Devour the Moon

She fanned herself with her hand as she sat there. It had been hours since she awoke, and the sun was already at its halfway point in the sky. The air was thick with heat, and the sultriness of the day pressed against her.

She looked up to see Alexandre approaching on horseback, trotting down the lane under the shadow of the woods that lined the path. She rose and rushed to greet him. He dismounted far from her, but she ran towards him, and he swept her into a hug that lifted her from the ground.

She sniffled and laid her head on his shoulder. "I didn't know where you'd gone. You said you wouldn't leave without telling me."

"I'm sorry." He pulled back, looking at her. "I went to see your father."

"With Tomas?"

He nodded and put his arm around her as he brushed towards the cottage and left Lundi's reins on a post. He took Rochelle into his arms again and hugged her. "I'm sorry that I left without telling you, but I thought you would insist on coming."

"I should have gone," she said. "I should have seen him. But then I don't know if I could have stood to see him now."

He invited her to sit. She laid her head across his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around her.

"What did he say when you told him?"

"He was sad," Alexandre said. "He understood, though, that you had no ill will."

"You told him that?"

"I did."

She buried her head in his chest.

Gently, he shook her. "Will you come swimming with me?"

"What?" She looked at him, dewy eyed. "No, I cannot swim."

"I will teach you." He smiled and jumped to his feet. He tugged her from the steps towards the little pond. "It is too hot today not to wet my hair."

She let him pull her. Near the water's edge, he let go of her hand, and he bent down, swiping his hand through the water.

"It is so warm." He removed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt. Seeing her hesitation, he nodded back to her. "It is not too deep near the edge, if you only want to cool yourself."

"I don't know," she mumbled.

He slipped out of his pants, and her mouth fell open. She threw a hand across her eyes. "Alexandre!"

He laughed. Slowly, her fingers peeled apart. Biting her lip, she took in the fine dimples on his rear just as he slipped into the water.

"Oh, it is quite nice." He turned to face her on the shore.

"I can't go in naked."

"Why not?" he asked as he began to float. "It's only us here."

"But you're naked."

"Come in, little stone," he cooed. "It is so warm, and it feels good when the day is hot. I will even turn and close my eyes till you're in, if you like."

Rochelle bit her lip. He looked so comfortable, and she found herself jealous when the heat was so oppressive.

"Well... yes, then, but you must turn around."

Obediently, he did. She took a breath, then made a little squeal and slipped out of her dress. She pulled off her chemise, letting it flutter to the ground. Her toe stuck into the water that was even warmer than he had promised. She bit back her own hesitation, then slipped in at the edge of the pond.

"It's slimy!" she squealed, and he laughed.

"May I turn around?"

"Yes, all right. You may."

He turned and floated towards her with a dopey smile. His arms enveloped her, drawing her into him. The sensation of their joined nude skin sent a shiver through her, and she clung to him as they floated there.

The sun glinted on the flat water. He leaned back from her, his hands at her sides.

"Would you like to learn how to swim?" he asked.

"I can swim a little. I can do this." She leaned away from him and put her hands to her chest, paddling weakly.

He laughed and floated beside her. "Extend your arms." He positioned her until her arms were stretched out ahead of, knuckles of both hands touching. "Now open your hands as if you're opening a pair of drapes." He showed her his meaning, making the water turbulent ahead of him as his arms spread out.

She did as he had, but with less grace.

"Good," he said. His arms reached under her belly, and he pressed up on her until she floated pronely. "Now do the same, but kick your legs as you move your arms."

She did it, and she moved forward with some momentum. His arms stayed under her, keeping her safely floating as she paddled and kicked. With each stroke, she moved a little farther, and after a few, she laughed at how easy it all seemed.

"Very good," he said, and his hands moved out from under her.

She panicked. Her arms and legs became wildly uncoordinated, and she thrashed without his help.

"Alexandre!"

"It's well," he said. "I'm here. You are doing all the work. My hands are only here to make you feel safe."

"Don't let go," she begged.

"You're already swimming. All you must do is not panic."

"I can't," she cried, but even as she said it, her arms were beginning to calm.

"You can," he said. "You're already doing it. Are you ready?"

"Alexandre, I--"

"You can do this."

She pulled her arms back again like he had taught her, and she kicked her feet. His hands left her belly, and she floated all on her own. She took a stroke, then another, and soon she was farther from him than she ever thought she could be.

"Look!" She laughed. "I'm swimming!"

He floated towards her with elegant efficiency. "Good," he rumbled next to her. "Good girl."

"Ooh!" she cried out.

"What is it?"

"It's cold. Just right here."

"That means it's deeper," he said. Her arms and legs fell out of sync, and she flailed again.

"You're well," he promised, and he put his hands under her. "The water being deeper here doesn't mean you've forgotten what you were doing."

She moved from floating and wrapped her legs around him, holding him tightly. "I want to go back to where it's warm."

He wrapped his arms around her. "Of course. Let's go back."

He floated them to the warm spot. She rubbed against him, savouring how warm he was compared to the spot of cold.

"You're very warm," she mumbled, and even when they were back in the warmer shallows, she didn't unclench her legs from around him. His hands rubbed her back, and, in his eyes, she saw the complete happiness that he felt in the moment. She realized that she too was happy, and that made her feel only worse. How could she feel happy now?

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held tightly onto him.

"I wish I were like you," she admitted. "That I should be only a man and so unaffected by killing."

He hesitated, then stroked her hair. "Who says I am unaffected?"

She huffed, flicking at the water behind his head. "The body is weak, you told me. It takes nothing."

He leaned his head back from her and she saw his embarrassment. His lips pressed together and his hands went to the sides of her face. Little droplets of water beaded off his hands and down her neck, and she looked down into the glistening water.

"Yes," he agreed. "It takes nothing to kill a man once." He paused, and when he did not continue, she looked up at him. "But then you do not kill a man only once. And that takes everything."

She laid her head on his shoulder. His hands went to her hair, stroking it again, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation.

"Did you learn to swim in a pond like this?" she asked.

"No," he said. Her legs unwound, and they separated. "I learned in Calais, on the ocean. The de Villettes, the family with whom I lived, they had a penchant for the sea, and I took to it well."

"I can't imagine swimming in something as big as the ocean," she said. "It must be so deep--is it not unbearably cold?"

He smiled. "There are some spots of water that are so warm and blue that you would not believe it. Everyone should swim them at least once."

"I would try if you only showed me where," she breathed.

He kissed her on the cheek, and she coupled with him once more.

The afternoon they spent in the water, until at last he climbed out at the edge of the pond, the water dripping off him like some rained-upon statue. His thighs were like squares of hewn rock and the way his muscles lifted as he stretched his arm above his head made her bite her lip. And that was to say nothing of the part of him that hung between his legs, heavy and slumbering.

On the outside of his right thigh, there was a mark in dark black lines. Her mind puzzled over its familiarity, then she remembered a very similar mark on Sayyida Zahra's neck. It was a symbol with swooping lines, and even seeing it more fully on him than she had on the sayyida, she did not know its meaning.

"Come out," he called as he sat at the pond's edge. "We'll dry in the sun."

"I don't want you to see me." She covered her chest.

"It's only us here. There is nothing you should be ashamed of."

"It's unseemly."

"Come out," he called again. "I will avert my eyes if it helps you."

"Then look away!" She waved her hand, and when he laid back flat on the grass, he threw his hand over his face.

"Hurry," he teased, "before I remove my hand."

She giggled and squealed and pulled herself from the water. With her hands across her body, she rushed towards him and laid down at his side. She pressed against him, feeling his warmth flow through her as they touched.

A smile spread out on his lips and his arm came away from his face.

"Keep your eyes looking up," she warned.

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her. "Can I at least touch you?"

She purred, pressing against him and hiding herself as best she could.

"You were not so shy that first night," he said.

"It was dark."

"So it was. But does it not help to know I find you quite beautiful?"

She rolled her eyes and drew up a hand to his chest. "You told me I was never beautiful."

"Well, I have always been a bitter man."

"I cannot unhear what I've heard." Her hand stroked his chest.

Gradually, she moved down his body until it came to the lines on his skin. Her hand traced the lines of the shape, and she tried to decipher it as best she could with her fingers.

"A tattoo," he said, noticing her interest.

"Sayyida Zahra has an identical mark."

"Not identical," he said, "but they are alike."

She looked up at him, the sun in her eyes. "What does it mean?"

"Names."

"Raquel?"

He nodded.

"And who else? Yours?" Again she touched the black lines, tracing each line with her small finger.

"Ana," he said.

"Ana?" She cocked her head. "Who is that?"

"They were sisters. I loved Raquel. Zahra loved Ana. In my mind, Zahra and Ana are as much my sisters as Adele."

She stopped tracing the lines and brought her hand up to his hard belly. "Would you mark yourself with my name?"

He laughed gruffly, tilting down to look at her. Her hand went to his chin and tilted him back from looking at her. They both laughed, and he adjusted himself, looking back to the sky.

"Where would you like it to be?" he asked.

She bit her lip and reached across his thigh, touching him on the other leg. "Here."

He smiled, his hips stirring as her hand reached across him. "However you wish it."

They laid whispering to one another in the grass until they were dry, and then he stood up and pulled her from the grass, scooping her into his arms.

"Come with me," he said.

He carried her in his arms into the cottage, which was arranged not unlike the place she had lived in most of her life in Strasbourg. It had thick blankets and dark wooden furniture, and it looked homely compared to anything she thought the de Beaumonts might have ever owned.

He carried her through the main room, and his foot kicked open the bedroom door. A wide bed laid there in the afternoon light. It was covered in soft sheets and he laid her on it. She sat up on her elbows.

"What is this you're doing?" she asked.

He bent down over her, kissing her mouth as he pushed himself onto the bed next to her. His hand went to her hip, tracing the line of her pelvis with his finger.

She giggled at his touch, and with his weight, he pushed her onto her back. Her hands went to his arms, which were so warm that it made her shiver.

His finger brushed against her clit, and she let out a moan as he drew a quick circle on her, then stopped.

"Oh," she purred, and before could control the thought, she said, "I want you to use your mouth again."

He laughed and went to move between her legs, but she stopped.

"No, you lie down," she said, and obediently he did, lying flat on his back in the bed. She laid beside him, kissing him as her hand moved across his trembling chest, but then she climbed onto her knees and straddled his face.

She lowered onto him, her hand pulling gently at his hair as his hands wrapped around her thighs, and his powerful hands pulled her down even more tightly onto him. His tongue darted out, striking against her, and she couldn't help but giggle at the sensation. His big tongue wetly flicked up and down, left and right, over her clit, and she leaned forward over him, pulling more tightly on his hair.

"You're so good at that," she whispered with an all-too-happy smile, and a little moan graduated from her mouth. She reached behind her, feeling the hardness of his cock with her fingers, and it made her only enjoy his tongue more, knowing how she affected him.

"Worship me," she whispered. She lightly ground against him, and he moaned, too.

His hands tightened on her hips and she began to rock against him.

"I'm your queen now." She bit her lip and pulled more tightly on his hair. "Tell me now how good I am, how much you love this perfect little cunt." She gasped, rubbing against him even more forcefully as his tongue worked harder and faster to taste her. She rubbed her hips even harder onto him, gasping again as his grip tightened on her thighs. "Tell me how beautiful I am, how you need me, how you're going to make me finish in your mouth."

She could feel the desperation in him, the painful straining of his body that was now more desperate to please her than he was to breathe. All he lived for was to taste and devour her, and it made her hips weak.

"That's what I thought," she whispered. "You can't say anything, because you can't stop licking and sucking and devouring me." She shivered, hips rocking against him even harder. "Yes, God, I'm going to fuck that beautiful mouth of yours until only the taste of me makes you finish."

He moaned in an aching way beneath her, and she ground even faster into him, rubbing her clit against his tongue. She had never had anyone feel so desperate, so in need of her.

"You are mine," she whimpered. "You are going to please me again and again, just like this."

She climbed off him then, leaving him gasping beneath her. She turned and sat back at once on his face. She lowered herself down his body, her small hand wrapping around his cock, and she gasped. He sucked and licked, tonguing her even more eagerly than he had before.

"This is so beautiful. So perfect," she whispered, and she began to slowly stroke the full length of him. She couldn't help but laugh as the speed of his tongue increased, his hands fastened to her thighs.

"I want you inside of me," she whispered, and she kissed his tip. "I want to feel you erupt inside of me again, pulsing and groaning. I want you to make me yours."

He whimpered beneath her.

"Do you like that?" she asked, stroking him a little faster. "Claiming me? I like it too."

She took the tip of him into her mouth, her tongue flicking against it, and his hips shook beneath her, his mouth vibrating into her, and she felt the tension move through the entirety of her body.

"I think you will finish before me," she teased, and she took him deeper into her mouth.

His fingers pressed deeply into her fleshy thigh. He worked so hard with his mouth, so desperately, and the thought of him living to please her sent shivers down her back. She thought of how badly he must want her to finish, how hard he had worked for it, and the waves of pleasure surged through her. Her toes curled, and she found herself moaning with his cock still in her mouth.

His pace remained unbroken, and she lost track of her own ministrations, her hand slowing to a stop as her hips rubbed just as desirously against his face as he did against her.

"Wait, no," she begged, but he would not be abated. His tongue whipped her with abandon, up and down, left and right, in a pattern that was both indecipherable and perfectly timed.

"No, I'm not supposed to... to..."

Her toes curled so tightly and she felt the shuddering move through her body as she crested the summit. A shock went down the length of her body, and she let out a shuddering moan, collapsing with her head on his thigh, his hard glistening cock beside her.

Easily, he rolled her onto her back. She quickly rolled onto her back, trying to catch her breath.

"You want to be claimed?" he growled behind her. His arms went to either side of her, and she felt the thickness of him pressing between her legs as she laid on her belly. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head off the pillow as the thickness of him slipped easily into her, and she moaned. The entirety of her body eagerly accepted him as if he was the only thing she had ever needed.

"I am your king now," he groaned, and he released her hair. "And this perfect, greedy little cunt is mine. Feel how you tighten against me, how you need me?"

She moaned and grabbed for the arm at her head, her fingers digging as tightly into his skin as he had into her thighs.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered. "And I do need you, more than I have ever needed anything. I need you to obey me. I need you to submit to me. I need you to be mine in every way."

Again, he grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her up. His lips met her ear, his breath and his words rattling inside of her.

"Do you want that, little stone? Do you want to be mine?"

She could only moan. Her body tightened.

"That's right. That's what I thought," he growled in her ear. "You can't say anything because you can't stop moaning and panting and being devoured." He let go of her hair and laid the weight of his body on top of her, pressing her into the bed. "I'm going to fuck that beautiful pussy so deeply and so gently until just the sight of me makes you finish."

Her body shuddered, her hand clawing at his arm as another orgasm surged inside of her.

"You are mine," he said. "I am never leaving, and you are going to please me again and again, just like this."

He groaned, his thrusts slowing, and she felt the flooding of his seed inside of her. His arms trembled, the tension in his body weakening against her, and finally he moved aside, leaving them both laying there, panting heavily in the afternoon light.

********

CHAPTER 20

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Alexandre's head laid across her legs. They were wrapped still in the bedsheets, and she ran her hand across his chest. He stroked her elbow, and she giggled at the sensation, taking his hand in hers.

"You know, you can be quite loud when you want to be," he said.

"No--don't say that!"

"Why?" He laughed. "It does me well to know you enjoy it."

"It was... merely acceptable," she said, hiding her smile.

"Do not make me do it again," he threatened, and she laughed as he sat up. He kissed her belly, then he rolled onto his side and nestled against her. She felt the pleasant tingle of warmth as his body pressed against her, and she rolled onto her side too, allowing him to spoon her. His arm wrapped around her and he held her tight as she drew circles on his bare forearm.

It had darkened outside. The light in the room made her tired, as if the day had worn itself out and now only the embers of it remained. The heat still lingered, but the worst of it had faded and the dusky breeze that blew through the open window made it even more bearable.

He kissed her shoulder. "I must go soon."

"What?" She turned around. "Why? Where must you go?"