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For months he’s trained for this...Arguably years. This wasn’t his first attempt, either. But Basilio was the most difficult opponent he’d ever faced. And for all his talk of Lon’qu having the makings of a Khan, he certainly wasn’t about to just hand over the title to him either. It had to be earned. Years back, Lon’qu had retired from being the man’s Champion to become an official Feroxi citizen, but remained the Khan’s right hand. And eventually...his successor, or so was the plan.
But even with the opportunity, he still had to best the man. Had to show that he was strong enough to defeat a Khan of Regna Ferox. And since becoming Khan, Basilio had yet to be defeated in a duel. Something Lon’qu had set out to attempt again that day, for the third time.
When he arrives home, still coated with sweat and bruises and maybe a little blood, he’s barely shut the door when Tharja’s form slinks out of the back room, leaning against the wall on her shoulder. “...Well?” She questions expectantly, index finger tapping against her arm from where she’s folded them.
Never one to beat around the bush, he expected nothing less. And though normally he was just as to-the-point, today, he holds a straight face, looking up at her with expertly hidden emotion. “ ...’Well’ what ?”
An agitated huff leaves her, brows narrowing behind her dark bangs. “Don’t toy with me, you know damn well, what.”
He quirks a brow...and then a moment later, a smile. “ Ah, that .” Reaching into his shirt, he pulls out a metal chain with an iron pendant emblazoned with the crest of West Ferox, holding it up for her to see. Tharja stomps over to him, her patience obviously worn thin. She grabs at the pendant and barely gives it a glance before glaring up at him. “This means nothing to me, did you do it or not?”
A light chuckle leaves him in response, accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders. “Technically I can’t say anything, it’s not official yet, but ...” He’s certain she can fill in the blanks from there. And she does, a smirk pulling to her lips in response as she tugs harder on the chain, lowering his face down closer to hers. “Good. Losing doesn’t suit you.” And he’s already lost twice before...Not exactly his crowning moments, for sure. He’d never been a graceful loser, and most wouldn’t call him a graceful winner, either. The word ‘arrogant’ had been tossed around more than once.
But he knows much of his success is due to her. Tharja had always pressed him to improve himself, helped increase his resistance, helped him learn to read and write on at least a basic level...other things he can’t even recall, but all essential skills he’d need to succeed as a leader. She tugs on the chain just a little more, and he follows the silent command, leaning down further to firmly press his lips to hers. She returns the gesture in earnest, easily coaxing him into a deeper passion with little more than the movement of her mouth. His blood is still pumping from the fight, adrenalin still coursing through his body from the victory. Lon’qu’s hands quickly find their way to her hips, eagerly pulling her in closer until her body is flush against his. Her hands wander as well, sliding up behind his neck and past the collar of his shirt. The familiar sensation of long nails pressing into his skin spurs him on more, moving his affections from her mouth to her cheek and then down her jawline.
A heavy exhale leaves him, breath hitting the skin of her neck as he feels her leg begin to slide up against his own. Calloused hands slide down further past her hips and further down before sliding around to wrap behind her thighs. Strong arms make easy work of lifting her up, one hand trailing up towards her lower back as her legs wrap around his waist. All the while, his lips down stop, tracing along the side of her throat.
She wasn’t one to relinquish dominance long, and a few moments later she growls in a sensual manner, tucking her head back in to lunge towards his neck in turn. It only takes a kiss or two before he feels teeth nip at the skin, drawing a groan from the back of his throat as he lifts her up higher, digging his fingertips into the small of her back as his other hand clutches tighter around her thigh, hand sliding across her smooth skin.
The fire between them quickly kindling, he growls when she drags her nails up the skin of his back, leaving red lines in their wake and small traces of blood on her fingertips. Her legs wrap tighter, jostling his bruised ribs that were still sore from the battle. Despite his pain tolerance, he flinches, gasping from the sudden shot of pain as he grits his teeth. “ Damnit, try not to break me in half today ...” he mutters as she continues her assault on his neck. Tharja pauses for only a moment, forehead hovering just an inch from his as she stares him down, gaze scrutinizing and impatient. “...Don’t tell me you’re too sore to celebrate...”
Lon’qu’s gaze narrows, leaning back in towards her ear, voice a low rumbling whisper as he speaks. “ I didn’t say that ...” Shifting his hold on her to toss her up higher in his hold by a few inches. Despite the way it aggravates his ribs, he does little more than wince, instead focusing his attention on her collarbone, feet starting to move towards the hall.
A little pain would be well worth it...Hell, a lot would.