Forty-five minutes later, Khan pulled the hovercraft into the darkened lot of a modest, little roadside inn. Their agreement to stop for the night remained unspoken, as though a spell of sorts had fallen over the both of them. Neither cared to look back upon their deadly encounter, let alone discuss it—but each silently recognized a change in the dynamic of their relationship.
Upon reaching the crossroads, Khan had piloted them due north. Listening to the soothing sound of Seraphina's breathing, while contemplating the tangle of foolish emotions and ancient memories she had awakened in him, he had reached for her hand—and she had given it willingly. So small, it seemed, engulfed by his; delicate and soft, but strong too, when the need arose. The several times he had glanced her way to find her watching him, she'd looked perplexed and a little sad; and when he met her eye, she had looked down or away, as though abashed to be found studying him.
Their silence was not uncomfortable though, and the few words and half-sentences they shared confirmed—for him, at least-that their thoughts were moving in the same direction. She showed no surprise at his choice to stop, simply nodding, and pressing her lips together against a naughty, knowing smile. It hit him squarely in the chest, and left him wanting more.
And so he kept the engine idling, while Seraphina went inside to arrange for their lodging. Khan watched through the atrium window as she conversed with the desk clerk, with an easiness that surprised him in light of the evening's events. Leaning in close, as though sharing a secret; seeming to laugh lightly at something the clerk had said; and finally, tendering her payment before signing the registration terminal. The clerk handed her two keycards, and she headed towards the exit.
"We're in unit 36," she told him a bit breathlessly, surely in anticipation of what lay in store for them, "It's around back." She pointed towards their left. "I thought…well, that it would be more discreet in case they…um…in case someone stumbled onto our trail."
Khan nodded his approval. "A wise choice, my…" he inhaled sharply, considering carefully what she had become to him, "…my sweet Seraphina." She seemed to grow shyer as they drew nearer to their room—which only made her all the more appealing.
Finding their unit, he backed the craft into the space in front, leaving it to face the wooded area behind the inn, positioned so to facilitate a quick departure should it be necessary.
Seraphina carried her satchel and a small overnight bag that she had stored behind the driver seat, and Khan collected the grocery sacks to bring inside.
"I paid for two nights, just in case," she revealed, her voice grown soft in the quiet of the room, as he bolted the door behind him, "I thought, it's so late already and perhaps…well perhaps we might not be…be ready to leave at…checkout time." She shrugged, tongue-tied now that they were alone, surely feeling the full import of having shut the rest of the world away.
The room was simply furnished; a bed and two nightstands, a plush, wall-to-wall carpet, a large, mirrored bureau, and a small dining table (where he set his parcels down) with two chairs. The only difference he discerned, from typical night lodgings of his time, was a viewing screen that took up at least three-quarters of the wall across from the bed. Seraphina left her bags sitting on a chair, and set about unpacking the items she had purchased for them; an assortment of protein bars, several types of fruit, and bottled water. "I wasn't exactly sure what you would like, but these should do alright—don't you think?"
"Of course," he answered, careless of the objects in question, focused only on the steady current thrumming between them.
"And I got a few things you might need," Seraphina continued, her words spilling out in a nervous rush, "A toothbrush and a razor; a clean shirt—I hope it's okay, I just guessed at the size. And…um…a change or two of…underthings…"
She trailed off, as Khan moved closer, stilling herself completely as he ran a hand up from the small of her back, to leave it resting between her shoulder blades. He spoke softly, reassuringly, against her ear, "I'm sure all is exactly as I need." Her sudden, aching vulnerability was dizzying him, and making him want to slowly savor every moment to come, despite how his true need was growing stronger with each breath he drew.
She gave the quietest little moan as he stroked her cheek, and then turned her face up to his so he might lay a soft kiss on her mouth. "Seraphina," he exhaled against her lips, "My unexpected, little miracle." He kissed her again, and again, and again, never going deep, teasing himself as much as he teased her, making her want to go deep but denying her at the same time. "Be mine, Seraphina," he insisted between the tender tease of each kiss, "Be mine…be mine…be mine…"
"Is this real…is this really happening," she whispered, even as she craned her neck enough to encourage him to paint a trail of moist kisses upon her throat. Khan slid his palms down to cup her breasts, rubbing his thumbs hard against her nipples, and delighting as she arched into his hands.
He nuzzled his way back to her ear, softly rumbling his answer, "The most real thing I've known, in more years than you could possibly imagine," punctuating his lonely secret by gently tugging her earlobe between his teeth. It drew from her a surprised gasp, as she tightened her grip on his biceps. He thought her as ripe and willing as any woman he had ever taken, reading in the way she trembled against him further proof of her desire—until her plaintive tone broke through his fog of lust.
"Please, John…oh please. Just let me breathe a moment. We're moving so fast…and I…oh god," she panted, struggling for the right words to say, "I want you, I want this…I just…I've never been the kind of woman who falls into bed with a man she barely knows…"
Khan backed away, dazed by her seeming refusal, and blinking slowly through the stupor of hard desire. Stymied by her mixed signals, he growled more harshly than he should have, "Woman, what is it you would ask of me?"
She shook her head, moving close and laying her hand against his cheek. "Only that you give me a chance to catch up to you. That you just—please-bear with me a little bit. You're quite…" she swallowed hard, searching his face for understanding, "…quite a force of nature, you know." Seraphina bowed her head a moment, sounding a little overwhelmed, "I want to choose this of my own volition, and not because you've swept me up in the power of your…" she met his eyes again, her face a perfect mix of guilelessness and longing, and sighed as she told him, "…your beautiful will."
As potent as was his desire for her, Khan knew in his heart that he must concede to her soft entreaty. Recalling their delicious trespass all those hours ago—and relishing her sweet fragility now—he realized that he had no true choice but to be patient…for she was a prize well worth waiting for.
He turned from her, not out of anger or frustration, but because he needed to cool his ardor for a time. "How prettily you test me, my sweet desert rose," he grumbled, "So that in this, I must bow to your will." He paced to the far side of the room, restless and aching for satisfaction. Stopping near the window, he parted the drapes enough to peer outside, trying to distract himself from the seething heat in his blood. Khan heard her quiet 'thank you, John', and muttered an acknowledgement, registering that she had moved into the bathroom without looking her way.
By the time that she emerged, he had kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the bed, managing to calm himself and quiet his hunger. His eyes were closed, as he concentrated purely on breathing; he felt Seraphina approach, but remained still until she cautiously addressed him.
"I suppose I ought to look at that cut now. At least clean it up, see that it doesn't get infected."
He opened his eyes, to find her beside him, a damp washcloth in her hands. A sweet act of conciliation, he thought; how very like her. Though it was unnecessary—his genetic makeup endowed him with a superior immune system, meaning he was seldom prey to illness or infection—he decided to allow it. It would be ill of him to reject her simple act of kindness.
"Thank you," Khan murmured, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, leaving room so she might sit beside him. He pulled his shirt off, discarding it on the floor—completely unprepared for her reaction.
The moonlight in the alley had been enough for Seraphina to excise that insidious tracker from beneath his flesh, but far from enough for her to note his true condition. She gasped at first, then fell mute, moving a step back to take in the full picture. In his unwavering focus on getting to London, Khan had put the pain he had endured-at Marcus's behest-behind him, and so had not given a thought to how he would appear to her. At her gasp he looked up at her, wordless himself, to explain the sight confronting her.
Remaining silent, Seraphina studied the map of ugly bruises on his shoulders and torso, her eyes the widest he'd seen them yet. When she finally found her voice, it was hushed and sorrowful, "Who…who did this to you?"
Khan blinked several times, fascinated by the minute tremble of her lips; she was holding back some strong emotion, and on his account. "Unimportant," he replied dispassionately, "And safer for you not to know." And then, uncharacteristically, he looked away, the soft, sympathetic regard in her eyes and the set of her mouth nearly too much to bear. What was it about her that made him want to appear invincible? He would not have her think him a victim of any kind. "These will heal rapidly, and any pain that ordinary men must feel…I…I simply do not. I master it; it does not master me." Of course, he did not add that these sort of injuries would put an ordinary man in the hospital, perhaps clinging to life even with all the medical care available—well, in his time, anyway. Today, he supposed, the broken ribs would be easily knit, the punctured lungs child's play to repair.
"Oh, John…why? These men you're running from…why…why would they beat you so?" Sera moved closer, cautious and concerned, and he remained still as she sat by his side on the edge of the bed, knowing she wanted to touch him, and realizing he needed the tender mercies she would be offering. Nearly every conscious moment since he'd been awakened, Khan had waged his lonely battles—physical, mental, emotional—a stranger in a cold, sterile world that valued him for only that which it could rip from him against his will. He had withstood the rounds of relentless, merciless tests, the repeated psychological games meant to break him, and finally the methodical, repeated beatings administered by men who knew the exact effect of each blow upon the human body (though he was superhuman, even Khan had some limits to his physical endurance, and his captors had explored those limits in every possible way). Yes, Khan had borne each outrage against his mind and his flesh, reaching deep inside himself for the patience to sustain him, burying the anger and the hate for a future day when he would make Alexander Marcus and his minions pay the most painful and deadliest of prices. And not once had he sought compassion or clemency, focusing solely on surviving, never imagining a man such as himself would be afforded simple human kindness, even wondering at times if such soft inclinations had finally been bred out of the human race.
Yet here was this kindhearted woman, proving that benevolence did exist in a hard world, reaching out to comfort him. He'd thought he might wince when she laid her hand upon him, for some of his wounds were still tender, but she touched him gingerly, almost reverently. Khan would have refused her advance if he'd seen pity in her eyes, but that was not her way. "John," she said-her sadness mixed with an irresistible huskiness that left him feeling weak, and hungry at the same time-laying her other hand against one of the lighter bruises, "Let me help you…let me make this right somehow." Khan closed his eyes, silently acquiescing, allowing her to move her hands across his skin, letting go at last. Such tenderness, he realized, had far more power over him that the violence he had endured, answering most unexpectedly, the ache in his soul for true human connection. Too many lifetimes of men had passed since he'd felt a woman's touch. And so gentle a touch as this. Too many ages.
Slowly, then, and lightly at first, Seraphina began to trace his skin with her fingertips. Small circles to begin with, and then fanning out a little at a time, from his shoulders and along his collarbone. She smoothed her palms upon his chest, and his breathing deepened in time with her movements. She was soothing and stirring him by patient touch alone, and when he exhaled her name she moved in close and began to kiss his neck. Slow, sweet, and fleeting kisses, coupled with the brush of her hair against him. Khan leaned his head back a little as her kisses became fuller and more insistent, lingering at the hollow of his throat, and beginning a descent along his sternum.
His ribs on either side bore the worst of his bruises, but Seraphina caressed them with the greatest care, while brushing her parted lips across his chest, and teasing him with butterfly kisses as she neared where he was most sensitive. He groaned deeply at the electric sensation when she danced the tip of her tongue around his areola, narrowing her circles until she flicked it against the hardened nub at its center. The urge to touch her was nearly overwhelming him to give back in kind, and even more—yet he longed to lose himself a while still in the exquisite comfort she was giving. He lost track of time and any sense of place, only aware of the exacting patience of her hands and her lips, her dear, familiar scent, and the shared rhythm of their breathing.
When she withdrew, she rose from his side without a word, so that he opened his eyes to watch her pull her blouse over her head, and drop it at her feet. Her skin was healthy and unblemished—and in the low light of the quiet room—lightly tanned in contrast to the pale pink of her bra. Khan's mouth watered at the sight of her nipples beneath the cottony material, little buds drawn tight, sure sign of her desire for him; he ached to take them in his mouth, to tease them with his tongue, and graze them with his teeth, imagining the sort of noises she would make in reply. A wave of lust coursed through his belly and below, sharply demanding satisfaction, but he made no move as he waited to see how she would proceed.
Seraphina stood before him in the beautiful prime of womanhood-and in his eyes, her kind and gentle nature was as manifest in her appearance as her lovely physical attributes. He felt no surprise at the tears of empathy that spilled from her eyes, her pupils fully dilated as she drew nearer; and he knew he'd soon taste the salty trails those tears left upon her cheeks. Oh hewould taste them; he would taste all of her surely, for he read her intent in how she moved, and in the soft, quick pant of her respiration. She will taste like a desert rose, he reckoned, his body grown ready for her:I will drink myself full of the sweet nectar of my desert rose.
Then she was slipping off her huaraches and sliding her skirt down past her hips, shimmying a bit until the fabric fell in a puddle around her bare feet. The waistband of her panties lay low, skimming across her bikini line, tempting him to reach for her and pull her close, so to hook his fingers inside the thin elastic band and tug away the soft fabric that covered her mound. He wanted to learn the scent of her arousal, to dip his fingertips and tongue into her secret places, and to make all the precious wonders of her supple young body his.
Khan stood up without prompting, reaching for her; Seraphina's small, pure smile dazzled him as she moved into his offered arms, delectably compliant as he unhooked her bra, slid the straps down, and then cast it on the floor. He exhaled hard at the sight of her revealed, his wonder undeniable, "Perfectly lovely…exactly as I expected." She lowered her eyes a moment, then met his gaze again, clearly pleased with his appraisal. On most women, this might appear as the pretense of modesty, but Khan already knew her well enough to know this was no artifice.
Seraphina slid one arm around his neck, laying her other hand on his shoulder, and began to kiss his neck again. Flesh on flesh at last, he was aware of every inch of her skin against his; it's heat a match to his, her smooth, firm breasts pressed tight to him, the muscles of her abdomen as taut and enticing as he'd imagined. He slipped his hands down her back and inside her panties, cupping her bare bottom so that she moaned deliciously. There would be no stopping now, this course that had been destined from nearly their first words to one another.
Seraphina leaned back, resting most of her weight in his hands, and then gazed up at him, looking sweet and wanton all at once. He darted in quick to take her lips in full, thrusting his tongue into her mouth; Khan shivered as she laved her tongue against his, then sucked it boldly, before pulling away. A lascivious tease, he thought, and one he would be very glad to repay—until she rested the crown of her head against his chest, so she could focus on undoing his jeans with both hands. She pushed them past his hips and down his thighs, leaving him to shuck them off the rest of the way while she returned her attention to his mouth, nipping at his lips while she pressed her pelvis against his. Her eager fingertips strayed past the waistband of his underwear, progressing from his back and around to just beneath his navel, her goal quite clear. He allowed her to smooth her fingers through the springy curls of his pubis, allowed her the touch she so hungrily sought; her fingers were cool upon his heat as she began to run them along the ridges of his hardened phallus. Khan grunted, tightening his grip on her bottom, making her whimper her affirmation.
But then-by pure force of will-he clamped his hands on her wrists, growling against her ear, as he withdrew her hands from their intimate quest, "Not quite yet, my divine little temptress. You must ripen even more before I take you." Though it felt like forever since he'd had his satisfaction, Khan knew he could master his lust a while yet before that inevitable urge overtook him. Seraphina sagged against him, moaning her frustration softly; certainly confused, but rife with desire and ready to follow his every whim.
He laid her gently on the bed, pausing to watch her a bit, reading her need in her rapid respiration and in the soft curves of her breasts, waist and hips. Slowly, he peeled her panties away, purposely breathing deep so that she would see he had caught her scent, and telling her, "You are mine now, Seraphina." He ran one hand up from her knee to the juncture of her thighs, stretching his fingers wide and resting his thumb in her soft thatch of hair, his face inches above hers, "As you have wished from the first moment I caught you in my arms." Khan kissed her brow, while moving his thumb closer to her slit, his voice a rough caress, "Tell me if this isn't so."
Seraphina blinked slowly, then nodded her head, and smiled softly up at him, "Yes, John. Yes, I am…yes, I wanted this. I want you." Revelation dawned in her eyes, as she understood the true depth of her desire, "I want you…in every way imaginable." She brushed her fingers through the fringe that fell over his brow, adding quietly, with a wisdom that pierced his heart, "But don't deny there is at least some part of you that is mine."
He chuckled warmly, musing wondrously before kissing her long and deep, "In flesh, in spirit, you are indeed the match to me, sweet Seraphina. Perhaps the universe set you in my path to make amends for the cruelties I have suffered." Khan hovered above her, memorizing her smallest details a few moments more, and then blazed a trail of kisses down to her breasts. "Perfection," he murmured against her skin, and then took a stiffened nipple between his lips, tickling it with his tongue while she moaned her reply. Sucking it softly at first, then with increasing pressure before he popped it from his mouth, and moved to lavish his attention on the other.
At the same time, he finally drifted his thumb down to her clitoris, rubbing gently to begin with, then tracing from its tip downward, along her exposed labia, and back again, varying his strokes to keep her on the edge, and eliciting her deepest moans yet. His cock pulsed with ferocious need, straining against the material that was the last barrier between them. Though the deeply buried, primitive part of him cried out for him to plunge himself inside of her, he focused his will on Seraphina's pleasure, and on preparing her for his eventual entry. Teasing her a bit more, until he brought his fingers to her opening, finding her slick enough to explore; she pushed against him as he flexed one long finger, and then two, inside her, spreading her legs wider to allow him deeper access. "Slowly now, my flower; open to me with patience," he instructed her, "Trust me in this, as in all things now."
"Ohhhhhhh…but let me touch you, too," Seraphina implored him, moving one hand from his hair, skimming it quickly down his body, while stretching her fingers to take him in hand. "Let me feel you…all of you…please, John…please."
Khan moved his pelvis just out of her reach, keeping her in place upon the mattress effortlessly, intensifying his strokes against and inside her. "No, my precious one, you must wait. Your sweet touch would surely set me ablaze—but first, I would watch you as you come…" Her breath caught with that word, and she squirmed beneath his hand, hot, wet, and achingly close to resolution. "I will feel you in the moment that you peak, proof that you are mine," he declared, and brought his mouth close to hers, breathing her in.
Seraphina raised her head and latched onto his mouth, her lips and tongue greedy to please him in the only way he would allow. Her hips moved in sync with his fingers, seeking the release he promised—yet still, she sought to persuade him. "No…please," she begged, her breath catching again with insistent waves of pleasure, as he worked her towards her climax, "Don't push me over the edge, John…I…aaaaahhhhhh…I don't want to come until you're inside me…"
Confident of his power over her—and truly wanting to experience her gratification before his own, he laid his mouth against her ear, "My beautiful one…my sweet flower…we have hours and hours ahead of us. There is time enough for satisfaction for us both. Let me please you in this way—and I promise this night that I will give you such delights as no man has ever given you." She sobbed softly, confused by the promptings of her heart versus the fire he had kindled in her flesh. "You are my treasure, Seraphina. A heavenly oasis in a world that has only ever sought to use me violently. Trust me, my sweet, and know that I have come to trust you with my life."
What little resistance she had managed, vanished in a single beat of his heart, as his talented fingers redoubled their efforts, thrusting deeply inside her again and again, while she ground against the glorious pressure of his thumb stroking her clit. In moments, Seraphina exploded like a maelstrom, crying out his name, clenching his fingers tightly within her; her hips rose, and her pelvis and legs went rigid, as her body strained to wring every ounce of ecstasy possible from this first penetration.
Though she fell back onto the mattress, her muscles continued contracting, and her body trembled in luscious after throes. Her pelvis twitched when he finally pulled his fingers away, signaling her body's regret for his absence, testament to his skill. Khan smiled wolfishly, relishing his indelible effect upon her and anticipating what was to come next, then forged a pathway of soothing kisses back to her passion-bruised mouth.
Resplendently dazed—and with a satisfied flush coloring her skin-Seraphina kissed him back with a tenderness that defied her earlier fervor. The heat in his blood cried out for equal satisfaction, though he bided his time well enough—knowing he was minutes away from taking her in full.
"That…was…amazing," she sighed, turning into him, casually nuzzling his neck, "And god, you…you smell amazing…and you feel like heaven…" She suckled along his clavicle, murmuring against his skin, "You taste like strength, and mystery, and…and forbidden bliss." Seraphina slowly exhaled, "And I'd almost think I was dreaming you up—except I've never had such an…," she bit her lip, and her eyelids fluttered shut as her senses relived the glory of it, "…such an intense…orgasm, in a dream before…"
Khan rumbled in his chest, judging her ready for more, while finishing her thought, "Nor in the waking world, I'll wager." She was delightfully easy to read, a creature of little pretense, her heart an open book; the language of her body against his was the only confirmation he needed. He splayed one hand across her hip onto the small of her back, pulling her against him and leaving not a bit of gap between them. She ooooo'd, surprised by his sudden roughness, but then conformed to him exactly as he wished, clinging tight while peppering his neck and chest with lusty kisses.
He caught her hand in his, and pressed his lips against her palm. "Now you will free me," he ordered her, firmly guiding her hand down and setting it upon his bulging cock, "Free me-and then you may touch me as you desire, Seraphina."
She complied eagerly, pulling away his underwear and grasping his hard, heavy shaft, feeling his full length and girth for the first time. Khan grinned at her moan of mixed surprise and trepidation, knowing he surpassed all of her expectations—his generous endowment another gift of his superior genetics. Her grasp was light and tentative, and she panted shallowly, on the verge of panic. "John…you're so…so…big," she sputtered, "What if I can't…what if I can't…accommodate…you?"
"Oh, my sweet—you needn't fear." His voice was patient, silk indulgence, having anticipated this last obstacle. "You see now why I needed to prepare you-and I promise you are more than ready." As proof, he moved one hand between her thighs, his expert fingers exploring her core again, measuring her heat and slathering his fingers with her juices. His eyes bored into hers, as he willed her to calm and trust him. Seraphina's mouth hung slack, as she watched him bring those fingers to his lips and lick her flavor from them. "Yes, my sweet, you are ready for me."
She held still for several breaths, choosing her course. Accepting his word as truth, her lips quirked saucily—and Khan shuddered at the sensation of her thumb rubbing the tip of his cock insistently, capturing droplets of his pre-come on her skin. Avidly, he watched her suck her thumb, signaling her full submission to whatever he might ask of her.
Khan rolled Seraphina onto her back, taking in her full beauty once more, before mounting her. She kept her eyes locked on his, and they whispered endearments and loving encouragements back and forth, touching one another and never breaking contact altogether. Still marveling at his size, and seeing him ready to bury himself inside her, Sera grasped her knees from behind, pulling her legs back as far as she could, opening to him, vulnerable to him, her clitoris visibly pulsing with renewed need. Khan gripped her hips for purchase, and surprised her one last time, lowering his mouth and tenderly kissing her mound, then caressing her clit with the tip of his tongue; she cried out her bliss, writhing beneath him, raising herself to meet his full lips. She was close again, so close to more rapture, but this time Khan would have her orgasm engulf him.
Seraphina whimpered as he moved away from her wet portal, as suddenly as he'd begun pleasuring her there. "Hush, my sweet," he cooed, scattering random kisses across her abdomen, and gently grazing the smooth skin of her breasts, on his way back to her mouth, "Have I not promised you all that you desire? And have I not proven myself a man of my word?"
She was nearly incoherent, only able to moan, and when he took her mouth again, he matched that moment by slipping the head of his cock into her melting pussy. He groaned with the joy of it, the purest pleasure he had of her yet, holding himself still as she bucked beneath him, begging him in that way to fill her completely. Unable to hold back a moment longer, he thrust his full length into her, the sensation so keen that he saw stars behind his closed lids.
It would be quick this time, Khan knew, from so long an abstinence. His heart hammered in his chest, pumping blood that had become molten as he rutted into her again and again, his magnificent brain shutting down all thought but the imperative to take his pleasure at last. He was aware enough to feel her lock her ankles together at the small of his back, and to feel her arms encircle him, holding on hard as he unrepentantly drove her body into the mattress. Seraphina encased him like a glove, and she met his movements measure for measure, her growing moans a heavenly counterpoint to the groans he felt rising from the seat of his soul.
With mere moments left to him, Khan snaked one hand between them, seeking her perfect little nub, her most sensitive spot, rubbing it roughly and pushing her to climax. She rose to meet his final thrusts, the powerful waves of her orgasm pulling him past his endurance, and he came furiously, all his consciousness focused on their connection, his cock convulsing as he spilled himself inside her.
For unnumbered moments, they seemed suspended in time, so intimately connected, throbbing together in the aftermath, and for that brief time unable to tell where he began and she ended. Seraphina drew deep gulps of air, her exhales cooling his sweat soaked skin. Khan found himself shaking, telling himself it was only the flood of hormones that hit is system, after a three hundred year absence. In truth, he knew of only one other woman who had drawn such a reaction from him; the comparison was too apt for comfort, and he shut those thoughts away.
When he looked down upon her, Seraphina smiled up at him, biting her lip, a sudden bashfulness complimenting the glow she wore for him. She rested one hand on the side of his neck, and the other she nested in his mussed hair, then raised her face closer to kiss his slightly parted lips, lingering on his bottom lip, spoiling him with gentleness after his rough use of her. "Are you well, my sweet," he asked, solicitous of her comfort.
Her smile grew wide, and rather soppy, "Never better in all my life, my beautiful, dark…" She hovered a moment, in search of a perfect word, "My beautiful, dark, magnificent prince."
"You flatter me, my Sera," he chuckled, his steadiness restored, "But I will take it, along with anything you care to give to me." He took her mouth in a long, passionate kiss, her sweetness become the only candy that would ever satisfy him. Delaying the inevitable no longer, Khan withdrew from her as gently as he could, though she still hissed softly at the loss of connection. And, oh, she would be sore tomorrow—but he could not regret a moment of how he'd taken her. Of how you loved her, the voice of his younger self corrected him; he shut that thought away as swiftly as it came.
Sera turned into him, as he laid beside her, and rested her head on his shoulder. Though her voice was drowsy, Khan thought perhaps they'd couple a time or two more before sleep overtook her—and if so, his patience would exact magnificent pleasure upon her warm and willing form.
She traced her fingers across his chest randomly, and brushed her lips against his skin as suited her in the moment. Khan rested his nose against her hair, relaxed in a way he had not been since well before his ascendancy as leader of the Augments. Already the temptation to turn his back forever on that life-in favor of spending days, months, perhaps years, in the splendor of her loving—was insinuating itself inside his mind. He vowed to tread with greater caution in regards to her heart as they moved forward on their journey.
"It's DiPietro, by the way," she confided against his skin, "In case you were wondering." A pleasant sigh punctuated her statement.
"What is?"
Sera kissed along his jaw, her answer rich with amusement, "My surname."
"Ahhhhhh," he rumbled, recalling her hesitance in what—now-felt like a full week ago. "DiPietro," he repeated, enjoying the feel of it upon his tongue.
"Yes," she laughed. "I didn't want to trust you, you know. I thought it would be safer not to say," she admitted.
"And now?" He had an inkling as to her reply.
"I would trust you with more than my life," she confessed, unaware of the drift of his own thoughts, "I would trust you with my heart."
The only answer he felt safe to give, was to pull her soft against him—hoping it would suffice for now. Hoping that when the end came, he would not have to break such a beautiful, yet unasked for gift, and one so tenderly offered.