cosmic love
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Paul was struggling to process how he’d gotten to this point. He’d been about to duel Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, had gotten as far as the ceremonial handshake that preceded the fight when—red. All he’d been able to see had been red. Practically all he’d been able to feel, too: he’d been burning up, scrambling for more of the cooling touch he felt on his right hand.
He had faintly heard talk around him: Stilgar trying to reassure the Fremen, Princess Irulan saying “They can’t fight now,” Mohiam’s cold “Did you really think you could undo millennia of planning just by having a boy?”, Jessica's hissed “There hasn’t been a recorded bond in centuries.”
Series
- Part 1 of cosmic love
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Paul had not looked in Feyd's direction since the start of the duel, doing his best to suppress the sensations coming from Feyd’s side of the bond as he fought. He had been vaguely aware of Feyd tamping down his own reactions, making a concerted effort not to distract Paul during such a high-stakes event, but as soon as Paul sought Feyd out both visually and mentally, their connection was flooded with such intense heat that Paul swayed where he stood.
“Feyd,” he said faintly, taking one wobbling step in his direction before Feyd reached him first and wrapped his arms around Paul’s waist.
“Paul.” Feyd was nearly purring in his ear. “If you don’t get us alone right now, I’m going to fuck you until you scream in front of all these people, and you won’t even try to stop me.”
Series
- Part 2 of cosmic love