He woke her with a brush of lips against her throat the next morning, and one on her lips the morning after that. It became a game to him to see how soft touches and kisses would rouse her, though he kept to a taut line while she was still under. In the moments Elea came to, at any hint of reciprocation he would delve further. He would thrust his tongue into her mouth as he wished to other things, or he would suck the delicate skin beneath her ear. He delighted in leaving little marks on her; bruises peppered her sides from his iron grip, red circles where he would suck her skin, teeth marks from eager bites. Any sight of such a display of hiThe world was dark and warm and soft around her. She'd floated in and out of it, consciousness lapping at the edges of her mind, but kept at bay by heavy lids and tired limbs. It was only when a need arose that she stirred at all.
Arms held her against the solid firmness of a body. At her movement, the grip tightened and Taim hummed his displeasure.
"I-" her voice was rough, throat parched as one adrift. "I need the facilities." The grip loosened with a pulse of reluctance, and she stumbled her way out.
When she returned, Elea found her way barred by a servant in the doorway. Her Master was murmuring instructions to him and the man nodded shortly, bowed, and about faced. She hardly heard his polite excuses as he darted around her; Taim held out a hand and she placed her own in it. She thought to return to bed, but he tugged her toward his usual seat and into his lap.
"You need to eat, little bird." His voice was gentle as bath water and his hands soothed over her arm and back.
She felt- she felt curiously very little, but swept away from the thought as soon as she'd had it. Only the realization that she seemed more alone in her head than she had since she was home struck before she'd cut herself off. That way was the maelstrom. After a long silence she said, "I am not hungry."
Disappointment breezed through her hair. "Regardless, you will eat."
The fire whipped and crackled and she watched the shadows thrown on the wall. "I am tired."
Fingers threaded through her knotted hair, slowing untying the oily locks. "You may rest after." She did not respond, and the room was quiet but for the fire until the door creaked and a servant set a tray of sustenance on the table. A small plate appeared, resting in the M'Hael's palm as his arm curled around her. He plucked the end of a loaf from it and held it before her. "Once you've eaten, you may return to bed," he prompted. Elea nodded and took it in hand. It was still warm, but tasted of ashes on her tongue.
She ate slowly, tearing the smallest mouthfuls of whatever her Master gave her. She did not pay attention, focused only on the perfunctory motions of hand to food to mouth and repeat. That was enough to occupy her, though the meal seemed to stretch and fill an endless void of time.
She wondered if this would be life now, truly a pet and little else, and then Taim pressed a teacup to her lips.
Elea swept it away with an arc of her forearm, hot water sloshing and splashing over them and the crippling shatter of porcelain against the hard floor. Her breath heaved in her chest and a flurry of panic overwhelmed her, fingers flying to cover her face as she wailed.
Teacups, beautifully patterned, lovingly painted. She saw them cracking behind her eyelids and shook with denial.
"Eleanoren." When she did not respond, the M'Hael tossed her on the bed where she thrashed, drowning in too-swift heartbeats. She sobbed dryly and kicked against him, but he was weighing her down, his legs over hers and one hand locking her wrists over her head. She couldn't breathe, gasping between dry sobs, trembling with grief. Taim's voice was muffled under a thunderous ringing in her ears. It was not until he used the power of the bond that it broke through.
" Listen ." Wide, red-rimmed eyes snapped to his own black. "Stop fighting." Those words were said without laced command, but she grew limp against the bed. "There you are. Breathe, little finch. You are safe." Long breaths passed until her heart began to slow its pulse again. "Good. Now, come and drink some tea with me."
Terror struck through once more and Elea twisted in his grip. "No, please." Her lips trembled.
"Hush, love." He pressed her firmly into the bed, his weight more grounding than she realized, and she slowly tread through her haze. "Is the porcelain so painful to see?" A crease appeared between his brows as he stroked her red cheek.
She did not want to articulate it, did not think she could. Her thoughts churned as she darted away from them. There had to be a way to escape the tightening in her chest, the stone in her throat. Her eyes swam over her Master's face, between the twin abysses of his eyes, the curl of a lock of hair, the curvature of his nose, and she gained footing at his lips. Her heartbeat stuttered and she surged against him, her own lips desperately moving against his. He was still for another beat, then took over the kiss, molding his body against hers as a hot tide spilled from his mouth and into her. When he thrust his tongue into her mouth, she laved it with her own; and when he released her wrists to lace their fingers as he lay above her, her newly freed hand threaded through his hair to pull him closer. Her hips mirrored the motions of his own, and when they wrenched apart for air, she begged, "Please."
Pain flashed like lightning across the bond and tightened his eyes. "You are grieving, sweet bird. Now is not the time."
She shook her head and pressed her hips against his, desperate for the overwhelming wave of lust that overrode her sorrow. "I need this. Please, Master, help me."
The Dark man hissed at the feel of her body beneath his, the fire she tried to stoke in herself fueling the ever-burning embers of his hunger for her. The bond fed into itself and the burn was nearly overwhelming between them. When his lips met hers again, Elea knew she'd won.
She was sick with want, her body opening slowly to Taim's fingers as they roved over her, plunged into her.
"Too tight," he murmured into her ear. "Relax, dove." Elea's body was taut, shivering, and she took in deep breaths to send his intentions to her muscles so his fingers could more easily make room. "There we are, perfect." He explored her with sure hands and mouth, uncovering her completely and then pressing her own small hands to his chest.
"Mazrim enjoys hands upon him… He will feel powerful with these little hands clutching at him."
Tentatively she ran her hands over his chest, then her fingers slipped the buttons free to expose his chest. Elea slid the cloth over his shoulders and he shrugged it off completely, leaving his torso free for her discovery. His skin there was paler than that of his hands and face, but still darker than her own and with an olive tone to it. There were scars, but she'd expected them; Taim had seen his share of battle and unfortunate circumstances. The scars formed fascinating patches where the skin was slightly different to her fingers. But overall he was lean with muscle he kept up with training.
He groaned when Elea skimmed her nails lightly down his abdomen, hands flying to grip her thighs to stay afloat. His eyes were swimming in the darkness like reflected moonlight. Taim dove down to cleave to her body, lips along her jaw as he pulled her thighs over his own. He worked up to lay his forehead to her own and it was like that he eased into her, his hands melding into hers, pressing her into the bed, surrounding her inside and outside the bond until she was drowning in the heat of him.
The burn was sweeter than breath and she drank it in, gasping for more, hands greedily mapping him out. The dark fire of him swallowed her whole so that Elea could feel him clearly through their bond, feel him inside of her, his pleasure at her writhing beneath him, his pride at her own pleasure.
And she could feel him lapping up her presence, a long drink of pure, light water he was burning into steam to breathe in.
She ceased feeling herself alone, her body and mere sensations; instead Elea was them, a primal being diving through their bond with him running after her.
Through the haze she felt flashes of hands on her breasts, on her throat, heard words of praise whispered hotly against her skin. She was blazing with the novelty of it all, following willingly where he led. When it culminated in blinding white snapping throughout her body, Elea fell nearly faint onto the bed. It had lasted an eternity, encompassing both her climax and his, and she twitched and tingled after.
Taim curled around her, tracing shore lines on her stomach. "You seem particularly… Susceptible… To the bond during coupling. We shall have to work on that."
"Yes, Master," she murmured, still floating in the aftermath.
His lips hovered over hers as he corrected, "Mazrim." At Elea's frown, he repeated himself. "When we are together like this, beloved, I want you to call me Mazrim."
"Mazrim." He lowered his lips to her to taste his name on them, apparently enjoying the way her mouth formed the sounds, as he deepened the kiss, fingers skimming along her body.
He rolled over her like a wave and brought her to crest again and again before finally worn enough to sleep.
"What is it about the porcelain?"
Elea stilled, hands darting to her lap. It had been some days since the evening she first woke to her grief. She had learned a few more details, such as confirmation that all of her people were indeed gone. The Lady's light had finally shone, and the Elders had decided all would wake at once. It had been during the cleansing of saidin. Her people had died because a woman had used a ter'angreal.
And now their bodies were rotting, being picked to bone while the sheep wandered aimlessly. She'd declined tea ever since, her stomach whirlpooling at the mention.
Mazrim had been patient with her. She was allowed to lie in bed at any hours, simple fare and water brought to await her eating pleasure. He'd curl with her in bed as he was able, never pushing for anything she might be unwilling to give.
Did she not owe him some explanation for this deep revulsion?
Elea netted her thoughts, gathering them and delicately flaying them until they were the meat of what he needed to know, and what perhaps she could bear to say.
Her palms skimmed the edge of the table before plucking his saucer from its surface. She traced the rim, turned it over, studied each line. It was starkly white. "Your teacup does not match your saucer." He frowned and looked at the delicate piece holding his tea. "It is from the same maker, but your saucer is truly white, you see, while your cup is milk white. Bone white. "
Mazrim settled the porcelain on the table and looked over the saucer. She handed it over, knowing exactly what he would see. The woad blue geometric designs were of the same school, but he flicked between the two pieces and nodded solemnly at her to continue.
"That is sheep bone; Amayar bone, family bone is precious and rarely makes it off the island. It is far more intricate as it tells something of a story. You can read the meaning of the person to the creator. And human bone has a certain quality…" She shook her head. "I cannot describe it, but I know it inside."
"Your people make cups out of your deceased?" She could feel the dampened distaste behind his words, but did not take it to heart. Taking anything to heart at the moment was difficult.
"It is not quite seen as such." Elea licked salt-dry lips. "On islands, land is limited. It is a waste to use it for burial, as human beings naturally wish to visit their dead. We settled on cremation. You see, when a body is burned, the larger bones survive. The porcelain made from the bones of our sheep was fine, beautiful, often made for the most sought after among our creation. I do not know who made the leap, but when we are burned away from the dream, the remaining bone is set upon a hotter fire, blue as the sky on a clear day, and any remainder is pounded to a fine ash. That ash is mixed with the other components of porcelain and fired at a lower heat."
Elea took his cup in hand and swallowed the last of his tea, her smile a riptide across her face as she turned it in her hands. She lowered it to her lap and it tumbled to the floor.
Taim started, but frowned when it only rang and spun until it rested with its handle against the floor. "The cup I broke the other day was not bone porcelain." Elea swooped it from the floor and set it back on the table. "Despite being thinner, slightly transparent, bone porcelain is stronger than its counterpart. Bone is what gives us strength, after all. And it is with bone that my people take strength from our loved ones." She swallowed down the tears that blurred her vision. "And now my people's bones lie on the ground, picked clean by birds and insects. And I, their lone daughter still sleeping in the dream, cannot carry them to the fire or shape them into the beautiful pieces that would speak their wisdom for generations."
Warmth pressed over her hand and she followed it to Mazrim's gaze. "So you mourn that your people are not properly at rest. As a Borderlander might if his brother could not receive the last embrace of the Mother."
She nodded. "Every piece of Amayar porcelain is a whisper in my ear. It may seem barbaric to you, drinking from a cup that was a beloved aunt, but for us it is taking in her Dream with her every sip and someday passing that on to your children, and their children, and all the way until the Dream ends and they may wake with you. And that unbroken line has ended with me."
"Oh, little bird." He rounded the table and pulled her to his chest. "If it ends with you, then it shall never end. I promise you that you will not die before I do, and I endeavor to live forever under the Dark One's rule."
Though his words were intended to comfort, they sent icy shards through her numb surface and stirred a growing tempest within.
A/N:
I just finished a long fanfic (Azael's Chains, HP fandom) and I'm doing at least an update of everything before I begin its sequel. I'm also beginning two original pieces (one erotica and one not).You can find updates about what's going on, ask me questions, etc, via my carrd, link in profile.