The Games We Play

Title: The Games We Play
Author: Silver Spider
Character/Pairing: Khalia/Trystan
Rating/Warning: NC-17 baby! Snark and Sex
Disclaimer: Mine! All mine! And in conclusion: MINE!
Summary: Khalia and Trystan's relationship has always been a battle... even in bed... especially in bed.
Word Count: 3,080

The Games We Play
A "Winter's Last Harvest" Side Ficlet

By: Silver Spider

The castle was sleeping by the time he came to her. She'd started to believe he wouldn't come, but just as her eyelids began to close, she heard the slight creak of the opening of her bedchamber door. Heavy but quiet footsteps follow before a weight lowers on the edge of her mattress. She kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep.

Fingers traced the skin on the inside of the wrist of her upturned right hand before making a path across her arm and up to the swell of her left breast. She chose that moment to open her eyes. Trystan loomed above her, over six and a half feet of muscle, the wickedest smile imaginable lighting up his scared but still handsome face.

“Is there something you need?” she raised a brow to him in the most casual way possible. As if he wasn't in her bedchamber in the middle of the night in nothing more than loosely laced britches. As if she wasn't already naked in his eyes.

“My bed is cold,” he replied just as casually, tracing the contour of her breast through the silk nightgown with the very tips of his fingers.

“Add logs to the fire then,” she told him haughtily, refusing to show him her body's reaction to his touch even when his open palm traced across her flat belly. “I do not see how I can help.”

“Brat,” he chastised her, glaring. “I'll show you.”

Without any warning he dipped his hand under the hem of her nightdress and slides two fingers along her already slick wet folds. She couldn't suppress a gasp and shifted on the bed, but other than that did not reach for him. She fixed him with a hard, challenging gaze.

“Seems to me like you're the one who needs something,” he licked his fingers without breaking eye contact. “Who were you thinking of? One of our boys, or maybe the foreign prince? Do you imagine running your fingers through his red hair as he pleasures you with his mouth?”

That did make Khalia sit up, and before Trystan could pull away, she garbed a fistful of his curls hard enough to make him wince.

“Now who's the brat?” she asked when his face was an inch away from hers and she could feel his warm breath on her lips. She forced his head closer, until their lips met, and tongues began a duel for dominance. Like every other aspect in their relationship, this too was a battle.

She tasted herself in his mouth, and it only served to fuel her passion. Images ran through her mind faster than she could focus on any one scenario, but the single flash of red behind her eyes made her stop. Damn Trystan for brining even the idea of another into her head. As if in punishment, she bit his lower lip hard. She knew she hadn't drawn blood, but as her tongue traced his lower lip, she again tasted herself and something salty and distinctly Trystan. She pulled back enough to speak.

“Besides, red is not my color,” she her fingers through his hair for emphasis. “I prefer to look down on coal black curls. A better match, don't you agree?”

“Is that it then?” he raised a thick brow. “And what do I get in return for that kind of service?”

“Depends on the quality of service,” she leaned forward to kiss him again, but to her amazement Trystan pulled back.

“I don't think so.”

His smile grew bigger as he watched her eyes widen in surprise. He got up, taking both of her hands and pulling her after him, before sitting back down on the bed and leaving her staring down at him in bewilderment.

“Strip.”

“What?” her brows drew together in that way that Trystan knew she was displeased. Khalia was unaccustomed to taking orders from anyone, least of all him. His expression softened, and he beckoned her to step closer. She did, but the scowl didn't dissolve, even after he took both of her hands in his.

“Give me total control tonight, and I will make you come so hard, your womb will remember it every time you look at me for weeks. The thought of another man in your bed will never cross your mind ever again. Mine will be the only touch you'll remember, the only face you'll see when you close your eyes and touch yourself.”

“Promises, promises,” she replied doubtfully, but he could tell she was no longer angry.

“Are we agreed?”

For half a heartbeat he thought she might not consent to his request, but then her shoulders dropped and breasts rose as she took a deep breath. The gown didn't have a big enough neckline for her to slip both shoulders through it, so she gathered the hem with both hands and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion. The gown fell into a puddle of silk and satin on the floor, and Khalia stood before him in all her naked glory.

She knew she was beautiful and made no move to cover her small but prefect round breasts or the neatly trimmed triangle of curls at her sex like a shy maiden. Trystan was amused to see that her chin was raised ever so slightly in defiance. She might have given him control, but she was clearly not about to beg. Well, we'll just have to see about that, Trystan smirked.

He rose to his feet once again, and hands clasped behind his back, began to circle her like a man at a butcher shop deciding on the choice piece of meat. Finally he stood in front of her again, a coy smile on his face. Before she had time to wonder, he withdrew a wide piece of ribbon from his trouser pocket and held it out for her.

“Trust me?”

She took the cloth from him, stringing it between her fingers thoughtfully. Finally Khalia rolled her eyes and returned it to him.

“I hope you know I would never let anyone else do this,” she told him pointedly.

“I should hope not,” he smiled. “Close your eyes.”

The moment he tied the blind fold across her eyes, Khalia felt extremely vulnerable. Her sense of touch and hearing doubled in acuteness. She could hear and feel every step Trystan made around her, and though he had yet to touch her, her naked body was already on fire with anticipation. She knew he came to a stop behind her, and a second later jumped a little as both of his hands came to rest around her waist. He had big hands, strong and calloused from training in the yard and his earlier years of helping his father in the forge. They traveled perfectly in sync up and along either side of her body, ran down the hot underside of her breasts before smoothing across the skin of her collarbone. The thumb of his left hand traced a path along her spine, but retreated at the very last moment. She almost leaned into him in frustration, but refused to give him the merest impression that she needed him.

The touch disappeared, but Khalia didn't have to wait long before it returned. He was facing her now, she realized, as his hands settled on her hips, thumbs running along the skin right bellow her belly. More fingers followed, and Khalia was glad she wasn't terribly ticklish or else the scenario would be a lot less erotic. His touch continued to crescent her body, sometimes ghost light, sometimes firm and deep, but he seemed determined to avoid her most sensitive areas.

“Are you planning on doing this all night?” her tone was pure annoyance, “because I might as well go back to bed and get some sleep.”

“Ah the bed is one thing, but sleep...” she gasped when he literally swept her off her feat and carried her to the bed. Khalia felt her back make contact with the soft sheets as her head fell on the pillow and the touch of Trystan's hands momentarily left her skin. The mattress sagged under his weight once again as he lowered himself onto the bed as well.

“Sleep will not come for many hours, that I promise you.”

His fingers ran across her hips, the soft skin of her lower abdomen, before tracing the perimeter just outside the triangle of curls that hid her womanhood. If asked about his favorite place on her body, Trystan would have had to say it was the the sweet spot just above and on either side of her womanhood, where her hips and thighs met in a perfectly tight smooth stretch of skin. He bent his head to place a open-mouthed kiss on one of those sweet spots, tongue and lips pressed firmly against it.

Trystan was leaving marks. At least, he hoped so. In the morning when she would rise to bath and look at herself in the full-length mirror across from her bed, he wanted her to see the fruits of his ministrations. He wanted her body to grow hot with memory, to the point where she would have to bolt the door and see to her own pleasures. Although he already knew it was probably true, the idea of her thinking of him while she touched herself made his cock stir more than a little. Trystan cursed inwardly and put those thoughts aside. He'd see to his pleasure soon enough, he decided, but having so much power over her wasn't an opportunity he was about to squander.

Khalia moved her hips involuntarily, but he only placed his right palm flat against her belly to keep her down and moved his mouth to the spot on the other side of her body. She was probably thinking of all the ways she would make him pay later, Trystan thought, smirking against her skin, but at least he would make sure that she'd be too tired to do anything in the near future.

He trailed the same deep open-mouthed kisses across her stomach and through the valley between her breasts. Though her hands were flat against the bed on either side of her body, he could see them clutching the sheets around her. Even now, she was too proud to reach for him. Besides, it would have clearly been against the rules. When he closed his mouth over the crest of her breast, she involuntarily bent her knees and pated her legs just a little. Her leg slid across his, and even through the rough material of his britches, she felt his growing erection. Trystan saw the mischievous smirk growing in the corner of her mouth, but before he could stop her, she seductively rubbed her bare leg against his member.

It took all of his will to push her away, but he did, settling between her now spread thighs, his hands resting on her knees.

“Bad girl.”

“You prefer me this way,” she informed him. “And is there a reason you are still clothed?”

“Is there a reason you are still talking?” he replied, amused. “You are not supposed to, you know.”

“You will have to be more explicit with the rules next time.”

“Ah so I get to do this more than once?” he gently bit on her nipple, already tightly puckered and swollen from his kisses, then licked across the crest to sooth the mark and blew warm air on it. She gasped and called him a rude name under her breath. Trystan only laughed.

“Really? Then why do you keep inviting me into your bed?”

“I thought you told me not to talk. And I do not invite you,” she told him pointedly. “You come on your own accord.”

“Against your will, of course,” the words were exaggerated.

“Of course,” Khalia affirmed, but he could see the smile.

He smiled as well, taking in the full sight of her naked on the bed and entirely at his mercy. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed a little faster and shallower than normal. His hand once more skimmed the silk-like skin of her torso before coming to rest just bellow her left breast. Ah there it was. She could attempt to hide her reaction to him all she pleased, but the rapid beating of her heart gave her away. Trystan leaned forward, hovering less than an inch above her body, and whispered into her hear.

“Lay on your stomach for me.”

Her brows drew together above the silk scarf that covered her eyes. Trystan kissed her cheek chastely, a gesture both reassuring and a bit laughable considering the intimacy of the moment.

“You said you trusted me.”

Khalia turned her head towards his. Her lips were slightly parted, her breath bathing his face in warmth. He wanted terribly to lean just a little closer and throughly kiss her breathless, but his resolve was running thin, and even such an act would send the game crashing down around him. She began to turn, and Trystan rose just long enough to shed his trousers. By the time she was lying on her stomach, he was already back on the bed, once again kneeling between her slightly parted legs.

His hands slunk around her midsection, gently urging her on her hands and knees. She complies, though he can feel her body's hesitation. He wished he could keep touching her; the round cheeks of her buttocks, the smooth skin of her thighs stretched over their powerful muscles, the ark of her spine. Everything. The musky sent of her juices reached his nose, and he saw that she was clearly ready for him, her core pink, moist, and half-swollen with want.

Trystan positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of his manhood just grazing her folds.

“Checkmate, Princess,” he breathed, and with no other preamble, sunk into her to the hilt with one fluid thrust.

It was then that Khalia lost the battle to keep her breathing steady. She gasped at the fullness of him within her, the sensation of pleasure spreading to every corner of her body. It occurred to her then that that was perhaps the purpose of Trystan's previous achingly long attentions; her entire body felt like it had become one erogenous zone.

Trystan, in turn, fought against the urge to spend himself in her warmth that very moment. He did not know how, but the last rational part of his mind told him that this was not how the game was supposed to end. He reached a little further, cupping a breast with a trembling hand.

“Sit up,” he whispered horsely. “Lean into me.”

She did as he bid her, heedless of the small voice of her pride that told her to resist, settling into his lap, his cock still buried deep within her. When she felt the support of the wall of his chest against her back, Khalia was finally able to relax a little. Her fingers touched the blindfold still tied loosely around her head.

“Let me take it off,” it was as close to a plea as Trystan had ever heard from her. “Let me see you.”

Trystan didn't take long to consider the request. His actions had been driven by pure instinct since the moment he entered her. His hand covered her own, and together, they tore the offensive piece of cloth from her eyes. Khalia blinked several times, her vision readjusting. Her dark exotic eyes traveled up the length of their bodies, lingering on the place were they were so intimately joined. She turned her head to look at Trystan over her shoulder, and bending her right arm behind them to pull his head towards her, kissed him with all the passion he evoked in her through the night.

Trystan chose this time to begin moving within her, somehow managing to concentrate his attention on the amazing things her mouth was doing with his and the unearthly perfect rhythm that they were ridding in. His right hand stroked her stomach, her breasts, pausing every once in a while to kneed one nipple or the other, while the fingers of his left hand, his dominant hand, made their way through the curls of her womanhood. When he circled the place where they were joined and stroked her clit, she gasped into his mouth.

Khalia felt the tight coil of pleasure about to erupt deep within her womb. She kissed him with more fever, jerking her hips to increase the speed of their rhythm. Pulling her mouth away only long enough to take a breath, she saw that his own dark eyes were dilated and clouded with passion.

“Now,” she whispered against his lips. “Harder.”

Trystan could only manage a court nod before he withdrew from her almost completely but pushed back in a second later. It didn't take long for her to feel the coil in her belly explode, and when Trystan felt the first clench of her walls around him, he followed her over the edge.

He held her tightly against him as they rode out their releases together, her muscles throbbing in a fast but rhythmic pulse around his cock. When her orgasm subsided to small erratic spasms, and his spilled seed was cooling both within her and on the sheets beneath them, Khalia let out a deep breath and turned her head to kiss him again, though it was more a kiss of gentle thanks than passion. Trystan smiled against her lips.

“Have I upheld my promise?” he asked.

“Indeed you have,” her was was like a slow released sigh. “I would say you have outdone it, but that would be stroking your ego.”

Trystan thought about making a smart comment, but he was feeling too content for that. Without actually withdrawing from her, he moved them both to lay comfortably on the bed. He had to brush her hair off the pillow to make a spot for himself but somehow ended up stroking it afterwards, his touch lightly running up and down her bare arm. Her eyes were already closed, but her lips curved into a smile when he leaned forward to kiss the nape of her neck.

“Besides,” her words only dimly reached his half-awake consciousness, “this is nothing compared to what I am going to do to you tomorrow.”