Warning: Lemon

Chapter Twenty

21 October 2563
Classified Slipspace Projection
Between Beta Centauri and Sol Systems
UNSC Hell Hath No Fury
0500 Zulu

The assault harness was hopelessly damaged. What would have crossed Iruu's right chest was almost nonexistent; the center connection was severed and tattered wires poked from shattered edges. Giant chunks of exoskeletal plating were missing to reveal an inner lining of assorted shield supports.

'Loram sat at the desk in his small human quarters tearing down what remained of the piece of armor. He had inverted and arranged his badly torn bodysuit on the floor near his feet and was dropping each component atop it as he went about methodical disassembly. The rest of his armor had responded to systems checks and had been thoroughly cleaned and divided into stacks according to what was left to be done to them. Most were polished and required no additional attention while a few sat atop the desk needing dents pulled and scratches addressed.

Finishing his task, Iruu mindlessly tossed the last of the assault harness in and gathered the arms and legs of the bodysuit, folding them over and tying them together: everything which would need replacing in a neat bundle. This was a task he had undertaken countless times, though admittedly not in recent memory, especially with equipment this badly damaged.

Even though every now and then tissue would sting and muscle would twitch, he could only lay around for so long.

It was not like Iruu to be idle. Though he had not been completely so, he did recognize, at this date and time, he had been pretty much that for the better part of an entire day. Much as he would have preferred to stay in bed with Maggie, they were, at some point in the near future, going to arrive back at Earth and he would have to be something close to presentable when the transport arrived. She, however, seemed to have no such concerns and appeared quite content to continue lying, naked, in his bed.

'Loram smiled, a tingle coursing through him at the very thought.

For once, it had been a pleasant experience to realize he had greatly underestimated something: that something being the depth of Maggie's physical need. Not that that was an issue, in the least, it had simply been unexpected for her to wish to stay. Her confession of preferences aside, Iruu had never been the type to hurt a female. Not knowing how a human woman would respond to that, he had intended to give her the option to escape knowing he would take matters no farther in the direction to which she was accustomed.

He had found himself at a similar impasse many times: fully willing to let women leave, not that any of them had. Swordsmen were notorious sadists and he had been guilty by association. Iruu could never be sure how many women stayed because they truly wished to, how many had done so out of cultural obligation or worse: because they had been afraid.

It was a decision Maggie had never made with a sober mind. In that moment, though Iruu could not know her motivation, he was not going to make the decision for her, and he had very much meant what he said as a threat.

However, as soon as the words had left his mouth, the tiniest of smiles had flickered across her face. He sat watching her eyes and felt her hands begin to creep up his chest and her fingers nervously play along his neck before she brushed his cheek. She had closed her eyes and begun tentatively kissing his snout, running her lips along an upper mandible to his ear bud, "Sat it again," she whispered, her voice full of fearful longing.

Understanding had raced through him and he tucked his chin, allowing himself to lick the crook of her neck, "I will not hurt you," he murmured into her delicate skin. He was unsure whether it was the words or actions that coaxed the low, tortured moan from her, but it was gratifying just the same. All concern over bodily injury came to a complete stop. He had not been in a place to care from that moment forward.

Each time she had been more assertive than the last, less timid, and more vocal about her desires. Iruu had found it delightful to turn over and over to the same mate. There was much innate satisfaction in hearing the rising timbre of her cries met by the gentle shutter of her body's fulfillment as there was in the way she had reached for him in the subsequent hours again and again…and again.

Iruu cursed, shifting against his body's reaction to these recollections. He ground his mandibles and drummed his fingers against the desktop before lifting a tool and laying claim to focus for the task at hand.

Maggie watched him fidget for a few seconds before resuming his work. Beneath a warm tangle of blankets smelling of sandalwood, lilac, tar, and sweat, she gave a catlike stretch, her feet poking out to dangle over the edge of the mattress. She had woken to find herself laying crossways in the middle of the bed and had stayed there enjoying the warmth, sore in places she wasn't even sure belonged to her, head peeping from the blankets to see Iruu at the desk. Quietly watching him for a long while, she wasn't willing to give in to the need to get up and be productive. Leaving the bed to attend to bathroom necessities had seemed grueling enough, not to mention leaving the room to take her uniforms to the ship's laundry and get something to eat…sometime yesterday.

Have I really been here that long?

Whittaker couldn't remember getting so much sleep or feeling so…starving, for everything, as if all of her sense were suddenly awake and on fire. A cold tickle of self-consciousness crept up her spine and Maggie scrunched back under the blankets. This was new territory in more ways than one and a part of her couldn't help but be unsettled.

Staying in a lover's bed beyond the sexual act wasn't something she had ever done. That was assuming, of course, they even made it to a bed. Whittaker had always orchestrated past experiences so as not to really have to deal with leaving or being kicked out.

She had been vastly unaware of just how much alcohol dulled everything. Sex had always been enjoyable, just in a mind numbing, self-destructive, slow attempt at emotional suicide kind of way. But, Iruu had clearly not been interested in any of that.

Sure, she had heard the warning in his tone when he said he wouldn't hurt her, but her mistake was not hearing it as truth. In that moment, she hadn't bolted for the door because in the darkest part of her soul she didn't believe him. So, she did what she always did, she provoked him.

And, then, he had made her pay for her unbelief.

What began as a self-destructive plea had turned into psychological torment. The next time he said those words the timbre of his voice had changed from threatening to the heavy, forbearing tone of a promise so much greater than whatever he had in mind for the immediate future.

She didn't have the luxury of alcohol to blame for what she had heard, or the ability to close off what she felt. The most painful part had been the way he made her feel completely vulnerable, stripped of every defense she once had, as if she were naked long before she actually had been. The lights in the room never rose above muted dawn, but there was little comfort in that and absolutely no way to hide. He could see every expression and spend as much time as he wanted in exploration.

It had eventually occurred to Maggie that she should have been at least a little scared for reasons other than the obvious. 'Loram's life had been devoted as a civilian and as a warrior to infiltrating unknown territory and asserting his presence as if he had every right to be there and do whatever the hell he wanted. Iruu had no need to be overly assertive in order to be imposing and a mixture of fear that he was lying or that perhaps he wasn't had given rise to a level of physical and emotional alarm Whittaker hadn't felt in…well, ever in that kind of situation.

He had taken his time, savoring, learning, memorizing the map of body. He made her feel awkward, and flustered, as she tried to rush and he wouldn't cooperate. At one point, when she was attempting familiarization of her own, he had growled irritably and pinned both of her hands with one of his to the bed above her head, leaving her completely in the open and at his mercy. Which, he had promptly taken advantage of. Not in any hurry, Iruu had removed her clothing one fragment at a time and proceeded to tactically discover practically every inch of her, learning all the ways and places to touch that made her breath catch...

Slowly, Maggie had realized he was doing it on purpose.

All the time taken to acquaint himself with her body; the fading bruises on her shoulder and foot, a scar here, a freckle there, the birthmark on the shell of her right hip, abjectly refusing to even kiss her until he was finished with his appraisal, had been for one purpose: to make her completely lose her mind.

And, son of a bitch...

There was no telling how long it took for him to do it. She was stubborn but he was persistent. Iruu had seemed unconcerned with such a trivial thing as time as he reduced her from shy, uncertain, and wholly self-conscious to a mentally broken puddle of fevered mush, absolutely willing to give voice to every lewd thought that raced through her mind. Nerves that had never been so deliberately awakened and ignored had felt overloaded and, when she was at the point of feeling as if she would die if he didn't give her the satisfaction of at least one overtly sexual touch that's when he had kissed her.

Strange, a little clumsy at first, with the sandy texture of his tongue gently probing between her lips, asking, not demanding as his strong, masculine taste infiltrated her mouth. She had wiggled against her hands pinned, once again, as he had let his free hand drift ever further down her body at an easy pace causing too many desires to vie for attention. Then, with her mouth full of him, he had proceeded to slowly explore further; the rough texture of his hand unhurried as he overtook the most sensitive part of her. It made no sense that he could be so gentle, so attuned and attentive, so generously...mean.

He enticed her repeatedly to the pinnacle and denied her over and over again, seeming to know when the slightest of movements would have been too much...or just enough. At one point Maggie remembered trembling, writhing, moaning helplessly into him, doing everything she could to get relief as his long fingers teased. His own arousal had burned hard and hot as it pressed against her leg and she remembered feeling as if she couldn't take it anymore. Tearing her mouth away from him, folding under the weight of oppressive seduction, she had found herself audibly pleading with him, in fairly explicit terms.

Apparently, that's exactly what he had wanted and Whittaker thought she had a pretty good idea of what it was like to be skinned alive.

Then, Iruu had shifted gears and ceased being an unyielding, dominant force. Her body had screamed, no, she had screamed, when he had withdrawn his delicate, persuasive touch and sank to the mattress and pulled her along on top of him. Through a blur of consuming urgency, distressed, frantically seeking, Maggie had been surprised that he was capable of such open passivity. Though she soon realized the change in power dynamic was also on purpose. No matter how wound up and confused she felt at the time, that level of submission was something she had found herself grateful for.

As she sat astride his stomach, leaning forward to nip and kiss at his chest, her hands had instinctively slid along his flesh passing between the two of them as he grumbled and shifted needily. She smiled a bit when her fingers crossed the plain of his pelvis and he bit down on his mandibles to ineffectively contain a moan of anticipation.

The hiss that escaped him had turned in to a longing groan as she tried to take hold of him and a covetous oh, shit had trembled from her lips as she ran her hand along his full, considerable length, unable to close her hand around his hard width.

Slipping from the bed, Maggie hugged the blanket, pulling it in a puddle behind as she walked the few steps to where Iruu was hunkered over the small desk. His focus was decidedly split between looking down at the bit of armor in his hand and appraising her from the corner of his eye as she approached.

His scent and the smell of various polishes and chemicals filed Maggie's nose as she leaned forward and began kissing a line up his neck, lingering to pay special attention to scars. An appreciative purring sound rumbled from him as he canted his head to one side and diverted his attention to soaking up hers. The deep, arhymic noise he made low in his chest was met with a soft, approving hum as Maggie slipped her arms across Iruu's shoulders. Standing on her tiptoes, she leaned into him as the blanket slipped from around her.

For a few moments, 'Loram let himself enjoy the feeling of her bare skin against his back. In the time they had kept one another's company there had evolved an openness which was not strictly anticipated. It wasn't just the sex. They had recognized how shouldering guilt had altered their lives; two people caught up in, and comforted by, someone as broken as they each felt.

There was refuge to be found in someone who could not understand why the other's sins would have been unforgivable. He knew Maggie hated feeling like she first betrayed her family then let them down on some moral level, that she hated to admit she had once deeply regretted her decision to become a warrior, she hated the mistakes she felt she made because of loneliness and how she could never bring herself to love her daughter the way she thought she should have. Then, everything she once thought she hated was thrown in her face and there was no going back.

In return, Maggie knew more about him than any other person, living or dead, ever had. There was no judgment. She knew, in his youth, Iruu had tried to relinquish his nobility and in so doing had willfully signed his own death sentence; that he had believed he would have preferred death over being alone.

The Sudin High Council would not try him for murder because the details would have become part of public record. Hakkamr would have been cast in a poor light for failing to eliminate one of their own criminals: that was not something done to a State intended to be retained as an ally. Instead of casting aspersions, or accepting Iruu's withdrawal and executing him for cowardice, the Council had decided to let nature take its course, let him die in their service. Only, it did not turn out that way.

'Loram readily confessed, despite his martial ability, he was too young to have been an assassin, let alone a Sovereign. Full of rage and hate and with little to stop him, Iruu had proceeded to abuse his station: seeking the Council's wrath. He had killed and maimed on command…and at his leisure. He had lived hoping the Council would order done what he hadn't the pride to do himself. Beyond devastated by his inability to escape and ashamed that he could not muster the honor to end it, Iruu became a monster even the Council was afraid to provoke. Miserably, of those set beneath him, other assassins and men many times his age, none of them would draw a blade against him.

Then, he had joined the Covenant and still could not manage to bring himself to die.

The acceptance he got from Maggie at all of that was crippling. She did not appear to see him as shameful and she seemed to understand that what he said was not in boast. All she had really wanted to know was how the Council of Sudin ever found out he killed the man from Hakkamr. The fact she understood that that was one of the points which had directed the course of his life meant more to him than she could have known.

Curled atop the bed in an uncovered tangle of arms and legs, still sweaty and in no apparent rush to get up, he held her against his chest as they talked for what felt forever, "My brother told them," he answered.

She had looked back at him with wide eyes.

Iruu shrugged, "When he came to grudgingly invite me to his wedding ceremony I was quite intoxicated and extremely…jealous. What began as an honest attempt to express congratulations turned into a confession."

"Why would he do that?"

"I am certain he was trying to protect his bride, from me," he clicked his mandibles, "I was not stable, even then, and I gave him a convenient way to get rid of me. Knowing myself as I do, I do not blame him: I would have done the same."

There had been silence for a while after that. There were no words to express the solace being with her in such open moments invoked. He attempted to follow the rhythm of her breathing with his own, anticipating the kind of peace which would lull them into a cycle of restful sleep before waking again to...

Then Maggie had quivered and rolled over in his arms, wiping at a tear that streaked down one cheek as she brushed her nose against his snout, "You loved Gia, didn't you," it had not been an inquiry. Again, her perception had been painfully accurate: she recognized his decent into madness had begun with that heartache.

"At the time, I believed I did."

She had buried her face against his chest and said, barely above a whisper, "I'm not her."

The words had cut him more deeply than he could have anticipated. Protective male instincts had flared and he saw red, enraged that Maggie was so wounded she had begun strategizing a way to prepare for the scalding pain of his rejection. He wanted to find every man who had added to that kind of hurt and rip open their guts for using and cultivating such feelings of unworth. Above all else, it made him furious to realize he had perhaps added to that, to know she could think during the course of their repeated lovemaking his mind was occupied with thoughts of Gia.

He had snorted like an angry bull, detangling himself to crawl across her and stand from the bed. She had watched, sitting up and pulling a sheet over her body, probably a little frightened, as he stepped to the dresser and sharply jerked open the top drawer. He retrieved the unfinished stone figure and looked it over before turning back to her and tossing it onto the bed, "That," he said sternly, doing his best to contain his emotions, "is all that remains of Gia: a face carved in stone based on a memory more than a hundred years old."

Maggie had picked up the figure to run her fingers along unfinished lines.

"All that I did," he clenched his mandibles, "and all that I became is because of that failure. I could not save her or cover her shame and I did not want to accept that she never loved me," Whittaker had looked up at him, her face conveying surprise at such a declaration, "I made choices I would not have otherwise in order to escape what all of that made me feel," he had twisted to sit on the edge of the bed, head bowed, and grumbled, "and the selfishness I wrought for so long cost many innocent people their lives."

He had remained there in silence for a few moments, rolling the thought over and over in his head. No, holding on to that regret would not cost him again; faith to her memory be damned, he would not allow Gia to hurt Maggie.

Iruu had turned and plucked the incomplete carving from her grasp, curling his fingers around it, crushing it in his hand before dropping the pieces on the floor, "I have never been under the delusion you are her," and before he could stop himself, "Maggie, I am yours."

"Hey," she whispered, "where are you?" Whittaker pressed her lips to Iruu's neck and he came back from that moment of heart wrenching disclosure; which, painfully, she had not appeared to understand.

'Loram sighed, setting down the armor and tool before walking his legs around. As he turned the chair from the desk to face her, Maggie could see the sadness in his eyes. He was still lost somewhere in the depth of pain she couldn't even begin to measure.

He didn't do anything wrong.

At least she had the luxury of pointing to the moments in her life when she fucked it all up. Like, when she had decided to go to that damn party, and getting so plastered that she couldn't remember what had happened, getting fucked by God-only-knew who: those moments, right there, she had made bad decisions. Not requesting reassignment, signing those damn custody papers, getting up at fifteen 'til the ass crack of dawn and leaving without a word, rarely returning comms, not going home on leave: again, right there, those were her mistakes.

Even if he felt he sucked at being a person, by the measure of his own society Iruu had done practically everything right. He had loved a woman enough to kill to defend her honor, he had become a Swordsman, acquired a noble title, joined the Covenant, and had a lot of kids with a lot of women. He didn't always like who he was, but who did? At least he had logical reasons for the 'mistakes' he made.

And, even that had been reduced to nothing. It was difficult to hear, not just because she began to understand why he could never go home, but because he never wanted to be what he was, even when his society told him he should have. Then, he had been degraded to the point that even his religion was stripped away under the force of cultural norms. Instead of seeking guidance from the honored dead of his maternal clan, Iruu honestly felt he could only make petition to the denigrated members of his bloodline.

She had asked and he had gone through them, climbing from the bed to collect the figures from the dresser before lying back down and propping them on his chest.

The Precidict Edu'ri 'Varlem, carved from black volcanic glass, had committed the original sin of all traditional Sangheili faiths. He had touched a Forerunner artifact and lore dictated that upon doing so he was imparted with immense wisdom at the cost of burns so severe they eventually killed him. It took him more than a week to die and during that time he prophesied that one day a child of the Reclaimers, the sacred Key, would come and unlock the artifact that sat at the center of their worship. His words were the foundation of the religion of Iruu's ancestors, every utterance recorded as holy canon, every word blasphemy.

Then there was the Master Zakee 'Varlem, carved from blue granite. The first high priest of what Iruu called the Sons of Damnation. Zakee refused to pay superficial homage to the Covenant and was vocally against the Writ of Union. He was put to death, but not before he saw the Forerunner artifact hidden so the San'Shyuum could never have it. For this, the whole religion was declared corrupt and forced underground. And, for his willful defiance, Zakee was publically executed by dismemberment.

Srina 'Loram, Iruu's mother: carved from brown chert. He said that in his youth he mistook her fear for favoritism. Presented with the Order of Judgment, Iruu learned that members of his father's House were keepers of the forbidden faith, protectors of the still hidden artifact. Srina had been raised, and had reared her older children, with the religion as nothing more than a threatening folk tale, the kind of story told to keep young in line. Through obligatory record keeping following conception of Iruu, she would have faced the truth. She had to have been terrified. Her youngest son could have been taken away; selected to become one of the warrior monks; removed by force before the end of his first year never to be seen again. Srina could not have refused a Swordsman; but for her part in furthering the Varlem line she was executed.

Finally, carved from gray limestone, there was Xan 'Varlem: son of Iruu's father. He had actually been one of the warrior monks, and it was because of Xan's actions that an entire bloodline was condemned with Preclusion. He killed all but two inhabitants of the mountain temple, desecrated the artifact, stole the sacred Key, hijacked a Covenant ship, and fled to a desert planet. The artifact was never recovered and the bones of Xan and the Key were found in the dunes near the crashed vessel. The House of Varlem tried to contain the damage, tried to address the many legal, moral, and religious infractions, but the matter was overtaken by the State, the Continental, the Planetary, and eventually, the Covenant High Council.

Maggie had watched Iruu's face for a moment as he chewed at his mandibles, "The Key was a woman," she finally said.

He nodded without looking at her, "The High Council of Sanghelios declared Xan a heretic of the highest caliber because the only living holy man confessed that the Key had been a human woman: just as Edu'ri said she would be. I am told when the Covenant High Council was notified, the San'Shyuum practically went mad. It went against all of their teachings, especially in light of the destruction of the Halo. They couldn't agree to the High Council of Sanghelios' decree that the Varlem lineage be wiped from existence fast enough."

And there it was. The only thing Iruu had done wrong was having a lawless brother he never even knew existed until it was all done and over. How in the fuck was that considered justice?

Iruu bumped Maggie's lips gently with his, running his hands up her thighs and across her rear to settle at the small of her back, making a soft keening sound, "I am right here," he murmured. Maggie smiled, playing her fingers across raised scars that dotted his collar.

There was very little of him that didn't bear even the smallest of marks. For a moment, she studied the odd pocks that devoted the hide on his shoulder and fell in a sheet down his left arm; allowing herself the indulgence of the sight of him: all thick muscle and battle scars.

Whittaker ran her hand back along the ridge of his collarbone, down the center line of his chest, and fluttered her fingers across the middle of his stomach as she stared boldly into his eyes. He twitched and grunted a laugh. She could see a coy, reflexive smile pulling at his mandibles as he reached to catch her hand and pulled it back to his chest.

The fact that a Sangheili's body, a machine so clearly carved for and by war, could succumb to something as banal as ticklishness was infinitely entertaining.

"Seriously?" she asked dryly.

He cocked his brow ridges, one side of his face lifting into a characteristic lop-sided grin, "Silence, woman," he whispered, skimming her lips with his tongue.

The degree to which they had come to know each other had only made everything that much more intense. There were many things that went unsaid because they were mutually understood, and the things that weren't spoken only highlighted all the rest.

Iruu didn't at all understand why Maggie's dad had been so angry that she had gotten pregnant; and he had been even more baffled that John Martin Sr. had distanced himself socially from his grandchild simply because the girl had been biracial. The Sangheili flat out considered a preference for biological homogeny odd.

"My dad was a bigoted, ass-hole," Maggie had said.

They had been lying sprawled across the bed staring up at the ceiling, both taking no mind to their mutual nakedness. Iruu had curled his neck to look down at her, his face knitted in consternation, "He had no appreciation for the advantages for genetic diversity?"

Then, flopping back down and scratching at the creeping new scales across his chest, "Humans have such odd breeding preferences," he had said to himself.

She snorted a laugh, "Wow…'breeding preferences'…" shaking her head, "No, he didn't appreciate that at all. He was more than happy to tell everyone Shanna was adopted. Technically true and a whole lot easier than admitting his daughter had gotten knocked up and didn't have a clue who the father was. My dad got to look like an angel in the media for taking in an orphan, and mom went along with it, but dad was still pissed because he wanted me to live with my mistake."

That had really confused him, "He regarded the offspring of his progeny as a mistake?"

The degree of acceptance left Maggie struggling to acknowledge the soul crushing fact that this was reaching a predictable end. It couldn't last. They each had lives to go back to, reality to face…

Whittaker felt his hand cup her chin and only then realized she had dropped her gaze. The pads of Iruu's thumbs ran along her cheeks soothingly as she looked up to see him looking back with a guileless, questioning expression.

The smile Maggie forced felt as weak as it looked and 'Loram narrowed his eyes in response. His pupils constricted to tiny slits as he issued a low, dangerous growl. Part of her felt like he was reading her mind and she pulled her chin from his grasp, looking away to gnaw at her bottom lip.

This was the part that was going to hurt, no matter his intentions.

"I should go," she somehow managed to say. Her voice was so low she didn't really hear the words and she made no further move to pull away from him.

From the corner of her eye, Maggie saw him clench his mandibles.

She was a reflection of his loss and regret, in ways she could likely not appreciate. But, the term of his usefulness was coming to a close and he was left to recognize his life for what it was. Though part of him had already cursed whatever consequences the past day would bring, Iruu was not yet ready to face that this affair had reached the point at which she would be finished with him.

'Loram slowly wagged his head as a wave of possessiveness welled up absent of his control, "No," he said in a tone suggesting his answer was not negotiable.

What little resolve Maggie had broke just that easily. The darkened cloud of emotion in his voice seeped into every part of her that yearned to be genuinely wanted. She reached for him, letting her fingertips run along the curve of his temple down to his upper jaw. He rattled an abbreviated purr and closed his eyes, turning into her touch to purse his mandibles and kiss her palm. Goosebumps broke out across her skin and icy tendrils reached from the surface down to her core as he made his way from her hand across her arm until he could easily let his lips touch her neck. A tiny mournful sound involuntarily escaped her as he tenderly nuzzled and worked his warm hands back down across her hips.

Iruu felt the gentle drum of a tear as it fell against his face and he wrapped his arms around her, tipping his snout to wash the salty-sweetness as it silently fell unabated.

Maggie did her best to rein the sadness in, holding onto him as if her life depended on it. She had never imagined it would be so hard to stuff her emotions back in that dark pit where they had been for so long, and let him go. Maybe, she just didn't want to do either.

Iruu's hearts skipped forward as she turned slightly and caught his mouth with hers. What had at first been a perplexingly awkward act for anatomically incompatible mouths had become a mutually understood and satisfying expression that was likely more enjoyable to experience than it ever would be to witness. Her tongue was velvety as it slid against his as if searching.

Maggie's hands began to wander his exposed skin and Iruu worked himself to the edge of the chair, crumpling to his knees before her. Any thought of making it the few feet to the bed came undone as desires rose sharply into demands. Clinging to her waist, he twisted and dragged her along in a tangle of limbs and expectantly seeking mouth parts. Staggering around, she stood before him as he sat on the floor.

A forceful kiss lingered before Iruu broke away and began running his mouth along her jaw, her neck, trailing down the midline of her body, thrumming a rancorous, eager purr against her naked flesh. She was soft, every part of her decidedly feminine. Even the parts which were at first unfamiliar blended with the known to exude the wonderful testament of her gender. From the delicate set of her shoulders and chest, the dainty curve of her waist that flared out to womanly hips, the carved yet supple muscle of her thighs; to her human mouth, her small human breasts, and her short human legs, it all left Iruu drowning in base, male desire.

Maggie tensed in his grasp as he manipulated her into a suitable position and tease his lips suggestively along the rim of her naval. She dug her nails into his shoulders and arched against his grip. Her knees began to tremble as he made his way ever slowly downward, searching with a rough tongue slicked with saliva.

His own need increased at the scent of her, the way she smelled of soaps and sweat, the aroma of woman and...him. Never had he know what it was to have a female who did not smell of another man or other men. Never had he any idea how the absence of such combined with his own scent signature could give rise to the kind of territorial feelings which threatened to overtake him.

Iruu felt fire push through his veins when he found her intimate valley and she threw her head back, making empty, breathless petition to her god as he sought the taste of her arousal. Her body went partially limp in surrender and he supported her even as she tore her nails across his hide. His hearts raced as she moaned her pleasurable suffering in tune to the measures he took to savor her.

Maggie didn't understand how she could be so sore and ache so much to have him again. Her insides felt raw and bruised but the heaviness of yearning still pooled in her lower abdomen, threatening to spill over at his encouragement. Oh hell, he would push her to the precipice whether she was ready to be there or not and pull her back from the edge repeatedly if he wanted to. She was well aware of his proficiency at doing that.

"Iruu...I want..." even at her feeble attempt to protest, his strong grip restrained her against his face. As she tried to find the words to beg for some leniency she moved her body in time to his prompting despite the painful void of wanting more.

Time and again he had ceded control to her in that precious moment. The physical aches that would linger for days deep inside were her own doing. He had never forced or been rough. And, even though she had always found fulfillment, had reveled in all of him she could take, there remained an unspoken longing.

She wriggled violently and her knees buckled. Grabbing onto his forearms for support as she fell, Maggie heard Iruu hiss disapproval as she forcefully wrenched away from him. Slipping through his arms and kneeling across his legs, her hands trembled as she tore at the arms of the bodysuit still tied neatly around his waist. As she nipped at his chest he complied, defaulting to submission and toeing the zips at his feet, struggling blindly to shed the obtrusive garment.

Their bodies sought alignment even as Maggie whimpered her complaint and shifted, rolling onto her back on the floor. She tugged at his arms and shoulders, shoved at his chest, used her thighs and knees to prod him, urging him into position above her. Iruu followed hesitantly, lapping at her neck, uncertain even as she reached to pull against his hips and tried to hook her legs around his waist.

"Iruu, please," she cried.

'Loram struggled for air and felt his right arm quake. It had little to do with the grief of his muscles. He had relinquished control time and again because there was desperation in his desire not to hurt her. Facts of divergence remained just as distinct as those of convergence; and previous strategic arrangements had been exceptionally pleasurable despite certain physical limitations. Those limits were hers to dictate.

"Please," she whispered vehemently at his qualm, miserable, needy tears spilling from her eyes as she traced a hand along his stomach and grabbed hold of him.

Folding his lower mandibles over his upper, and biting down hard against his own face, Iruu collapsed to his elbows over her and nuzzled her shoulder, propping his forehead against the floor with a defeated moan as he instinctively chased the movement. Even as she guided and he sought, he could feel her tense beneath him, wholly uncertain but desperate.

He advanced carefully, deepening only at her prompting. She could feel her body shudder as physical tenderness and carnal desire vied for respite, repeatedly voicing agreement and seeking more as they found a slow, easy rhythm.

The knowledge that this was what she wanted tore at everything inside. He felt as if a storm had upturned the foundation of his understanding of what she needed from him. The floor was unforgiving and Iruu fought to hold himself back, claws scraping and varnish peeling as he tried not to give in to what he wanted. Even at her continued, insistent pleas he could not let himself believe she knew what she was asking.

Maggie pushed against his every subdued movement, feeling every inch he would give her, gasping at the sensation of being full of him. But, she wanted more. It wasn't out of self-loathing, or the need to be punished...she wanted to know he wanted her, even the parts he didn't understand, even the parts that were screwed up and broken.

Tears burned Maggie's eyes and she miserably cried his name. He growled into her neck and she felt his body tremble. The increasingly ragged sound of his breathing and the way he began trying to contain choking groans gave away his effort to restrain himself. She softly bucked beneath him, whispering his name again and felt him clench his jaws and heard him whimper into her hair. He tried to maintain control even as he pushed deeper and the physical sensation was enough to shove her over the edge.

Maggie bit him, hard, tasting the oily tartness of his sweat as she tried to pull him farther and drag him with her. He issued an ardent hiss and she writhed against him. She could feel the twitch of his mandibles and the hot, sticky sweetness of his breath as he panted and still desperately tried to restrain himself even as he thrust harder. Her summit fell away and she clung to him as he mindlessly ran his mouth across her shoulder, her neck, licking the tear stains from her face.

The depth of intimacy was terrifying as he felt the spiral of the repeated, empty experiences of their pasts reached for one. She wanted him, and not for the status her family could attain, not because she was afraid to refused, and not because societal norms said she should, but because she wanted him. Her desire to be taken and his desire to possess wound together without the necessity of justification beyond desire.

He braced himself aggressively over her and Maggie smiled as he found the force of his own hunger and finally give in to it. He snarled wanton misery, curling his neck to press his forehead to hers. She could feel his mouth quiver against her skin as he began running his lips down her cheek and across her neck. Then, in breathless tune to his increasingly aggressive movements, he began to speak. Words she didn't understand spilled from his trembling mandibles. Meeting abandon, he had reverted to his native language and it was the single most erotic thing Maggie had ever heard.

Praise, recognition, affection, oh hell, he could have been saying anything but she knew those words were of genuine desire…and they were for her. He whispered her name and collected his knees, taking hold of her hips and mercilessly driving into her fully. She locked her legs around his waist as she tumbled helplessly from the pinnacle again. Maggie threw her head back, screaming into the abyss as she felt the throb of his release.

He collapsed over her, propping himself on wobbly arms and they lay there, panting in unison, neither of them making a move to disengage. The rush receded, leaving the weightless tingle of fulfillment dancing across their skin in its wake. Reluctant to break the spell, Maggie wagered only to open her eyes and found herself staring up into his. She smiled and Iruu softly returned the expression. He dipped his snout to her cheek, unashamed in the knowledge that the tears he began lapping from her face were his own.