Ava — Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ava entered the bathing chamber and slammed the door, furious at him and furious at herself. Turning the knob to start the hot water (thank the gods that there was running water here), she started pacing in the small chamber. Her skin was flushed, breathing coming in pants, mind racing, and the throb between her legs was more distracting than it had ever been in all her years of being a Dom.

She started peeling off the layers of fabric till she stood naked and panting, nipples hard and moisture leaking down her thighs. Angry at her own body for betraying her, she stepped delicately into the hot bath, feeling the steam encircle her, trying to relax her mind and body. She absolutely couldn't have dinner with that man while this badly frustrated.

Laying back in the bath, she let her hands slide down her body, imagining they belonged to someone else. Not him. Never him, she lied to herself. He was far too tall. Too handsome for his own good for one thing. She had never gone for the conventionally attractive, and he was definitely that. Those wide shoulders and strong arms that treated what she wanted like a suggestion. This wasn't consent, damn it... it wasn't. She COULDN'T want him. Because that would mean staying. And she needed to get home. But maybe? Maybe she could let her mind indulge the fantasy...

Unable to concentrate on official business, he found himself walking past the bathing chamber. He heard a splash and stopped dead in his tracks, his overactive imagination reminding him that his mate was on the other side of that door, naked and wet beyond anything he had ever smelled in all his years. Her body wanted his as his did hers, but he wouldn't take what was not freely given. Like with her, his mind and body were in complete disagreement on how to proceed, so he paced, hard as a rock, wanting to open the door and take her, knowing he would lose any chance with her if he did. But then he heard it. The soft moan from the other side of the door...

His hand came up to the door frame, stroking it like he would her, whispering, "Oh my sweet little mortal... such beautiful sounds you make when you think no one can hear you. I wonder, do you think of me while you touch yourself?" His other hand goes to the tight fit of his leathers, palming himself a little through his pants.

She amused herself with a small fantasy. She thought of what might have happened if she hadn't run. Imagined him on his knees, head under her skirt, tongue parting her folds, lapping up all the honey currently flowing from between her lips. She knew she tasted good. She had made many a toy in the dungeon taste her and they all went away happy. She imagined him growling and hiking her skirt so he could finger her and bite her neck all at once. The moan that slipped from between her lips wasn't restrained. It was honest. And Astor heard it through the door.

"Oh great Magics!" He swore under his breath, squeezing himself hard, barely able to handle the sounds she was making. He had to see her. Taste her. Needed to see her come apart. But he didn't reach for the handle. He pressed his cheek to the touch wood of the door and squeezed his cock in time with her gasps.

"Dearest mortal... such delicious denial." He whispers into the wood. "Playing with yourself to dull the desire you deny yourself? Those slick fingers can't possibly satisfy what burns between us." His tongue runs along his bottom lip, a groan caught in his throat.

Her hands were covered in soap now. She was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, one hand teasing her nipples, the other gently playing in her folds, like a lazy tongue. Perhaps if she could calm the ache between her legs, dinner wouldn't be the torturous affair she feared it was going to be.

She leaned back against the wall and laid her head back, eyes sliding shut. Her breathing took on the tempo of her fingers, and she just enjoyed it for a few moments, before speeding up. Her fingers picked up the pace, occasionally pinching her clit. When she did, she gasped in time with it, the sound penetrating the wood of the door. She wasn't trying to be quiet. She just wanted to feel. And feel she did, sliding two fingers into herself, with a huge gasp.

Astor heard her through the door and his hand matched her speed. He leaned heavily against the frame, his breath growing ragged, his voice horse now.

"Gods, Ava, those sounds... I can hear every stroke, every tremble."

He closed his eyes, imagining his fingers inside her, imagining it was her hand on him, his face pressed into her throat, losing themselves to the magic between them.

"Let go for me, little one. Let me hear you. Show me how beautifully you cum when no one is watching..." he whispered as he started to feel the tightness in his balls. He was already so close, it hurt. And then he heard it. His name as she came...

"Astor!" She gasped, trying his name out in the moment. And damn it, it felt right!

The moment he heard his name, his brain short-circuited. Magic pulled him to her. He wasn't sure if he had willed it to happen, or the Great Magics were in control, but a heartbeat later, he was kneeling by the side of the tub, watching her. She hadn't seen him, her lip caught between her teeth, legs spread, suds covering her whole body. He held his breath as her breathing got shorter, gasping his name as though it was him in her, not her fingers.

His hand squeezed his cock through his pants as she started to crest. He knew he shouldn't be in there, but he was held in the magic and watching her was its own magic. And then it happened. Her whole body spasmed, legs losing their purchase on the tub's edge, sliding into the tub with a splash... and she screamed his name. That was all it took for him to cum, squeezing his length and pinching the tip. He forced the magic to take him back to the hall before she saw him, panting and groaning against the door. Gods, that was the most intense orgasm he had had in easily hundreds of years.

Panting, he turned around, leaning heavily against the door frame, head back and throat exposed. If Percy saw him like this.... He would never live it down. The king, reduced to pawing at his pants outside the door of the woman who had him completely enthralled...

Running his hand through his hair, he decided to do something nice for her. He concentrated on her form in his mind's eye, designing a dress that would suit her full figure perfectly. Green, with black and silver. A slit to the hip, and stockings to match. Then he breathed life and magic into the mental image, and imagined it appearing on the chair in the corner of her bathing chamber. Then he said, loud enough for her to hear...

"Remember whose name was on your lips just now, little mortal, when we dance tonight..." and with that he walked away and headed to the great hall to watch over the remainder of the midday meal.

His voice penetrated the calm that had enveloped her, post-orgasm. The orgasm she thought she had been alone for. Her breath caught in her throat and she dunked herself under the water out of an overabundance of embarrassment. She was ashamed that she had given in to the fantasy and before she had processed her own feelings on the subject, she realized he had heard her call out his name. Her face burned a shade of red she had never thought possible on her.

She lay in the tub, her breathing and embarrassment leveling out, while her anger climbed. He had broken boundaries that she never thought she needed to name, but here she was, realizing, once again, that this world had different rules from the one she knew. Well, she would be damned if she was just going to bow down to them. She had never let a man walk on her before, and it wasn't about to start now.

Getting out of the tub, she dried herself calmly. Reaching for the robe that had been on the chair in the corner, she found it missing, and the dress he had conjured, in its place. That was it. She had had it. She wrapped herself in a bath sheet, snatched up the dress, and stalked into the great hall, not caring who saw her. She flung the dress at Astor's feet in front of the whole court. She turned on her heel and stalked back out. On her way through the door, she turned, looked him in the eye, and said in a level voice...

"Enjoy eating alone tonight, MY LORD.... I hope you choke."

And with that, she stormed back to her chambers, fuming and yelling about men who don't know their place. As though she WASN'T speaking of the King.

Astor was taken by surprise when the doors of the great hall were thrown open by an angry little hell cat, soaking wet, barefoot, and holding the dress he had conjured for her. So surprised, in fact, that she was gone before he processed what had happened. He stared after her, watching the door swing shut again, his eyes going to the dress on the floor. With a wave of his hand, the dress was in his hand. He laid it across his lap as he thought.

Perhaps he had teased her too much. It had finally looked like she was bending to his advances, and he had pushed too hard. What made it worse was it was a habit he had abandoned years ago. Somewhere around the day he had broken his best friend's nose for calling him a spoiled brat. What was it about her that made him feel an almost childish desire to defy her?

Sighing, he stood and walked to the door. The few nobles he shared the meal with had only just resumed speaking and eating when the king stood. Every chair scraped back as all present stood as the king passed. He barely noticed them. His thoughts were on the beautiful woman who had captured his heart and mind. The same woman he had clearly hurt and upset.

He wandered to his chambers and conjured a stand for the dress he had made for her. Instead of magicking the dress onto the stand, however, he arranged it by hand, imagining himself helping his mate dress for court one morning. His mind indulged domestic fantasies that Percy would tease him relentlessly for. Quiet dinners, long walks, conversations by the fire in the evenings before bed. All the things that his conquests had never fulfilled. A need for a companion. A partner. A Queen...

Reaching her rooms, she threw the double doors open and turned around dramatically, slamming them full force. Honestly, she had always wanted to do that, when reading and watching period romances. Now she was living one, though, and it felt drastically different from what she had expected. In her story, the heroine was a 40-year-old, plump, retired Dom, who had NEVER found someone worthy of taking the reins, and she couldn't find herself wanting something long-term with the toys she played with at the dungeons. So she was terminally single. As for the King in her tale? Well, unfortunately, he was mostly perfect. She had never been attracted to someone who could take her bodily autonomy away from her. Who could pick her up and set her on a horse and not care if she kicked and screamed. Who was devoted and kind and made her knees weak...

She kicked the door for good measure, screaming loudly when she forgot how flimsy the shoes here were, and stubbed her toe on the door.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" She screamed at the ceiling, as though talking to the "Great Magics" everyone talked about. This was DEFINITELY their fault.

Astor's head shot up. She was hurt. Someone had hurt his mate! He threw open his bedroom door and followed the bond, taking him inevitably towards her room. He pushed the handles, and the door wouldn't budge. She had locked it. She was injured, and she had locked her door. Did she have a death wish?

Gripping the handles, he used his strength to break the lock and shove the door open.

Ava heard the door handle to her sitting room jiggle and slammed the lock into place before it turned. It jiggled, and she felt a flare of annoyance through the bond. Well, shit. Of course, it was him. She ran into her bedroom before he broke the lock, locking that door. She wasn't afraid of him. She was dying of embarrassment. The last thing she wanted him to see was her limping around in a wet bath sheet, looking like an angry drowned rat. She waited till she heard him break the outer room locks and fling the door open before screaming through the keyhole.

"Go away!"

She heard him thump bodily against the door, his mouth to the gap between the doors.

"You are hurt! Who hurt you? I will kill them with my own hands!"

"Please, my lord! I'm fine. I merely stubbed my toe." She replied, through the crack in the door, almost a foot below him.

"Your toe?! I felt pain and anger and--" he paused, the silence stretching. "and embarrassment. Oh--"

He hit her sitting room, and his nostrils flared. No blood. His eyes scanned the room, and he listened carefully for her breathing, panting himself. Then he heard her yell at him through the keyhole.

"Go away!"

He took the distance between him and the bedroom door in three strides, pressing his body to it, nose pressed to the crack in the door, making sure he could not smell blood. Nothing.

"You are hurt! Who hurt you? I will kill them with my own hands!" He meant every word. Any being who had hurt his mate would pay with their life.

"Please, my lord! I'm fine. I merely stubbed my toe." Her voice came through the crack in the door. He could smell her. Smell the anxiety coming off her.

"Your toe?! I felt pain and anger and--" he paused, feeling the bond now, realizing there was an overwhelming amount of emotions and none had anything to do with an attack. "and embarrassment. Oh--" he felt so stupid. He had come charging into her sanctuary right after breaking boundaries, even if he still wasn't quite sure what he had done to upset her, and now was not the time to find out.

"Great Magics..." he swore under his breath, steadying his breathing. His eyes slid shut and the tension released from his shoulders. He turned and put his back to the door, head thumping against it. "I will leave, Lady Ava. Just please tell me that you are safe and well. Then I will fix your door and leave." He meant it too. The bond insisted that he hear, from her own lips, that she was unharmed. The anxiety in the bond and her scent was decreasing by the moment so she probably wasn't covering for some captor.

Ava paused, thinking over her answer. Physically she was well enough, even if her toe still throbbed. Her mind was another matter. He was too close and not close enough, all at the same time. She was on the verge of tears that she would never show to him. Swallowing them and calming her mind, she eased her immediate anxiety. He wasn't going to break down this door. To be fair, he had only entered her private space because he believed one of her rivals had finally struck. Maybe the bond had its uses. She swallowed the tears and responded in a far more level voice than she thought she was capable of.

"I'm well enough, my lord. I was careless and kicked the door. I don't think my foot is broken but I will call for a healer if the swelling goes up. You may leave." She wanted to say more. To open the door and throw herself into the arms that had been around her earlier. However, that was not an option. Not yet. She needed to know him.

"Will you take dinner, Lady?" He asked quietly.

"Not with you. Not tonight. You hurt me, your highness, and I need time to think about what you did." She stops and thinks. "Maybe breakfast, though." She adds the last almost under her breath.

There is a pause outside the door, and he shifts off the door, facing it. "I know, my Lady. I was a cad. I should have never invaded your privacy today. I am terribly sorry for hurting you with my actions. I'm still learning, my lady. I will have the kitchens send you dinner, and we can reassess this in the morning. Have a pleasant day, Lady Ava. I look forward to seeing your beautiful face in the morning." And with that, he turned to the outer doors, waved a hand over them, and closed them behind him, the lock repairing and relocking behind him.

She stood by the door till she felt him leave and threw herself on the bed. She buried her face in the pillow and sobbed till she couldn't cry anymore, and finally, exhaustion claimed her.

Astor stalked through the halls of his castle, unable to escape the black mood he was in. He could feel her sorrow through the bond. The fact that he was to blame was eating at him, gnawing at his heart and mind. He made up his mind in that moment to never intentionally cause this beautiful, fierce woman pain ever again. Because if he caused her pain that he couldn't undo, this feeling would kill him for sure.

He finally returned to his rooms after she had cried herself out. The bond wasn't a raw nerve anymore, just a lonely, cold one. He wandered to the kitchens first and grabbed a dinner tray and bottle of wine for himself, and ordered a tray taken to her room. He could have had his tray delivered, but he needed to stay busy because if he didn't, he could still feel her in the back of his head. She was a little bundle of emotions in his mind that refused to be fully mute. So he would see if wine could dull the bond.

Returning to his rooms, he opened the wine and, drinking straight from the bottle, he paced the length of the rug. His food grew cold as he just walked, mentally prodding the bundle in his mind, like he would poke a missing or loose tooth with his tongue. Eventually, the wine started to blur the edges of thought, and he flopped across his bed, losing consciousness in moments.