Light and Shadows

The Harvester of Dominion

Takes place many months prior to "Taking the Tremaculum", before the imprisonment of Denathrius

Renathal closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and tried to concentrate on the beautiful Nightborne beneath him.

The Maw Walker lay spread out for him, naked and pliant, like the most delectable feast; her long hair a dark halo fanning across the sheets of his Sinfall bed. The gift of her exquisite body was something he knew she did not give to just anyone and he certainly never took it for granted, but even more rare and precious was the gift of her time. She was probably the busiest, most sought after being in the Shadowlands. There were a hundred places she could be and things she could be doing, many of them of great importance, Renathal knew, and she had chosen to snub them all and come here to do ... well ... him.

And he was not doing very well.

Renathal's fingers dug into the Maw Walker's hips, as he ground against her again, frustration leaking into his movements in spite of himself. What was wrong with him tonight?

He had been looking forward to this moment all week - an exceptionally trying week and one he thought would never end. Denathrius' loyalists had kept up a constant siege against the Bridge of Banishment, the Stone Fiends' attacks had disrupted his communication network, and the marauders lurking in the Ember Ward had attacked the Sanctuary of the Mad, damaging the lift and sparking a litany of inconveniences and complaints from everyone in Sinfall. It seemed his Sire meant to inflict on his rebellion a death of a thousand cuts; Renathal could sense their momentum bleeding out little by little with every new minor setback.

Through it all, Renathal had pictured this evening, when the Maw Walker had promised to be here no matter what. His greatest fear through the week had been that something more urgent would steal her away, but she had kept her word, had arrived in his quarters only a few minutes late, robes freshly cleaned and eyes sparkling with anticipation like some divine vision. And to repay her for her effort he himself could not seem to rise to the occasion.

What was holding him back? Renathal wondered furiously. He wanted it, wanted her - there was a tension curled so tightly in him he thought he might burst from it. But no matter his rhythm or his pacing, no matter what he grabbed, or kissed, or sucked, he could not release it. It was maddening.

The Maw Walker shifted sharply underneath him, and Renathal became aware the flesh trapped in his tightly clenched fingers had turned white. He relaxed his grip on her hips, turning his attention on her breasts instead. The warm flesh that bunched deliciously between his fingers, not to mention the way her body arched into him automatically whenever he squeezed, were pleasures Renathal had not grown tired of. He lowered his mouth to one of her dark nipples, rolling it in between his sharp teeth, waiting for her high-pitched cry.

Because there was her to think of as well. Renathal knew he was not imagining the Maw Walker's responses were more subdued than usual. Little hums of pleasure instead of the breathless gasps and impossible-to-stifle cries to which he had become so addicted. She was a surprisingly vocal lover considering how implacable she was in all other situations. But tonight.... as Renathal let his fangs graze that perfect hardened bud, he could tell her noise was less robust than it was the last time he had done this, her body still languid against the bed instead of taut and responsive to his every touch.

Which was more than merely embarrassing; it was worrisome. If this - whatever it was between them- stopped being enjoyable for her...

Renathal grimaced as he released her nipple and leaned up to bathe his strangely quiet lover's neck and jaw in sharp, desperate kisses. And what was this between them, anyway? That was another of the many dilemmas troubling Renathal at present. He had not found the right occasion to broach that conversation yet. And if he did not step up his performance it was likely he never would. The ever-busy Maw Walker would find an excuse to bow out of their stolen moments together. Courteously, of course, but no less painfully for Renathal. And the thought of losing this....whatever it was... made him feel almost as mad as he had in the Maw.