Between Two Evils - Chapter 18
Oct. 18th, 2010 06:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
botiasAnyone remember this fic? Warnings: there is sex in this chapter and criminal levels of smug.
Thanks![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tenjp for beta reading. Any remaining errors are my own.
Previous Chapters Here
She could sense the conflict in him as she led him to the bed. He followed her anyway, lying next to her. The rustle of the bedclothes and the give of the mattress under his weight were the only sounds. He lay there, watching as she stripped off her clothes, his expression giving no hint of his thoughts. He made no move to doff his pants. When she was bare, she eased in next to his warmth, moving in the same way she did around a nervous horse, and pulled the light, silky cover up around them both.
He liked to keep her pressed close to him, and so she'd gotten used to making herself comfortable that way. He was so large compared to her and yet they fit, her leg sliding naturally between his, her cheek coming to rest against his chest, the heady scent of his skin filling her nose.
There was at least one part of him that was not conflicted at all. It was hard against her thigh, leaping with reassuring eagerness within the confines of his pants. Many times he had taken her hips in his hands, fitting her to him, pleasuring them both.
She wanted that pleasure now. There were pangs of misgiving as she owned these feelings and let them grow, but this was her husband, the man she had sworn herself to. This was her husband who cared for her.
So Allura moved, shifting her hips against his in the slow sinuous rub that he'd unknowingly taught her.
That put an end to his wary stillness. Allura felt a surprising amount of relief when his hands shifted to her body. Long fingers flexed deliciously on her flesh, not a caress, but not a rebuff either. He felt wonderful in her arms...
There was no reason not to tell him so. Was there? It was only the truth. Feeling a little light-headed, she told him, murmuring the words against his skin. Then she tasted him, liking it just as much as she had the first time. She told him that, too, felt him tremble, this fierce warrior prince she had wed. It was so freeing, this sudden match between her will and her desires. Who would have thought there could be so much power in surrender?
She held him tight. “I do not want to be apart from you,” she gasped, “I—” She squeezed her eyes shut, and the words came out in a whisper; they were loyal and traitorous all at once. “I can imagine no other husband but you.”
His arms came around her then. She felt his cheek rub over the top of her head.
She needed no help or urging to lift her face for his kiss. The warm, firm pressure of his lips made her skin tingle and warm color light her closed lids. Then he lifted his mouth from hers, only to kiss her again as though could not help himself. He parted, invaded and pleasured, seemed determined to explore her mouth in every way, lapping up her little gasps and whimpers.
She tightened her hold, pressing against him with painful force. Knowledge was a strange thing. It could change the past, transform the present... He had always kissed her this way, but now she could feel the emotion in it. He was kissing the woman he loved.
Her body reacted with a shocking energy to the touch of his lips. She shuddered with emotion as his lips lingered on her forehead, her eyelids, her mouth.
For the first time she understood Lotor's misgivings; this was powerful; this was dangerous. Yet she felt so safe when he held her this way. She kissed him back, her own reservations fading to nothing. With a groan, he deepened the caress, velvet soft tongue stroking against her own.
Allura was lost to pleasure, unaware of anything but the man who held her, but the haze faded a little when his hand found her breast. She winced in discomfort and arousal as he explored; they felt heavy and tender. After a moment, he slid her upward and began to rub his face over her. Allura sighed; she liked that much better; his smooth cheeks and the silky brush of his hair was all it took to make the tips tight and aching. She petted his head, his hair sliding between her fingers and then she found his ears, stroking up to their pointed ends, her thumbs rubbing along the long ridge of cartilage. He said something she didn't understand, his voice low and thick. She bent her head, lapping his ear because he'd often done so to her. She closed her mouth over the tip, curious; her tongue curled around the tapering shape. She pursed her lips, and sucked it a little deeper into her mouth. It was about that moment she became aware that he had stilled.
Before she could stop, he groaned and pushed into her caress, murmuring praise and imprecations, but all too soon he was pulling away, moving as though it hurt him to do so. Still, Allura was pleased with this new trick she had learnt, until he bent and closed his mouth over one of her nipples, suckling hard in his passion.
“Ah!” Allura cringed away. “Hurts! Don't!”
He arched back from her with gratifying speed, breath coming in great pants.
Gratifying, but not exactly what she wanted. Impatient, tight and aching with desire, Allura reached for him, tugging him back to her.
She rewarded him with sighs and clutching hands as he began stroking her skin, made a purring sound of satisfaction as his mouth set back to its work, but much, much more gently.
She stroked him too, loving the feel of his skin under her hands. She explored the broad planes of his chest, trailed her fingers over his ribs. For a time the warm lap and tug at her nipples transfixed her and then her hands were moving again. She felt his stomach muscles twitch and quiver, and then it was his turn to be distracted.
This time she undid his pants without being asked. Her fingers were a little awkward in her arousal and her excitement at her own daring, but she quickly had the access she wanted. Her questing fingers encountered his sex, feverish and silky smooth, and just within her reach. He became very still next to her as she touched him, but the part of him that she held in her hand was much less reserved. It bobbed eagerly, the smooth blunt head nuzzling into her palm. She shivered, feeling a pulse of answering desire low in her belly, the deep ache inside. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft; her fingers didn't quite meet, even when she squeezed gently. It surged in response as though she had questioned its strength; the heft and feel of him in her grip was satisfying and temptation at once. She made a surprised little sound when her fingers brushed the tip and came away slick. So slippery!
She felt him shudder, and then he again put a stop to her play, just as he had with his ears, shifting down out of reach, taking charge of the encounter once again. She made a sound of protest, but his mouth and hands soothed away her disappointment.
He went so slowly when he finally pushed into her; his body hard, every muscle tight with restraint and ecstasy. Allura was lost to everything but the feel of him stretching her, penetrating her where she most needed, most ached. She held on to him like a life-line as he began to move, his own low sounds of pleasure matched the rhythm of their bodies, it was as if he felt her pleasure too; the sounds stroked her deep inside. She was so close already, heated waves of pleasure building... She gave herself to the climax when it came, letting it carry her to the edge of awareness; she rolled her hips against his, seeking every last drop of pleasure, felt the leap of his sex inside her.
Replete, relaxed in a way she'd never been before, she settled back to earth cradled in his arms. This was what was familiar to her now, the fit of their bodies, the sound of his voice, the rhythm of his heart gradually slowing under her ear. “Lotor...” she murmured, on the edge of sleep, felt his arms tighten around her in response.
For better or worse, what she had told him was true; it was impossible to imagine anyone else.
When Allura woke she was curled against the warm body beside her, her head tucked under one of his out flung arms, one of his hands possessive at her waist. It was hard to keep a sense of time in this place with no windows, and no obvious night and day even if there were, but she felt she had slept for a while. Stretching, she lay there for a moment, enjoying a pleasant languor. It was unusual for her to wake before Lotor. She rolled up on one elbow to survey him in the dim light. He looked young and boyish in sleep—if that boy was a spoiled prince. The sleek line of his jaw had a dangerous stubbornness; the curl of his mouth was beautiful and cruel at once. There was a clear threat implicit in his powerfully developed musculature. The pale wisps of his sleep-tousled hair did not soften his appearance; they only made him look less civilized. Allura tucked them carefully behind one of his pointed ears.
When she moved to get up, she found herself sitting down again, struck by an uncharacteristic dizziness.
Allura caught her lower lip between her teeth. She took a slow deep breath, and then another, waiting for the black spots to recede from her vision.
She was going to be a mother.
She let the idea settle in her mind, curling her toes in the soft nap of the rug next to the bed. There was still a flutter of panic, but it was only a ghost of the emotion that had overwhelmed her when she had first suspected it.
She had been sitting on the bed then, too. Lotor had made that off-hand comment about her feet being the size of a child's just as she had been wondering again at her tender breasts. Tender breasts, late period, easy tears. The symptoms had hit her like stones, as though angry at having been ignored.
It did not seem quite so shocking now, sitting as she was with her husband's seed warm and slick between her thighs.
A babe... Fuzzy, half-formed images of infants formed in her mind.
She was not a stranger to such things. After her mother, the Queen, had died, Nanny had begun to take her charge back with her to her mountain village, sometimes for months at a time, in hopes that new surroundings would help the sparkle return to the Princess's eyes. The villagers were a proud and independent people that had long been connected with the royal family in one way or another; a princess was an exotic, but hardly awe-inspiring phenomenon, and children, royal and otherwise, were considered a blessing by the villagers. Allura had been surrounded by a clucking fold of nursing women, pregnant women, mothers new and old and their round-cheeked offspring. Though always aware of being an outsider—and of Nanny watching her closely for any signs that the village children were a bad influence—Allura had flourished. By the time her increasing responsibilities had put an end to the treasured visits, some of the older girls she had grown up with had been courted, wed, and had babes of their own. Others had come to the castle with her as treasured handmaidens. Allura rested a hand on her belly, suddenly missing the girls' bustle and chatter very much.
An arm snaked around her, tugging her back into the warmth of the covers with casual strength.
Lotor pulled her close with a contented sigh. Never mind that she had been getting up, she thought, but she snuggled in, content to let his warmth soothe her homesickness and banish the last of her dizziness. She might be past the panic stage with regard to being with child, but it was still unsettling.
“Lotor?”
“Mmmm.” She wriggled around in his embrace until she could see his face. His eyes were closed.
“Lotor, there's something I should talk to you about.”
Allura hesitated, trying out different approaches in her mind. She should just come out with it, but she was finding it difficult to say the words. Suddenly she was glad he wasn't looking at her. She didn't think she could meet that intense gaze and say what she had to say. How was he going to react?
“Lotor, I haven't... That is I think that— Well, I'm pretty sure—”
“—that you are extremely moody and soon you will be getting fat as well?” he murmured, his voice raspy from sleep. “Mmm, I know.”
Allura stilled.
“What do you mean you know.”
Lotor frowned at her tone, and began to stir. He blinked open his eyes, and she saw the black slashes of his pupils focus on her. Lotor looked at her for a moment and then closed his eyes again and laid his head back on the pillow.
“I've known since the night you got the cast on your hand. Would you like to know the child's sex?”
Allura made an angry, disgusted sound.
“You prefer to be surprised? The physic said some people did.”
“When exactly were you planning to tell me I was pregnant?”
“I thought you liked to be surprised.” He smiled then, eyes still closed.
Allura glared at him. “For future reference, I like to find out that I am expecting at the earliest possible time.”
“You were sure to figure it out sometime before the birth.”
“The earliest possible time. Please.”
“As you like.”
Silence. Allura stared at him, emotions and thoughts whirling like wind-borne leaves.
“Lotor... How did this happen? I mean...”
Lotor grinned suddenly, laughed with real pleasure. The next thing she knew he had stopped her words with a kiss, his mouth moved over hers, warm and slow. The sweetness of it made her flush even though she was still very annoyed with him, but what he said next made her gasp.
“Sometimes,” he murmured against her lips, his tone rich with innuendo, “when a prince and a princess like each other very much, they—”
She slapped at his chest. “And sometimes the princess thinks the prince is a big, secretive jerk!”
“Be serious,” she said, when he laughed again. She reached out and turned on the light over the bed, just bright enough so that she could see his face clearly.
It seemed she'd succeeded in banishing his doubts and suspicions. He was looking at her, and the expression on his face was pleased and surprisingly gentle. She'd seen that look before from time to time, but now she knew it for what it was. The prince was in love. He glowed with it. The thought made her feel quivery and odd—exhilarated, yes, and a little... sad? Ducking her head, she traced his collarbone with her fingers, and tried to pick up her train of thought again. “I—I know how babies are begun, I just... you and I are different, and I thought we might not be compatible.” Hoped was closer to the truth.
Lotor shifted his weight, drawing her gaze back to his face. “That was never a concern.” He looked a little offended. “The men of my race pride themselves on their ability to combine with many others.”
“I—I see,” Allura thought about that for a moment, still trying to adjust to the idea that he knew, had known for some time.
“You figured it out that night didn't you? Before you tried to run away.”
Allura nodded.
Lotor seemed serious finally. “That's why you ran, isn't it? I thought it might be because I—” He cut off his words, then shook his head, “But that doesn't matter.” He spoke with all the imperiousness of someone whose word is law. “What matters is that you won't do it again. Promise me, Allura.”
He was up on one elbow now, one hand stroked her skin, coaxing, and demanding, too. Allura looked at his expectant face, troubled. “I don't know if I can,” she said finally. “If I ever felt the child was in danger...”
He regarded her silently, and for a moment she thought he might be angry. He regarded her for a moment more, then he surprised her by moving to take hold of her hand where it rested against his chest.
“Allura,” he began, “Perhaps I was not your... first choice of husband—at least, at that time,”
It sounded like it had hurt him to form the words. Allura raised her brows. “But, I can be an excellent husband to you, Allura,” he continued, with his usual self-confidence. “I will protect you and any children you might bear me,” he said, watching her closely all the while. “But, I can do that much better as your ally rather than as your jailer. We are on the same side—”
Allura was amused suddenly.
“What's so funny? This is not funny!”
“First you marry me, then you get me pregnant, then you propose.”
Lotor looked disgruntled. “I offered for you. Many times.”
“You commanded me!”
Lotor squeezed her hand, seemingly impatient that she'd strayed from his topic of choice. “Do you believe me?”
Allura sighed and relented. “Yes. Yes, I believe you. I promise.”
Lotor relaxed. “Good,” he said, in a 'that's settled' tone.
Allura suspected things weren't quite as settled as all that. She was sure that Lotor's notion of what made an 'excellent husband' was an interesting one. But there was something else she was more interested in at the moment. “Lotor, were you... doing anything to prevent pregnancy?”
“No.”
His brilliant eyes darkened with emotion, and a hand came up to brush over her cheek, her hair. “In the past I did,” he said, his voice low. “There had been a procedure... I had it reversed the day after we wed.” When he went on he seemed to be talking to himself more than her. “It surprised me. I didn't know how arousing it would be to be potent in that way...”
“You didn't lose interest after it became moot,” she observed, breathless. It was all she could manage to say; all her questions were flown, scattered by the way he was looking at her, the shift in the way he was holding her. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder, the muscle taut under her hold; her other hand was still held over his heart, small and captive in his grasp.
“No, I did not,” he said, and proceeded to demonstrate his continued enthusiasm.
“You're going to have a scar,” she said after they finally rose from the bed. “A big one.” Perhaps it would take his vanity down a notch.
Allura tugged at him with her hands, and he obediently shifted so she could get a better look. The pink slash that marred his smooth silver-blue skin was already well on the way to healing, even after such a short time, but all around it were round purplish swellings, much smaller than the one she had lanced.
They stood in the bathing room, Lotor had his back to the mirror, long white hair pulled forward over his shoulder; his head was all twisted around, trying to get a good look at his reflection. On the counter was a scattering of med supplies; bright recessed lights glinted off of a familiar dagger. For once his look was less than pleased with his appearance.
His amber eyes met hers in the mirror, then he sighed. “It won't be my first such mark. Surely you've noticed.”
Allura frowned, she hadn't noticed any such thing. “Where?”
Lotor turned to face her. “Look.”
Frowning, Allura examined his torso closely in the bright light.
“They're faint,” he said. “Maybe if you use your hands you can feel... It's a long story...”
Allura had just figured out his game when he suggested that she look lower—where his sex was swelling from her attention. She stopped rubbing her fingertips over his skin and slapped at his taut stomach. “A long story! More like a tall tale!”
Lotor laughed. “I don't scar,” he admitted, capturing her hand and bringing it to his cheek.
It figured. “No, you just ooze black slime. Those swellings will all have to be lanced won't they?”
“Yes.”
She had no intention of advertising it, but she had been enjoying his teasing; her body still glowed with warmth from his lovemaking, but that faded as she focused again on his wound. “Lotor...”
“I'm beginning to dread it when you say my name in that tone. Could we possibly go back to where it was beneath you to speak to me? I am very evil.”
“Kidnappings, deadly mishaps... Is this what our life together is going to be like?” She looked at him, concerned. Now that there was a babe to think of, the events took on a new and even more unpleasant aspect.
“Let us do the excruciating amateur surgery now. I've been looking forward to it so...”
“Lotor—”
“Allura, I will protect you.” His tone said the subject was closed.
Allura was far from satisfied, but she said nothing more for the moment.
Lotor found it amusing for some reason comprehensible only to him when she picked up the dagger and waited expectantly for him to turn his back to her. “Shall I put down a pillow in case you faint again?” she asked, all sweetness.
“I don't expect it to be a problem,” he said, giving her a quelling look over his shoulder
When it was done, and he had washed and had another bandage applied, he asked if she were ready for breakfast. Allura managed a weak smile. In the end, she had been the one who had been closest to fainting. Caring for him hadn't been that bad; perhaps it was related to her condition.
The next morning, there was no question about whether pregnancy was to blame. She woke feeling nauseous and awful. She couldn't say that Lotor was sympathetic, though he went without his usual morning romp with a minimum of sighing.
She had done her best to go about the day as usual, but one whiff of the breakfast tray, and she had retreated to the bed chamber again. She was still there, lying on the bed when Lotor entered the room. He sat down on his heels and offered her a round disc from the plate he held in his hand. Allura took it. It looked like some kind of building material.
“The physic said that you would probably begin to feel ill and that dry, bland things to eat were best.”
Allura began to nibble. She remembered belatedly to say 'thank you,' but it didn't sound as gracious as it could have. It was possible that she was moping; she detested being sick, especially feeling nauseous. It was depressing that she might feel this way for months. “It seems the doctor had a lot to say.”
“She told me very strongly that intoxicants of any kind were not advised,” Lotor said, rising gracefully to his feet. He gave her the plate and then lay down on the bed next to her, tucking one arm behind his head and putting the other around her.
“She also said that you should not be placed under any undue stress. I suspect that what she meant was that I should neither beat you nor allow you to drown your sorrows.” Lotor smiled at the memory. “For a time I thought she might try to snatch you up and take you away with her, but I told her you would receive excellent care. I think she almost believed me.”
And he had been caring for her ever since, in his own high-handed way, Allura realized. By the time she was done eating and had sipped some juice, she was feeling better. She set the plate aside, and turned toward him. “Thank you,” she said, with real feeling this time.
He smiled back. “Ready to practice?”
Allura blinked. “Practice?”
She'd been planning to take it easy today. “I still don't feel very well.”
Lotor didn't look impressed. He got up and extended a hand to her that seemed more a demand than an aid. “Come, Allura.”
“I don't feel like it,” she repeated. And it's all your fault.
“You wish to be ill AND weak?” He arched a brow at her. “Ridiculous. Come.”
Seething, she let him pull her to her feet. “In my experience,” he said, in a superior tone, “any problem can be improved with properly applied violence.”
“I may be ready to apply some violence.” Had she actually been thinking that he wasn't so bad?
The drills and sparring were strenuous exercise, but Allura usually enjoyed them. That morning, she began with equal parts anger and martyrdom. And then, almost miraculously, she began to feel like her old self again.
When he deemed she had practiced enough, Lotor moved on to his own training, and then he sparred with her again to cool down. Allura followed his stretching positions as best she could and then lay back on the floor staring at the ornate patterns on the ceiling. She laced her fingers together across her stomach, content and actually feeling hungry. The exercise had been a good thing, but she had no intention of giving Lotor the satisfaction of hearing as much.
After a time, Lotor crawled over to her, pulling her into his arms with a different sort of satisfaction in mind. He began kissing and closing his teeth on her throat, heedless of the sweat on her skin. His hand skimmed up under the loose top she wore.
Allura linked her arms around his neck. “Mink,” she accused, but without anger.
Lotor actually stopped for a moment.
“You think I am small and furry?”
“No, vicious and oversexed.”
“Ah,” he said, clearly not bothered to be thought either. Then he surprised her. He pulled out of her embrace and got to his feet. “I have a gift for you,” he said. She rolled up on her side as he padded away, staring after him as he walked in the direction of the bedchamber. He returned not long after, holding a sword in a scabbard.
Allura sat up.
She had been expecting jewelry or something flattering to his own vanity or consequence. When he held the weapon out to her, she took it. The scabbard was matte black; she rubbed her fingertips over the intricate pattern on the surface. Wondering at the sword's light weight, she closed her hand around the hilt and gasped as she slid the blade free a few inches. The surface glowed, and the sword hummed faintly.
She pushed it back in with a snap and then stared at Lotor with wide eyes. He was seated on the floor, leaning back on his hands, very pleased with her reaction to his gift.
After a moment, she dared to look at it again, easing the shining blade free.
“Laser swords have the weight of a saber, but they part flesh and armor better than the most massive edged blade,” he observed with satisfaction, as Allura let the scabbard fall unnoticed to the floor. “With such a weapon, you could be a match for anyone, no matter their superior strength or reach.
“And it's pink,” he murmured.
Allura gave him a look.
His smirk got a little wider. “It's one of the two naturally occurring colors.”
The sword was very beautiful, shining with a subtle fire, like stars through atmosphere. No one had ever given her such a thing before. Her lion was a weapon, but she had fought to be allowed to wield it. As she looked at the sword, it was hard to conceal her genuine pleasure in the gift. After a moment she remembered that she wasn't withholding herself from Lotor that way anymore.
“Thank you, it's wonderful.”
“I knew you would like it,” he said, smug. “Why does a woman with such a distaste for war like the martial arts so much?” he mused.
Lotor was speaking out of idle curiosity, she was sure, but the question struck at her very heart. After a moment, Allura stood up, the sword humming in her grip.
“There is no peace for the weak,” she said, looking at the shining blade, the likes of which only the wealthiest and most powerful would ever possess. “I have seen this again and again. There is peace only for the strong.” She began to take the sword through a few of the drills he had taught her, moving very slowly and carefully.
“But sometimes there comes a champion,” she said, her voice wistful as she remembered her teammates, true champions every one. She thought of her captain, who had somehow embodied the very best qualities of all of them. “I want—wanted to be that champion, for my people, and for myself.” And for Keith, she realized, with an aching heart. He had believed in her, and she had wanted to live up to that.
Lotor was still watching her with obvious pleasure—and was just as clearly uninterested in her talk of the strong championing the weak. “I have never thought you weak, Allura.” was all he said on the matter. Annoyed with herself for feeling even a pang of disappointment, she bent to retrieve the scabbard. Laser swords were too dangerous for practice. She carefully slid the sword back into its sheath, hiding its brilliance.
She shouldn't forget what he was, just because she had decided he might make a somewhat tolerable husband.
“Besides the sword, what other odd skills would you have me teach you?” he asked, amused. “How to avoid jealousy in your harem? How to intimidate your enemies?”
“How do you do that?” she asked.
“Never visit the same one more than two nights in a row. Never compliment one where another can hear. Do not give them gifts.”
Allura had been curious in spite of herself and was willing to be distracted from thoughts of people she might never see again. Unfortunately, she only traded one pain for another. She was surprised by the sharp pang that came at the thought of Lotor 'visiting' anyone.
Allura looked at the gift he had given her. “I guess it's not a concern in a harem of one.”
Did Lotor's notion of an 'excellent husband' include sexual fidelity? It hardly seemed likely. In spite of her resolution to be unguarded with him, she found herself unable to ask. Maybe another time, when she wasn't still stung by the pain of it.
“It does keep things simple,” he said. Then his voice turned wry, “Unless that 'one' happens to be you, my Treasure.”
“I would have thought that you would like women fighting over you,” she said, trying to show some of her usual spirit even if it was all show at the moment.
“Perhaps I did, in the beginning. It's all fun and games until a favorite ends up dead or disfigured.”
Allura made a face and changed the subject. “And how do you intimidate your enemies?”
Lotor stood and stretched. At nearly seven feet in height, that alone would intimidate many people—humans at least. “Often it's enough for your enemy to know that you have the will and means to destroy them,” he said. He looked down at Allura, amber gaze gleaming bright as any tiger's. His smile made her shiver inside.
“But what's best is to find that part of you that would enjoy killing them, that part of you that would revel in it, and let them see it in your eyes.”
On to Chapter 19
Thanks
tenjp for beta reading. Any remaining errors are my own.Previous Chapters Here
Chapter 18
She could sense the conflict in him as she led him to the bed. He followed her anyway, lying next to her. The rustle of the bedclothes and the give of the mattress under his weight were the only sounds. He lay there, watching as she stripped off her clothes, his expression giving no hint of his thoughts. He made no move to doff his pants. When she was bare, she eased in next to his warmth, moving in the same way she did around a nervous horse, and pulled the light, silky cover up around them both.
He liked to keep her pressed close to him, and so she'd gotten used to making herself comfortable that way. He was so large compared to her and yet they fit, her leg sliding naturally between his, her cheek coming to rest against his chest, the heady scent of his skin filling her nose.
There was at least one part of him that was not conflicted at all. It was hard against her thigh, leaping with reassuring eagerness within the confines of his pants. Many times he had taken her hips in his hands, fitting her to him, pleasuring them both.
She wanted that pleasure now. There were pangs of misgiving as she owned these feelings and let them grow, but this was her husband, the man she had sworn herself to. This was her husband who cared for her.
So Allura moved, shifting her hips against his in the slow sinuous rub that he'd unknowingly taught her.
That put an end to his wary stillness. Allura felt a surprising amount of relief when his hands shifted to her body. Long fingers flexed deliciously on her flesh, not a caress, but not a rebuff either. He felt wonderful in her arms...
There was no reason not to tell him so. Was there? It was only the truth. Feeling a little light-headed, she told him, murmuring the words against his skin. Then she tasted him, liking it just as much as she had the first time. She told him that, too, felt him tremble, this fierce warrior prince she had wed. It was so freeing, this sudden match between her will and her desires. Who would have thought there could be so much power in surrender?
She held him tight. “I do not want to be apart from you,” she gasped, “I—” She squeezed her eyes shut, and the words came out in a whisper; they were loyal and traitorous all at once. “I can imagine no other husband but you.”
His arms came around her then. She felt his cheek rub over the top of her head.
She needed no help or urging to lift her face for his kiss. The warm, firm pressure of his lips made her skin tingle and warm color light her closed lids. Then he lifted his mouth from hers, only to kiss her again as though could not help himself. He parted, invaded and pleasured, seemed determined to explore her mouth in every way, lapping up her little gasps and whimpers.
She tightened her hold, pressing against him with painful force. Knowledge was a strange thing. It could change the past, transform the present... He had always kissed her this way, but now she could feel the emotion in it. He was kissing the woman he loved.
Her body reacted with a shocking energy to the touch of his lips. She shuddered with emotion as his lips lingered on her forehead, her eyelids, her mouth.
For the first time she understood Lotor's misgivings; this was powerful; this was dangerous. Yet she felt so safe when he held her this way. She kissed him back, her own reservations fading to nothing. With a groan, he deepened the caress, velvet soft tongue stroking against her own.
Allura was lost to pleasure, unaware of anything but the man who held her, but the haze faded a little when his hand found her breast. She winced in discomfort and arousal as he explored; they felt heavy and tender. After a moment, he slid her upward and began to rub his face over her. Allura sighed; she liked that much better; his smooth cheeks and the silky brush of his hair was all it took to make the tips tight and aching. She petted his head, his hair sliding between her fingers and then she found his ears, stroking up to their pointed ends, her thumbs rubbing along the long ridge of cartilage. He said something she didn't understand, his voice low and thick. She bent her head, lapping his ear because he'd often done so to her. She closed her mouth over the tip, curious; her tongue curled around the tapering shape. She pursed her lips, and sucked it a little deeper into her mouth. It was about that moment she became aware that he had stilled.
Before she could stop, he groaned and pushed into her caress, murmuring praise and imprecations, but all too soon he was pulling away, moving as though it hurt him to do so. Still, Allura was pleased with this new trick she had learnt, until he bent and closed his mouth over one of her nipples, suckling hard in his passion.
“Ah!” Allura cringed away. “Hurts! Don't!”
He arched back from her with gratifying speed, breath coming in great pants.
Gratifying, but not exactly what she wanted. Impatient, tight and aching with desire, Allura reached for him, tugging him back to her.
She rewarded him with sighs and clutching hands as he began stroking her skin, made a purring sound of satisfaction as his mouth set back to its work, but much, much more gently.
She stroked him too, loving the feel of his skin under her hands. She explored the broad planes of his chest, trailed her fingers over his ribs. For a time the warm lap and tug at her nipples transfixed her and then her hands were moving again. She felt his stomach muscles twitch and quiver, and then it was his turn to be distracted.
This time she undid his pants without being asked. Her fingers were a little awkward in her arousal and her excitement at her own daring, but she quickly had the access she wanted. Her questing fingers encountered his sex, feverish and silky smooth, and just within her reach. He became very still next to her as she touched him, but the part of him that she held in her hand was much less reserved. It bobbed eagerly, the smooth blunt head nuzzling into her palm. She shivered, feeling a pulse of answering desire low in her belly, the deep ache inside. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft; her fingers didn't quite meet, even when she squeezed gently. It surged in response as though she had questioned its strength; the heft and feel of him in her grip was satisfying and temptation at once. She made a surprised little sound when her fingers brushed the tip and came away slick. So slippery!
She felt him shudder, and then he again put a stop to her play, just as he had with his ears, shifting down out of reach, taking charge of the encounter once again. She made a sound of protest, but his mouth and hands soothed away her disappointment.
He went so slowly when he finally pushed into her; his body hard, every muscle tight with restraint and ecstasy. Allura was lost to everything but the feel of him stretching her, penetrating her where she most needed, most ached. She held on to him like a life-line as he began to move, his own low sounds of pleasure matched the rhythm of their bodies, it was as if he felt her pleasure too; the sounds stroked her deep inside. She was so close already, heated waves of pleasure building... She gave herself to the climax when it came, letting it carry her to the edge of awareness; she rolled her hips against his, seeking every last drop of pleasure, felt the leap of his sex inside her.
Replete, relaxed in a way she'd never been before, she settled back to earth cradled in his arms. This was what was familiar to her now, the fit of their bodies, the sound of his voice, the rhythm of his heart gradually slowing under her ear. “Lotor...” she murmured, on the edge of sleep, felt his arms tighten around her in response.
For better or worse, what she had told him was true; it was impossible to imagine anyone else.
When Allura woke she was curled against the warm body beside her, her head tucked under one of his out flung arms, one of his hands possessive at her waist. It was hard to keep a sense of time in this place with no windows, and no obvious night and day even if there were, but she felt she had slept for a while. Stretching, she lay there for a moment, enjoying a pleasant languor. It was unusual for her to wake before Lotor. She rolled up on one elbow to survey him in the dim light. He looked young and boyish in sleep—if that boy was a spoiled prince. The sleek line of his jaw had a dangerous stubbornness; the curl of his mouth was beautiful and cruel at once. There was a clear threat implicit in his powerfully developed musculature. The pale wisps of his sleep-tousled hair did not soften his appearance; they only made him look less civilized. Allura tucked them carefully behind one of his pointed ears.
When she moved to get up, she found herself sitting down again, struck by an uncharacteristic dizziness.
Allura caught her lower lip between her teeth. She took a slow deep breath, and then another, waiting for the black spots to recede from her vision.
She was going to be a mother.
She let the idea settle in her mind, curling her toes in the soft nap of the rug next to the bed. There was still a flutter of panic, but it was only a ghost of the emotion that had overwhelmed her when she had first suspected it.
She had been sitting on the bed then, too. Lotor had made that off-hand comment about her feet being the size of a child's just as she had been wondering again at her tender breasts. Tender breasts, late period, easy tears. The symptoms had hit her like stones, as though angry at having been ignored.
It did not seem quite so shocking now, sitting as she was with her husband's seed warm and slick between her thighs.
A babe... Fuzzy, half-formed images of infants formed in her mind.
She was not a stranger to such things. After her mother, the Queen, had died, Nanny had begun to take her charge back with her to her mountain village, sometimes for months at a time, in hopes that new surroundings would help the sparkle return to the Princess's eyes. The villagers were a proud and independent people that had long been connected with the royal family in one way or another; a princess was an exotic, but hardly awe-inspiring phenomenon, and children, royal and otherwise, were considered a blessing by the villagers. Allura had been surrounded by a clucking fold of nursing women, pregnant women, mothers new and old and their round-cheeked offspring. Though always aware of being an outsider—and of Nanny watching her closely for any signs that the village children were a bad influence—Allura had flourished. By the time her increasing responsibilities had put an end to the treasured visits, some of the older girls she had grown up with had been courted, wed, and had babes of their own. Others had come to the castle with her as treasured handmaidens. Allura rested a hand on her belly, suddenly missing the girls' bustle and chatter very much.
An arm snaked around her, tugging her back into the warmth of the covers with casual strength.
Lotor pulled her close with a contented sigh. Never mind that she had been getting up, she thought, but she snuggled in, content to let his warmth soothe her homesickness and banish the last of her dizziness. She might be past the panic stage with regard to being with child, but it was still unsettling.
“Lotor?”
“Mmmm.” She wriggled around in his embrace until she could see his face. His eyes were closed.
“Lotor, there's something I should talk to you about.”
Allura hesitated, trying out different approaches in her mind. She should just come out with it, but she was finding it difficult to say the words. Suddenly she was glad he wasn't looking at her. She didn't think she could meet that intense gaze and say what she had to say. How was he going to react?
“Lotor, I haven't... That is I think that— Well, I'm pretty sure—”
“—that you are extremely moody and soon you will be getting fat as well?” he murmured, his voice raspy from sleep. “Mmm, I know.”
Allura stilled.
“What do you mean you know.”
Lotor frowned at her tone, and began to stir. He blinked open his eyes, and she saw the black slashes of his pupils focus on her. Lotor looked at her for a moment and then closed his eyes again and laid his head back on the pillow.
“I've known since the night you got the cast on your hand. Would you like to know the child's sex?”
Allura made an angry, disgusted sound.
“You prefer to be surprised? The physic said some people did.”
“When exactly were you planning to tell me I was pregnant?”
“I thought you liked to be surprised.” He smiled then, eyes still closed.
Allura glared at him. “For future reference, I like to find out that I am expecting at the earliest possible time.”
“You were sure to figure it out sometime before the birth.”
“The earliest possible time. Please.”
“As you like.”
Silence. Allura stared at him, emotions and thoughts whirling like wind-borne leaves.
“Lotor... How did this happen? I mean...”
Lotor grinned suddenly, laughed with real pleasure. The next thing she knew he had stopped her words with a kiss, his mouth moved over hers, warm and slow. The sweetness of it made her flush even though she was still very annoyed with him, but what he said next made her gasp.
“Sometimes,” he murmured against her lips, his tone rich with innuendo, “when a prince and a princess like each other very much, they—”
She slapped at his chest. “And sometimes the princess thinks the prince is a big, secretive jerk!”
“Be serious,” she said, when he laughed again. She reached out and turned on the light over the bed, just bright enough so that she could see his face clearly.
It seemed she'd succeeded in banishing his doubts and suspicions. He was looking at her, and the expression on his face was pleased and surprisingly gentle. She'd seen that look before from time to time, but now she knew it for what it was. The prince was in love. He glowed with it. The thought made her feel quivery and odd—exhilarated, yes, and a little... sad? Ducking her head, she traced his collarbone with her fingers, and tried to pick up her train of thought again. “I—I know how babies are begun, I just... you and I are different, and I thought we might not be compatible.” Hoped was closer to the truth.
Lotor shifted his weight, drawing her gaze back to his face. “That was never a concern.” He looked a little offended. “The men of my race pride themselves on their ability to combine with many others.”
“I—I see,” Allura thought about that for a moment, still trying to adjust to the idea that he knew, had known for some time.
“You figured it out that night didn't you? Before you tried to run away.”
Allura nodded.
Lotor seemed serious finally. “That's why you ran, isn't it? I thought it might be because I—” He cut off his words, then shook his head, “But that doesn't matter.” He spoke with all the imperiousness of someone whose word is law. “What matters is that you won't do it again. Promise me, Allura.”
He was up on one elbow now, one hand stroked her skin, coaxing, and demanding, too. Allura looked at his expectant face, troubled. “I don't know if I can,” she said finally. “If I ever felt the child was in danger...”
He regarded her silently, and for a moment she thought he might be angry. He regarded her for a moment more, then he surprised her by moving to take hold of her hand where it rested against his chest.
“Allura,” he began, “Perhaps I was not your... first choice of husband—at least, at that time,”
It sounded like it had hurt him to form the words. Allura raised her brows. “But, I can be an excellent husband to you, Allura,” he continued, with his usual self-confidence. “I will protect you and any children you might bear me,” he said, watching her closely all the while. “But, I can do that much better as your ally rather than as your jailer. We are on the same side—”
Allura was amused suddenly.
“What's so funny? This is not funny!”
“First you marry me, then you get me pregnant, then you propose.”
Lotor looked disgruntled. “I offered for you. Many times.”
“You commanded me!”
Lotor squeezed her hand, seemingly impatient that she'd strayed from his topic of choice. “Do you believe me?”
Allura sighed and relented. “Yes. Yes, I believe you. I promise.”
Lotor relaxed. “Good,” he said, in a 'that's settled' tone.
Allura suspected things weren't quite as settled as all that. She was sure that Lotor's notion of what made an 'excellent husband' was an interesting one. But there was something else she was more interested in at the moment. “Lotor, were you... doing anything to prevent pregnancy?”
“No.”
His brilliant eyes darkened with emotion, and a hand came up to brush over her cheek, her hair. “In the past I did,” he said, his voice low. “There had been a procedure... I had it reversed the day after we wed.” When he went on he seemed to be talking to himself more than her. “It surprised me. I didn't know how arousing it would be to be potent in that way...”
“You didn't lose interest after it became moot,” she observed, breathless. It was all she could manage to say; all her questions were flown, scattered by the way he was looking at her, the shift in the way he was holding her. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder, the muscle taut under her hold; her other hand was still held over his heart, small and captive in his grasp.
“No, I did not,” he said, and proceeded to demonstrate his continued enthusiasm.
***
“You're going to have a scar,” she said after they finally rose from the bed. “A big one.” Perhaps it would take his vanity down a notch.
Allura tugged at him with her hands, and he obediently shifted so she could get a better look. The pink slash that marred his smooth silver-blue skin was already well on the way to healing, even after such a short time, but all around it were round purplish swellings, much smaller than the one she had lanced.
They stood in the bathing room, Lotor had his back to the mirror, long white hair pulled forward over his shoulder; his head was all twisted around, trying to get a good look at his reflection. On the counter was a scattering of med supplies; bright recessed lights glinted off of a familiar dagger. For once his look was less than pleased with his appearance.
His amber eyes met hers in the mirror, then he sighed. “It won't be my first such mark. Surely you've noticed.”
Allura frowned, she hadn't noticed any such thing. “Where?”
Lotor turned to face her. “Look.”
Frowning, Allura examined his torso closely in the bright light.
“They're faint,” he said. “Maybe if you use your hands you can feel... It's a long story...”
Allura had just figured out his game when he suggested that she look lower—where his sex was swelling from her attention. She stopped rubbing her fingertips over his skin and slapped at his taut stomach. “A long story! More like a tall tale!”
Lotor laughed. “I don't scar,” he admitted, capturing her hand and bringing it to his cheek.
It figured. “No, you just ooze black slime. Those swellings will all have to be lanced won't they?”
“Yes.”
She had no intention of advertising it, but she had been enjoying his teasing; her body still glowed with warmth from his lovemaking, but that faded as she focused again on his wound. “Lotor...”
“I'm beginning to dread it when you say my name in that tone. Could we possibly go back to where it was beneath you to speak to me? I am very evil.”
“Kidnappings, deadly mishaps... Is this what our life together is going to be like?” She looked at him, concerned. Now that there was a babe to think of, the events took on a new and even more unpleasant aspect.
“Let us do the excruciating amateur surgery now. I've been looking forward to it so...”
“Lotor—”
“Allura, I will protect you.” His tone said the subject was closed.
Allura was far from satisfied, but she said nothing more for the moment.
Lotor found it amusing for some reason comprehensible only to him when she picked up the dagger and waited expectantly for him to turn his back to her. “Shall I put down a pillow in case you faint again?” she asked, all sweetness.
“I don't expect it to be a problem,” he said, giving her a quelling look over his shoulder
When it was done, and he had washed and had another bandage applied, he asked if she were ready for breakfast. Allura managed a weak smile. In the end, she had been the one who had been closest to fainting. Caring for him hadn't been that bad; perhaps it was related to her condition.
The next morning, there was no question about whether pregnancy was to blame. She woke feeling nauseous and awful. She couldn't say that Lotor was sympathetic, though he went without his usual morning romp with a minimum of sighing.
She had done her best to go about the day as usual, but one whiff of the breakfast tray, and she had retreated to the bed chamber again. She was still there, lying on the bed when Lotor entered the room. He sat down on his heels and offered her a round disc from the plate he held in his hand. Allura took it. It looked like some kind of building material.
“The physic said that you would probably begin to feel ill and that dry, bland things to eat were best.”
Allura began to nibble. She remembered belatedly to say 'thank you,' but it didn't sound as gracious as it could have. It was possible that she was moping; she detested being sick, especially feeling nauseous. It was depressing that she might feel this way for months. “It seems the doctor had a lot to say.”
“She told me very strongly that intoxicants of any kind were not advised,” Lotor said, rising gracefully to his feet. He gave her the plate and then lay down on the bed next to her, tucking one arm behind his head and putting the other around her.
“She also said that you should not be placed under any undue stress. I suspect that what she meant was that I should neither beat you nor allow you to drown your sorrows.” Lotor smiled at the memory. “For a time I thought she might try to snatch you up and take you away with her, but I told her you would receive excellent care. I think she almost believed me.”
And he had been caring for her ever since, in his own high-handed way, Allura realized. By the time she was done eating and had sipped some juice, she was feeling better. She set the plate aside, and turned toward him. “Thank you,” she said, with real feeling this time.
He smiled back. “Ready to practice?”
Allura blinked. “Practice?”
She'd been planning to take it easy today. “I still don't feel very well.”
Lotor didn't look impressed. He got up and extended a hand to her that seemed more a demand than an aid. “Come, Allura.”
“I don't feel like it,” she repeated. And it's all your fault.
“You wish to be ill AND weak?” He arched a brow at her. “Ridiculous. Come.”
Seething, she let him pull her to her feet. “In my experience,” he said, in a superior tone, “any problem can be improved with properly applied violence.”
“I may be ready to apply some violence.” Had she actually been thinking that he wasn't so bad?
The drills and sparring were strenuous exercise, but Allura usually enjoyed them. That morning, she began with equal parts anger and martyrdom. And then, almost miraculously, she began to feel like her old self again.
When he deemed she had practiced enough, Lotor moved on to his own training, and then he sparred with her again to cool down. Allura followed his stretching positions as best she could and then lay back on the floor staring at the ornate patterns on the ceiling. She laced her fingers together across her stomach, content and actually feeling hungry. The exercise had been a good thing, but she had no intention of giving Lotor the satisfaction of hearing as much.
After a time, Lotor crawled over to her, pulling her into his arms with a different sort of satisfaction in mind. He began kissing and closing his teeth on her throat, heedless of the sweat on her skin. His hand skimmed up under the loose top she wore.
Allura linked her arms around his neck. “Mink,” she accused, but without anger.
Lotor actually stopped for a moment.
“You think I am small and furry?”
“No, vicious and oversexed.”
“Ah,” he said, clearly not bothered to be thought either. Then he surprised her. He pulled out of her embrace and got to his feet. “I have a gift for you,” he said. She rolled up on her side as he padded away, staring after him as he walked in the direction of the bedchamber. He returned not long after, holding a sword in a scabbard.
Allura sat up.
She had been expecting jewelry or something flattering to his own vanity or consequence. When he held the weapon out to her, she took it. The scabbard was matte black; she rubbed her fingertips over the intricate pattern on the surface. Wondering at the sword's light weight, she closed her hand around the hilt and gasped as she slid the blade free a few inches. The surface glowed, and the sword hummed faintly.
She pushed it back in with a snap and then stared at Lotor with wide eyes. He was seated on the floor, leaning back on his hands, very pleased with her reaction to his gift.
After a moment, she dared to look at it again, easing the shining blade free.
“Laser swords have the weight of a saber, but they part flesh and armor better than the most massive edged blade,” he observed with satisfaction, as Allura let the scabbard fall unnoticed to the floor. “With such a weapon, you could be a match for anyone, no matter their superior strength or reach.
“And it's pink,” he murmured.
Allura gave him a look.
His smirk got a little wider. “It's one of the two naturally occurring colors.”
The sword was very beautiful, shining with a subtle fire, like stars through atmosphere. No one had ever given her such a thing before. Her lion was a weapon, but she had fought to be allowed to wield it. As she looked at the sword, it was hard to conceal her genuine pleasure in the gift. After a moment she remembered that she wasn't withholding herself from Lotor that way anymore.
“Thank you, it's wonderful.”
“I knew you would like it,” he said, smug. “Why does a woman with such a distaste for war like the martial arts so much?” he mused.
Lotor was speaking out of idle curiosity, she was sure, but the question struck at her very heart. After a moment, Allura stood up, the sword humming in her grip.
“There is no peace for the weak,” she said, looking at the shining blade, the likes of which only the wealthiest and most powerful would ever possess. “I have seen this again and again. There is peace only for the strong.” She began to take the sword through a few of the drills he had taught her, moving very slowly and carefully.
“But sometimes there comes a champion,” she said, her voice wistful as she remembered her teammates, true champions every one. She thought of her captain, who had somehow embodied the very best qualities of all of them. “I want—wanted to be that champion, for my people, and for myself.” And for Keith, she realized, with an aching heart. He had believed in her, and she had wanted to live up to that.
Lotor was still watching her with obvious pleasure—and was just as clearly uninterested in her talk of the strong championing the weak. “I have never thought you weak, Allura.” was all he said on the matter. Annoyed with herself for feeling even a pang of disappointment, she bent to retrieve the scabbard. Laser swords were too dangerous for practice. She carefully slid the sword back into its sheath, hiding its brilliance.
She shouldn't forget what he was, just because she had decided he might make a somewhat tolerable husband.
“Besides the sword, what other odd skills would you have me teach you?” he asked, amused. “How to avoid jealousy in your harem? How to intimidate your enemies?”
“How do you do that?” she asked.
“Never visit the same one more than two nights in a row. Never compliment one where another can hear. Do not give them gifts.”
Allura had been curious in spite of herself and was willing to be distracted from thoughts of people she might never see again. Unfortunately, she only traded one pain for another. She was surprised by the sharp pang that came at the thought of Lotor 'visiting' anyone.
Allura looked at the gift he had given her. “I guess it's not a concern in a harem of one.”
Did Lotor's notion of an 'excellent husband' include sexual fidelity? It hardly seemed likely. In spite of her resolution to be unguarded with him, she found herself unable to ask. Maybe another time, when she wasn't still stung by the pain of it.
“It does keep things simple,” he said. Then his voice turned wry, “Unless that 'one' happens to be you, my Treasure.”
“I would have thought that you would like women fighting over you,” she said, trying to show some of her usual spirit even if it was all show at the moment.
“Perhaps I did, in the beginning. It's all fun and games until a favorite ends up dead or disfigured.”
Allura made a face and changed the subject. “And how do you intimidate your enemies?”
Lotor stood and stretched. At nearly seven feet in height, that alone would intimidate many people—humans at least. “Often it's enough for your enemy to know that you have the will and means to destroy them,” he said. He looked down at Allura, amber gaze gleaming bright as any tiger's. His smile made her shiver inside.
“But what's best is to find that part of you that would enjoy killing them, that part of you that would revel in it, and let them see it in your eyes.”
On to Chapter 19
