Songbird of the Shattering

The sensation subsided and he flopped backward onto the floor, exhausted. She pulled her head back, slid him out of her mouth, and tucked her hair primly behind her ears.

"Well," she said with a sigh and a sly smile, "How do you feel now?"

"Married," he blurted out.

She laughed in surprise and delight. "Married?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, sitting up shakily and grabbing her, kissing her hard, "Totally married. Completely married. Joyfully married, in the way that I am yours... I belong to you and that fantastic, incredibly skilled mouth. Now... now it's your turn," he said, reaching for her.

"Doyle. Give it a minute. You are still shaking pretty bad," she said with a sympathetic smile.

"I'm still shaking pretty good," he corrected, allowing himself to slide back to the floor. She smiled at him tracing the lines of his jaw, his throat, his collarbones. Her touch was so gentle... so light... so soft...

He eventually propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her body. She gazed up at him, gold eyes glowing in reflection of the afternoon light glancing through the windows. He traced each of the tattoos, each of the lines of gold.

"Is it terribly rude to ask what these are from?" he asked quietly.

"Hmm. Not terribly rude."

"But still rude?" he asked, starting to sweat.

"Not terribly. Perhaps, at worst, carelessly rude."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -- " he tried.

"No, it's alright. You are curious about your wife."

"I am," he admitted.

"I am a kintsugi witch," she said. "Once upon a time, I sought the magic that heals. I -- "

"Did someone hurt you?" Doyle asked, his voice taking on an unexpected darkness. It surprised him -- but he knew that if the answer came, and he got a name, he would ride into battle to end whoever had been unkind to his wonderful, monstrous wife.

But to his surprise, she shrugged. "We all have hurt. We carry it. Just as we carry those who have hurt us. Just as we carry those we have hurt," she murmured, looking up at him with unguarded tenderness. "Doyle. Doyle, look at me," she said. "I have lived a wild, careless, free spirited life. I have scars from the magic I could not tame. And that's okay. That kind of magic isn't meant to be tamed. I am not meant to be tamed, either. So we learned to live with each other, just as you and I will learn to live with each other as husband and wife."

"I don't think I understand," he said, frustration tingeing his voice.

"...Let me show you." she offered quietly. She stood up and led him to the bedroom.

"Yes, please show me," he said, nodding.

"It will get kind of intense," she warned as she sat on the bed.

"We are husband and wife now," he said, "I want to share this with you. I want to understand."

She gently touched his skin, fingertips skating over his front. Evening was falling, and the little light coming through the windows didn't offer much to see -- but she felt that he was hard again and kissed him. She shed the rest of the ugly dress and undergarments, her scars glowing as she straddled him, kissing him hard. He gasped and arched his back as she lowered herself, easing him in centimeter by centimeter.

"No, no -- sit up," she said, wrapping her legs around him and kissing him harder. The sensation this time was more pronounced, deeper -- and in a way, he knew it would shatter the both of them just from the way she was looking at him. She rolled her hips back and forward, squeezing him.

"You're okay," she murmured to him as he started to tremble in her arms. "You're okay... let go, baby. Let go. I got you. I... fuck,"

"Carina," he said hoarsely, looking up at her as he felt the electricity burning from her scars, lashing into him like golden lightning.

Her breath came quicker as she tangled her fingers in his hair, her hips starting to jerk forward more readily. She was losing herself in the sensation, and he heard her whimper as he held her closer. His grip tightened on her lower back, impaling himself into her, feeling how tight and wet she was. He could also feel that she was holding back.

"I want you to break me," he said.

Her gaze found his and her eyes widened.

"Whatever magic that has shattered you," he said, his voice low and breathy, "I want it. I want all of you. Every piece. Every broken shard. I want -- "

She cut him off with a greedy kiss and pushed him back onto the bed, straddling him. She put one hand on his chest and thrust her hips forward and backward, riding him. He felt the power behind her movements, felt the magic pulsing through her scars. He grabbed at the floor, at her hips, anything that he could hold onto -- because in a few more moments she was going to shatter him completely -- she was going to --

She cried out helplessly as she came, tightening around him, pushing the magic through her hips and hands, sending a shockwave of pleasure into his chest. His back arched again and his eyes rolled into the back of his head -- his hips jerked forward to meet hers and he moaned her name, loud and desperate. He felt the sensation burst through him. There were words he would think of later -- burning and neediness and finally satisfied -- but in that moment all he could feel was shooting stars, all over his skin.

He gulped in air, steadying himself as she finally collapsed on top of him with another whimper. Her scars were sparkling like veins of liquid light.

"Carina," he barely managed to eke out, the sensation still ebbing as she climbed off of him and curled up next to him, shivering.

"Yes, my husband?" she asked. He tried twice before he could sit up enough to pull the blankets onto both of them.

"You are truly a goddess," he said.

"Tsk, tsk. Not a goddess. A Gold Star."

"Yes," he breathed, wrapping her up in his arms, feeling the afterglow settle into both of them, "A Gold Star. And tomorrow, we will set sail for the far isles... and the day after that, we shall be home... and then I shall carry you across the... the threshold, and... and I do believe I am falling asleep...oh, dear me, but what a dilemma..."

"Sleep then, Prince," she said with a gentle smile as his eyes fluttered closed, "Your witch wife will ensure no trouble comes to you while you sleep."

"Yes, yes... my wonderful witch wife..." he yawned. "My witch wife... my Gold Star goddess... mine, mine... you are all mine... as I am yours."

He slid into a peaceful slumber, and she stroked his face for a few moments more.

"All mine," she whispered in an echo of his voice, "As I am yours."

Outside, the constellations above twinkled and shifted -- after all, Prince Doyle and Lady Carina's marriage had been arranged through no fault of their own. It was just the way stars aligned.

END.