He splashed her in the face.
She gaped at him for a moment. And then she pounced.
He barely had time to laugh before she crashed into him, sending a wave of bathwater over the side. It hit the floor with an impressive splash.
She gripped his shoulders. “Retribution!”
She shoved him backwards, reaching for the spots on each side of his ribs they both knew would make him squirm helplessly.
He twisted at the last second, and they both lost what little purchase the smooth enamel offered. Limbs tangled. His knee bumped the side of the bath. Another tidal wave escaped onto the tiles.
Astarion managed to wriggle free just long enough to slap another palmful of water at her face. She gasped in outrage.
“Again?” she spluttered. “You dare?”
She lunged a second time, laughing now, and succeeded only in dragging them both sideways in a spectacularly undignified heap. A fresh wave caught him square in the face before spilling over the side.
“Ow,” he spluttered through his laughter.
She sat back quickly. “Did I –”
“Good gods woman, why are your elbows so pointy?”
She lifted an arm and examined her elbow. “They seem perfectly norm–”
Her sentence ended in a grunt, because Astarion was not one to miss an opening in battle. Before she could protest, he scooped her over one shoulder and lifted her out of the bath.
“You’ll pay for your crimes,” he intoned, marching toward their bed. “You’ve been caught disregarding good advice.”
“What? I was giving the advice!”
“And assaulting a magistrate.”
“And concealing unusually pointy elbows.”
“They weren’t even concealed!”
He unceremoniously dropped her onto the bed. She let out an indignant squeak as she bounced on the mattress.
For a moment, he forgot the joke entirely, struck by the sight of her.
The first time he ever undressed her, he’d told her she was perfect. Even though so much of what he’d done back then was a performance, that had been a truth.
She looked at him now with damp curls framing her face, cheeks flushed pink and laughter lingering in the corners of her eyes. There was water beading on her skin, catching the firelight as she breathed.
She was a nymph carved from marble, brought to life. She was a vicious goddess of light and mischief. She was warmth and comfort and life.
He opened his mouth to tell her how perfect she was. To tell her about the graceful line of her body. About the way her skin glowed, and her horns curved, and her tail –
A pillow hit him in the face.
The change in her was immediate. Her eyes widened slightly, the delicate silver rings around her pupils blowing wide. He could hear the flutter of her heart, and it called to something in him.
For a moment, they each simply watched the other.
Then she looked up at him through dark lashes. “What will my punishment be, my Lord?”
His mouth actually dropped open – and he could see the triumph in her face as she registered the surprise in his.
The shock was only momentary though, quickly replaced with something sharper. An ache of desire, low in his belly. A rush of blood, lower still. He let a hungry smile spread across his face – and felt his own flush of triumph as she shifted beneath his gaze, suddenly very aware of herself.
“I might be moved to clemency,” he drawled, voice low. “If you do as I say.”
She hesitated, then nodded.
He looked for any sign of worry in her, wondering whether she’d played these kinds of games before. Wondering how far he could safely push.
She was squirming a little, tail flexing in curls at her side. Her heart was quick, but not fearful. Those beautiful eyes were dark and wide.
He walked over to one of the bedroom chairs, and took his time dragging it back. He made a little show of finding just the right place to put it – to the side of the bed – listening to her breaths the whole time.
Then he took a seat, crossing an ankle over a knee. She watched him like a cat would watch a mouse. Or maybe like a mouse that’s spotted the cat.
He let his eyes fall, very deliberately, to her tail.
Her heart skipped, and her face betrayed her. Nervous. Shy. Uncertain.
He nearly crossed the room to her.
But there was something else, too. The warmth rising to her skin. The quickening of her pulse. The unmistakable scent of her arousal.
“Please,” he said, the word little more than a husk of a whisper.
She closed her eyes and lay herself down. She swallowed hard, and he watched her take a deep breath, letting the exhale out long and slow. Once again, he considered rising from the chair – but then she moved.
She raised her arms above her head, one hand clasping the opposite wrist as if restraining herself there. Another deep breath, her back arching slightly, before her tail lifted from the mattress.
It rose along the opposite side of her body, curving with the effortless grace of a swan’s neck. For a moment, it stayed there, swaying slightly. Then it dipped low, fin catching the light.
She touched the soft tip to her lips with a sigh, before licking along edge. Her fin trembled briefly, a corresponding shiver running down her body. Tilting her head back, she let the fin drift down her body, tracing her midline.
It was a light touch, he could tell. She tensed and wriggled a little beneath it, as her tail started drawing leisurely shapes over her body.
He followed its path with eyes that burned.
It circled the gentle swell of a breast. Slowly, round and round, leaving goosebumps in its wake as it drew ever closer to the peak. She arched again, just a slight rise of her body, as her fin ghosted over a nipple.
It stayed there for a moment, a gentle stroke back and forth, before moving to the other breast. He stared, completely mesmerised, as she used her tail to meticulously map herself. Her neck, the hollow of her collarbones, the rise of her breasts, the dip of her waist.
Sometimes she used the very tip, and that made her twitch. Sometimes she flattened the fin against her skin like a fan, and that made her sigh and writhe.
All the while, her hands stayed clasped above her head.
The shapes she drew meandered lower, inching closer to where she was squeezing her thighs together. A circle around a hip bone, a winding drag low over her tummy, a soft caress of the opposite hip.
She was breathing faster now, and he could smell she was slick and needy. He was painfully needy himself, actually. He took a breath and purposefully loosened his grip on the armrests.
He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was. How badly he ached for her. But he held his breath, afraid any sound might bring the moment to an end.
He stifled the groan that vibrated up his chest.
She let her fin glide lower over a hip. It canted to the side, weaving to the outer thigh, before switching direction, snaking back over and bobbing along her inner thigh.
She made a small sound, her body tensing and shifting in place, as if she found it difficult to hold still.
He was finding it difficult to hold still too.
When her fin pressed against her core, she whined softly. Her tail stroked lower, before dragging back up, glistening with her need. She seemed to forget any hesitation then, lifting her knees so her tail could wind tight between her legs and under a thigh.
She tilted her hips, rocking them up and down in a sinuous sway. Between her thighs, her tail flexed with a movement he hadn’t seen before. A kind of undulating pulse that pressed and released as it slid against her – small movements that echoed the rocking of her hips.
Every part of her was a study in coordinated motion, like a dancer. Her arms, tensed above her still, seemed to anchor her in place, while her lithe body rolled in slow waves. Her lips parted, panting little breaths in time with the rhythm of her movement.
He couldn’t believe he’d never seen anything like this.
She started moaning, and her efforts to suppress the sounds turned them into little mewling noises – his favourite.
He couldn’t take it. He gripped the hard length of himself, gritting his teeth as he matched his strokes to her steady pace.
He didn’t know how long he watched her move.
He never wanted it to end.
But it was about to end very quickly, for him at least.
She was speeding up, and he could tell she was close to coming apart from the tension in her body, the arch of her spine, the way her breathing shallowed almost to a stop.
She opened her eyes and turned her face – flushed, beautiful – to him. Her gaze dropped down to where he touched himself, and she whined at the sight.
Her eyes rolled back and she cried out as her body seized and shattered.
He never took his eyes off her as he allowed himself to fall apart too.
He recovered first, quietly fetching a towel for himself before padding back to the bed with another for her.
She lay where she fell, and he couldn’t help but grin at her. Dazed and limp and all twined in her own tail still.
When he knelt next to her and started unwinding her tail, she muttered protests and tried to bat him away ineffectually.
“Hush, darling,” he murmured.
He gently cleaned her before tossing the towel aside and pulling a blanket over the both of them. She curled into him, and for the second time that evening, he felt utterly content.
A tiny sniffle pulled him from his cozy thoughts.
He cupped her face and tilted her head so he could see her eyes. Little liar.
“I don’t know,” she said, with a little laugh. She wiped at an eye. “I just seem to be leaking?”
He tucked a curl behind her ear. “Are you sad?”
“Maybe I’ll just hold you then and see if the leaking stops?”
She settled against him again, and he held her close, a nose in her hair so he could breathe the scent of her.
After a little while, there was a whisper, muffled against his chest.
“I’ve never shown anyone.”
“Then this was a gift, and I am honoured. You are amazing.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “Not to mention unbelievably hot.”
Her laugh was sudden and loud, and he realised he’d been wrong before, because actually, this was utter contentment.
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