Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Just go, you don’t have to suffer on my account. I’m not going anywhere.” Canach said to the Lionguard outside his cage, she was standing with her back stiff and thighs pressed tightly together. Her bright green skin had a sheen to it that wasn’t normal even for a sylvari.

“I’m. Fine.” Sheriff Siriam insisted quietly enough not to be overheard by the crowd of refugees milling around the Vigil Keep. “I can wait until they send someone to replace me.”

“And when do you think that will be? Hm?” He leaned back against the bars and made a show of examining his fingernails. It was hard to discern against the grey of his skin but he was sure he had accumulated some soot under them. He had a light coating of it on his thorny armor of bark and foliage as well. Under the circumstances, the Lionguard had allowed him to wear it during the evacuation.

“They’ve clearly forgotten about us, what with all the death and turmoil and all of the--” he waved a hand in the general direction of smoking ruins of Lions Arch in the distance. Even this far out there was an acrid tang on the air. “Well...” he paused as he noticed a familiar face among the crowd and his stomach soured, less in anger and more in humiliation and embarrassment of his own past actions. “More pressing matters,” he finished absently as he watched the Commander of the Pact, Skye Demonbane, coming ever closer. Dressed in elegant light armor dyed black with subtle accents of red, ebony locks falling about her shoulders, fair skin practically glowing in the warm sunlight. The apple of the eye of the Vigil. Defender of Tyria. Captor of Canach, the dastardly, albeit well-meaning, fugitive of Southsun Cove.

He frowned as she suddenly veered to the side and stopped to stare out over the parapet. He couldn’t see her face at this angle but he saw her fist clench at her side and her shoulders rose and fell in heavy short controlled breaths. She stood like that for a few minutes until her breaths slowed, and then she quickly swiped her hands across her cheeks, she took a deep steadying breath and squared her shoulders before stepping away from the wall. The skin around her eyes was slightly red and patchy, the way some humans looked after crying.

What must it be like to have eyes on you every moment of every day, looking to you for strength and direction after every calamity? Even when all you really wanted was to curl up in a dark corner somewhere and have a good cry. Some prisons had no bars. He suddenly felt...sorry? For her?

Honestly, he had been a little high at the time of their last encounter and his memories of it were a bit fuzzy. It wasn’t entirely his fault. He now knew to wear a mask and gloves when handling certain compounds. In light of the circumstances he felt that he should have been given more leniency than he had received. He had only been trying to help. Sure, his methods were questionable, but it got the job done in the end and he had been satisfied to hear that the ship carrying the contracts the Consortium had swindled people into signing had sunk to the bottom of the cove.

He eyed his guardian. The sheriff was grimacing in discomfort. Fairly soon there would be a pungent wet spot beside his cage, he was sure of it. If he was stuck in this cage he didn’t want it to smell like sewage, especially in this heat. He had a thought then. If there was anyone more sympathetic to the plight of people in need than the commander he couldn’t think of one. Perhaps some busywork would keep her mind off from the most current disaster for a short time as well. It would be mutually beneficial for all parties involved.

“Commander! Might I have a word?” He called out. Her head swiveled, looking for the source of his voice through the crowd.

“What are doing? Be quiet,” Siriam snapped but it was too late the commander had pinpointed his location and--curious creature that she was--came over to his cage.

“Oh, it's you,” the commander muttered crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes, me,” Canach replied brightly, leaning his forearm on the bars above his thorny head and peering out at her.

Startled by this development the sheriff attempted to intervene, she warned the commander not to talk to him because he wasn’t supposed to be in contact with anyone and began apologizing profusely, he decided to cut her off before she embarrassed herself further and started debasing herself at the commander’s feet or something.

“Listen, we have been here for hours and my endearing companion here needs to use,” he lowered his voice, “the facilities.”

“I do not--” Siriam squeaked. “I mean, be silent prisoner!” He could practically hear the leaves of her hair rustling in humiliation and she blushed so brightly that he could see the faint glowing markings on her skin even under the late afternoon sunlight.

“Don’t get your branches in a twist, I’m sure the commander here understands, we all have basic needs.” As he spoke he realized that the twitchy sprout probably would relieve herself on the brickwork rather than bring attention to herself or admit she wasn’t an automaton who didn’t need to do things like pee. “Like I, for example,” he continued. “Haven’t eaten in over a day. The breakfast service at my previous accommodations was cut short by the machinations of a certain red-headed deviant, you see.”

“How very sad for you,” the commander commented, the lack of concern in her voice was poignant.

“And while I do find all of this fresh air and sunshine revitalizing,” he continued undeterred. “I fear that without further sustenance soon my foliage will begin to simply wilt away until I am no more, and we wouldn’t want the untimely demise of a prisoner on the hands of the Lionguard would we? Especially one so handsome--and on top of...well, everything else. So perhaps you could stand watch while my keeper scrounges up something relatively edible for me.”

“And there it is,” the commander muttered with a tired sigh.

 He gave the commander a pointed look before saying, “And does her business?”

The commander squinted at him. Her irises were pale silver, almost white, but not quite as white as the rest of her eyes. He wondered if she were born with those eyes or if they were a result of her necromancy, or perhaps they were simply cosmetic.

“I, really should, feed him,” Siriam replied haltingly, finally catching on to the game, carefully not looking at the commander.

The commander eyed the guard for a moment, took in her strained stance, then bore suspicious eyes back into Canach. “Go,” she said without taking her eyes from him. “Do what you need to do. I’ll watch him. It’s not like I have anything better to do until the miasma in the city clears.”

The guard saluted gratefully, even though technically the Lionguard was not under the command of the Pact or their commander, being a hero of the people bought her a certain level of trust and respect regardless of her official station he supposed. Siriam took off at a quick ground-eating pace but after a short distance she straightened her back suddenly and slowed to more careful measured steps.

“A steak would be nice!” Canach called after her. “Medium-rare!” She threw a glare over her shoulder at him. He chuckled softly.

“Enjoying yourself are we?” the commander asked, she was frowning at him in disapproval. He sobered a little, reminded that only minutes ago she had been secretly crying over the parapet and saw how his frivolity may have appeared to her.

“Why yes,” he replied. “I am alive.” He met her eyes. “And so are you.” He pointed out. “So we should enjoy every minute that we have, don’t you think? No matter what form of prison we find ourselves locked in.”

Her gaze softened slightly and she studied him through the bars for a time. Quietly assessing him. “Throw that,” she suddenly hissed, startling him. “And I will cut your hand off and feed it to the drakes.” For a brief moment, he wondered if she had lost her mind but then she turned her gaze from Canach to somewhere behind and to the side of his cage.

He followed her line of sight to a small charr cub standing with their arm poised over their head, aimed at Canach, wide feline eyes staring back at her in surprise. She unfolded her arms and rested one hand on the handle of the axe at her hip, she casually tapped her fingers on it one finger after the other, taptaptaptap, taptaptaptap, as she stared the child down. The cub gasped and dropped what looked to be a particularly rancid handful of offal, it splattered to the stone and the little furball dashed off as though their tail were on fire.

“You have such a delightful way with children,” Canach commented but he had a satisfied crook to his lips, grateful he wasn’t covered in anything more than the light dusting of soot he had acquired.

He adjusted his chest piece, he had lost some weight since he had worn it last and it didn’t quite fit the same.

She followed his movement and eyed his armor, hesitating over the long orange thorns growing out of the hard leaves of the pauldron that covered one shoulder. “They really let you wear that?”

“What’s the matter, Commander? Afraid I might hug you to death?”

She snorted in mild amusement and rolled her eyes at him and then gave him her back, crossing her arms again as she waited for the Lionguard to return, effectively cutting off any further invitation for chatter. Not that that would deter him. And it didn’t. He leaned his non-pauldron covered shoulder against the bars and hooked his arm through. He rested his forehead against a crossbar, it lined his face up with an open space in the bars and gave him a clear view of her. In all seriousness, he asked, “You’re leading a counter attack into the city soon then? To reclaim it?”

She eyed him over her shoulder then returned her gaze forward. They stood in silence for a few breaths and he was beginning to think she wasn’t going to answer him. “Yes,” she finally said. She glanced at him again, there was something in her eyes, something haunted? She looked back out over the parapet. “There are people down there, in the medic tents,” she began, voice solemn. “Who breathed in Scarlet’s poison, and don’t even know they’re dead yet.” She was looking in the direction of the makeshift camp that had been set up in a field below, it wasn’t actually visible from where they were but he had passed it on his exodus here so he knew where it was.

A lot of people had not made it out of the city alive, and apparently, not even some of the ones who had. What Scarlet had done was beyond cruel.

A raven cawed from the parapet nearby. Canach watched it for a time as it did raven things, fluffed its feathers and settled them again, hopped about, cocking its head this way and that in curiosity.

“You know,” he began. “If you happen to need something blown up, like say, a few Aetherblades, I’d be happy to assist you. Just let me out of this cage and point me in the right direction.”

She didn’t bother looking at him this time but he could tell when she rolled her eyes by the minute movement of her head. “Thanks, but we don’t need any of your kind of ‘help’.”

“Hurtful, but you can’t blame a man for trying,” he replied with a wistful sigh. “Don’t say I didn’t offer.” He scratched absently at the fine thorns on his chin that made up his beard as he glanced out across the rampart. It appeared his dinner was on the way. He straightened up. That was fast.

The sheriff arrived and saluted the commander again. “Thank you, Commander, I can take it from here.”

“I hope you remembered to wash your hands,” he quipped. The Lionguard eyed him with an unamused expression.

She offered him a bowl of what appeared to be some kind of stew. “I guess you’ll never know.”

Oh, was his little sister developing a sense of humor? How delightful. He gave her a lopsided smile and took the stew from her. The commander turned to leave. “Farewell Commander,” he called, she paused and looked back. “Perhaps one day you’ll warm up to me, though I doubt we’ll ever see one another again.”

“Six willing,” she muttered, but there was no bite to it, and then she was off.

******

Canach let himself through the door that led to the section of his club that housed the VIP guest rooms. Who would have thought that all these years later after he had been apprehended by the commander in a drug-fueled haze in Southsun Cove that they would both be here, now? The dragon threat abated. Him, wealthy beyond reason, her...he would say alive--had made that very joke to her just the other day actually, now that he thought about it. But to be honest, hadn’t he believed it? Owed a large chunk of his fortune to that fact really?

What was more unbelievable was the fact that she was here at all, in his club, in one of his guest rooms. One he had specifically decorated with her in mind. Even though he would deny that fact to anyone who asked. The walls held art and trinkets he had thought she would enjoy from across the world from throughout their travels. The room was decorated in the color scheme of the club but toned down slightly, more elegant. Because she was elegance. Elegance, grace, beautiful, dangerous. The way a thorned flower was, the wild kind you could not keep contained unless you knew exactly how to tend it.

He wondered if she would recognize the correlation of the colors of his club with her necromancy. The green of her necromantic magic, the gold of her sand shades, the accents of red like her blood magic. He hadn’t even realized he had done it himself until he had walked into the club for the first time after its completion. Of course, it had been a combined effort of architects, engineers, and artists, but he had been the one to finalize any designs and it was only when he saw it outside of drawings and plans that he had realized that his homage to his welcoming new home of Cantha had not been to Cantha at all, but to her. He hadn’t realized how much of her had seeped into his veins over the years until that moment.

Sayida had. For a short time, he had thought there had been a promise of more there, but she had made it clear to him that she was only interested in a business relationship. She had seen what he had tried so very hard to deny for a very long time.

When the commander had asked him to join her as her date to a small event at a tea house to support their friend Rama in his own endeavors of the heart Canach had jumped at the chance. He had tried to cover his enthusiasm by pretending that it was because he had been bored but the truth was that the only reason he had never asked her out himself before was because he had never believed she would ever see him that way. She was...‘The Commander’. Something perpetually out of his reach. It was hard to think of her as anything else. Let alone by her given name. Thinking of her as anything other than that brought with it painful memories of that one day years ago when he had witnessed both her death and resurrection.

That was the day he had begun thinking of her exclusively as ‘The Commander’ because faced with the mortality of the woman, Skye, had been too painful to bear while at the same time it had cemented home how inadequate he really was compared to her. How could one ever measure up or find themselves on equal footing with someone who had resurrected from the dead by their own force of will? It had shaken him to the core and he had walled off his blossoming feelings for her. Until now. Until their date. And, he thought, the date had gone...well. Hadn’t it?

That had been a few days ago. He stepped onto a lift platform. The lift powered up and began to rise, he centered his weight against the movement. The room the commander was in was on the top floor. He found himself replaying events as he waited for the lift to reach it’s destination. Over and over. Things he could have said or done differently. He should have kissed her at the end of the night. Left no doubt as to his intentions. But the doubt was there now, and it was eating him.

He nervously tapped the room key against the side of his leg. It was shaped like an octagonal card that could easily fit into a slim pocket. The jade tech in Cantha was superior to anything he had ever seen before--although the asura engineers he employed would argue that fact and did so frequently and fervently, much to the chagrin of the jade tech engineers he had also hired. When he could get them to get along long enough things like the enclosed lift and the keycard locks were products born of that collaboration. His club had many features that were a hybrid of both jade and asura technology.

The lift came to a stop and he hesitated. He stared apprehensively down the hallway decorated in all those emerald greens and warm golds and accents of red. He had told the commander that he would come to check in on her before the night was through, to make sure the accommodations he had chosen for her were adequate and that she had everything she needed, so it wasn’t like he was dropping in on her unexpectedly. He took a steadying breath, bringing with it a hint of the scent of his own cologne, and stepped off the lift.

He made his way down the hall. He had finished business up a little later than he had anticipated, what if she was sleeping? His steps slowed. Perhaps...he should wait until morning? Pale Tree, why was he such a coward? No, no, there was no turning back now. He quickened his pace so that he wouldn’t lose his nerve.

******

Skye fumbled at the mess of black laces at her back holding her corset together. Somehow it had gotten tangled when she had tried to untie it. She twisted to look in the mirror behind her to get a better angle to see what had gone so very wrong and how to undo it. It was in just the wrong place so that she could barely touch it without stretching her arms out of proportion and it was hard to see without looking at it directly.

She thought about cutting it off but she wasn't sure if that would disrupt the integrity of the magic in the light armor.

Armor was not really quite the right word to describe it really, it looked flimsy, like an outfit made to be worn at court or a masquerade. As she so often found herself in situations of the political or diplomatic nature as much as she did battle--sometimes at the same time--it was just as necessary to look the part as much as it was for her to have the magical protection it provided her.

The fabric of the corset barely covered her at all really. It flowed around her in patches of fabric in intricate formations and showed quite a bit of her pale skin and the curves of her breasts. An asset she was not afraid to use if necessary. In the right situations. As a distraction to her enemy right before sucking the life out of them with her vampiric dagger.

The sound of her room door opening and closing had Skye stepping around the dressing screen. Mentally preparing herself for a fight, as any who entered would have had to of gone through the security guards in the hall--or use a key she realized, relaxing at the sight of Canach, her friend and proprietor of the casino she was roomed in.

"Oh, its you," she said and moved back behind the screen to finish another kind of battle she had started. With her laces. "What can I do for you?"

"Commander," Canach said in way of greeting. He was always calling her by her title instead of using her name, something that frustrated her greatly, which she supposed was why he probably did it to tease her but she was not currently in the mood. "Not exactly the greeting I was expecting. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, sorry. I just--" she struggled to reach the knot again. "My stupid lacing is all tangled and its--gah."

She let out a huff and caught sight of him through a sliver of a gap in the screen between the fabric and the frame edge. He stood in profile, waiting. His eyes flicked around the room as though seeing it for the first time but as the one who had created this place must have been intimately familiar with already. The muscles in his long elegant neck shifted as he cocked his head slightly, listening for her.

He wore a white suit, it was both slick and charming like the sylvari himself was. He had left a few buttons open in his shirt that revealed a swath of smooth skin, dark grey green in color.

The suit didn't quite fit him she thought--not in sizing, it was tailored for him perfectly--it just didn't fit her idea of him, as so often the times they worked together he had been in sylvarian armor so the suit seemed almost out of place to her. But with the time of dragons coming to an end things were changing, he had changed, and soon she would have to find where she fit in this new world as well. Most of her friends and colleagues were going their own ways and she felt as though she were being left behind.

Canach had been gracious enough to offer her room and board in his casino while she figured things out so she took him up on the offer. Skye huffed again catching her own pale silver eyes in the mirror, they were frustrated, she was losing the battle of the laces.

"Do youuuu..." Canach started, probably hearing her annoyance, and trailed off before seeming to muster up the courage to finish his inquiry, "desire assistance?"

Skye peeked sheepishly around the corner of the dressing screen. Canach raised an eyebrow in question when he caught sight of her.

"Please," she conceded. She felt her face heat in embarrassment as she padded over to him on bare feet and presented her back.

"Hmmm," he muttered, the sound vibrating deep in the back of his throat in an almost purr as he examined her. "What a mess you have gotten yourself into."

"Is it salvageable do you think?" She looked over her shoulder at him to gauge his opinion on the matter and--was he looking at her ass? That was definitely not what he was supposed to be looking at. She thought she would be annoyed but instead she felt a flutter in her stomach and a heat blossom within.

His eyes flicked up to hers and he smirked, the movement drawing her eyes to his lips and twitching the fine dark thorns on his face in what accounted for sylvarian facial hair. She wondered briefly if they were actually as sharp as they looked and if they would prick her if she kissed the smirk off those lips.

"I think," he began, stepping closer and bringing with him the faint scent of what was probably expensive cologne. He gripped her upper arms, his touch warm, and adjusted her stance until she stood at an angle in the light he liked. "All you need are the nimble fingers of an experienced demolitions specialist."

The way he said it sent shivers down her back as though he were talking about something else altogether. She thought of those nimble fingers put to better uses and if she hadn't already been blushing before she would have been now.

"Do you know where I can find one of those?" She quipped, trying to break some of the tension she was feeling.

He laughed warmly behind her.

"The great Commander of the Pact, defender of Tyria," Canach said as his fingers tugged and worked at the knot at her back, sometimes grazing her skin with a shock of warmth here and there that sent her skin to tingling. "slayer of gods--"

"There was just the one god," she interjected, as if he didn't already know that and win copious amounts of money he had bet on the ordeal.

"Destroyer of fiends," he continued undeterred, "tamer of dragons."

She rolled her eyes at the mockery but at the same time she felt the muscles in her back relax slightly at the familiarity of the banter.

"Defeated," he paused dramatically, "by a knot."

Skye sighed in annoyance, "Okay, you know what, I will just cut it off--" at her last word she spun around and at the last second felt the lace pull free with her movement and was left scrambling to keep the bodice front from falling and leaving her naked from the hips up right in front of him.

"No need," Canach said smugly, the offending string dangling from his hand. His amethyst eyes flicked down and lingered on her lips before flicking back up to meet her eyes. He deftly collected the lacing one handed in a show of how nimble those fingers could be, a half smile courted his lips. This close she could see the whorls of the wood-like patterns in his skin and wondered what it would feel like to trace her fingers over them.

"Is there," he looked down and gently drew the soft suede lacing dripping out of his fingers up her arm. His gaze returned to her face, studying her reaction as the lacing went back down. Her breath caught, her eyes fluttered at the warmth of his fingers leaving a burning line in their wake wherever they made contact with her skin. There was no mistaking where he hoped this would lead and secretly she found herself wanting the same thing. "Anything else you desire?"

"Yes," she gasped. Her breath was coming faster now, she could feel the fabric of her bodice slide against her nipples with each breath and she found all she wanted was his hands and mouth on them. "I think, I may need assistance with my skirt as well."

He made a sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a hum and an animalistic growl and stepped closer, she thought he was going to kiss her and she lifted up her chin to meet him but he pulled up short.

"Do you?" He asked, his eyes studying her face, roaming over her lips again. She didn't know if she could take much more teasing.

"Are you going to kiss me or just stare at my lips all night?" She whispered.

His eyes sparkled and then he finally closed the remaining distance between them. His mouth closed over hers in a gentle sampling, his tongue flicked between her lips tasting her again and again. He tasted sweet with a hint of spice. She found that the thorns on his face were not sharp after all, they felt more like cat whiskers against her skin. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and slowly released it.

His fingers curled around the edges of her bodice and tugged it away, dropping it to the side. Leaving her hands free and her nipples hardening in the chill air. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, her hands moved automatically to cradle his head as he made love to her mouth with his tongue and lips. Languished in it. The thicker rows of thorns that covered his head looked dangerous but as she slid her fingers over them they only felt smooth and pliable like skin stretched over bone or cartilage. Like the rubbery flesh of a plant.

He pulled out of the kiss. He gently cupped her face with one hand. With a sigh he closed his eyes and settled his forehead against hers. After a moment he moved his head back just far enough so that he could look into her eyes.

"I have dreamed of this," he traced a thumb across her bottom lip. "But I wasn't sure if you felt the same or even saw me in that way."

She swallowed nervously. "I did," she confessed. "I have thought about it for some time, but I worried that we might not be..." she search for the right word and finally settled on "compatible". She slid the palm of her hand over the bulge in his pants to make her point. It excited her when she felt him grow beneath her hand, his eyes fluttered and he swallowed, both reactions she enjoyed immensely.

"Ah, I can see your dilemma," he said, his voice had gone a bit husky. "I can assure you," he drew her hand up from where she had been casually messaging him--much to her disappointment--and laid a gentle kiss upon her fingers. She noticed her lacing was still tangled in his fingers but he didn't seem concerned with dropping it any time soon. "You have nothing to worry about in that respect."

"Good," Skye said and took a calming breath. "Now," Skye reclaimed her hand and slid both hands inside his jacket and over his shoulders. "Take off that ridiculous suit."

"You don't like it?" The skin around his eyes crinkled in amusement.

"I'd like it better on the floor," Skye said pushing his jacket off and letting it fall to his feet. He leaned forward and claimed her mouth with his again, she pulled his shirt free of his pants and started on the buttons as his hands roamed over her skin. Everywhere except the two places she wanted his touch. His fingers traced a warm teasing path just below her breasts and she began to suspect he was purposely not touching them to drive her even more crazy.

He stepped closer and kept walking until she had no option but to step back. He walked her backwards that way with his hands leaving hot trails all over her skin until her calves hit the bed and she fell back onto it.

He followed, a knee between her legs on the edge of the mattress and she felt a twinge of triumph to see his shirt fluttering open as she had only gotten the last button a moment before. She couldn't help but reach for him and trace the ridges of muscle on his abdomen and the swirls of wood grain patterns she had been so interested in earlier. He stripped his shirt off and tossed it away. Every movement making his muscles dance under her touch.

His hands closed over the band of the skirt of her light armor and eagerly worked it down, pulling him out of her reach. She lifted her hips off the bed to accommodate him as he pulled it and her panties off together in one smooth motion. She didn't see where they ended up because she only had eyes for him, wanting--no, needing--to see his reaction as he saw her for the first time without her armor.

She felt vulnerable and...well, naked. She had ended up propped up on her elbows, with her knees curled together to one side and her feet up on the bed. He stayed frozen where he was for a few moments with one knee on the bed near her feet but not touching her. His eyes slowly roamed over the heaving mounds of her breasts, lingering on her hard nipples, she could almost feel his gaze as though he were touching her. Felt a tingling trail across her ribs in their wake, felt them trace the curve of her thigh and down to her knees. He reached for her knee and gently coaxed her to open, he only needed the barest touch of his fingers and she obediently unfolded for him. The cool air caressed her damp curls and his eyes settled on her core and he looked...hungry. She felt a tremor down her spine in response. Her pussy lips contracted in anticipation and she could feel herself cream. If he had chosen that moment to bury himself in her he would have met little to no resistance.

"You're trembling Commander."

Skye blinked up at him with what she was sure was probably a vacant expression, trying to gather her thoughts through the melted remains of her brain. Slowly she formulated a reply and finally remembered how to speak. "I think," she began, "there is a rule that if you see someone naked you can call them by their name."

That crooked smirk appeared on his lips again. He shifted his weight onto his hands on the mattress to either side of her and stalked up her body like some exotic cat.

"Your name," he said as he settled over her, holding himself up on his elbows, his hips a welcome weight between her legs and she could feel something warm and hard press against her thigh, "is burned into my mind." He nuzzled her nose with his. "It is so sweet on my tongue it is almost too much to bear saying out loud." His mouth came to rest next to her ear and he whispered. "Skye Demonbane."

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and swallowed. Those two simple words set her to trembling anew. She had waited a long time to hear him say it. Longer than she cared to admit. He was slowly driving her insane and she didn't know if she could take much more.

His mouth was suddenly on hers again. Soft and gentle, but she was done with soft. She wrapped her arms around him and deepened the kiss to something harder and desperate. Sucking on his lips one at a time and twirling her tongue around his. When he pulled away his eyes were dark and playful, he held her gaze as he moved down and nipped the inside of one breast. She gasped.

"Was that too hard?" He worried.

"No, don't stop," she nearly sobbed in desperation and guided his head to her nipple. He went to work and sucked as much of her breast into his hot mouth as he could fit. Encouraged by the sounds of pleasure she made he mouthed and lapped and pressed his teeth into her flesh over and over again.

"Canach," she moaned. She rubbed her hands over every inch of him she could reach. His head and neck, his shoulders, his biceps. He made a satisfied sound in the back of his throat that was somewhere between a hum and a growl and she could feel the vibration of it on her skin through his mouth. She needed him down lower, ached for him to be inside of her. But before that could happen she needed to get him out of those damn pants he was still wearing.

"Canach," Skye said. He made that sound again in response and she squirmed in pleasure. "Canach," she tried again, this time with a little push on his shoulder.

He relinquished her breast and moved as though to kiss her but she held him back. "Yes?" He asked.

"I want to see you," she bit her bottom lip nervously. "And touch you," she reached down between them but at this angle she could only reach far enough to brush her fingers along the top of his pants. So instead she busied herself with tracing the contours of his muscles just above that as she whispered, "and taste you."

It was his turn to tremble. He nipped and released her bottom lip and growled, "you will be the end of me woman."

"That's the idea," she said with a quirk of her lips.

He rolled onto his back beside her, kicking his shoes off over the edge as he did and pushed himself fully onto the bed so his feet wouldn't dangle off the side. His hands went to his belt but she rolled up onto one elbow and cuffed them away. He complied with a chuckle and propped himself up on his his elbows much like she had earlier.

She rubbed the palm of her hand over the front of his pants. She could feel the shape of his shaft beneath, straining against its fabric prison. She didn't think it felt any different than a human's. Long and hard and thick. Perhaps a bit bigger than she was used to but she didn't know for sure until she could see it free of its confines. She didn't want to let it out yet.

Skye watched his reaction as she gently nipped his shaft through his pants. The light was dimmer under the canopy of the bed than in the rest of the room but she could still see his eyes darken.

She could also see his bioluminescent markings more clearly. When he had been kneeling on the edge of the bed he had still been in enough light for them to not be as noticeable and after that she had been too distracted. But now she could see the lines and patches of yellow light pulsing bright and then dimming until almost dark and then bright yellow again all over his body like glowing tribal paint.

"Wasn't your glow orange before?" She asked, resting her chin leisurely on his cock. At the same time she curiously traced the lines of light on his abdomen with her fingers.

His eyebrows pinched together as he processed the question. He flicked his eyes down to follow where she touched.

"It was. It changes over time. Sometimes it's--" she absently rubbed her cheek on him as he spoke and it obviously distracted him. Good. "effected by our mood, or our age, but we have some will over our bodies unlike other races. It's how I am able to grow thorns on my head or I could choose to grow leaves or branches. Its also how we choose our gender." He met and held her eyes, his crinkling at the edges. "We grow what we want."

Her eyes widened at the implications of that. "I have...so many more questions..."

"Are you delaying because you're afraid of what you might find?"

She locked eyes with his and smiled mischievously. "I'm just waiting for the right moment." She continued rubbing her cheek on him teasingly. She nipped him again and rubbed her palm up and down the length of him.

"And when exactly--" he sucked in a breath at her ministrations, "would that be?"

She closed her mouth on his shaft again and hummed as she considered the question. "Not yet."

"Commander."

She licked his pants over the full length of his shaft.

"Commander," he said more urgently.

She caressed her hand over him. Nip. Stroke. Stroke faster.

"Skye," he hissed as his head fell back and his eyes closed.

"Now," she breathed, satisfied at hearing her name once again. She unbuckled his belt and released the buttons on his pants. She quickly pulled them down, pausing only to slide his socks off when his pants bunched at his ankles because of them, then they were off.

She paused, kneeling by his feet, to admire her handiwork. His chest was heaving, his eyes were hooded, and his cock stood at full salute.

His cock was not at all how she expected it to look. Then again she hadn't actually been sure what to expect. It was dark grey, almost black. In better light she guessed it would look a little green tinged like the rest of his skin but in the dim light it was...beautiful.

She moved closer and cradled it in her hand. Veins of yellow bioluminescence spread outward from the base of the head on the bottom side of the shaft, where it pulsed the brightest yellow almost white before darkening to yellow the further out the veins went. She swiped her thumb over that spot and enjoyed it when he gasped. The glowing veins continued all the way down the shaft and over his balls like roots. The head of his cock was shaped vaguely like a humans but looked like two large flower petals or rounded leaves folded one against the other. It still felt very much like human skin when she brushed her fingers over it, his abs contracted and relaxed at the touch.

She wrapped her fingers around the shaft and lapped her tongue over that brightest spot and up to the tip. She rolled her eyes up to watch his reaction as she sucked the head into her hot mouth. Much to her gratification he moaned and swore. She twirled her tongue around and suckled and lapped.

He reached down and gathered her black tresses into his hand to keep it out of the way and for something to hold onto as she flicked her tongue along his shaft. "By the pale tree you are good at that," he gasped.

She took him into her mouth, as far back as she could. She stroked her hand up and down the shaft, swallowed him into her mouth over and over again until his hips began twitching uncontrollably beneath her.

"Fuck. If you don't stop I'm going to come," he exclaimed. He curled his fingers tighter in her hair and forced her head up and off him. Arching her neck as far as it would go.

"Gods, I love making you lose control like that," she gasped. He held her hair so that she couldn't reach him with her mouth but that didn't stop her from continuing to stroke him teasingly with her hands.

"Shit," he rasped. He let go of her hair to capture her wrists. "Enough," he growled and roughly maneuvered her onto her back in the middle of the bed and pinned her beneath him with her hands above her head.

He released her briefly to snatch something off the bed and returned with her suede lacing dripping from his fingers. She didn't remember when he had dropped it but he used it now. He started wrapping it around her wrists. "What are you doing?"

"No more touching until I say," he commanded roughly as he tied it off and then started tying the other end to the headboard.

Her heart fluttered, she wasn't sure how she felt about this but she was fairly certain she could break free from the thin string if absolutely necessary so she went with it.

He kissed the space between her breasts and then just below that on her abdomen. He paused, traced the spot with a finger. He stayed like that for a moment tracing the same space over and over. She looked down to see why he had stopped. He was studying her face, he had a mischievous glint in his eye, but that was basically his resting face so she wasn't sure what to make of it.

"What?" She finally asked.

"Do you remember that time we were in Caudecus's Manor?" He traced distracting little shapes on her skin as he spoke. "And we found that mirror you were so fascinated by."

Her eyes automatically flicked to the ceiling of the canopy over the bed, it was covered in lush emerald velvet, she half expected to find something else there.

"I don't know if fascinated is the word for it. Horrified. Disgusted maybe."

He chuckled darkly. "Perhaps at first, anyone would when thinking of him using it. But you weren't only horrified and disgusted." He bit down on one nipple, drawing a gasp from her.

"What's your point?" She asked as his tongue drew a tantalizing line from that nipple to the other and gave it the same attention.

"I saw the look in your eye. The glance you gave me, the blush on your cheek before you looked away." He brushed his lips against said cheek, which was definitely burning again now. "Maybe you didn't want me to see, or maybe you did. But it excited you. And I was the one your gaze was drawn to." He licked a line up her throat from the little hollow at the base to the bottom of her chin. "So did you?" he rasped in a breath against her lips. "Did you want me to see?"

"Yes," she breathed letting the truth free. He kissed her.

"I have something for you that I think you will like." He moved to the corner of the canopy and pulled one of the cords hanging there. Overhead the dark velvet parted to reveal a mirror on the ceiling. It covered the entire surface over the bed unlike Caudecus's which had been minuscule in comparison. Canach never did anything halfway.

She could see herself sprawled on the bed the way Canach had displayed her, one knee bent, her ebony hair pooled around her head in dark waves, hands bound over her head.

Canach returned and coaxed her knees apart to kneel between them, watching her reaction. Wanting a better view of him she hooked a heel behind his back and nudged him forward. He complied, bending down over her, his hands on either side of her waist on the bed. In the mirror she could see the glowing yellow patterns across his back and ass. The way his muscles bunched and moved as he balanced over her. She felt heat bloom in her core. She slid her foot down to his ass and kneaded her heel into his flesh encouraging him to come closer. He went down to his elbows.

"Do you like it?" He asked, quite smugly she thought. Like it? She wanted to see him close the remaining space between them, fill her, to watch as his ass and hips flexed and the colors of his light pulsed while he moved inside of her. Completed her. She loved it.

"Fuck me," she whimpered. "Please. Please fuck me," she begged wrapping both legs around him and digging her heels into his ass to convey her urgency and draw him closer. Her hips lifted off the bed trying to find him and draw him in to her but he was just out of reach. "I need you inside of me, Canach, please."

"Pale mother," he swore and covered her mouth with his swallowing her pleas. She squirmed beneath him as he tasted and suckled her lips. "How can anyone refuse when you beg so pretty."

He rose up just enough so that he could reposition himself and reach down between them with one hand. She tried to hold still as he placed the head of his cock against her opening but she could feel tremors up and down her spine at the effort. And then he was sliding inside and her breath caught, the feeling of him slowly stretching her was the only sensation she could focus on.

"Fuck yes," he gasped. "Take it all, you are so wet."

"Canach," she whimpered as he hit home, fully inside of her.

"Good girl," he pressed his forehead against hers, his warm breath puffed against her cheek, "do you like how my sapling feels inside of you?"

She nodded, unable to speak. He grunted in acknowledgment. He began moving slowly, out and back in, out and in.

She bit her bottom lip. Her head fell back and she watched him in the mirror as his hips undulated and his ass bunched and relaxed, the muscles in his back straining as he held himself above her and moved with slow careful restraint. She moaned.

He lifted himself up higher and increased his speed slightly. He looked down at her with heat filled eyes and cupped one of her breasts in one hand. He massaged it and then slapped it tearing an excited gasp from her lips. His hand moved to hold her by the throat, firm but not squeezing.

"Look at me," he commanded. She obediently met his purple eyes. She felt vulnerable with the way she was tied up and yet somehow safe in his hands. She realized then that she trusted him completely and she felt a fuzzy warmth blossom around her heart.

Satisfied in what he saw in her eyes he released her throat. He cupped her face and pressed his thumb against her lips.

"Open," he said and almost automatically her lips parted. He pressed the digit inside. She sucked on it, lathed her tongue around it. "Good," he purred removing it from her mouth. He reached down between them. His wet thumb found her little nub and started circling it.

A pressure started building within her almost immediately. She squirmed and moaned against the double pleasure of his dick inside of her, filling her, and his thumb stroking mercilessly. She clutched helplessly at her bonds.

"Gods, Canach," she cried. "Don't stop."

"Thats right, come for me Commander. I want that little pussy clutching at my cock. Milk all the sap from it."

"Oh, Gods." She felt it mounting, so close to the edge.

"Dragontamer." He emphasized the word with a thrust full inside. "Godslayer.'' Thrust. "Mine," he growled rubbing his thumb faster. "Say it," he pressed his forehead against hers again. "Say that you're mine."

"I'm--I'm yours--" her words dissolved into uncontrollable cries of pleasure as she neared the apex.

"Look at me, I want those pretty smokey eyes on me when you come," he leaned his head back enough so that she could meet his gaze, she obeyed with some difficulty because her eyes wanted to roll into the back of her head instead. "Come for me Skye."

She spilled over the edge. Her body stiffened, her thighs trembled, her insides exploded as the orgasm took her in rolling waves of never ending pleasure that had her gasping for breath.

"Fuck," Canach gasped, his voice catching in his throat as her inner walls contracted around him. He reached up and tugged on the laces around her wrists, he must have tied some sort of slip knot because they came free easily. She flexed her hands into fists and relaxed them a couple times to get feeling back before reaching up to hold onto him because he had started fucking her in earnest now, hard and fast. She clutched at his shoulders and held on for the ride. The side of his face pressed against the side of hers. With a grunt he reached overhead with one hand and grabbed the headboard for more purchase. She loved how he felt inside her with the fading remains of her orgasm pulling at him.

"Oh, Gods Canach."

"Skye," he gasped. His strokes became jerky, slowed, in the mirror above she saw his inner light brighten and turn almost white, then he buried himself into her one last time with a cry and went ridged, emptying his seed within her.

He let out his breath and collapsed against her. They lay there for a few moments, recovering. She admired how he fit against her in the mirror with her pale arms and legs wrapped around his darker form pulsing yellow in places. She absently stroked her fingers at the base of his neck with one hand and ran her palm up and down his back with the other. She tucked her face in to the crook of his throat and breathed him in. He smelled of his cologne but below that he smelled woodsy and sweet and like sex, with it mingled her own musk. He responded by nuzzling into the nape of her neck as well.

After a few breaths he finally lifted his head to look at her. He closed his eyes and nuzzled his nose against hers. He kissed her, a brief tender meeting of lips, a trace of tongue, then he gently kissed her forehead.

With a short satisfied sigh he rolled away. She watched him in the mirror as he climbed under the covers and rearranged the pillows beneath him. She sat up and twisted on her elbow to look at him with a teasing smile. "I can't believe you actually had mirrors installed over the beds, and somehow made it look elegant."

"Yes, well, I was properly inspired," he said with one of his customary smirks. He had folded back the covers next to him to make space for her. He reached out a hand to her. "Come here and keep me warm, Commander."

Skye frowned at the use of her title again, but this time it was for another reason. Much to her own chagrin she was actually growing fond of his use of it but something else was nagging at her.

"What's wrong?" He asked, reading her expression.

"Nothing." She joined him under the covers and cuddled in next to him, resting her head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist before she admitted, "its just, Balthazar is dead, the dragons are gone, except for Aurene who is sleeping and who knows if she will ever wake again in our lifetime. It doesn't seem like Tyria has need of the commander anymore, so I am not sure what or who I am now."

He hmmed and was silent for some time. Finally he said, "This world is big, and you haven't seen nearly all of it." He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and continued, "maybe the need for the commander has passed, maybe it hasn't, maybe there is something right around the next corner, but you will always be my commander. There will never be a time for as long as I breathe that I will not need you."