Thinking about the isolation that he had lived in filled her with despair.
Who had ever been here for this man? If anyone ever had, he couldn’t even remember it. So she had to build new memories for him. Feelings of warmth. Of connection. Of family.
You can’t leave him.
She pushed that thought aside. She continued to pleasure him with her mouth, her tongue, her hands.
As she drove him to the brink, took him to the edge.
As she gave to him, wholly and completely.
“Fern,” he growled, his hands in her hair. He was trying to stop her from finishing it this way.
But she would not be stopped.
He had said it himself. She was a warrior. Maybe of another variety than him, but made from the same mettle all the same.
And so she continued. Sucking him in deep until his hips arched forward, until he surrendered. Until he gave her the victory that she craved, on a hoarse cry, spilling himself down her throat.
And now she knew what it was like to win in battle. Because this time, she truly had.
He let out a long, ragged breath, releasing his hold.
She stood up, and took his hand, leading him over to the bed. She stripped off all of her remaining clothes, and got beneath the blankets beside him, stroking his chest with her fingertips.
“There will be more,” he said, an iron promise in his voice.
“I know. But there doesn’t need to be right this second.”
“You are a handful,” he said.
“Yes. I’ve been told that. Every tutor that I ever had despaired of me. Because my mind was always several steps ahead, and I thought most of what I was being taught was stupid. I’m all for diplomacy, as you know. But what I’m not all for is empty manners that might be pretty on the surface, but serve nothing and no one beneath.”
“No. You don’t strike me as someone who takes kindly to dishonesty.”
“I’m not. That’s why I got irritated when you said I was manipulative.”
“You are not dishonest,” he said. “I misspoke. It was only that I thought you might get me to change in some way, and for a while I was resisting that.”
“And are you still resisting it?”
He looked up at the ceiling. “I suppose I’ve never had to change around other people. I was tasked with growing myself into a leader, and I did. Inflexibility was a hallmark of the good that I was doing, and so change feels like the mortal enemy of that. But you are right. It was a different time. Different than when I was growing up. And my job is now different. What I wanted was for you to teach me how to put on a performance. I didn’t want you to truly change me. But I’m learning things from you, Fern. Whether I set out to do so or not.”
“Oh, that must bother you so.”
“It doesn’t bother me. Not anymore. Not now, anyway. Perhaps tomorrow it will.”
“I do think that we both grew up quite lonely. I was surrounded by people, but they didn’t know me. They didn’t care for me. Not as I was.”
“They only saw what they could make you into.”
“Yes. But still, I… You grew up with no one. Did no one ever care if you were hungry? Cold?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“I wonder if that’s why you don’t know how to show any sort of care or compassion to yourself. Because nobody ever showed it to you. No one taught you that it mattered. If you were comfortable. If you felt good or bad or scared or upset…”
“I’ve never been afraid.”
