Page 52 of A Brat's Tale
“I’m not sure. But do not feel bad for it, my sadness is my own.”
“No. I have been nasty. There’s no excuse for it. You should have given me a lot more spankings than you have.”
He smiles. “Oh really?”
“Should have. But you didn’t. Retrospective spankings are not a thing.”
“I was not aware of that rule. I’m going to have to check the book.” We both laugh and it feels good not to be mad at him. “You did not eat your dinner.”
“I, oh. No wonder I’m so hungry.”
His laugh this time is hearty; it’s a laugh I’ve missed. “I was going to say you’re usually ruled by your stomach. Come. I shall make sure my husband is fed.”
I let him pull me by the wrist to the table where he sits me down and pushes the food in front of me. He sits on the other side, casually, his large thighs splayed, his thick shoulders opened as wide as possible, his long hair pulled back in a half-ponytail with the rest of it hanging down his back, and his tall, Elven ears poking high and uncovered. He’s dressed casually too, a V-neck, dark blue blouse,tucked into black pants that stop at the top of his large calves. He watches me.
“This is good. I’m starving,” I realize as I say it. “So, to what do I owe this visit? More talk of my parents?”
“No. I was hoping you’d allow me to stay the night.”
I set my fork down. “Cor, you should, regardless of my wishes.” Corrik might not be in line for the throne, but as a royal couple, we still need to display unity from within. “But, I really would like you to stay.”
“I know but, I thought just a few nights alone would be all right and do us both some good.”
“Is it true you sit outside my door for hours? That you slept there one night?”
“Diekin,” he curses. He looks up from hooded eyes. “I have.”
“Please don’t do that anymore, Corrik.”
He nods. “As you wish, Tristan. Now please, keep eating.”
“Does my eating make you feel better?” I ask, before taking a large bite.
“It does. Being able to take care of you in any way soothes me. Have you forgotten?”
I shake my head. “No, but I suppose I need to relearn what makes you feel content.”
“Please. Let me show you.”
He goes through the trouble of giving me a bath. Another Elven perk is running water, which we did not have in every room in Markaytia. I enjoy it though. Having him wash my hair is relaxing. He combs it out for me afterward and even hands me one of my silk robes. “My hair doesn’t bother you?” I say. He must be able to sense the magical essence from it and he’s smart; I’m sure he can guess whose it is. “Aren’t you angry with me?”
“No. I had a long while to process and I’m eternally grateful things weren’t as I pictured. Of course, I don’t like that it happened, but it’s better than the alternative.”
Right. I’m sure he envisioned me being raped and beaten over and over. Falling in love with an enemy Warlord is definitely a betteralternative. “But it has happened, and I’m going to be honest, I still long for him.”
He nods. “Do you long for me at all?”
“Of course, I do. I missed you.” That relaxes him. He opens the bed covers for me but before I hop in, I remove my robes.
“Please don’t tease me so, Tristan. I … I want you so badly.”
And when an Elf is turned on, that craving is aneed. They can barely stop themselves. I know what I’m doing. “I want you too. Come to bed properly, Husband.”
He bites his lip but doesn’t wait to be asked twice. He sheds his clothes and is on top of me with the speed Elves are known for. He attacks my lips with soft little kisses to begin with that quickly turn ravenous. “My love, my love, I’ve missed you so much,” he says.
I respond in kind, enjoying his lips, placing my hand on his large bicep and squeezing. “Do you mind if I use some magic, Tristan?” he says, panting, between kisses. “Elves don’t need lube as Markaytians do. I was being respectful that it might be weird for you.”
I don’t tell him I’m already used to magic like that, nodding instead. His fingers go to my entrance, as he whispers the spell and when he plunges them inside, I’m wet. “You will slick up here naturally when you are Elf,” he reminds me.
