in the grass to brush timidly over a smooth knee and she smiled down at him, covering his hand with her own to slide it up her thigh and rest on the crease where it joined her hip.
He groaned at the sky, pushing his head back and to the side in the grass. He was losing his mind, hyperventilating isn't helping either, he thought to himself as he bit his lips and tried to reign in his panting breath and galloping heart, trying and failing to quiet the noises he was making. At this rate the others were bound to come over to investigate and there was no way he wanted any interruptions now.
The little control he did manage to get over himself went to hell the moment she took his length in her warm hands. He thought he was going to come immediately. His whole body shook and his hips jerked upwards, but he managed to pull her hands away from him before embarrassing himself while stammering that he had never done this before.
She smiled at his confession, a wicked glint in her eye and Don swallowed audibly, feeling completely at her mercy. Reaching this point he would probably let her do whatever she wanted to him, he could barely put two thoughts together through his haze of desire.
"Untouched," she hummed and the sound went right to his cock that twitched in agreement. She squeezed him back and he whimpered, "you are a gift to me for my victory." She breathed huskily, raking her nails over his plastron.
He threw his head back and let out a loud churr that echoed around them but he couldn't care less if the sound carried back to camp. She leaned forward and kissed him more gently this time, soothing his fevered skin with slow, steady touches, whispering endearments until his heavy panting breath slowed once again.
She lifted herself up then, lining up with his cock and pressing herself down. The fleshy head of his erection flattened slightly and then parted her folds entering her heat as she moaned. She felt tight around him and she had to rock her hips gently to slowly ease him into her body. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised he should probably stop making those strangled mewling noises but for the life of him he couldn't stop. By the time he was fully sheathed inside her he was already whimpering, biting his bottom lip, his hands fisted in the grass as he struggled to not tumble over the edge.
Her movement stilled and she reached between them to squeeze his shaft where they were joined at the base of his tail. He yelped at the sudden stinging sensation, a burning pinch that dampened his pleasure.
"Not yet, my sweet Donatello. I am not done with you." She whispered breathlessly.
Her hand covered his, opening his fists and pulling him up into a sitting position to embrace him, comforting him with quiet words and then holding onto him tightly as she began to ride him slowly, making love to him as he trembled in her arms. He held on with every ounce of willpower he had but he didn't last, churring loudly into her chest as he spilled into her body in a mind blowing orgasm that had him nearly blacking out shortly after they had just begun. She held him close to her body as she rocked her hips, grinding against him with his half-hard cock still inside her, seeking friction until she came as well, moaning into the side of his head, squeezing around him in spasms.
He listened to her breathing, caressing her back as she recovered and then pulled her down when she slumped against him to lay beside him in the soft grass. He watched her as she surfaced from the haze of her orgasm. Now that he was in possession of his wits again he needed to know what this meant.
They talked through most of the night. She told him of her world, he told her of his, how they lived, that they were the only four of their kind. She asked him to go with her, she would be leaving very soon and he politely refused. He had a duty to his brothers after all.
They returned to camp while it was still dark and she left before sunrise, while he slept by her side leaving behind her braids as the only testament of what they had shared.
He sighed at the memory replaying over and over in his head, tossing and turning in the lavish silk sheets of the large bed as sleep eluded him. His recollection of that night haunted him now more than ever. He had waited eighteen years before allowing himself to follow this dream, he should be able to wait a little longer to see her.
He looked out the open window at the sky, it was close to sunrise already. He pulled off his sheets and got up. Having found his motivation he sat down among the few books he had been given, all about either etiquette or the genealogy of the noble families and those who rose to power over the history. He used these early hours to study earnestly. He'd gain the skills Jhanna needed from him and give her everything he had. Only then, if that wasn't enough, would he be satisfied with his attempt at chasing his dream.
Not long after, at least it didn't seem as if much time had passed, he heard quick steps outside his room and was on alert immediately. A sharp knock came shortly after and Cereth burst through the door the moment he raised his voice to give his permission. He took a moment to compose himself abashedly for his rude entry and exclaimed, "She's here! She's back!" not able to hold back his enthusiasm any longer.
Donatello bit back his cry of joy even though he couldn't help the wide grin that took over his mouth. Cereth's own smile shone through in response and the boy reached forward to grip him by the hand when someone else stepped through the open door. Cereth immediately schooled his face and cowered into the corner where he was supposed to remain while he was attending.
The guard eyed the boy with an angry frown but said nothing about the servant's slip, "Prime Magistrate Jhanna has returned and she wishes to see you." She said in a firm voice.
Finally, his chance had arrived. After all this time, his wait was over.