Tansui ponders the small changes in his life since Meryta, the warrior of light, barged into it.
Fandom: FFXIV
Words: 187
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For XIV Hearts Ablaze, day 1
Tansui x Meryta Khatin | Sometime in the SB patches | fluff
Rating: G. Very much fluff, introspection.
Flowers
It’s a small thing, and It wasn’t something he paid attention to at first. He was, well, enamored enough with Meryta herself as she dropped in and out of his life, a force of nature. There’s always something new going on in her life too. Another enemy, a new task, a new place she’d been. Fighting Garleans one day, auspices the next.
At some point, however, he noticed. No matter what she was doing, or what her tasks demanded of her, there was always flowers in her hair. It was usually different, lilies or cherry blossoms or violas or something exotic he didn’t recognize.
He noticed, especially because they ended up in his room. She took them out to sleep, or they fell out in a bout of their passion.
He smiles when he picks up a flower she left behind. It’s half withered, but it looked lovely in her hair, a pale yellow matching her strands. He plucked it out of her hair himself last night.
Somewhere, half-withered flowers had become part of his room, the sweet smell of them a familiar part of his home.
Tifa stood at the foot of the meteor memorial. It was so grey and ugly. That was probably intentional, it would he inappropriate for it to be a beautiful thing. She always came out and paid her respects, remembering and promising to do better.
She was sick of looking at it.
Her leather skirt and gloves were slightly warped after getting soaked at the church earlier in the week, but old habit had her armed anyway in the wake of the attack.
Barret had picked up the kids for the month. The bar was doing fine, the young woman she had hired to help out was very competent. Cloud was either staying there or he wasn’t, she didn’t know and found she didn’t mind either way. She quietly admitted to herself it was how she felt about most things in Edge these days.
Her eyes turned from the monument to the skies. Ragged grey clouds still churned after bahamut’s summoning. Shreds of blue were starting to appear the vortex’s edges. She smiled.
‘I want to see dolphins again,’ she said to nobody, apropos of nothing.
‘Me too,’ a young voice chirped. She looked down to see a little girl she didn’t know, splashing in a puddle. Her rubber boots had little dolphins stamped onto them.
Tifa’s smile broadened.
She took off her gloves, shoved them in a back pocket, and headed for the nearest bus to Junon.
The prompt inspired me to write a small piece about Meryta and magic. I hope you enjoy though I didn't end up fitting Aureia in there - but I loved the prompt and had to go with the inspiration 💜
Fandom: FFXIV | Words: 675 | Read on Ao3
Meryta Khatin & Y'shtola | Shadowbringers patches | friendship
Rating: Gen. Shadowbringers spoilers, 5.x spoilers, friendship, magic, Y'shtola fixes things in her no-nonsense way
Fire and Ice
“Why don’t you cast more magic, Meryta?”
“What?”
“I can see it, you should know. Your aether burning brighter than anything still.”
Y’shtola is curled up in an oversized chair, her tail wrapped over her blanket. She’s still recovering, but making use of the stacks of books Tataru has somehow procured for the infirmary – Dawn’s Respite as Alphinaud dubbed it once he was up and about. Meryta sits on Y’shtola’s bed.
“At least it’s not just my imagination,” she mutters. “I feel like I’m about to burst. Or like – it feels odd.”
“It’s fascinating that the excess of Light survived the trip across the worlds, despite what Ryne did to help. Something to study, if it wasn’t so clearly a problem. I think casting magic will be an adequate channel for it, though.”
“I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.” She has. Magic is not her strongest suit, she prefers her bow or blade. But even when casting, it doesn’t seem to calm the boiling sea of aether trapped inside of her. “When I heal, I draw power from the stars above and the ground below. And arcanima…” She shrugs. Summoning with precise diagrams in a book is doable, but it’s like the summons bring their own aether. It flows through her, not from her. Besides summoning is boring. Or hard. Or both.
“Have you tried elemental magic? Thaumaturgy.”
Y’shtola lazily conjures a small flame to her hand, and then a shard of ice than swirls around it – which inevitable melts. “I found it quite useful on the First, simply drawing aether from both the surroundings and myself.”
“I’m not sure it will work.”
Channeling aether sound nice in theory – but how? And how does she know it won’t just be like the Light leaking out of her, like bile in her mouth, filling her vision, turning her into something terrible –
“Start simple.” Y’shtola’s voice brings her back the present. “Focus on the aether inside of you, and let it go. Will a flame to exist. Y’shtola looks at her shrewdly. “I doubt a book on the theory will help you.”
“Probably not.” Meryta sighs, and closes her eyes, focusing on the churn of excess aether inside. It’s Light though, not just the gentle flow of aether around her. Burning. Like a flame. A flame in her hand. She fowns. FLAME!
Nothing.
Across from them, Thancred still pretends to sleep.
“It’s not working.”
“If you were something who gave up easily, we wouldn’t be back on the Source. Try again.”
Y’shtola conjures her own flame again, flaring and settling in her hand. Meryta sighs. She’s right, she does not give up, but she also is skilled enough in combat - she doesn’t need to call down a meteor from the heavens. She likes casting well enough, the flow of aether through her, the willing of a summon or a summon-fuelled spell exploding. But for all of that it’s not her first instinct. When threatened, when needing to fight, she reaches for a weapon.
She tries again, her thoughts returning to the aether, the Light inside of her. Of how it feels with aether flows through her, and imagines it flowing out of her, from her very core to her fingertips. She thinks of Y’shtola’s flame, of the geomancy of The Swallow’s Compass, of Sadu of the Dotharl’s comet.
Heat explodes in her hand, fast and bright and big.
“There! I had my fullest confidence in you!” Y’shtola smiles satisfied, while patting a small ember glowing on the chairs armrest. “Mayhaps it is best to continue outside.”
Meryta stares at her hand. Well – that was fun.
“That is probably better.”
“I should like to get some fresh air regardless.”
“As long as I don’t get reprimanded by Tataru.”
“I promise solemnly I’ll take the blame,” Y’shtola says and links her arm with Meryta’s. “Besides, you need to recover too, from the Light poisoning. This is the process.”
The two women make their way across the room to the exit> On his bed, Thancred scoffs, and turns to sleep again.
Sometimes Meryta still has nightmares, and sometimes luckily Tansui is there to help.
Fandom: FFXIV
Words: 480
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For XIV Hearts Ablaze, day 2
Tansui x Meryta Khatin | After Endwalker 6.0 | fluff
Rating: Teen. Nightmares and bad dreams, soothing and loving, endwalker spoilers, implied sexual content, romance, humor
Nightmare
Meryta doesn't remember the time after Ultima Thule much. She doesn't remember the nightmares that plagued her. Alisaie told her how they kept watch while she recovered, barely conscious. How she would wake screaming or crying, only to fall back into sleep.
She's thankful it's all a fuzzy blur to her; the pain and the broken bones and the weakness and the nightmares. She mostly remembers the relief of success, the content joy of realizing her friends had somehow, impossibly, made it - and so had she.
It’s over and done with. They won.
Some days though, the nightmares return.
The sky burns, fire trailing rocks as they rain from above. Monsters devour everyone around her. Herself, slowly turning into a horror. Dark swirls of despair creeping across the world. Her friends, vanishing into nothing.
Terrifying fragments of things that happened and things that didn’t and nothing she can fight, punch, kill.
She tries, in some dreams. In other she is rooted, shining blackness that’s bright as neverending day slowly drag her under while the world burns.
In the worst ones; she is stuck, weak and crawling while she watches herself slaughter her friends.
The days when the nightmares return, she wakes gasping, shaking, kicking, screaming. Disoriented, sweat clinging to her.
“Meryta. It’s okay, my love. It’s alright.”
A cool hand brushing gently against her cheek, a presence without restricting her.
“Breathe.”
She does. Tansui’s palm is calloused, cupping her cheek. His hair brush against her throat.
She’s in his bed.
Inhale. Exhale.
He’s safe.
Inhale. Exhale.
Her friends are safe.
Inhale. Exhale.
The world is safe.
Inhale. Exhale.
The tension leaves her, and she clutches him, pulls him close. Her nose fills with the scent of him, sea and sweat and safety.
“Thank you,” she mumbles against his chest. “Nightmare.”
She should be stronger than that, but somehow this is worse than a real thing she can fight. The way her mind twists and blends things together, having to make sense of it, how disjointed she feels when she wakes up, struggling to remember it’s senseless and not real.
“I figured, with the kicking and punching,” Tansui’s says, his voice bringing her back to the present again.
“Did I hurt you?” She normally doesn’t move much when she sleeps, but now…
“Nothing serious.”
She turns and runs her across his chest.
“You sure? I’m sorry, I just – “
“Well, maybe a kiss would make it better.”
She kisses him, right on the collarbone.
“A little lower perhaps.”
She kisses his chest, the top of his belly.
“I’m afraid it was lower still.”
“Really,” she grins. She scoots down and kisses the top of his knee.
“Hm, mayhaps I should show you where,” Tansui says.
“Mayhaps you should.”
Laughing, he pulls her up across his body, until he can kiss her inner thigh. Meryta giggles, and gasps.
There's something about handsome huyr men, but it's not quite going to work out the way one expects. I really love Deryk and his character, and I think he had great connection with Meryta, so I wanted to play with that!
Fandom: FFXIV
Words: 945
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For XIV Hearts Ablaze, day 4
Deryk | Oschon x Meryta Khatin (onesided), Tansui/ Meryta Khatin (background) | During Dawntrail | mild angst
Rating: Teen. Heartbreak, looking for a connection, fated romance that's not to be, sorry Deryk, spoilers for Myths of The Realm, mild DT spoilers (location and vague quest spoilers)
Heartbreak
He’s the last person she expects to see at the small inn in Shaaloani, but there he is. Brown hair, nondescript clothing that still looks a little off. Opo opo clinging to his feet. Or perhaps it’s so utterly normal that she’s not surprised at all.
She sits next to him at the bar.
“Oschon?”
“It’s just Deryk, Meryta.”
He smiles. He does not use any of her titles or monikers, so she supposes it’s fair.
“Deryk, then. I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“I didn’t expect to find you here either – but then, it is not surprising.”
She doesn’t want to think of the meeting as fated, but Deryk is perhaps right about the inevitability of it. She orders a snack, and he gestures for another drink. He gives another small smile, the kind one that means she can’t help but smile back.
“How do you find Tural?” she asks.
“Lovely. It is beautiful here, both south and up here. I’m enjoying the land and its people.”
“Truly wandering. I’m glad you didn’t feel confined to Eorzea.”
He chuckles, amber eyes glinting. “So am I – this was the plan. To see all of this world.”
They continue talking, of Tural, and the rite of ascension and its trials, and of his travels and experiences. He shakes his head with a smile when she mentions she’s going to help restore the railroad on the morrow. He laughs heartedly when she tells it’s not the first time she’s fixed a railroad. She wonders briefly if the twelve had been tasked with watching over the shards as well, or if they were left on their own, but she decides not to spoil the mood.
The conversation is warm and comfortable, and she’s forgotten how despite his insistence that he is ill suited company, how easy it is to be in his.
At some point, he slides his hand across the countertop, brushing it against hers. One finger hook with hers. He looks at her hopefully, eyes gleaming and half smile. A question.
It would be easy, to give in to this. She can’t deny the attraction, and her curiosity. She knows what hides beneath his guise of a humble wanderer – but only the avatar she fought. She has no idea who he truly is. She reckons it would be fun to find out, if only for a night.
But truly she has no appetite for it. She has given her word, and Tansui is too important to her.
“I’m sorry,” she says, and withdraws her hands. She is sorry. He is handsome and kind and only slightly awed by her. And terribly lonely, probably. “I am – I have someone.”
Despite the years and the certainty, she still can’t find a precise word for what her and Tansui are to each other. But she knows she is his and he is hers. She loves him, he is her home in a world where she has none, her anchor. Her love.
“Oh?” Deryk’s face falls, showing a glimpse of pain that’s unexpected for simple meeting of friendly attraction. “One of your companions.”
She shakes her head. “No –they’re but my good friends.”
She doesn’t want to tell him, she realizes. She is not ashamed of her lover, but he is just a man. And no matter how Deryk insists on the guise of a mortal wanderer he is not. God or less than a god, she can best him, of course, as she has done before. But the risk is too great.
She doesn’t think Deryk is a vengeful person, but she is less certain about Oschon.
“Must be someone special.”
“He is,” she just says. “In other circumstances –“ she shakes her head. No real use to continue the though. “I’m sorry.”
“it’s hardly a surprise, though I’d hoped… I was hoping to meet you again Meryta, truth be told.” He looks a little lost. She’s sad to have hurt him.
“I’m glad to have met you again, Deryk. As a friend, and fellow adventurer.”
Their conversation continues, but it’s somewhat awkward. She supposes there was always a connection between them, but she’s dismissed it. Or ignored it, as she recalls how she first found him handsome.
Eventually, there’s nothing left to say, only the space between them. Meryta scratches the opo-opo behind his ears, bids Deryk goodnight and slips out the door, into the star strewn Shaaloani night.
-
Deryk watches her leave; her tail swishing and her brightness disappear into the darkness of the night.
He wonders what her lover sees. To him, she burns. Her power crackling along her skin, bright and brilliant. He can’t fathom how mortals can gaze upon her and not be blinded. It is not just the power Hydealyn infused in her, or the dragon lend her, nor only the brilliant pieces of Azem’s soul. There is more, something uniquely her own, and far beyond a careful making of a champion.
He remembers fighting her; the terrifying, brilliant, powerful. He remembers her kindness and curiosity pursuing the tasks before her. Her bravery and grace when accepting the challenge of his brethren.
He sighs.
As a wanderer, he understands her own wandering and adventuring, the appetite for the world and the unknown. Deryk, a simple man, wants her as two people who share a connection want another. As two bodies want another. Or perhaps, to truly experience all aspects of the mortal world.
As Oschon, he wants to burn in her closeness.
That he should have such a reaction to a mortal – well, hardly surprising considering who she is.
Follow your heart, was Llymeaon’s parting words. It’s hard to do when it’s broken.
I needed them to be cute about this! Something weighs on Tansui, but Meryta won't hear of it.
Fandom: FFXIV
Words: 708
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For XIV Hearts Ablaze, day 3
Tansui x Meryta Khatin | After Dawntrail 7.x | fluff
Rating: Teen. Vague talk of death, romance, humor, fluff, worry and love, age difference, general ENW spoilers, DT raid series mention
Remember Me
“Will you remember me,” Tansui says, “when I’m gone?”
They’re lying in the sand, the sun’s last rays hitting them. The ocean laps gently against the shore with peaceful, rhythmic sounds.
“What do you mean, gone?”
There are no stars out yet, but the moon is pale and waxing in the sky.
“I’m older than you, and I’ll – well, one day, I’ll be gone.”
“You’re not that much older than me!”
Tansui raises himself up on his elbows, a serious look on his face.
“More than ten years, by my reckoning,” he says.
“So now you’re an old man, seducing innocent young adventurers?”
She tries to lighten the mood, she does not want this talk of death. Not his, of course, because the truth is much different.
Tansui sputters. “That’s not – I’m not – “
She laughs, she can’t help it.
“Some days I feel I’m too old for you.”
“I have no complaints,” she says, and rolls to put her head in his lap. “Besides, It’s not that much of a difference, Tansui.”
“Hm. I still –“ he strokes her hair, her horn, causing her to shiver pleasantly. “I hope I’m not forgettable.”
“You’re anything but that, love.” She wonders what brought this up. It’s not his nameday in many months. Now it’s there, the thought won’t slip her mind though – of dying and remembrance. “And I don’t think you have to worry about dying before me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m – an adventurer.” Warrior of Light, Champion of Eorzea, and all the other titles they bestow on her. “I fight. I like fighting. One day it will catch up with me. Warriors don’t die peacefully.”
Her death is something she has always accepted. From her dads’ instance that she not participate in the Naadam, to buckling up and fighting the primals the scions needed her to fight, to choosing to fight whenever she can help, to fighting in the Arcadion for the challenge – at first.
She’ll die fighting, not of old age.
Her death no longer feels imminent, as it was when she was launching herself through experimental aetherytes. When the next fight was Zenos or Ascians or an entity singing death to the universe.
They’re all dead, and she’s has yet met something that can beat her. But she knows she will. Someday.
“I wish you wouldn’t say such things,” Tansui says quietly.
“It’s the truth,” she says. It no longer bothers her.
She can feel him tense beneath her, and then he exhales and relaxes again, though his hand moves to her shoulder, and holds it tight. She puts her hand on top of his.
“It’s not like I’m planning on letting something best me.” She grins, and tries to soften it. She wants him to accept it with the same lightness she does herself. She has never feared death, but she is glad she no longer expects it. “But you know – one terrified lalafell – milalla, I mean – and I will fight whatever demon monstrosity I have to.”
“I know, I might as well stop the waves from forming, or the trees from growing, as stop you from helping people.” He sighs. “Is it too much to hope to grow old together.”
“And here I thought you was just saying how you’d grow old waay before me,” she replies, drawing out the way in a long ridiculous sound.
“Well, I – I was just,” he sputters, as she pulls herself up and around and climbs in his lap. She kisses him, and of course he kisses her back.
“What if I do my best to grow old with you, and you don’t worry about being too old.”
She rests her forehead against his.
“I can live with that, I suppose.”
“Just in case, though, we better make good use of the time.” She kisses him again, harder, then softer, then fiercer. She runs her tongue across his lips until he opens his mouth and she deepens the kiss, wresting a muffled moan from him. She pulls back and grins. “Do try to keep up, old man.”
He growls, and the world tips and he flips her on her back, pinning her arms as he leans in for another kiss, fiercer than before.
This was a bit experimental, more of a vibe than a story but I decided to post. Yes this is for a February event, but sometimes this is how it goes.
Fandom: FFXIV
Words: 465
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For XIV Hearts Ablaze, day 5
Tansui x Meryta Khatin | no specific timeframe | fluff
Rating: M. Very much fluff, introspection. Mention of sexual situation
Hands
Meryta’s hands, he finds, are a contradiction.
When she’s curled up next to him in bed, when she laughs and smiles and waves to him. When she runs her hands through his hair -- in all those instances, it seems her hands should be soft and delicate. She’s not particularly small for an aura woman, but that still means she’s small compared to him. He should be rough or rugged next to her; his hands marked by wear and work in contrast to hers.
(And sometimes he does feels uncouth and rugged, he knows she rubs shoulders with nobles and kings and leaders – but then she’s smile and cook dinner and make something practical with those hands of hers, and she’s just a girl. Or a wild and wonderful thing from the steppe, rougher and stranger than him.)
She’s small and he can pick her up – and he will, tossing her on the bed, holding her close, enveloping her like she’s fragile. Like he needs to protect her. The way she looks, pretty and curvy. The way she smiles, and flirts, sweet and teasing. Swishing her tail. She’s feminine and sexy, and downright cute. Soft and pretty.
So, her hands, they should be soft and delicate. Perhaps it’s somewhat old-fashioned of him, but sometimes that is who he sees, when she’s laughing and flirting, her eyes full of joy when she looks at him. A sweet girl with delicate hands.
But of course, it’s not so. She’s a warrior, using her bow, sword, katana, and which ever other weapon might fall into her hands. And when she doesn’t fight, she uses her hand to work, shaping metal and wood. Some days he thinks she only rests when she’s with him – and even then she can’t help a quick workout or something to fiddle with.
In truth, her hands are rough and calloused, worn by her life and deeds. So much like his own, smaller, but not delicate.
He enjoys holding them as if they are, kissing the tips of her fingers, the palms of her hands. Having them on him, both gently and ferocious.
Meryta is a strength and furor, with power to topple the world in those hands. But what she does is save it. Like she cradles the whole damn universe in those hands.
He kisses them again.
He’s seen those hands kill, he knows enemy after impossible enemy fall before her.
He’s seen her hands create, mending a simple shirt or forging a beautiful blade.
He’s felt her hands tenderly, brushing a lock of his hair out his face.
He’s felt them -- all over, wandering across his body, sliding down his chest until they grip his cock, firm and tender and rough and delicate.
A contradiction that is not a contradiction at all.
October Year of the OTP prompt - Shibari. It's not October, it's not even 2025, but here we go. Meryta and Tansui has some fun, and so did I writing this.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 2601 | Read on Ao3
Tansui x Meryta Khatin (warrior of light) | early Dawntrail | smut Rating: Explicit (18+ only). Shibari / rope bondage. Trying something new. Porn without Plot. They're really mostly kinda vanilla but they're having fun.
Ropes and Marks
“Heading off again?”
“Adventure calls!” Meryta says, pulling her shirt on. There’s something delightful about Tural and travelling with Wuk Lamat. Helping her is exciting and adventurous. Enough to keep her busy, but not world ending busy.
Tansui shakes his head, but he smiles. The point of pain has become a jest. After all, how can he justify his worries over a faraway continent when she’s gone to end of the universe and back?
“Maybe I’ll have to tie you to the bed one day,” he says, waggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly.
Meryta freezes for a moment, then continues with her coat. It’s not something I’ve considered, but mayhaps – she imagines it, his hands roaming freely on her restrained body.
“Intriguing,” she gets out, trying to hide her blush.
Tansui grins and kisses her goodbye.
-
She didn’t expect him to make anything of the conversation, but now she finds herself naked in front of him, purple ropes and knots winding around her torso. She feels exposed, but not uncomfortable. And just a bit impatient.
“I thought you had done this before?”
Tansui looks up from the scrap of paper, covered in somewhat lewd drawings and Hingan script.
“Ah, well. Not really. It was – well it was a long time ago.” He flips the paper over. “And I was the one who was tied up.”
She laughs at that, and stands on her toes and kisses him.
“We don’t have to, if you don’t want. I promise I’m not leaving until tomorrow at least.”
“I do want this. You.”
He captures her arms behind her back and kisses her, fiercely. She gives in, softening into him with a sigh. It turns to a gasp of surprise when he spins her, and loops a piece of the rope around her arms.
The parchment flutters to the ground. Tansui moves with deft purpose, and she can feel loops and knots and a slight pull on her shoulders. He kisses her neck and adjusts the ropes around her torso. She wants to move, to touch him, but her hands are bound now, trapped in the rope and against his naked chest. She can’t even scratch him. He’s done, perhaps, his hands skimming up her torso, cupping her breasts.
“Would be a bad sailor if I can’t handle some knots.”
She’s looking for a reply, but all she can do is moan when he rolls her nipples between his fingers before he caresses her breasts again. It feels different, more intense, trapped like this with the ropes wound around her.
She wants more, or less, something and she squirms against him. Her tail is free and she wraps it around him, pulling him closer, rubbing against his hardness.
“None of that now,” he says, and grabs her tail. It causes him to step back, reducing their contact. She almost growls in frustration. “The diagrams did not account for a tail, but maybe I can figure something out.” He squeezes the base of it, and it feels good but she’s not sure a rope will, fixing it in place.
“I’m not sure that will be nice.”
“Hm, but maybe I’m not,” Tansui says, and squeezes the base of her tail again. She sucks in a breath.
“I’ll be good, I promise!” She releases the tension in her tail, lets the end of it fall away from his body reluctantly.
“Alright, then.”
He lets go of her tail with a quick caress, and moves the rope to let two ends fall on both sides of it, but he does not tie them there. Tansui steps around her, looking her up and down.
“You’re very pretty, Meryta.”
He says it so earnestly, like he hasn’t seen her before. She feels warm, and almost overwhelmed when her eyes lock with his.
Restless too, and she does a little shimmy, wiggling her hips and chest. The ropes somehow emphasize her breasts and she’s torn between feeling exposed and sexy. Mostly sexy, when his hands return to her body, firmly caressing her breasts again. She gasps when he suddenly slides his arms around her and lifts her.
Tasnui crosses the room in two strides and sets her down on the bed. He pushes her down gently, letting her lay back and swing her legs into the bed.
“Next step,” he says, picking up the paper and puts it on the rickety nightstand. He barely glances at it, and returns his attention to her. His hands find her hips, her thighs, and he gently pushes her legs apart. She complies willingly, enjoying the thrill of exposure. He’s slow and deliberate, so different from their usual lovemaking, whether fast and furious or relaxed and languid. There is a new intensity in how he caresses the soft scales and skin on her inner thighs, not at all touching where she wants him to. She bites her lip to stop complaining, letting herself – and him – enjoy.
A rustle, and she feels the rope pull between her legs, up to her belly and the bindings there. It’s – strange and she gasps when he pulls it a little tighter, nestling it in her folds and rubbing against her most sensitive spot.
“How does it feel?” he asks, pulling, moving, looping.
“I think – good? Strange but good.”
“Maybe a little more,” he mutters, and he tightens something, the pressure increasing between her legs. She gasps and wants to see what he does next.
“Are you comfortable?” he frowns, looking at her from where he sits, legs folded under himself, between her legs. “Your arms?” He gestures.
Having them folded under herself, her back arched, is odd, but only slightly uncomfortable. Her arms have cramped more from intense training though, and it’s more that her tits are pushed up. She feels – she grasps for words – lewdly on display. She wonders if she could get free, She wriggles, and tenses her muscles and –
“Oh!”
The movement causes the ropes to tighten, to move, and slide across her body. Especially between her legs, pressing down on her clit. It’s slightly uncomfortable, almost painful but not at all, a cacophony of feelings. She wants more and tries to move more, to feel more.
Tansui’s eyes widen and darken, and he presses the palm of his hand against his pants – he’s still wearing them, unfairly hiding his growing erection.
“Seems you’re doing fine,” he grins. He puts his hands on her thighs, stilling her movements. She lets out a small, frustrated whine. His hand grazes over her crotch, and she knows the ropes are getting slick from her pleasure. The slight embarrassment from Tansui’s widening grin only serves to turn her on more. He runs a single finger along the rope, barely touching her, but it’s enough to make her moan his name.
She stares helplessly when he licks her juices off his finger, exaggerating the motion.
“The notes included folding your legs like so and tying them too,” he says, folding her left leg under itself. It takes her moment to reorient herself to his words, almost dizzy with arousal. Instructions. She still finds it amusing that he got them, somewhere. There’s a lot of cargo moving through the Ruby Seas. “I don’t have to, if it’s too much.”
“Impatient?” she asks, sounding far too breathy and eager herself.
“There’s only so much a man can take, lover. Seeing you like this, the sounds you make –” his hands are wandering, up to sex again, then caressing the scales just above. She bites back a whimper. She is perhaps a little impatient herself. She’s not going to admit it if she can.
“Since we’re doing this,” she says instead, “might as well go for the full experience.”
Tansui grins and nods, and leans over her body to kiss her.
Scrambling back with the rope, he ties her legs to themselves, first one and then the other. He creates loops and knots, resulting in a careful grid like pattern. It leaves her almost completely immobile. She buries the instinct to struggle, and forgets it when Tansui kisses her inner thighs. The time it has taken has cooled her ardor a little, and she relaxes into his bed, into her restraints, and into his touch.
She’s here for the ride, and there’s nowhere she needs to be, no disaster threatening. She can enjoy everything he does, secure on his bed.
His touch wanders, hands and mouth exploring her body. He kisses her shoulder, her collarbone, her belly between the knots. It feels good, and frustrating. She is unable to reciprocate, or counter. She gasps when his hands reach her nipples and he pinches, causing her to arch further. At once everything feels tighter, more, every inch of rope tense against her body.
“All wrapped up,” he says, looking pleased.
“For you,” she winks at him.
His reaction is what she wanted, what she needed, instant and ferocious. He kisses her, wild and hard, pressing her into the bed. She arches against him, against the ropes, against the voidscursed rope at her crotch, making everything move just so – everything else becomes unimportant and she moans as the sharpness of the rope presses against her clit as she grinds against his thigh.
Tansui whispers something, her name perhaps, but she’s focused, her pleasure building, getting close. She can barely move, just rock herself and then he sites back again, looking down at her.
“Don’t come yet,” he says and he looks – handsome and cheeky and she wants to curse but all that escapes her is a whine.
“Please, Tansui – “ she begs for him now, the need burning in his eyes matching her own. With him, she can want. She spreads her legs how well she can with them bound, not caring how needy it makes her look. Tansui stares a moment longer, then his hands are back on her, tracing the ropes around her thighs, the one between her legs. His fingers tease her, not quite able to get under the ropes. They still come away slick as she can feel her orgasm almost, almost within grasp.
“To the Seven Hells with this,” he mutters, and stands to quickly remove his pants. He grabs something from the table, and she’s too far gone to track his movements but suddenly the pressure at her clit is gone. He cut the ropes, the emergency knife in his hand quickly placed back on the nightstand. “Meryta, you look –“
Without much pause he enters her, one swift stroke as he leans above her, one hand on her body to ground her. She can feel her cunt stretch around his cock as it fills her. It’s a good stretch, she’s wet and ready for him, but it’s there and she gasps and moans and she can’t move with him, just accept his thrusts.
His hand plays with her nipple, then the other, and in some far away thought she knows her breasts are lewdly on display as he fucks her, the ropes around them make bounce.
Everything feels intense and pleasurable, the ropes restraining her, the jolt of pain as he pinches a nipple hard, his cock in her cunt moving and pulsing. It’s so much, so good and there’s no way she can hold back as she feels herself clench and come, the waves of pleasure rolling through her with her orgasm. Somewhere, Tansui grunts and comes too, and collapses on top of her, his beard ticking her throat.
She bonks the top his head with her horn.
“Mmm? Oh, apologies, you must be uncomfortable.” Tansui scrambles off her. He was warm and nice against her, but her arms are starting to cramp. Brushing a kiss against her cheek, Tansui starts working the knots at her chest. They appear stuck, and he tries the ones lower, then with increasing frustration the ones on her legs.
“Maybe you need to start with the end?” she suggests, trying to get her shoulders more comfortable.
He nods. He did cut the end, but it should be at her back, so her turns her around. He pauses, one hand on her ass. She can only imagine how she looks, arms still tied and her ass and tail up in the air.
“Maybe you should stay like this a little longer,” Tansui mumbles, stroking her ass.
“Tansui, really?”
“Really.” She can hear him grin and then feel his lips and prickle of his beard as he kiss her right on one cheek.
“Ass!”
“Yes, yours is quite nice.”
She laughs at her own unfortunate choice of words, and also lifts her arms. “I do think I need to get out of this.”
His hands slide up to her arms, but nothing seems to budge. He mutters something, a curse, and then she feels the cold metal of the knife as he slices the ropes off her.
She stretches and flexes her arms as soon as they’re free, and he quickly removes the ropes from her legs too, allowing her to turn around. The bed is scattered with frayed rope and tight knots.
“The rope’s ruined,” she says.
“I’ll get more if I need to,” Tansui says, and effectively slices the ropes crisscrossing the side of her torso, removing the last of them. He puts the knife away, before he casually brushes most of the rope pieces to the floor.
He crawls into the bed next to her, throwing an arm over her.
“You good?”
“Mmm. Yes.” Now she’s unbound, she feels tied and lazy and sated. Happy in his arms and almost missing the restraints around her. “Tansui.” She forms his name with her tongue, letting it flow out of her.
“Meryta,” he echoes back.
They stay tangled together a while, until Tansui shuffles, and pulls a lost bit of knotted rope from under him.
“So,” he says, dumping the piece with the others on the floor. “I’m too damn good with knots.”
“Are you now?”
“Well. I.” he pauses and does not look at her. “What do you think? Enjoyable?”
She rolls on top of him. “Very enjoyable,” she says. ”And you?”
“You did look quite pretty, but you always do.”
“Flatter.”
“I mean – how much did you like it?” he continues. “Should I find some new ropes?”
Though she usually prefers to reciprocate, to give as much as she gets, there is something about having every expectation of action stripped away, to simply be.
“It’s a bit complicated and I like to touch you, but… I really did enjoy it. Would be fun now and then.”
“I’ll keep some handy,” he grins. “Testing both our patience I think.”
She nods and rolls to like beside him again, and Tansui idly traces the marks the ropes left on her arms, her torso.
“You like those,” she comments. Of course he does, endless fascination whenever he leaves a mark on her body. She does not mind at all. That doesn’t mean she can’t tease him about it.
“Ah. Well. I do.” He blushes delightfully. “Does it bother you?”
“It doesn’t hurt if that’s what you mean. And it doesn’t bother me at all. You can leave all the marks on me you want.”
“Meryta –” he kisses her, surprising gently, and she kisses him back. She enjoys the marks too, whether from his teeth or lips or bruising grips. Or ropes. They’re left in passion, in love, and unlike her marks and scars from fighting, she chooses to let him put them on her. She has the power to give him that.
She snuggles into him, her head beneath his arm so her horn can sink into the mattress.
