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“You are rather composed given the situation.”
“I have seen this happen many a time. Though it had yet to happen to me before now, I was aware that it was a possibility. But from what we know it takes repeated exposure to be permanent.”
“How very calm and logical of you.”
“It would do no favors to panic.”
Others had already taken it upon themselves to be panicked in his stead. To be fair to them; Haurchefant dropping to the ground and convulsing after the confrontation had already concluded seems an appropriate time to worry. And given what had shortly followed—
“I will admit, it is rather strange.” Haurchefant concedes.
“Anything specific or—” Thancred gestures towards Haurchefant vaguely, “—just in general?”
Haurchefant is sitting on the edge of one of the medical beds in the Rising Stones. Thancred was the one that was kind enough to bring him here as Haurchefant was not in a position to do so under his own power at the time. Thancred had asked for his assistance with a group of smugglers that were set to travel through Mor Dhona. Intel the man had said they were transporting drugs that “a friend of a friend” wanted stopped before they could get to Ul’dah. It was not a difficult ask, hardly a scratch gained from the confrontation. The mishap happened once the smugglers were already confined and awaiting transport for questioning, it wasn’t even by their hand that anything happened.
“I feel fine, no fatigue or pain, everything just feels... odd.”
“You have scales covering three quarters of your body, your hands replaced with some wicked looking claws, you’ve grown a pair of horns and acquired a new limb in the form of a tail.” Thancred’s voice is deadpan, “All that you did not have a quarter bell ago.”
“Well, when you put it like that.” said with a wry grin.
Just as Thancred described, Haurchefant appeared to be frozen halfway to transforming into a dragon. One of the items that the smugglers were transporting was dragon blood. Something they had not secured properly and had fallen directly onto Haurchefant while their cargo was being searched. The container broke, and some blood managed to get into his mouth. To anyone else, it would have just been a minor annoyance, a ghastly tasting one, but hardly an inconvenience.
But to an Ishgardian...
“There is, strictly speaking, nothing physically wrong with you.” Y’shtola speaks up from his side where she had been examining him, “You are not impaired in any way. You already said there was no more pain once the transformation halted. And while your aether is more dense than usual it gives me no cause for concern. If you are confident that this is indeed temporary, and you feel fine otherwise, there is no reason to keep you on bed rest or under observation if you feel it unnecessary.”
“I do appreciate the concern. But I see no reason to worry as of now.”
“Do you know how long the effects typically last for?”
“My only experience has been in regards to combat, specifically on the opposing side of the field. They had all been fully transformed instead of this but did not last a long time.” He clears his throat, “Mostly because any knight would prioritize dragons as the larger threat over men. I have seen as short as a quarter bell and as long as half a day. For transformations that were temporary.”
“That was active combat. Likely using more aether will “use up” the blood quicker. It’s possible this halfway form could last longer if you are not active.” Y’shtola muses, “Any idea why you did not fully transform like the others?”
“I’m not sure.” Haurchefant raises his hand, slowly clenching and unclenching his fist, watching scales shift with the movement, “Maybe...” Most of his knowledge regarding anything aether related lies in practical applications. Specifically battle. He won’t be much help in theory or in-depth understanding.
“It is never wise to toss a theory before examining it properly.” He focuses back on Y’shtola as she speaks, “You have the most experience in this situation. Even if it seems trivial to you, you have a greater insight than the rest of us have as a starting point.”
“Who am I to dispute the words of such a distinguished scholar.”
“I’ve no need for flattery, merely answers.”
“All work and no play for you studious types.” He sighs, playfully exaggerated, “Very well. All other instances I've witnessed of someone ingesting dragon blood it was because they chose to; they wanted to turn. I did not.”
“They welcomed the change, and you fought it.” Y’shtola surmises.
Haurchefant nods, “I knew what it was the moment it touched my tongue, even without ever having tasted it before. And all I could think is how I did not want it. Fighting might have also made it unusually uncomfortable.” Hence, the aforementioned convulsing.
“And the blood is too potent to completely fight off, so you ended up with this.”
“That’s my guess.”
“Being outside of the observed norm we don’t have an estimated timeline to work off. You are confident it’s temporary?”
“Completely.” One of the things they know with certainty is that once it not enough for a permanent transformation.
“Then we shall wait a few days. If it hasn’t faded on its own we shall begin looking for another solution. Now,” there is a mischievous glint in her eye, “will you be telling Adrian, or shall I?”
“She had business to attend to with an old friend. This isn’t urgent enough to warrant disturbing her when she is to return tomorrow.”
Thancred walks back over to the pair, grinning. Haurchefant did not notice he had moved away, “She’ll be here any moment.”
“And how do you know that?” Y’shtola asks.
“I called and told her Haurchefant was in the medical wing in the Rising Stones and then pocketed my linkpearl.”
There are muffled voices coming from the main room rising in volume that draws their attention, a startled shout and loud thud. Thancred gently grabs Y’shtola’s shoulders and takes three large steps away from the door just before it’s thrown open. The wooden door lets out a sharp crack as it slams into the wall from the force of the anxious roegadyn barreling through it.
Adrian is gripping tight onto the doorframe, threatening to splinter that too. Eyes wide she gasps out, “What happened?!”
Haurchefant is quick to placate, “I’m alright dear, I promise.”
She’s standing in front of him before he finishes speaking. Looking him over, looking for injuries, “Yer okay?”
“Yes I am.”
“Then why are ye in...” Adrian voice tapers off as she actually registers what she’s seeing. Slowly reaching out, she grabs one of his horns and Haurchefant’s head tilts to the side as she gently pulls. Letting go, her eyes jump from his face to his chest to his hands to his legs. Then drawn to the movement of his tail shifting across the bedsheets and just stares. “What, uh... happened?”
“I accidentally ingested dragon blood.” He explains. Now that she no longer looked panicked, he allows himself to feel amused at Adrian’s sudden stunned speechlessness.
“He is completely fine otherwise.” adds Y’shtola.
“And this will wear off on its own.” Her hand is still hovering from when she grabbed his horns. Haurchefant gently grabs her wrist and her focus snaps over to where he touches her. He lets go, a bit confused, and she quickly grabs his hand and continues to stare at it. The silence drags on, “... Dear?”
She startles, a slight jolt he only notices because she’s holding his hand, “Uh, yea. Yea. Ok. If ye say it’s fine then... yea...” She stumbles over her words.
“I’m sorry to have caused you unnecessary worry, but I will be fine to remain here. You can finish the job you had suddenly left and return tomorrow as originally planned.”
“… Right.” It’s said more to herself than as a proper response, while staring past his shoulder. She lets go of him and slowly pulls her hand back.
Thin threads of worry start to creep into Haurchefant’s chest as Adrian continues to respond in a distracted manner. Is something wrong? Did she hurt herself in her haste to reach the Rising Stones? Or had something else happened? He reaches toward Adrian, freezing when her head snaps to stare down at his hand. Then she’s drawn to the restless movement of his feet. Anytime he moves or shifts she’s zeroed in on the motion with an intent focus, staring at any new part of him she's found altered with an expression he can’t decipher.
“I’ll leave.” Breaking the silence Adrian straightens suddenly from where she was leaning down towards him, looking back toward the door, “Have t’ go finish helpin’ out Jacke…”
Haurchefant pushes down the hints of unease he feels, offering back a smile, “Of course. I shall see you upon your return.”
Still not looking at him, she nods already appearing distracted again, “I’ll… see ya later.”
The following movement has long become instinctual. Haurchefant tilts his head back leaning towards Adrian, but the kiss goodbye he’s expecting with the farewell does not come. Instead, Adrian silently disappears in a swirl of aether, leaving him blinking at the sudden empty space in front of him in stunned confusion.
Haurchefant looks down at himself. He did not think all of this to be so concerning or outlandish. He did not end up fully shifting into a dravanian and he remains largely a man, not having changed enough to not be immediately recognized as himself. Honestly, he thought he simply looked like an au ra. Though everyone knows that he is not, so seeing him suddenly have scales and a tail must be jarring. But he still cannot quite place Adrian’s reaction. It seemed to be more than just simple surprise. There is no chance that this situation rates high in shocking things she has witnessed in just the last few years alone.
“She seemed… rather thrown off kilter.” Y’shtola breaks the silence.
Thancred hums, “Something along those lines.”
“I’m sure she was simply surprised. And probably had to hurry back after leaving her work so suddenly. No doubt she will have plenty to say once she returns again.”
Haurchefant wonders what his expression looks like for Y’shtola to offer words of comfort. Quickly veiling it with a smile he stands, tail lashing for a moment as he gets used to the sudden weight, “You’re likely right. I thank you again for your assistance.” He offers a bow, “I shall keep you no longer.”
“You’re welcome of course. And you will contact me the moment anything feels amiss.”
“I promise. Not angering your healer is a lesson a knight need learn only once.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’ve only irked your camp’s chiurgeon once?”
He grins, saccharine sweet, “I’m saying that I will not irk you.”
Haurchefant gives his goodbyes to the pair before leaving, intending to wait out the next few days sequestered at home. He was not lying when he said he felt perfectly fine. It would be no issue for him to be out, but it seems easier to just let this pass in privacy instead of having to deal with the staring and then explaining to anyone he runs into what has happened to him. It sounds much too exhausting, so he’ll instead relax in the comfort of his and Adrian’s home.
And now he is thinking back to Adrian again. She is not well known for keeping her thoughts from her face, and he has always loved how expressive she is. It makes it easy to tell how she’s feeling without her having to say anything. Once you’ve learned her tells and know what to look for. At the Rising Stones she was distressed when she first arrived—that would be obvious to anyone—then relieved, followed by some irritation at realizing Thancred riled her up on purpose. Shock came when she actually took in what she was seeing, but then after that is something he can’t recall ever seeing with her.
While discovering something new is oft exciting, Haurchefant can’t help that little nagging feeling. The way her expression froze while her gaze focused on any part of him except his face, unable to meet his eyes once she realized what’s happened. Her voice was distracted, listless; he would almost call her tone a forced indifference, but indifference to cover what? Was she displeased at the meaningless interruption? Was it discomfort with the situation? Was she… uncomfortable with him?
This transformation is wholly unnatural; only affecting Ishgardians whose bloodline can be traced back to the original Knights Twelve. When he originally learned of this, he was more focused on the shock at learning of his kin’s betrayal than the lasting consequences that affect them even now. He had never planned to ingest dragon blood so he did not linger on that knowledge long. But there are many within Ishgard who found such an affliction disgusting. And no doubt many of those outside their boarders would think the same. At the time, Adrian had not expressed an opinion on it either way. More focused on the task at hand of halting the Archbishop’s schemes. Now that it is in front of her, affected her in a way that she cannot ignore, has she found her own disgust for it? Did she look at him and loathe what she saw, but did not wish to speak such thoughts aloud?
He should not be jumping to such conclusions. Maybe she truly was just shocked at what she saw and when she returns home tomorrow she’ll be as she always is. Maybe he’s worrying for nothing. There is no need to fret over unfounded worries.
Haurchefant does his best to not dwell on those dreary thoughts for the remainder of the day. He does a rather good job of it as he’s forced to focus on not tripping over his feet trying to walk across the room. Or trying to remember to account for his tail and not knock things off the side table for the third time. Or repeatedly forgetting to account for his new claws and catching them on the cushions, couch pillows, or his own clothing.
And then comes trying to go to bed. He can’t lie on his back, it’s supremely uncomfortable with a tail he’s found out. Trying to lay down on his side is similarly unacceptable as his horns make it difficult to get comfortable. So he has to lie on his front, with his head tilted awkwardly to find some semblance of comfort. Do au ra have this same problem? Are they used to it and it doesn’t bother them or do they have pillows made just for their comfort? His body still remembers his days as a commander, where it was crucial to get rest where one could, regardless of the circumstances, so once he finally gets settled it mercifully doesn’t take long before he falls asleep.
——————
When he wakes in the morning, he immediately registers another presence in his bed. Adrian must have arrived sometime late into the night. Her back moves with slow, steady breaths of someone soundly asleep. It appears that she merely kicked off her boots, took off her coat and shirt and flopped down onto the mattress. She must have been quite tired when she got back to not bother to even get under the covers. Did she rush on his account or did the job just take less time than anticipated?
Regardless he is happy to see her. Haurchefant reaches out, intending to run his palm up her back, but freezes when he catches sight of his hand; covered in white scales and tipped in sharp claws. He had momentarily forgotten about yesterday’s events. Hand hovering over her back, he hesitates. He… should wait for her to wake before he imposes his touch on her. Surely there’s nothing to worry about, but he does not want to presume on the off chance that there is. So instead, he quietly slips out of bed and heads downstairs.
———
It seems increasingly likely that he was wrong as the day continues on.
He had made himself breakfast and was working on replying to a letter from Emmanilain telling him about the coming and goings at Camp Dragonhead—he is happy to see that the title of responsibility is working well for his younger brother—when he hears footsteps coming from the bedroom above him about a half bell after Haurchefant himself woke. Not long after Adrian is walking down the stairs, rubbing at her face and not bothering to look where she’s going as she lets muscle memory of countless mornings take over. Upon reaching the living room she stops and drops her hand to stare at the couch—the empty couch—in bleary confusion. Understandable as Haurchefant is usually there in the morning for her to lie against or on top of while she dozes for a bit longer before fully waking up. This time though, he did not wish to accidentally tear—another—hole in the upholstery and opted to eat his breakfast in the dining room for once. She looks away from the couch to glance around the room and she’s quick to spot him at the table.
“Good morning Dearheart.” He greets softly.
She hums in lieu of a proper response, walking over and passing behind him to collapse into the chair next to him. Lying her head down on her crossed arms and closing her eyes, looking like she’ll fall back asleep on the tabletop at any moment. There’s a warmth in his chest every time she seeks him out. When there is nothing urgent to be awake for, Adrian is decidedly not an early riser like he is. Yet she still insists on finding him in the morning not long after he wakes and leaves their bed. He reaches out to brush her hair back and again, he hesitates. A little voice vehemently pointing out how she hasn’t chosen to touch him yet. Haurchefant silently insists to himself that this is a deviation from their normal morning routine, and that the dining table does not lend well to cuddling, but he can’t make himself follow through. He instead pushes his plate with the other half of his muffin and salmon towards Adrian.
Her eyes blink open at the sound of porcelain scraping across wood, looking from the plate to him. He offers a smile, tapping the plate in gentle encouragement. Her gaze focuses on his finger, suddenly looking more awake, as his claw makes a gentle “ting” against the plate. Quite abruptly reminded of Adrian’s evident possible dislike of how he looks, not wanting to push and cause her further discomfort, has him barely restraining from yanking his hand back. Focusing instead on calmly turning back to his letter and not watching Adrian’s intent shocked and disgusted gaze. Making sure his elbows are tucked in and keeping his tail curled close, giving Adrian a bit more space without physically moving away. Silence lingers from the other end of the table and Haurchefant tells himself that it is just the usual drowsy quiet of the morning. Once he hears Adrian begin to eat he tells her of the things Emmanilain had mentioned in his letter. He can track the process of her fully shaking off sleep as her responses grow from grunts, to single words, then proper replies.
Their day carries on like any other except for the fact that there seems to be an invisible barrier between the two of them. Becoming increasingly aware of how often they reach out towards each other by how frequently Haurchefant must stop himself from doing so and each time he feels an absence from Adrian when she is close by. And she remains close the entire day. Except for when she went outside for some weapon maintenance—it only took one instance of a dropped oil vial ruining the rug for her to no longer take care of her arms in the living room—she has lingered in whatever room he has been in. Which, again, nothing out of the ordinary to gravitate toward each other even as they go about separate tasks, but there is only so many times he can watch his wife start to move toward him, pause mid step as her face flashes that uncomfortable expression, before she awkwardly shifts to settle further away. And yet as this goes on she does not choose to just leave the room, instead seeming to force herself to try and act as if nothing has changed. He hopes she is not forcing such a displeasure on herself for his sake.
It’s the late afternoon before they finally manage to address it. Haurchefant moves to pass by Adrian. Lifting a hand to brush against her back both in a thoughtless gesture to let her know he’s behind her, as her focus is elsewhere, and habitual desire to reach out toward her. A motion he isn’t consciously aware of and doesn’t realize he’s doing it until his fingers graze her lower back. Contrary to what usually happens, Adrian jumps; whirling around and bumping her shoulder into the wall as she turns to him with wide, startled eyes. The twinge in his chest at her reaction harshly reminds him of how his wife cannot stand to be near him.
He thinks he does a good job of speaking past the tightness in his throat without giving away his disquiet, “My apologies. I understand that you do not welcome my touch in this state.” Adrian doesn’t say anything and Haurchefant can’t meet her eyes to see what sort of expression she has, “I shall keep to myself and avoid any contact until this has resolved itself.”
Intending to continue down the hall he’s startled when Adrian grabs his arm and pulls him back, “Why do ye think that? Who said that t’ ye?” She asks with genuine concern.
Did she think she had better hidden her distaste? He can understand that she would not want her discomfort to be known, and he can believe it is more out of concern for his feelings which does offer some comfort. Though not enough to counter having to speak aloud to the unease that has permeated their home.
“No one has spoken as such. You have... done all you could to avoid touching me since you have returned home. I do not mean it as an accusation, I just do not wish to cause you more discomfort that I already have.”
Adrian makes a strangled, cut-off noise and when Haurchefant looks back he’s shocked to see that she looks stricken, “That’s not—Ye didn’t—I was only—!” She grabs his shoulders, her words tripping over each other as her eyes jump from his face to his chest and arms. Her hands twitch, as if she wants to pull back but was forcing herself not to.
Even if it goes against his own desires, Haurchefant tries to gently tell her, “You need not force yourself.”
She pulls him closer in sole defiance to his statement, “But I’m not—!” Cutting herself off with a frustrated sound, Adrian hangs her head down taking a deep breath and letting it out in a harsh huff. Haurchefant patiently waits for her to gather her thoughts. All the while he enjoys the simple warmth of Adrian’s touch, even if it is somewhat muted through the scales.
Finding her words, Adrian looks up and steadily meets his eyes, taking extra care to articulate as she speaks, “First off; you can’t just go belly up an’ accept that kind o’ disrespect without sayin’ anythin’. Even if it’s me—especially if it’s me.” There’s anger that leaks into her words, but this he recognizes as being directed at herself. She quickly continues, likely knowing he’ll notice and comment on it if she doesn’t speak fast enough, “Second; I did not marry you for yer looks. I married you because you look at th’ world an’ choose t’ offer kindness. Because that kindness doesn’t make you weak. Because yer just… good where ’m not.” Her hands move from his shoulders to hold his face as she leans closer, “I love you ‘cause you treat me like a person, even when I’m a fuckin’ mess. You smile at me an’ I want t’ protect that happiness How you look has nothin’ t’ do with my feelings fer you. Yer looks are just a bonus.”
“O-oh.” Heat rushes up Haurchefant’s neck. There was no doubt in his heart that Adrian cared for him as he did her. But she is one more for action over words, so having her state her feelings so plainly makes him feel novelly flustered.
“And I would be undeserving o’ any love from you if m’ feelings changed just ‘cause o’ how yer looks changed. Third I...” She clears her throat, suddenly looking more awkward, tone a bit less confident, “I’m not not touching ye ‘cause I don’t want t’... I’m forcing myself not t’ touch ye when what I what is th’ opposite.”
She is keeping her distance because she does not want to keep her distance? “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“It’s— Dammit—!” She pulls back to drag a hand down her face, frustrated at trying to verbalize her thoughts. The nerves make her speak faster, her hands gesticulating with her words, “Ye had this happen t’ ye against yer will. Ye probably—I thought that ye were uncomfortable. An’ that ye wouldn’t need—” She lets out a sharp breath, “Ye wouldn’t want me putting m’ hands all over ye like—just because I wanted—” She tilts her head back and stares up at the ceiling in mild defeat, “I didn’t want t’ make ye uncomfortable—more uncomfortable—just because I was feeling... selfish.”
Make him feel uncomfortable? She thought that he would not want her touch, but she was the one keep at arms length. Or, well… he initially set that distance first didn’t he? When Adrian returned home he wanted to allow her some time to adjust thinking that she was uncomfortable, thinking that’s what she needed after her initial reaction in the Rising Stones. Did they misunderstand each other? Did he misread her initial surprise as discomfort? Thinking back she did not pull away or flinch at his touch then. She seemed shocked, but she’s the one that reached out first. Did she look at his reservation upon returning home and take it to mean he wanted space and worked to keep that buffer through the day? She spoke of denying her own wants, of being selfish. What does she mean by that?
Adrian resolutely keeps her gaze pointed upward as she waits for a reply. Most of her face is out of view but Haurchefant can see a dark blush across her cheeks and tip of her ears.
“Dear?”
“Aye?”
“Have you refrained from touching me because you were horny?”
“… Aye.”
“Because you thought I would not be comfortable with such advances while I was like this?”
“Aye.”
He can’t help but smile a little at the absurdity of the situation. The frustration and worry that had saturated the past day already starts to melt away, letting amusement and fondness take its place. That this all came from them both making assumptions born from being worried over the other. The actions that had him concerned was her refraining from acting on her desires out of consideration for him.
Knowing now that he is truly free to indulge in touch once more Haurchefant rests his hands on her hips. That gets her looking back down again, “It was very sweet of you to worry over me.” He says truthfully, tracing his thumbs along her hipbones, “But I must insist that I feel fine. It is different yes, but I am not uncomfortable I promise you.”
“Really?” She sounds tentatively eager.
“Yes. So, as you have always had permission to, you may put your hands on me in any manner you wish my dear.”
Adrian is quiet, looking intently for any sign of hesitance or second thoughts. She sees none as there is nothing to find and surges forward to grab his face and seal her mouth over his. Haurchefant wastes no time pulling her closer in response. Pressing them together from chest to hip, shifting his legs to get even closer. His grip on her waist tightens, inadvertently pricking her skin with his claws. She hisses, pulling back and looking down at his hands.
“Apologies.” He relaxes his grip, “I shall endeavor to be—”
“I want ye t' dig those claws int’ m’ back while yer fuckin’ me.”
“—more careful.”
Dragging her eyes up Haurchefant can plainly see her want, “Careful is th’ last thing I’m lookin’ fer.”
“Darling I have no desire to hurt you so.” Being rough is one thing; dragging what is, for all intents and purposes, multiple knives across your lover’s skin is another.
She's pressing him back against the wall, her body a long line of heat against his front as her lips brush his ear, “Even if it’s what I want? Even if I explicitly ask fer it? Even if I get on m’ knees an’ ask real sweet like?” There’s a hand on his chest, trailing up his neck until fingers rest against his jaw. Her thumb presses against this chin, nail grazing his lips before slipping between his teeth to gently press down, “If yer feelin' bitey too I wouldn't complain.” Her own teeth nip at his ear, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine quickly followed by heat.
Unable to reply verbally he drags his tongue across the pad of her thumb.
“Unless…" she leans back enough to meet his eyes, the enticement in her tone replaced with something more serious, "You really aren’t interested. Then I won’t push.”
He knows that he could say no and she would drop the topic and continue as they were with no issue. With that certainty he allows himself a moment to think it over beyond his initial knee jerk reaction. His claws could do some proper damage, even if he’s careful. The faintest pressure had him tearing clothes and cushions. But on the other hand; the one asking regularly goes toe to toe with eikons, has healed from all manner of what would be life-threatening wounds to anyone else without flinching or complaint. Talons raking down her back is probably the same to her as anyone else dragging blunt nails across skin for all the danger it poses to her. This form of his is definitively temporary, if he says no there is unlikely to ever be this chance again. So why shouldn’t they take advantage of such a unique situation? No one has ever accused Haurchefant of forgoing indulgences, so how could he deny his wife’s own. Especially when it is easy for him to satisfy such wants.
He grabs her wrist and presses a kiss to her palm, “Maybe I can be persuaded.”
Adrian’s mouth slowly stretches into a grin, “Yea?”
“One condition. Besides, obviously, a safeword.”
“Deal.” She’s already leaning down again, dragging her tongue along his neck where scales meet skin. And then retracing that path with her teeth.
Haurchefant tilts his head back with a sharp inhale, reaching up to curl a hand behind her neck, “You didn’t even hear what I had to say.”
“Compromise ‘s important ‘n relationships.” Is what she says against his jaw before putting tongue and teeth to his throat once more, intent to make sure his neck is thoroughly marked to her liking. Haurchefant is glad that the scales do not completely cover his neck. He would detest to deprive Adrian of one of her favorite pastimes.
But before they can get too distracted, he pulls Adrian back, needing a proper agreement before they continue as she wants. Like this, the height difference between them is not so pronounced and now he is nearly eye to eye with her. The realization brings him delight, his tail swinging with the emotion before he can get it under some semblance of control and curl forward around Adrian’s thigh to keep it still. When she looks down at the touch he takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around her waist and flip their positions, instead pinning her up against the wall, making use of the bit of added bulk he’s gotten.
With the hand still at the back of her neck he pulls her down the few ilms needed to press their foreheads together, “My condition, is that you take of my aether to heal yourself afterwards.” His other hand runs up her side, slipping under her shirt with his fingers loosely curled toward his palm to drag the back of his claws across her skin with a feather light touch, “Do we have a deal?”
He gets to watch up close as her pupils dilate, “Yea, deal.”
His response is spreading his fingers as he drags his hand back down with the slightest bit more pressure, enough to draw marks but not break skin. The shiver and accompanying groan she lets out is already satisfying to hear. Feeling a bit impish he pulls his hand away. Adrian immediately makes a questioning sound.
“We may need more protection for the mattress lest it get completely ruined.” He presses a hand against the wall, drumming his fingers with his claws tap-tap-tapping just by her head, “Blood is always irksome to clean. I would hate to ruin the bed.”
She groans, now with impatience, her touch growing imploring. Hands grasping his hips and pulling as if he could get any closer. Wanting his attention back, as if she had ever lost it, “I will buy a new mattress. I will build us a new bed.” Voice dangerously close to a plea. She fists a hand into his collar, shifting to press her thigh between his legs with insistent pressure, “Now fuck me.”
Haurchefant nips at her bottom lip, “As my lady commands.”