1436 words. A little less, but I’ll be working on another fic. WARNING, MAY BE NSFW.
When the morning came, Suriyana got off him slowly, careful not to wake him. To her surprise, the paper was still clutched in her hand. She pulled his robe close, careful not to look at him below the waist, and then pulled the covers over him. He was sleeping peacefully, and there was just the slightest hint of colour returning to his cheeks. In his sleep, he looked innocent and carefree; traits she knew he did not have. Getting to her feet, she closed her own robe and made her way behind the screen. The sky was still dark outside, but her internal clock told her that it was getting close to dawn. She was never a night person anyway. Quietly, she went behind the screen again and lit a candle, giving herself enough light to get dressed.
Getting dressed, she pulled on the white kimono blouse with its long and wide sleeves, tying the knot at her waist.The pleated red hakama came next, which she pulled up till it was just above her tummy. Once she had done all the knots securely, she looked at the paper in her hand and opened it carefully. As she opened it, she recognised the handwriting as her sister’s. A smile touched her lips. The note was short and simple. It was just a simple drawing, consisting of three circles entwined with each other, with the hot sun casting a long shadow over the circles. Taking a chance, she nibbled at the edge of the note, and found it edible, with even the soft scent of strawberries. Before she could pop the paper into her mouth, a hand reached out behind her and grabbed the paper. She turned with a start.
“You really should not underestimate me, dear one,” Anra cornered her with one hand around her waist, while he opened the note with the other.
She leaned against the wall, hands behind her, eyes half-closed. Unconsciously, she raised one leg, bracing her foot on the wall, looking like a girl who had been caught in something she knew she should not have been doing but did so anyway. He stood a great deal taller than him, so she turned her face to look at him, her lips falling open just a little. Anra turned away from the paper to ask her what it meant, but when he saw her, he dropped it instead and kissed her, both arms going around her in a tight embrace. Suriyana did not struggle against him. In fact, she put her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
Although he had been sick, Anra showed no signs of it in his kisses with Suriyana. He pinned her against the wall, moving roughly to stand between her legs. His lips plundered hers; they were hard and demanding. She reciporated in kind, giving him as much as he asked of her. Her passion surprised him, as she had never let herself go when he had made her spend the night with him. When he pulled her to lie with him, she would caress and touch him as he asked, but she would never kiss him. Last night he had managed to catch her off-guard.
Now though, it seemed like she had been uncaged. She was kissing and caressing him everywhere, her hands running over his shoulders, playing with his hair, following the contours of his body, as though she was exploring him for the first time. As hard as he pressed against her, she did so against him, eager to feel him with her body. He reached down to cup her buttocks, to lift her up, when she opened his robe and slipped her hands under it. The coldness of her hands startled him, but he kept on kissing her anyway.
She turned away from him though, breaking the kiss. With an effort, she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away from her. Before he could bring his lips back for another kiss, she had grasped him firmly by the chin and turned his face to the candlelight. She moved his chin left and right, looking for something. Then she pulled him down to her, kissing the spot where his heart beat was gently. As she kissed him, he could feel her tongue touching his skin, and a delicious shiver ran up his spine. She was breathless from their kisses, more than she had been before this.
“You have a fever, Lord Anra,” she only addressed him when they were alone, “And yet you can stand on your own. That’s a good sign,” she took him by the hand and pulled him back to the mattress.
He tried to pull her towards him, but she resisted. With the near darkness in the room, the shadows casted on her face was a little frightening, and coupled with the fierce look on her face, he decided that it was best to just go along with her wishes. Once he was lying down, she went to the door and looked out, calling a servant who was doing some pre-dawn chores. He could hear her speaking to the servant in a commanding and preemptory tone; she seemed to have lost the meek and subservient air she had had since they had taken her from her temple. He let himself smile; this was the reason why he had taken her in the first place.
She then came back to him and knelt by his side, lifting his head, putting the pillow underneath aside and laying his head on her lap. Cradling him gently, she pushed an errant lock of hair away from his forehead. Her touches were gentle and almost loving as she caressed him. The room brightened slowly as the sun began to rise. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before releasing it slowly and looking up at her. She looked like a dazzling angel, with porcelain skin, kissable ruby red lips, and golden hair that just shone when it was touched by the sun. He reached up to caress her cheek with the tip of his fingers.
“You do not have much time left in this world, Raishan,” it was the first time she had called him by his real name, the one that stuck throughout the ages.
“Neither do you, sweet angel. Why will you not bear my children, angel of my heart? Do you fear my touch so badly?” Without realising, the two of them had lapsed into a language not heard of in millenia. The silence seemed to stretch forever. She merely shook her head.
There was a scratch at the door, and as reluctant as he was, he called for the servant to enter. As the servant did, she replaced her lap with the pillow and gave instructions to the servant to wash the man. The bodyservant nodded, used to her instructing him. As he washed his master’s body, she watched him. Anra’s siblings had been correct about her; years of training had left their mark on her. She was not able to leave a man in pain nor suffering nor illness, not even if he was her greatest enemy.
“Bring him breakfast, Onmm,” she called the servant by name when he was done, and he brightened up considerably. Taking the time to know the servants was an useful skill to have.
“Good morning brother, Lady Suriyana,” the brother came into the room as the servant left. He looked quizzically at his brother, who merely shook his head and smiled.
“Good morning, Lord Bispoh,” she inclined her head as a manner of greeting. The warrior looked as though he had come straight from the wells, with his hair still damn from practice. Among the three siblings he was the most athletic.
“Onmm, take the Lady Suriyana to the baths and let her clean herself up. Ask the Matriarch if she has other robes for her to wear,” Anra’s tone brooked no nonsense.
As Suriyana and Onmm left the room, an understanding look passed between the brother and Suriyana. Bispoh called for servants to attend him, and as they were leaving, they could hear Bispoh calling for breakfast for himself and Anra. Suriyana smiled. They were starting to listen to her, and though she was sure they were not going to allow her to escape, all she needed was for them to loosen their surveillance on her. The rice paper she did not mind leaving there.
No matter what would happen, her siblings were coming! They were coming!