A/N: This chapter contains a mature love scene, though all explicit Mature Adult (MA) detail is gone and can be found at autumn6435 . livejournal . com under the entry entitled Part 2, Chapter 20. The Kiss of an Urgal (original sex scenes). You will find this small symbol -:- four times in this chapter, indicating the beginning and ending of two different scenes, separated by several paragraphs. FYI: where the symbol appears together two times like this -:-:- I am signifying a viewpoint shift from one character to the other. There is no need to read the MA content if that doesn't interest you—the chapter still flows without it. And if you don't want to read even the Mature version, I invite you to skip this chapter altogether, since I'm sure you can guess fairly accurately what takes place between Willow and Varhog. :)

20. The Kiss of an Urgal (revised)

Varhog walked to the door with Willow in his arms and opened it with the hand still holding the basket, ducking to clear the frame as he entered.

"I wasn't this tall when I built this," he told Willow. "We make the doors tall enough that we can pass through without having to do that, and I assumed I had reached my full adult height. That changed thanks to my bond with Black Thunder." Varhog murmured a spell that dimly lit the room and gently set Willow on her feet. "We'll have to make some Erisdar to light our hut like we do on the Isle," he commented, referring to the flameless lanterns so often used by dwarves and elves.

Willow looked around them as Varhog closed the door behind himself. They were in an open room that appeared to be a kitchen, family room, and front room in one. To their right was a sofa large enough to seat three adult rams side by side. Opposite the front door was the kitchen. A table, along with the counter right behind it, formed a divide between the two rooms. To their left—across from the sofa and just past the wall that was part of both the kitchen and hallway—was the door to the washroom. The hallway to the back of the hut was beyond the washroom door.

Varhog walked to the table and set the basket down. "I'm sure that's mostly food. Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yes." Varhog looked back at her and saw what she meant as Willow finished, "For you."

Without responding, Varhog reached for her hand and led Willow down the hall toward the back of the hut, stopping at a door on his left, which he opened, once again ducking to pass through and closing it behind them. He repeated the spell to light the room, and the huge bed across from them caught Willow's eye.

"We make the beds big enough for a full-grown ram and his mate, as well as their little ones, when they start to come along," Varhog explained, noticing her stare.

"You made the furniture too?" Willow asked, and Varhog nodded. "That explains how you were able to help me with Eragon's bed on the Isle."

"Aye," Varhog replied, "though magic made that job easier. I built all of this through honest hard work." He walked into the room a little past her then turned to face her. They stood a few feet apart, their growing anticipation creating an electric charge in the air.

Willow finally broke the prolonged moment of silence. "This is it then." Varhog nodded again, and she smiled. "I finally get to kiss you." Varhog's amusement was more muted, overshadowed by deeper emotions.

"What are we waiting for?" Willow teased.

Varhog shrugged, unlacing his shirt and pulling it off in one swift motion. Willow noted how easily he took it off around his horns and admired his torso, remembering how much she had enjoyed it the few other times she had seen it bare—in his room on the Isle and during a couple of their recent fights. Even in the times they had swum together, Varhog had always worn a shirt.

"Your torso is amazing," Willow complimented. His powerful muscles seemed to ripple even when Varhog was perfectly still, so when he shrugged again, they jumped to life, and she laughed.

"My turn," Willow said with a mischievous smile, keeping her eyes on his as she unlaced the narrow slit down the front of her dress. As the laces loosened, the gap widened, slowly revealing more of her body underneath. The hungry look that had been in Varhog's eyes when he first saw her in the dress returned in full force, though Willow saw it was even stronger now that he would finally get to taste her and satisfy it.

Willow had imagined she would undress from the dirty, travel-worn leather coat and leggings she always wore. She was so grateful the Urgals had a custom that had instead left her in this beautiful garment, clean and sweet-smelling. She felt so much more feminine.

Once Willow reached the bottom of the laces, the already precarious hold the dress had around her shoulders failed and it slipped down, completely exposing her breasts. She smiled at Varhog's expression as she gracefully slid the rest of the way out of the gown, dropping it in a careless heap at her feet.

Willow lifted a hand to remove the clip holding her hair in an elegant twist, releasing it with a flourish on top of the dress and shaking her hair out with a flirtatious flip of her head. It swirled down around her shoulders and back, falling almost to her waist in gentle waves and filling the air with a sweet smell. Varhog's body tensed, and Willow's smile widened.

Her posture calm and confident, Willow casually settled her weight over one hip with her shoulders back and her arms relaxed by her sides. She held her chin high—as was necessary to look at Varhog's face—with an unspoken challenge in her expression, daring him to find anything he disapproved of in her body.

-:-:-

Unbeknownst to Willow, it was actually an instinctively Urgralish thing to do. Varhog wordlessly accepted her challenge, allowing his eyes to rove unrestrained over Willow's body, so relieved he didn't have to limit his observations any longer. His realization of earlier when he first arrived at his mother's hut was confirmed in greater detail now that he beheld her full beauty. He must have never recognized the growth and maturation Willow had undergone from the time he first met her as a sixteen-year-old girl. Then she had been shorter, thin, and scrawny. And she had always worn the same fitted leather coat and leggings that somehow disguised the feminine shape of her body, making her appear more boy-like.

Now Varhog saw, as the maddening dress had so tantalizingly suggested, how truly desirable Willow's figure was. Her neck was long and graceful, flowing out to her wide shoulders. She was muscular through her arms and chest. Her full breasts were now uncovered, but they had been the most shocking discovery earlier, when the dress had left so little to his imagination. How had he possibly missed them before? Even when she had pressed his face into them after their final match, Varhog never would have guessed how beautiful and shapely they were. He supposed it was due to the restrictive nature of her leather coat, which buttoned all the way up to her throat.

Willow's waist narrowed firmly under her ribcage, where lines of muscle defined her abdomen. Her waist curved out into the supple shape of her hips, narrowing again as it flowed down to her long, limber thighs and calves, which were both slender and strong. Her hair was long and shining, accentuating the graceful curve of her back. She was tall, lithe, and . . . perfect.

Worried anything more would break his already wavering self-control, Varhog simply said, "You have a very comely form."

Willow smiled, clearly pleased. "I'm sure you helped it become this way, what with the constant and rigorous demands of our courtship." She was flirting with him, which didn't help his control. Nor did her next actions.

Willow closed the gap between them, raising her hand to his shoulder. "This is what Arya helped me come up with when I described the difficulty presented by 'your hide,'" she explained with a coy smile, murmuring the spell and running her hand over his wiry bristles. Everywhere her hand brushed, the bristles laid flat, softened slightly, and curled under. An involuntary tremor ran through Varhog's body, making his muscles spasm and his flesh raise in bumps at her gentle touch.

"I didn't want to make them like human hair," Willow continued, "just soft enough not to hurt me. I like all possible reminders that my mate is an Urgal ram." This she said from behind him as she ran her hand down his back, but Varhog didn't miss the surge of fierce pride in her voice. Every time she finished a downward stroke, Willow lightly trailed her fingertips up his skin to reach the next area.

Her words and the feather-light feel of her hand were more than Varhog's weakening self-control could handle. His body shuddered, and an instinctive rumbling kindled in his chest. Willow stepped back in front of him, moving close so her breasts would brush against him. Varhog saw that she did it intentionally when she raised her face and her eyes had a sultry look in them, her lips parting in an inviting smile. Willow then repeated her spell on his chest, lazily dragging her hands down his hide, feeling his sculpted muscles in obvious enjoyment.

Varhog clenched his hands into fists, flaring his nostrils as he caught her scent in his sensually heightened state. "You smell different," he growled through gritted fangs.

Willow regarded him carefully. "That may be because I am fertile right now," she quietly said. "I've thought the state of my body might create a scent you would notice. If such a thing can be, would you have a problem if this union created a child?"

That was sufficient to take the edge off Varhog's primal urge long enough to think straight. "I wouldn't have a problem with it if you don't."

"No," Willow assured. "After all that happened today, nothing would make me happier. Except doing this right now."

"Besides," Varhog added, "short of tearing this hut apart to release this unbearable longing, I don't think anything could stop me from going through with this."

"You must be careful with me, Varhog," Willow cautioned. "You could break my body more easily than I like to think."

Varhog's eyes tightened as he acknowledged the truth of her words. He must be careful. "I will not hurt you, Eartheyes," he vowed.

"I've finished everywhere I can see," Willow then said, referring to her work of softening his hide. She took a step back, and his body unconsciously leaned after her. "Anywhere else?" An impish look played across her features.

Varhog had memorized the spell while she was performing it, since she had repeated it many times. He muttered the words as he passed his hand over his groin and down each leg several times to cover every angle. After pulling off his boots and socks, he swiftly removed his own pants and undergarments.

-:-:-

Varhog was already fully aroused from their interaction, and Willow wasn't surprised that that particular part of his body was as large as the rest. It was good she was tall for a human, with wide hips, otherwise this union would not be possible.

They each took a step toward the other, bringing their bodies in contact. Willow didn't expect Varhog's skin to feel so hot to the touch, and as she put her hands on his chest, again admiring his amazing musculature, the familiar fluttering in her gut was stronger than ever before. Yet it somehow deepened when Varhog raised his hands, spreading his fingers wide and covering most of her back as he pressed her body against him.

"Before words fail me," Varhog grunted, "I need to ask. . . . Can I stand up? I'm too fearful I would hurt you if we lie down, Willow, unfamiliar as I am with what to expect. This longing is so overwhelming that I can think of nothing else."

Willow raised her eyes to his and nodded slowly. Her desire to kiss Varhog had never been as insistent, and it was finally the right time. She slid her hands around his neck, feeling his heavy breathing and hearing his heart crash in his chest. She stretched onto her toes as he lowered his face, and they closed the gap between them, brushing their lips together.

-:- Willow instantly understood why Urgals did not kiss in public places. A rush of electricity and fire coursed through her blood, overpowering her reason and will. She immediately surrendered both, giving herself over to the demands of her instincts and Varhog's passion.

The deep-chested sound that had been building in Varhog ripped forth in a throaty growl. He pulled her swiftly up, and they paused their kiss long enough to stare at each other, agreeing with their eyes that this felt perfect. Willow resumed the urgent exchange as Varhog staggered over to brace himself against the wall with one arm, apparently not trusting it anywhere near her back or shoulders.

Before long, Willow felt a nagging pressure around her hip, but she couldn't place it, so fine was the line between pleasure and pain. But when she began to feel her joint creak in protest, she knew she must warn Varhog before it was too late. "Varhog!" she quickly gasped, an edge of panic in her voice. "That hurts!"

The tone of her voice must have reached Varhog, though Willow sensed his struggle to speak. "Where?" was all he managed to choke out, seeming unsure where her pain originated given the many places her soft body was in contact with his rough one.

"My hip!" Willow cried, tears filling her eyes as Varhog's powerful hand—the one supporting her weight and grasping her hip—unconsciously tightened its hold and crushed her bone.

Willow could easily guess how difficult it was for Varhog to focus on anything aside from the unbelievable sensations of this experience, so she tried to help him. "I can hold myself here," she said, prying futilely at his hand and squeezing her eyes shut as thick tears rolled down her cheeks. She angrily scrubbed them away with her arm, knowing how they would affect Varhog if he noticed.

He didn't notice. Yet. But he did move his hand away from her body, placing it against the wall next to the other.

Even after the maddening pressure had left them both, the relief did nothing to stop Willow's tears because the pain in her broken hip remained and was immense. She buried her face in Varhog's shoulder and sobbed.

Stop it, Willow! she demanded of herself, stop it! She screamed at herself to regain her composure, knowing this was the worst thing she could do. If she could calm down enough to speak, she could heal her hip and end the pain. But no matter how she tried, Willow couldn't stop the tears.

When Varhog did notice her tears, a terrifying stillness came over him. He straightened, returning one arm under her body and holding his other hand over her hip, so careful not to touch her as he murmured the familiar words of healing.

Willow dug her fingers into his shoulders to keep herself still, tightly pressing her lips together to smother the whimper of pain that escaped as her bone knit back together. When Varhog was done, she felt immediate relief.

"I'm sorry, Varhog," Willow began, fearing any delay would only make matters worse. "I didn't mean . . ." But he didn't let her continue.

Varhog walked to the bed, easily resisting her efforts to remain attached to him and gently placing her on it. The pain and regret in his face shattered her.

In a deathly quiet voice he said, "I'm so sorry, Willow. I should not have presumed to do that with you. I have broken my most fervent promise to you—that I would never hurt you—and I will never forgive myself." -:-

Willow protested his every word with her eyes, punctuated by insistent shakes of her head, but to no avail. Varhog began to move away from her. While imploringly reaching her hands toward him, Willow whispered, "That was too beautiful for regret. Varhog . . . please."

But Varhog turned, walked over to his pants, and pulled them on. Willow watched him despairingly, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.

Varhog looked back at her but did not return to her side—his body faced the door—and with the deepest self-loathing Willow had ever witnessed, he said in the ancient language, "But I promise you this. I will never t—"

"NO!" Willow shrieked, reading his intent in his eyes. Quick as lightning, she sprang off the bed and reached him, clapping one hand over his mouth and the other on the back of his head in an attempt to keep him from pulling away, though she knew he still could if he tried.

"No, Varhog!" she frantically begged. "Never promise that in the ancient language! After having experienced that with you just now, do you not know what it would do to me if you never touched me again! It would destroy me! Pain so piercing I would never recover would destroy me if you never touched me again, Varhog, never loved me like that again! The pain you caused in my hip is already gone, a distant memory, healed by your own hand, but I would die a long, horrible, lonely death if I could never enjoy your touch again. Please," she begged again, "never say that!" She searched his eyes until she saw them soften and agree to her pleadings.

-:-:-

Varhog was stunned by Willow's feverish response, not daring to imagine that their union could have affected her like it had him, since he had broken her hip. She sagged against his chest, breathing in deeply and pulling herself against him. Her tears soaked his hide.

"Please touch me, Varhog," she whispered. "I need you right now. After all that happened today, all we overcame to be together, the shock of you threatening to abandon me like that on our wedding night is enough to make me want to wither and die. I can't live without you now, not after that. I will never be the same again. We are mated for life."

Varhog felt a renewed sense of guilt and self-revulsion as Willow's poignant words made him realize that he had been about to walk out on her and never return. In his determination to never again physically hurt her, he hadn't taken any time to consider what kind of emotional devastation that would have wrought in her life and his own.

Willow grabbed his hand, placing it over her abdomen, and Varhog flinched as his skin touched hers. "Would you also abandon this?" she demanded. "This chance even now that a child will develop within me as a result of our passion?" She beseechingly stared into his eyes, willing him to understand. "I love you, Varhog. You are my best friend, the only man I have ever given myself to. I forgive you! I understand that what you were feeling was so powerful you couldn't control it. I felt the very same! The only difference is that my hands aren't as strong as yours, otherwise I too would have crushed you. It was an honest mistake! Now we know what to expect, and I . . ." she trailed off hopelessly, clearly believing her words were having no effect on him.

When Varhog continued to remain silent in his struggle to voice any of the countless emotions he was processing, the fervor in Willow's eyes cooled and she stared at him dully, steeling herself for the possibility that he would walk out and leave her forever.

"Varhog, speak," Willow commanded in a flat voice. "Say something. Anything. Tell me you will never leave me and take me in your arms again or kill me swiftly before you go because I don't want to live without you. Life wouldn't be worth living."

Varhog had never known Willow to be melodramatic. She was always perfectly honest and direct so it seemed unlikely that she would suddenly take up such theatrics. But was it possible she meant what she said?

Worried by her drastic change from feverish and insistent to dull and lifeless, Varhog carefully wrapped his arms around her and whispered, "If you can forgive me, Willow, then I will never leave you. I would be a shell of a ram without you. All my love and passion were just channeled into you in an experience I never could have prepared for. I must remain by your side forever to feel anything anymore. I have no idea how I grew up all my life not realizing how incredibly powerful that experience is. That I thought it wasn't the same for the Urgralgra as other races because our public affection is more minimal was a terrible misunderstanding. No wonder we Urgralgra don't kiss in public! Once engaged in, the kiss of an Urgal is an overpowering force, demanding extension to every sense and expression the body is capable of, bringing to bear the most instinctive primal urges as to make me believe myself the beast most men view me as. I'm sorry I was so unprepared, Willow.

"And you . . . you are the most perfectly beautiful female I have ever viewed, hornless though you are. That dress, the way you removed it, your hair, your scent, your taste, the way you feel, created a fever in my blood that burned away all reason and control. I'm so sorry, Willow," he whispered again, tears squeezing out of his tightly closed eyes.

-:-:-

Willow only became aware of his tears as she felt them wet her hair. She had never, in all their seven years of friendship, known Varhog to cry. Not once in the past several weeks, through all the wide-ranging emotional experiences, had his emotions so overcome him as to bring him to tears. He was so stoic and impassive all the time, unless Willow was teasing him and succeeded in making him smile or laugh.

Willow lifted her face and brushed her hands across his cheeks, attempting to wipe away his pain. "Can we sit down?" she requested after a moment. Varhog made no effort to resist as she pulled on his hands toward the bed. Willow wanted more than anything to remove the agonized expression from his face, but she couldn't think of words strong enough to accomplish her desire. Only one thing seemed to have that power, and it involved no words. Willow's longing to make love again was so deep that she ached inside, but would Varhog reject her advances?

Willow decided that the hurt if he did would be more bearable than her current emotional pain, so after Varhog sat down, she slid onto his lap, placing her knees on either side of his hips and suggestively pressing her torso against his so there would be no room for misunderstanding. She communicated her longing with the pleading look in her eyes, the desperate appeal of her lips, and the insistent caress of her hands.

Willow ended this final caress by running her hands around the curl of his horns and moving her mouth to his ear. Then she fulfilled her promise of that morning and, with a yearning so much more vulnerable than it had been, whispered, "I want you so badly, Yelloweyes. I'm burning for you."

Varhog's body stiffened in response, both with passion and his effort to subdue it. Willow felt his steely strength as he gently wrapped his hands around her upper arms and began to pull back.

Knowing she could never withstand his strength—though she tried—Willow began begging, her longing so intense that her tears sprang forth once more. "Please, Varhog. Please let us do this! I need to feel the reassurance of your love again, the certainty you want me. Perhaps it would be better if we laid down, and I remained above you. Then my weight—as insignificant as it must seem to you—would be on top of you rather than the other way around and you wouldn't feel the need to support it. Please. There is nothing else I can think to do that will remove that tormented expression from your face and fill this horrifying emptiness inside of me."

Varhog tightly closed his eyes, but Willow clearly understood the tortured emotions of desire and fear playing across his countenance. "I want you, Willow," he said in a firm way that left no room for doubt. "More than anything. Ever. But I . . . I'm so afraid I'll hurt you again."

"Nothing you could do to my physical body would compare to the pain of my soul right now," Willow insisted. "Any bruise or shattered bone you could easily heal with magic. But this pain, this ache can only be healed by joining our bodies. I beg of you," she tried one last time, preparing herself for his denial by hunching her shoulders and bowing her head.

-:-:-

Varhog lifted her chin with his hand, and Willow gazed at him, silent tears following their familiar path down her cheeks. The look of broken defeat in her eyes was all it took. He couldn't stand to see the emotion on her face in this most vulnerable of situations. Trying to resist her power over him did not feel natural, and Varhog thought back to his promise of that morning—that if she whispered her words in his ear once again, he would do what felt natural and allow himself to express his longing. He answered her final plea by pressing his lips against hers and cautiously surrendering to the inescapable demands that followed.

-:- Willow stared into his eyes whenever she could, which intensified the intimacy of their exchange. Varhog expected a triumphant look, but her expression of profound gratitude so surprised him that he found control was not hard to come by, at least initially. He lay back, pulling her down with him, and discovered that she was right in her surmise—she was feather-light to him. Varhog carefully stroked her back and shoulders when he felt he could be gentle enough, moving his hands to the bed when he couldn't. The light tickle of her hair, which spilled onto his body, was a tantalizingly provocative sensation.

When the powerful rumbling again issued forth from his chest, Varhog clenched his jaw in an effort to suppress it. He didn't want to seem like a beast to Willow, but that was how he felt with this ravenous hunger clawing inside of him, threatening that it would never be satisfied but by her.

It didn't take long for them to accomplish their intentions. Varhog wanted to prove that he could do this without hurting Willow so it would be the loving expression they both desired. He knew Willow wished only to bring happiness back to his face and her heart. They both were successful.

As Willow curled into his vast frame, Varhog returned his hands to her back from where they had gripped handfuls of the blankets, running his fingers along her skin, which made her shiver. He hadn't hurt her, and as she raised her face to share her joy and satisfaction, he felt overwhelming relief and pride—relief that she was unhurt after he satisfied his need and pride that she was his mate.

"I am the mate of a fearless Urgal ram," Willow exulted, echoing the emotion she must have seen in his eyes. Then she kissed his neck before snuggling against his chest. This day had been the most exhausting and emotional one either of them had ever experienced, so long and full of so many demands. Now that they felt the contentment and satisfaction resulting from their physical love, they immediately drifted off to sleep, their arms around one another. -:-

-:-:-:-