A/N: So college classes combined with lack of inspiration and zero time left me feeling really, really drained when it came to writing. Even when I had some free time to sit down and type, I couldn't do it. And then I got some more time and inspiration... and then writer's block hit. So it's like, double whammy. Interestingly enough though, I found out if I do have writer's block, by typing two types of scenarios, I can gradually break myself free. I either have to type something insanely gory or something kind of smutty. Don't ask me why but... somehow it helps. After typing a twelve page fight scene and a rather explicit story, I deemed myself free once more. Got a little reckless, wanted to try something new and gave something like this my best shot.
The sky felt as if it was dancing with them.
Slow, methodical steps given to the brief touch of darkness around them. The hanging lanterns that traced the outside of the courtyard had long since dimmed away; their careless flames wilting and flickering with their last arms of strength.
She could trace their shadows against his skin. She could feel the cooling night breeze brush through his feathers and roll between her fingers as they lightly tangled in the fabric of his sleeves; bundling the thin material against his shoulders.
Her feet were bare as she slowly moved with him, although not sure if it was she who was leading or if he was guiding her steps; at this point in time, she didn't care for leadership anyways. The desert night had yet to feel chilling against her skin, instead giving off a calming atmosphere that was cool and pleasing against her. The loose sand that had been blown into the streets was still warm from the sun's abuse but had lost its scolding, blistering power; she could step and roll about in it without the harm of causing damage to her body.
She used to laugh that despite the late time hours, he would keep his shoes on if he chose to stay awake with her. Then again, she had long since gotten use to the desert's strength and abuse, she knew what to expect; despite his twenty years here, he was still cautious and nervous about the environment. His skin was far more sensitive though while hers had been hardened by the years of struggles and odd-sided conflicts. But tonight, he seemed willing to lean on the dangerous side and had disposed of his boots moments before… causing her to wonder if her attitude was rubbing off on him after all this time. He seemed happy enough though.
The celebrations had ended hours before, leaving only a few pieces of decorations behind to be picked up in the morning; the rest of the city had departed and the residents moved back inside to start an early recovery from the drinking. It left the streets empty and almost awkwardly silence… giving off the perfect atmosphere for her. Her ears pinned back slightly at the quiet squawking from a night owl off in the distance, followed by a low calling from another predator. She loved it.
Careful steps continued to take them around, slowly making out a path around the smoldering fire pit that remained in the center of the courtyard. Its flame had once threatened to touch the sky and she liked the appeal of it creating the clouds above them; heating up the moon and forcing it across the sky.
"It's well past your bedtime, you know."
The words left almost carelessly from her lips as she leaned back slightly, moving both of their bodies into a slow swing. She felt him give into her motions and watched how his wings spread out to catch his balance, causing them to go into a small gliding motion with the movement. It was hard to believe how much she enjoyed that little motion sometimes.
"I don't think the Goddess will mind."
His words sounded just as easily careless, threatening to mimic her own tone.
Still, she felt herself smile lightly and continued to move with the sand beneath her feet.
"Is this how the night is always like?"
"No, it's usually noisier." she remarked, hands slowly moving down his slender arms. "But this… this is perfect for me."
Those translucent eyes kept with hers despite the motion and it took a moment before the corners of his lips moved up for a moment. "Are you still talking about the silence, my lady?"
Perhaps not.
Hands continued to move down until they interlaced with his own, fingers slipping into empty spaces, entangling with slender, paler fingers. His touch was always cool, always able to calm down her skin heated up by the sun. "It's late, we should head back inside."
His question was left unanswered but he seemed okay with it and moved to follow her regardless; his grip tightening around her coarse fingers as he moved with her steps. The courtyard tiles were quiet and helped to hide their steps as they moved slowly back towards their own dwelling. She was never one for material means and preferred to keep the interior simple enough, but when he joined her… she wanted to make things more comfortable. He insisted otherwise and assured her that he wouldn't mind, she saw the way he enjoyed the decorations though; she caught how he would stop to inspect something new and would question her on its meaning or purpose. So she occasionally went out of her way to order something new to hang up just to see how long it would take him to notice its presence. She supposed she turned it into somewhat of game and occasionally had to laugh at herself for how ridiculous it was in the end… but seeing that intrigued expression on his face could change her opinion in a second.
The hallways were quiet and the rugs helped to hide their footsteps, not that there was anyone else inside that could be interrupted by them.
Hands moved to push aside the thick curtain that covered the doorway to her bedroom- their bedroom.
It was quiet, stilling, suffocating.
She loved it.
Her hand slipped away from his before fingers moved to tangle in her own clothing; loosening the gathered material from her waist. Piece by piece the layered skirt fell away, leaving behind a small trail of fabric behind her. He always made a notion to step around the fallen material, always careful to move around each of the pieces regardless of where they fell.
Fingers reached back and moved to loosen the back of her shirt, pulling away at the strings that held it together. The thick material fell loose in her hands before she moved to peel it away from her skin, feeling that last bit of fighting it offered. She always liked how the dark material looked against her bronze tone… but it seemed to better accent the hardwood floor below.
She wouldn't say that she was ever concerned for how she looked, whether or not she would be considered attractive by male patrons; looks weren't important, words and actions were more serious out in this desert wasteland. She was never dressed in those fancy materials that the other monarchies wore during their annual meetings, if anything she was dressed for comfort and little else. But she would have to say that her finest looks came in the silk form of the moonlight bending across the shape of her legs; sliding and forming around her calves as it moved up to occupy her thighs, eventually resting against the curve of her hips. Fingers curled into the quiet sheets that draped themselves across her bed as she heard the uneasy mattress quietly protest her given weight against it. She slowly moved across the uneven surface before she slid herself in against the cool sheets, enjoying the gentle embrace of it against her form. Her tail flipped up slightly before it moved to curl over her legs, lightly tucking itself over her body to keep some modesty remaining- not that she cared much for it.
He had paused slightly at the foot of the extensive bed, as he usually did, and almost seemed to hesitate briefly… as he usually did once more. She rather enjoyed his somewhat concealed expression, always questioning what his following actions should be.
But she had managed to slip him out of most of his robes earlier that evening, insisting that he'd wear something closer to their traditional ceremony suit… which wasn't much anyways. He didn't offer much of an argument and seemed more curious as to what the ceremony would be like; it only occurred every half century and this would be the first one celebrated after such a heavy war and after their country had expanded outwards. They had plenty more citizens now, many of whom had never heard or seen their species or even known of Hatari… this ceremony would do much to teach them. Perhaps they had gone overboard with the decorations, the dances and the fire but it had all been well worth it. She held no complaints about it and in fact had been mildly impressed with the wide varieties that had come out for the sole reason to witness this event.
Still, the loud noises and massive crowds that had come out were not missed now.
It wasn't hard to convince him out of the rest of his robes with the help of a few fingers pulling them away from his body. He always took some time to convince, even after all these years it was as if he still wasn't comfortable with their embraces. It always took some convincing though and she always won in the end… he was always hesitant because of their power differences and species; she told him that they were matters that were easy to overlook if one had the correct sight on them.
His skin always felt so odd against her own; it was smoothed down perfection that covered every inch of his slender physique. It was the paleness of his complexion that seemed to work well with her darker skin, creating an unique and appealing contrast between them. Her tail flicked slightly beside her while his wings draped downward over the both of them; long, white feathers traced the wrinkles in the bed sheets, the moon light barely streaming through the thin spaces between each one.
She had to keep her strength in check as she moved to press her hands against his chest, knowing more than enough times she had accidentally left a bruise or two behind. And she had possibly broken his hand by accident once. Still, she kept her fingers carefully placed in the back of her mind as she moved to curl them over his slender shoulders.
She never realized how coarse and uneven her lips were until they were compared to his own. Even despite the climate, he always managed to keep them soft and she loved the mere brush of them against her. It was a subtle touch, opening and breathless as they moved together; her fingers already losing control as they dug in against his skin at the embrace. There was always that brief moment of hesitation when their bodies moved to come into full contact; his chest pressing down against her own while the rest of their bodies matched up along different curves. He was slender, just one shape and sometimes it felt like his skin merely followed the form of his bones. Her body was athletic yet curved, giving off an interesting silhouette at times while scars almost seemed stretched over her toned muscles.
Here she was, Queen of Hatari.
There he was, First Prince of the Serenes Forest.
Sometimes people liked to question who was, what they would presumably call, the 'lucky' one in this kind of odd, spinning relationship. The people of Hatari would have once said she was, because she was the elegant, graceful leader of this desert wasteland. The rest of the world seemed hung up on him being the greater half, more so due to being one of four remaining and being the oldest of the siblings; apparently to some before the war, he would've been worth more than three fortunes. But here… his presence was worth a little more and yet nothing at all.
She wasn't good with these 'values' or 'worths' people like to place on each others' head; it seemed useless. What good was someone for just standing and looking pretty purposes?
There wasn't enough money in this world to cover the cost of what he was worth though… especially when dressed in little else than the light of the moon.
Their movements were subtle, graceful and unforgettable against the skin.
Her skin was so used to the battering torment from training or from the sun's rays, it felt odd to have something as gentle and soft as his touches against her. Sometimes she wondered if she was even able to register the brush of his fingertips.
It was flushing skin, heavy breathing and bodies contorting into careful arches.
Broken silhouettes distorted the frame of moonlight across the bed.
Careful motions broke it down further.
It had taken her two years to convince him to share her bed with her. They haven't looked back since then.
Fingers tangled in his white strands, feeling the way her gray curls collected in the open space of his own; the silk sheets beneath wrinkled and bundled against her skin with their movements.
His skin still smelt like the smoke from the bonfire mixed with a hint of lavender and lilac.
Lips gave away to exhaustion as skin finally convinced itself to peel away. Their tones, while strikingly different before, both seemed to match the same hue now; they were flushed several different shades of red that seemed to follow along tired curves.
She enjoyed the look of exhaustion in his soft features as he settled next to her; his wings always hanging over the edge of the bed to maximize comfort. Despite her attempts to be cautious, her attention still managed to overlook a few instances apparently. His milk-white skin was already showing a few bruising marks from where her fingers had been all the more overzealous. She supposed some things just couldn't be helped… he seemed as though he had gotten used to them at this point though and overlooked their presence.
"Nailah…"
"Shh…" the words moved carelessly once more as fingers traced over his lower lip. "In the morning."