The blood rushes in his ears like an ocean. Your hands are at his shirt and at his jeans. He is quiet. There have been so many words, could we not do with a little silence. Iowerth looks at you, his eyes threatening to leak again. "I've been scared a while," he murmurs. "But," he chuckles a little even with his eyes starting to leak, "... I swallow it like sea water, you know. If I show my fear, what will my people do?" He echoes the concerns, the realities of kings as long as there have been kings, Here or in the Other Other world.
     "But," Iowerth answers his own rhetorical statement, "...you are not my 'people'. And I am ... sorry I scared you, too." He nods, pulling you into a hug, his hand at the back of your head. He holds you again, a long while in silence this time, sniffing, inhaling the salt water from from eyes. They begin to dry. He can master the oceans. Sometimes, even his own.
     "You kicked the chest pretty hard," Iowerth says, still red-faced (red-heads are completely unable to hide their emotions) as he looks at you, looks at your feet suddenly. "Are you alright? Do I need to call the medics?" He turns, one hand leaving you to wipe at his face. "I just want to get in bed," he exhales. "We can lie here all night, and stay here through the morning. I will have my chamberlain, stewards and commanders handle all my affairs tomorrow. We can stay in bed and just... be. It's been ages...since we were that free."

     He bumps his head against your shoulder, then sighs, leaning heavily against you. "I have been frightened," Tiernan whispers the admission. "It comes and goes in waves; there are many things of which I am afraid. But I try to bear up under it, yes? I try to be strong enough." He sighs, releasing his oxygen with his energy, patting at your hips, along your thighs and then slowly hobbling to stand straight. "I am afraid of more things than I ever speak of."
     He leans into you, into the hug you tug him into, pressing his face against you. Let your shirt absorb what is left of his tears so that you will not see them; that you will not see evidence of his weakness, his unmanliness. When you lean back to look at him, he exhales again. "It hurts, but I can deal with it. I shouldn't have kicked it in the first place; serves my fool self right, yes? No point disturbing their rest." He limps from you towards the bed, sitting on it slowly as he eases his weight off of his foot.
     "Send for food," Tiernan invites, looking up at you. You and he are two of a kind right now, aren't you, with red faces and swollen eyes. So much of a storm, such a tempest in a teapot, to have blown over so quickly. "Let me just get these papers out of the way. I'll send a note to my office so they know not to expect me."

     He smiles a little. All around you, on every surface left unlittered by papers and thrown clothes, appear plates of food. Food for comfort. Food for reassurance. Food for rejuvenation. Everything imaginable, anything you could ever want. It's crowding all around you, the bounty of a Harvest King's son. It is one of his father's better legacies.
     As you hobble to the bed, Iowerth heads to the other side of the bed, taking up the pitcher of cool water and pouring it for you. The water is the sweet water of the springs that flow nearby, so clear the water appears silver. He pours another glass for himself after he hands a glass to you to rest upon your nightstand -- what room there is for it, that is, for it is likewise bearing a heaping plate of hot food.
     He is pulling off his shirt as he sits, tossing it to the nearby chair. His body covered in seadragons seems almost subdued -- as subdued as his spirit. But they are vibrant still, vivid and terribly detailed. You know them all by now. The jeans remain on for now as Iowerth reclines on the bed, slipping beneath the covers. He falls back, the bed shifting beneath him slightly, taking a buttered bun with him.
     He looks at you as you gather the papers and put them away. Part of his mind is wandering to thoughts he should not be having, particularly not after a night like this. He wonders as he begins to pick at the bun in your bed: Was Agapios here? He has no right to ask. He has no right to wonder. His expression softens as he picks at the hot buttered bun.
     "I ... don't want you to worry about Agapios," Iowerth murmurs, glancing to you. "I... know it was him. Who else could it have been?" he smirks. "But," more seriously now, "... his position will not suffer just because you slept with him. I want you to know that. I will suggest," he drolls, "...that his time as my valet is done. I don't think I want him folding my sheets and thinking about what he'd rather be doing in them."

     Your lover whistles in a minor pitch, and from the sea-chest's overturned depths comes a mechanical and bejeweled crow which flaps over to his side. It croaks once, harshly, on an inquiring note, and then opens its beak wide. Unhurriedly, Tiernan rolls the papers and slides them down the crow's gullet, which seems magically to expand to consume them all. It then circles around him three times and returns to the interior of the chest.
     He takes the water from you, shifting the pillows so that he can recline without giving up his ability to drink. Tiernan turns a little, suppressing a wince as he moves his foot, then looks at you squarely. "I ... do not know how he feels about you. I should not have spoken about it, and I am sorry," he says quietly. "Lashing out like that ... wasn't right of me. Or fair."
     He inhales shakily, then pats at you clumsily, settling against the pillows and closing his eyes. "I try so hard," Tiernan murmurs, "not to ... become anything like my mother, or like what she had planned for me. I am afraid of that, Io. Afraid that it lives somewhere in me, waiting to spread through me as some kind of cancer. So I try always to think of what she would do, and make the effort not to be that way, not to do that. Whether it is with you or with anyone else; I do not want to use the weapons which I am handed."
     He is quiet then for a little while, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. "I am bad at putting things into words," Tiernan tells you quietly. "Afraid of saying them; of sounding the fool or ... making you think less of me, or even thinking less of myself for it. I can tell you that I love you, but even that, I sometimes don't say as much as I should - or as readily as I should."

     "I know you love me," Iowerth looks to you as he speaks, the bun almost done. His appetite is not what it would normally be, but he is eating. Sitting up slightly, he washes the remainder down with water. It's enough to tide him over for a while. "It's okay," he shakes his head a little, "... and it's none of my business what you do or not or with whom. As far as Agapios is concerned, he is... an ally and I have uses for him. A valet was not among them." But that seems to be enough about Agapios. He will use his expertise. Iowerth just doesn't want to look at him. For a while.
     It is clear that he is jealous. His coloring gives him away.
     Rolling his head against a pillow, he focuses on you. His body is soon to follow, rolling onto his side to face you. "I know you are," he murmurs. "I am not afraid, if that helps you. Not of that. But," he exhales, "... I ... have tried, since I've known you, to be the ... antithesis of what you may have known there, seen there, experienced there. But in my ... effort to balance the energy, I've just made a mess of things. Holding back the darker parts of myself for your sake. But I end up hurting you anyway. I guess we're both afraid of becoming something we don't like. For ourselves, for one another. We're just not very good about talking about it."
     His expression is open, sympathetic. He reaches for you with a hand, to hold your hand, to hold any part of you. He looks at your crow, cocking up an eyebrow. "Nice creature," he notes off-topic. "A new creation. Does it have a name?"

     His hand falls on your thigh, and he sighs, shaking his head a little. "Your darkness doesn't frighten me. You are not my mother. I know that you will not torture me randomly for your own amusement, or make me some sort of puppet, cutting into my self-control to perform evil deeds in my name. What my mother was, what my mother did ... you are not that, Io. Everyone I ever became friends with in my mother's kingdom either proved to be her spy, or was killed, or just disappeared. In a way, the disappearances were worse; you can't help but wonder, then, if they left because they were a spy, and if so, how long it will be until there will be some price to pay for whatever was said or done, or ... if a worse fate awaited them."
     His hand lifts, he touches your hair, then lets his hand join with yours as he looks to the crow. "Munnin," Tiernan smiles. "My portable memory. He'll digest the information on the papers and sort it for me. He'd like it better yet if I could make the paper shiny in some way, but I haven't gone quite that far. Metallic ink, maybe."

     He closes his eyes to the touch at his hair. Something about that tender motion always gets to him. Even when it is not tender, and you are tugging on it. Does it come from Gwilym's infant hands pulling on his hair? He'll never know. It doesn't matter. His hand closes around your own, his fingers loosely interlacing. "Maybe marbled papers from Venice," he offers. "Or glossy paper."
     Beneath the covers of your bed, the high king shifts closer to you. His hand still anchored in your own, his drawing near to you is like that of a ship coming aside another. But none shall be boarded tonight. "I would not torture you for random amusement, no. I would not do that. I might inadvertently torture you by acting stupidly, but never intentionally." Periwinkle eyes open to look at you as he speaks, his mouth twisting in a smirk.
     He is quiet for a time, closing the space until he lies flush alongside you, turned toward you, an arm lying across your body. Bending his head, Iowerth rests his forehead on your shoulder. He kisses what his mouth can find, can reach. "I love you. And I am going to miss you. How long is your trip to be?"

     "Maybe." Tiernan smiles slightly at the thought, at your interest in what he says. "I'll look into it. It's my take on a personal organizer, though. Munnin works well for me. I just occasionally give him shiny treats, and if I don't, he eats my cufflinks."
     You draw close, and he in turn does so as well, stifling an impatient sound as his foot refuses to cooperate as much as he'd like. "You aren't the sort to have a well-equipped dungeon and pore over catalogues of torture implements," Tiernan agrees, deadpan. "You'll just announce out of the blue that your brother and you have been having sex. How is he, anyway?" There is more than one way that question could be taken.
     He wraps an arm loosely around you, hugging you close for a moment. "It depends on the winds," Tiernan replies, "but probably I'll be gone a week to two weeks. It depends on how much success we have. The more successful, the longer it will take, to get the new people assigned and sent to the proper places. I might take a couple of days to do some investigating, as well."

     There are several ways that occur to Iowerth as you near him. One, you might want to know. Two, you really don't want to know but have to ask. Three, you're trying to be funny and/or sarcastic. Four, rhetorical question. Five, not about sex at all but about how he IS. Upset, not, what?
     No matter how he answers, there is one thing perfectly clear to him. There's no way to answer this question, however it's meant.
     Iowerth quirks his eyebrows slightly upward at the question, but he doesn't answer at first. But then, "Gwilym is a ...what you see is what you get sort of fellow," Iowerth notes. He'll let your own mind fill in the blanks as you wish, or don't wish. If you want to know more, you will ask.
     He nods on your timeline, returning your hug. His nose nudges you until his mouth finds yours for a momentary kiss. "I will miss you," he repeats. "And I will want to read your letters. Will you promise to write me when you can? I can't believe I am going to come in here looking for you and you're going to be gone. But I hope your trip is good, and that it is successful, even if that means you will be gone for a longer duration. If it gets to be too long, I will arrange for a visit. Will that be okay?"

     "He seemed upset when he left." It is a distant sort of recollection - he was focused on you and not on your brother, then. "I hope that he will not be angry with me for my ... display." Tiernan's mouth twists wryly as he looks at you. "I will try not to ask how he is in bed, or if he is better at sucking your cock than I am," he whispers. "I don't promise I won't. But I promise I'll try."
     His hand pats at your hip again, and he returns your kiss gently. "I'll write," Tiernan agrees quietly. "And I will miss you, you know. But maybe it's better that we ... have this breathing room, yes? Knowing how the other feels, without the chance for tension to build up. It's - hard, getting used to all the things which are changing. I got used to hiding; and now I won't be anymore. But it is an enormous change. As is your getting married." He smiles a little, gripping your hip and mock-shaking it lightly. "For both of us, not just me. I know."
     To the request about a visit, he nods slowly. "Just write to me first so I know when you're coming," Tiernan answers you with a half-smile. "So I can tell you where I am - in this world or not. I have two businesses to maintain, now, after all."

     "He wasn't upset. He knew we needed to be alone, that is all. Don't worry. If Gwilym is upset with you, he will let you know. To your face. He can be incredibly direct." When he wants to be. Iowerth looks at you, his hand lifting to your face, resting there before going to your dark hair. "I will try not to answer that question, should you ask it. I know, because my mind is crowded with similar questions, that it's not really an answer you'll be looking for, but reassurance that I still love you, still lust after you. I am trying not to give voice to my jealousy, to my wrath, to ... my morbid, very morbid curiosity regarding your time with Agapios. For instance," he tacks on. As if the others were on his mind as well.
     His face shows that lie for what it is. He is very jealous. He wants to know, but he isn't going to ask. It's none of his business. Besides, what information he gets he will not want to hear. He knows it is a question not to be asked. But his face becomes inflamed all the same, flushed with crimson.
     "There will not be a ceremony. I see no point in it. There will be a solemn acceptance between the two parties of their agreement, and then she and her Houri will reside on their own island. She is a business partner, no more, no less. But... it will be a change nonetheless."
     He understands the wisdom of distance, but such thoughts make him prone to sulkiness. Even his brother cautioned him on the burning embers. Iowerth sighs. Because one knows one is right does not mean one has to like it.
     His hand stroking your face, Iowerth then buries his hands beneath the blankets and around your waist. "I will be sure to send a message. You'll have to tell me where you are. I can never keep up with all you have going on. Things seem to be going very well for you when I'm not being a total arse-head."

     There is a skeptical look in his eyes for a moment; he has never found Gwilym to be direct. Or to say anything to his face. But he accepts what you say without argument on that point. Hasn't there been arguing enough? "I know you love me," Tiernan murmurs, his hand again going to your hair. He smoothes it down with a gentle touch. "But I am always curious as to what you do when I am not the one in your bed. I wonder how it feels. I never had a brother, so," one shoulder lifts and then falls in a shrug, "to me, the idea is curious. Strange; not repellent, but different. I can't help but wonder how the pieces fit together for you, inside your head, what it stimulates, not on the physical level so much as somewhere else."
     He is always inquiring after strange things, this lover of yours, wondering at how things work; taking them apart not with his hands but with his eyes, with his mind. Even such things as this. He leans up against you, pressing himself close to you. "Better not to ask," Tiernan tells you lazily. "I can ask without it affecting things, but I'm not sure that you can. I like you without you needing to explode; if you are going to explode, let it be in my mouth, not at my head."
     It appears to have loosened him up a little, anyway; ordinarily he is quieter, without raunchy comments. But tonight he is making an exception. "I am glad she will not be here," Tiernan whispers, his mouth tugging at yours for a moment. "I ... would be more insecure, if you were constantly in her presence, I think. As for keeping up with me," he pulls back a little, propping himself up on an elbow and turning to peer at you, "you have kingdoms to run, yes? Why should you keep up with me? But I am ... trying to find my purpose."
     He has gone suddenly very quiet, looking down at the sheets between you and he. "I have always had a little part of me which has felt lost. As if I do not know who I am... what I am. What my purpose is. When my - mother died, that ... got overwhelming, for a while. I have filled that gap, as best I can, but ... if there are more answers to be found ... I want to find them."

     "If I had to quantify it, I am not sure I could," Iowerth murmurs seriously. "It is not romantic. It's not about that. I don't know how to explain it. We have always been in one another's skin. We communicate telepathically, we shared the same womb. My father is his father's father, but our mother is the same. It is... like being at the center of a complicated knot." He struggles with how to convey it. "Most brothers do not engage in such intimacy. But for twins, at least for us, we have sought that primal connection. Back when we were cells, maybe. I don't know what is at the root of it. But I do know it is not romantic love."
     Iowerth is quiet a moment, then drolls: "That good, was he? Now I am not going to be able to sleep." He rolls over to lie on his back. Leaning over, stretching, he reaches his outstretched hand toward some of the food, taking a small piece of savory meat, pheasant and rosemary. "I'm not going to explode," he sighs. His complexion is still high. Not purple, but certainly quite red. "If I weren't king, I might feel inclined to take a different tack. But I don't have the liberty of lashing out in jealous rage. Not unless I want to be a tyrant. And tyranny doesn't interest me."
     There is a glance to you for your frank talk; frank, bordering on crude. It isn't like you. But it's been an unusual night. "She will be living on her own island. I had originally constructed it as a haven for a future queen, but she and her Houri attendants will be bringing part of their heavenly contingent here, so she will take up permanent residence there. Our work has nothing to do with constantly sharing a bed." He smirks, "...or ever sharing a bed, for that matter. That is not what this agreement centers around. She and I share a common vision. Our children will be created from that vision and they will help us manifest it." He shrugs. "Nothing romantic, I assure you. And for their safety, and continued virginity, I thought it best they be on an island not inhabited by mer-men and satyrs."
     He washes the pheasant down with another swallow of water and turns back to face you. "You're not alone," he whispers. "Everyone's trying to find themselves. Everyone's trying to find their way. You. Me. Gwilym. The rest of humanity." Iowerth places his head on your pillow. "I'm sure even the occasional mer-man is introspective. That is, when he's not copulating in the ocean. So... the mer-man form... not the human form," he says flatly. His mind is on fire with the possibilities. He's going to make his food sit poorly if he keeps it up. "Sorry," he exhales, shaking his head. "Don't answer that. After tomorrow, I won't care. I'm going to work to not care."

     "It doesn't bother me, either way." Tiernan smiles at you lopsidedly, his hands coming up to frame your face. "Moreso that I know you don't want to get rid of me, though after tonight, I am ashamed of myself - I am surprised. If I were you, I would be kicking me to the curb." He shrugs. It is good for him that you are not him, and vice versa. "At least I imagine the sex with him is good, yes? It would have to be, with him being the way he is."
     He does not qualify that remark with an explanation. Instead, he smiles at you as you display your jealousy. "He is not better than you. I have never been with anyone who has tempted me to leave you, Io. I do not force myself back to your side. I am here because, in the end, this is where I want to be. You are who I want to be with. Imperfect creatures as we both are... we have come to rest together comfortably, I think. And you still ignite my senses. I like you. You are my lover and my friend. I know I can rely on you if I have a need, and for those moments when one or the other of us hurts... in the end, here we are." He lifts a hand, gesturing to the room, the bed, the food. "Home."
     You talk of the arrangements for your bride-to-be, and he nods. He does not have much to say about that. Until of course, you change the topic back to mermen, and he chuckles, letting his dark head fall back. "I will make you forget it, for a little while," Tiernan promises you, threatens you, blue eyes glittering as he turns his head to you again. He slides down along the bed again, raising himself onto his knees. "Get out of your trousers, Io. King you may be, but I need to remind you that you are mine, not just the other way around. Besides," he grins, "if I am going away, I can let the taste of you last on my tongue, yes?"
     He thinks it, but he does not say it : something to distract you until later, from the thoughts of who might occupy my cabin while I am at sea...

     "I'm too drained," the king quietly complains, rolling his head toward you as you sit up on your knees. "Maybe later," he adds. His hand reaches for you, to tug you back down toward him. "Why don't you come back down here for a while." The suggestion is a soft one. While he needs you close, he's so not in the mood for sex. Even if all he has to do is lie there and bask in attention.
     Rolling a shoulder, Iowerth looks at you levelly. His complexion begins to return to normal. His hands interlace on his muscled stomach. "What are you ashamed about? I'm the one who has some real and lasting shame." He smirks, shrugging again. "You were rightfully upset. Why would I kick you to the curb, as you put it, because you were upset? I was... shocked, admittedly. I didn't know your voice could go that loud or that high." He laughs a little, even if he is stewing in his own emotional juices.
     Iowerth seems to consider what you say about the mer-man. You know this because his skin starts to redden again as it does when he gets emotional. He takes a breath and holds it a moment before letting it go. That's a clearing breath. Bending one leg, foot to the mattress, he lets his other lie extended. He looks at you, nodding. "I am your friend, and I do care about you, you know, beyond what I get from you." He looks to the bed, and his hands. "I'm not even going to ask you if you're going to see him again. It's none of my business. I can't ask you not to, nor would if I could. It's not like I'm blameless. It's not like I've been celibate."
     You see his mouth pucker slightly, trying to keep a question back behind the gates of his teeth. "I ... don't want to ask you what it was like... because I don't want you to feel like you have to make it seem less than it was. I am not worried about measuring up, well...theoretically that is," he tacks on quietly. Physically... well, he can't do much about that. "I am who I am." He shrugs. "Everybody's different. There are no comparisons to make. I certainly don't make any."

     Tiernan moves back up against you slowly, without that much reluctance. No, he is not really that much in the mood, either. There has been too much upset; too many dramatic emotions on display. "I shouldn't have yelled," he tells you seriously, resting up against you again. "And I shouldn't have lashed out like that. Whether or not there have been others, I should never have thrown them at you like that; using them as a weapon against you diminishes them, diminishes us, and most of all, diminishes me. It brings me closer to being that which I strive to avoid; I can't allow that in myself."
     He sighs, a noisy gust of expelled breath, then presses his mouth against your shoulder. "It doesn't matter what it was like," Tiernan tells you quietly. "He is who he is; he didn't suddenly convert me to mer-men or to women, you know. My fear is always that anyone who wants me only wants me because I am close to you. That fear will never go away, Io. I mean," one hand gestures at himself, "I am not that handsome. Not that outgoing. Too often, those who approach me have been looking to through me, gain some sort of influence over you - gain your ear. Believe it or don't, but I do not have sex with that many people or that often... except with you."

     "When I... gained that power or...whatever it is," he shakes his head slightly, because he still does not know, "... when I couldn't control the desire or the expression of it, I did sleep around a lot, but it has been a long time." He rolls his head over to look at you. "I don't sleep around either. I truly don't. I don't mind that you do. I have said, repeatedly, that that kind of monogamy is impractical. Why punish yourself. When you were gone for those six months, then ...yes... I did. But since we had that... break up or down, more like a break down," he smirks, "I have been trying to focus on us and on the kingdom. I have been trying to follow my brother's advice," he looks at you, "...and make sure I do not let my work consume me. To make sure I make time for you. I do not know if it has really translated, or you have noticed the difference, but I have really been trying, Tiernan. And I know the Finding a Queen matter has been a strain. More than you've even let on. So... just... I just want you to understand that I understand. Oes?"
     Iowerth exhales, his arms coming around to hold you. His body slowly, gently even, piles into you. He breathes there for a moment, nothing more. "I love you. And I don't want you to be alone, or lonely, or worried that I'm going to leave you. I'm not. It's not that the... fish... matter," an eyebrow quirks slightly, "...upsets me. If I were you, I'd have done the same thing. But.... oes... we need to try to remember not to hurt one another with it. To be respectful to one another, even if there are others that we sleep with from time to time. Or swim with," his mouth twists before it brushes against your shoulder. "As they case may be."
     Taking a deep breath, he exhales. "Are we okay? You are not angry with me now? Your fear of others... you will just have to learn how to deal with that. Use them back. Or don't allow them near you. That choice is yours. But I think that is just the way it's going to be. That's one of the prices you pay, oes, for being with me."
     Iowerth's fingers interlace, trapping you in his hold. He doesn't expect that you will mind. "I'm not upset with you," he whispers. "So I am happy to put this bad night into the past if you are."

     "What has happened in the past, we should leave in the past as much as we can. We're neither of us good at that." Tiernan slides his palm along your chest slowly, watching your dragons with a blue glance. "You're not doing badly, Io. I should have told you that sooner - but I've seen your effort. I know how hard you work... at everything, but also at us."
     He smiles a little - a faint but dawning smile, turned up at you for a full moment before being turned back down. "Getting married is stressful for us both. Anyone would think it was both of us getting married, and not only you."
     His palm reaches your hip and he gives you a bit of a squeeze, then settles into a more relaxed hold. "It was easier before you actually found one," Tiernan breathes out, rolling towards you. "Kings and queens and princes - and here I am, a disgraced former prince of a conquered kingdom which has been razed to the ground, turned into a merchant and kept around out of misguided friendship or pity by the current High King, having befriended him in their youth. You know, the truth coming out will be worth it if only for how it rocks everyone on their ears."
     His lips find your ear, teeth tugging gently at your earlobe and then relinquishing. "I love you," Tiernan tells you simply. "If there is a graveyard for our quarrels, at least we are confining ourselves to murdering new quarrels and never robbing the graves."

     He closes his eyes as you find his ear, his hands unlacing and splaying over your back. When your mouth frees him long enough to whisper to him, he turns his head, kissing the ghosts of arguments from your lips. "It looks like a military graveyard, I'm sure," comes the droll sound of Iowerth's voice. That familiar tone of his voice -- a sign of resurrecting humor. "You should stop worrying about how others see you. You are making yourself crazy. Do not lower yourself to whatever level they are on. Be who you are. Let them apologize."
     Iowerth's eyes drift shut again as he kisses you gently again. When his eyes open, they are shimmering periwinkle between fiery lashes. Such an odd color combination, copper and periwinkle. "I know. It is easier to deal with the specter of a wife than an actual wife. But... it could not have worked out better for us. She understands I am in love, and she respects that. Think about how poorly it could have gone had I chosen any of the other girls. I would have had to sleep with them, for starters." He grins at that. "We are lucky we can even have the conversation, oes?"
     Dipping his head down, Iowerth nuzzles against your neck. "You are getting married, too. In a way. She's stepping into the one you already have. We're as good as married. We've been together since we were seventeen. No angel, nor mer-man," he smirks, "... can part us now, Tiernan. No," he sighs, lifting his head to look at you, "...only we can do that. We should be more careful with our hearts."
     He pauses. "So... did it hurt?" He can't help the quiet laugh. "I know you're foot is hurting, but you weren't limping around before that. You'd think if you'd made love to a whale, you'd be a little worse for wear in that department."

     "I know," Tiernan answers you quietly. His hand goes to your hair again, that affectionate hold. "It could have been much worse - and I am thankful to her for her support of us. It is so strange, somehow, Io. To think we've been together so long; I still remember when I first saw you. The air hurt, going into my lungs, and all I wanted was to erase that distance between us. I would have followed you anywhere, in the wish for that nameless hope to be fulfilled."
     He smiles, closing his eyes as you nuzzle against him, bumping against you lightly. "You had to ask," he teases you. "No... it didn't hurt. My foot hurts. I don't know why I thought kicking that chest would make me feel better. Why? Do you want to make me go away from you hurting? Worried you aren't big enough? You are big enough. Solid enough. I like how you feel." He tugs at your hair a little, but does not let go. "I've been worse for wear after being with you, on occasion. Remember that time we used that singer's love nest? The one who hoped you'd put in a good word for her with your father?"

     "How could I forget that weekend?" comes the muffled chuckle from the shadows of your neck. "We were in a mandrake haze for two days. Back when we couldn't keep our hands off of one another." He says it like those days are long since passed. "And I'm not worried about not being big enough. I'm not exactly a small man. I just wanted to make sure he didn't break you." He grins a little. "Then, I would be mad."
     You do not need to see his complexion to know his blood is on the move. You can feel the heat emanating from his skin. "I don't want you to be in pain per se," Iowerth drolls, rolling his head back to look at you. But, yes, he likes to know he has an effect.
     "I don't know why you kicked the chest either, but I guess it was easier than throwing it at me, which is probably what you really wished to do." His fingers dig at you a little, tickling slightly. His legs begin to tangle with your own. At this rate, he's going to end up sleeping in his jeans. "I was a little worried about the size thing," he murmurs. "It's as intimidating as if you had slept with Hippolytus," the centaur general.
     You're neither that masochistic nor that brave, he expects. He isn't either.
     "I just don't want anyone to please you as much as I please you. I want to be the one you always think about. The one you always come back to. Is that pathetic of me?" A fiery eyebrow lifts skyward as he tips his head back to look at you.

     "Nothing breaks me except you." His palm touches your face, then slides back to knot in your hair again, and he chuckles a little. "I like feeling you," Tiernan breathes out the words. "I like knowing you have been in me. Reminding me even later of what we have been up to."
     Of where I belong, in a way. It is a tether. An anchor, not fixing me in place, but leading me back home.
     "Centaurs do not attract me," your lover laughs, "nor anything which could not somehow manage to get into a bed with me. A satyr ... maybe, though I'm not sure I could cope with that. They are not so small, either. It is up to circumstance. I don't tend to go out looking." Except when he does, rare as it is. But he will not say that.
     "Pathetic? No." Tiernan considers it seriously, then butts his head lightly to yours. "I feel the same way. I don't mind you sleeping with someone else - your brother," he tacks on, "or whomever else. As long as I know it's me you dream of, yes? Isn't that it? It's about endurance, us. Our hearts aren't made of elastic. I wish I knew what to get you so you'd know how committed to you I am."

     Iowerth closes his eyes as your fingers move in his hair. It stills him, comforts him, soothes him. It is instant medication for whatever's ailing him. "You don't need to get me anything. I should be able to find the proof of that in my heart, in your actions. And I've not had to question that. I don't worry that you're going to leave me for someone else. I am occasionally fearful that you are going to leave me because of the way I am, what I am. It's a lot of pressure. I just... love you so much... I don't want to consider what it would be like if you were not with me."
     "It does not matter who I'm with, even if I'm with you. You are always with me, Tiernan. I want you to know that, and to believe it. Even when I have been with Gwilym, you have been there with me. It... reinforces you, in a weird way. I don't understand it. I wonder if I ever will understand it. Maybe it isn't important that I do, only that I acknowledge it." He looks at you, his hand lifting and touching your cheek. He cups your face in his hand and he kisses you again.
     This time the kiss is parted, not merely a tugging or rubbing of lips but a spreading of mouths. "I'm not a fantastic creature, like a satyr or a centaur or a mer-man," Iowerth says, gently rolling you until you are underneath him. "But I'm carved with seadragons. Will that be enough?"

     He groans quietly as you roll with him until you are over him, the sky to him. His mouth parts for yours, a gentle insinuation of his tongue to yours, his thighs against yours. "Enjoy it," Tiernan suggests when his mouth is freed, a hand lifting to rub the back of your neck. "Enjoy the time you spend with him, with me. He loves you, or he wouldn't come running to the rescue." He grins a little at that. "Damn his timing, but ... he helped, in his own way."
     He lifts a little, kissing you and biting gently at your lower lip before letting himself crash back to the mattress. "You are a fantastic creature," he retorts, a hand smacking against your side. "You're the High King of all the gathered and joined fairy kingdoms. You're marrying an houri of a kingdom of Heaven, deus! You are inscribed with dragons of the seas, and the seas flow in your veins with magic that comes to you as naturally as breathing. What's so mundane about all that?"
     Tiernan chuckles, a low sound, conspiring with you as he brushes his cheek to yours. "My magic is small and pitiful by contrast," he says quietly. "Most of what I do doesn't involve magic at all. So if you're ordinary, Io, then I am dullness incarnate. Shall we be two grey pebbles on a sparkling beach together?"

     "Oes," Iowerth laughs, grinning. "Let's be two grey pebbles on a sparkling beach, overlooked by all the seagulls and hermit crabs." You are funny. You have become funny over the years, cultivating your humor, finding it at least. He'll take credit for that. Shaking his head with a chuckle, he bends to kiss you again.
     "My brother has perfect timing, which is to say, sometimes his timing could be better," his mouth slants. "He is good at giving advice. It's his special talent. Lousy at taking it, god knows. But really good at giving it. And usually, it's fairly sound. He's always given me great advice with you. When I've come close to losing you, it was Gwilym that helped me see my mistakes, that pushed me to make amends when I was being stubborn. We owe him, you and I. But I have no doubt he'll come around one of these days to collect the debt."
     He sighs, giving his weight to you. "In the morning, I'll wake up and make love to you," Iowerth whispers at your ear. "I am too raw tonight. Too tired. I love you, and I want to make sure you feel me when you go. It will give you something to think about, something to remember me by..."

     "One of these days," Tiernan murmurs, closing his eyes. "Until the debt comes due, there's no point in worrying about anything but the interest. For now ... let's just hold each other, yes?" One corner of his mouth tugs up after you kiss him, as you kiss him, and he presses in against you with a quiet sound.
     "Tomorrow, you can do anything you want with me," Tiernan whispers, "to make sure we miss each other properly." He tugs your hair gently, then curls his hand downwards, sliding his arm around you with a groan. "For now ... I just want to breathe in your nearness. And relax that neither of us jumped off the cliff this time, either. I love you. Without you, I ... do not think I would let myself love. Without you, my life would be empty. A grey pebble on its own is a lonely thing, Io."
     He smiles, letting his head roll against the pillow, settling his weight up next to you. "I want your dreams to be of me, and mine to be of you. We can have other dreams... but you are my home. And I always want to be able to come home."

Posted by rowan at January 10, 2007 12:24 PM