You'na rolled her eyes but opened her mouth, biting down with a soft hum.
"You're treating me like I'm fragile," she teased between bites.
"You are fragile," he countered smoothly, offering her another piece.
"But you're also fire. And fire deserves to be cared for after it burns."
She swallowed, her smirk faltering just a little under the weight of his gaze.
When the tray was empty, Fey'ha scooped her into his arms as though she weighed nothing.
You'na gasped, clinging to his shoulders.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
"Bath," he said simply, carrying her through a door that led to a private chamber.
Steam curled up from a large marble pool, water scented with petals and herbs.
He stepped in with her still in his arms, lowering her into the warm water.
The heat kissed her skin, relaxing her sore body. She sighed in spite of herself.
Fey'ha joined her, sitting close, his hands gently washing over her.
His fingers traced down her back, over her arms, through her hair, slow and tender.
"You don't have to—" she began, but her words caught when he cupped water and poured it gently over her chest, his touch reverent.
"I want to," he said firmly.
For a moment, she didn't know how to respond.
Her usual teasing words vanished, replaced by something unfamiliar and heavy in her chest.
After the bath, he wrapped her in a thick towel, lifting her again as if she belonged there in his arms.
He carried her through the quiet corridors of his quarters and laid her gently in his bed.
When he moved to stand, she caught his wrist.
" Where are you going?." she asked.
The word slipped out before she could stop it.
His brows lifted slightly in surprise, but then a slow, warm smile curved his lips.
He leaned down, brushing her hair back from her face.
"I wasn't planning on leaving."
He slid in beside her, pulling the blankets over them both.
His arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close, and for the first time that night, the heat of their bodies softened into warmth.
You'na lay still for a long while, listening to his steady breathing.
Her heart pounded in a way that had nothing to do with lust.
Damn it, she thought, closing her eyes.
'What are you doing to me, Fey'ha?'
He'd wake her up every little while.
Fey'ha entered her from behind and took her anyway he wished.
Soft, hard, slow or fast it didn't matter.
He whispered naughty things in her ears, rubbing, caressing, kissing her back, neck, and shoulders.
He called her his gur'fid.
She was shocked but wrapped up in the feeling.
He took her many times throughout the night.
He teased himself on her entrance, but never entered again—only pleasuring her, letting her get her releases.
It was probably the best damn pleasure she'd ever had in her life.
——
As the night launched on.
Fey'ha bathed you'na a few times. His fingers would always lingering over her curves.
Fey'ha would whisper to her how much he didn't want the night to end.
Desire kept them together again and again, until the early morning hours finally forced exhaustion over her.
She fell asleep on him, her body warm and heavy, and he lay there for a long while, tracing her hair, feeling the rhythm of her breathing against his chest.
When he finally had to take her home, he didn't want to let her go.
Carrying her carefully, he rubbed his chest as if trying to keep her close to his heart, each step filled with obsessive thoughts and a quiet, aching need.
He couldn't stop imagining her asleep, soft and trusting against him, and the idea of leaving her filled him with an ache he couldn't bear.
By dawn, he brought her back to her villa, through her grandmother's garden with its dew-kissed flowers.
He laid her gently on the bed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
His hand lingered, tracing her jaw, her shoulder, the curve of her neck. He wanted to stay.
He needed to stay.
He moved to step away, but her eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep.
She felt the comfortable presence move away.
Her small hand reached out instinctively, catching him, tugging slightly.
"Stay," she whispered, voice soft and pleading.
Her heart ached at the thought of him leaving.
He froze, chest tightening.
Fey'ha hand rubbed against his own heart reflexively as he knelt by her side.
"Gur'fid… You don't understand," he murmured, voice low and husky. "I couldn't even dream of leaving you."
His tone was serious and she felt his heart felt words.
You'na heart skipped a beat at his words.
Her lips curved in a tiny, sleepy smile as she reached toward him.
He wasted no time taking her into his arms. Fey'ha held her tightly and tenderly.
She curled against his chest, like a child seeking warmth and safety, pressing close and refusing to let go.
Fey'ha hugged her back.
His fingers traced over her hair, clutching at the fabric of her shirt as his breathing evened out.
He held her tightly, chest pressing against hers, every nerve screaming that he never wanted to let go.
You'na fell asleep quickly like this.
Every obsessive thought, every possessive heartbeat, every craving to keep her close consumed him, and he let it.
He wanted to let his gur'fid Rest as he knew he did tire her out quite a bit, though he could feel his junior sticking to attention at the thought of having or tasting her again.
For a long, quiet moment, they stayed like that—her asleep on his chest, utterly trusting, and him unable to move, his hands never leaving her, his heart beating only for her.
The world outside faded, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of warmth, need, and unspoken obsession, and for once, neither of them wanted to leave.