His first panting words were, "Did I hurt you?"
I touched my bloody fingers into the bite on my shoulder, mixed the neon glows together like mixing paint, and held up my fingers before his face. "I think I should be asking you the same question."
He put a hand back to touch the blood on his back, as if he hadn't felt it until that moment. He propped himself up on one elbow and stared at the blood on his hands. Then he threw back his head and laughed, laughed until he collapsed on top of me again, and when he finished laughing, he cried.
We lay entwined together on a bed of Doyle's hair. It was like having fur rubbing the length of my bare body. My head was cradled in the curve of his shoulder. His body was like warm muscled silk. I traced my fingers along his waist, over the curve of his hip, an idle gesture, not exactly sexual. More to know that I could touch him. We'd been quietly touching each other for several minutes. His one hand was trapped underneath my body, curved up around my back, holding me close, but not too close. He wanted room to run his free hand down my body, and he wanted to give me room to touch him. He wanted the feel of hands on his body. It was as if he wasn't merely starved for sex, but starved for touch. I knew that humans could become touch-starved. Infants will die from lack of enough touch, even if every other need is met. But I hadn't known it of the sidhe, especially the unmovable object known as the Queen's Darkness.
But he lay beside me, smiling, his fingers running over my stomach and tracing the edge of my belly button.
I caught a glimpse of the mirrored bureau behind his head. My blouse hung across the middle of the mirror, as if flung there.
He caught me looking behind him. He brought his hand up to my face, tracing the edge of my cheek. "What do you see?"
I smiled at him. "I was just wondering how we managed to get my blouse on the mirror."
He turned his head as much as he could with both his own weight and mine on his hair. He had a very wide smile when he turned back. "Have you looked for your bra?"
I gave him wide eyes and started to prop myself up to see the rest of the bureau over his body. He held me down with one gentle hand on my shoulder. "Behind you."
I fell back, still in the circle of his arm. My green lace bra, which had matched both my blouse and my panties, was hanging forlornly from the philodendron plant that sat on the black lacquered armoire in the corner. It hung like a badly chosen Christmas decoration.
I shook my head, half laughing. "I don't remember being in that much of a hurry."
He curved his free hand over my waist, down my hip, drawing closer to me as he pulled me in against his body. "I was in a hurry. I wanted to see you naked. I wanted to feel the touch of you on my bare skin." He pressed that bare skin along the length of my body. Just the strength in his arms made me shiver, but the feel of him growing larger against my body was almost an overwhelming thing.
I slid my hands over the smooth tightness of his buttocks and drew him in tighter against me. He moved his own hands down my body to cup my buttocks and pressed our bodies together until I had to wonder if it hurt him to be shoved so hard against the unyielding front of my body. As he grew, the length of him pressed into my stomach, and it was softer, more yielding. He drove himself against my flesh, and I cried out.
I felt the prickling rush of magic a second before the voice filled the room. "Well, isn't this a pretty sight?"
We both rolled over to see the Queen of Air and Darkness, Andais, my aunt, Doyle's keeper, sitting on the foot of her own bed watching us.
The queen wore an elaborate black ball gown, with black satin gleaming in the candlelight, black ribbons to hold back the flounces, black satin gloves to cover her white arms, black straps over pale shoulders. Her black hair was piled atop her head with trails of curls artfully framing her face and slender neck. Her lips were the color of fresh blood, her tricolored grey eyes had been kohl-lined so that they seemed enormous in her slender face.
Seeing her dressed to the nines was nothing new. Andais was fond of parties, and any excuse would do. What was new was the fact that the bed behind her was empty. The queen never slept alone.
We stayed half-frozen, staring back at those eyes. Doyle squeezed my arm, and I spoke without really thinking. "Your Majesty, how good of you to call, though unexpected." My voice was neutral, or as neutral as I could get it. It was considered polite to make some sign first before popping in like this. You never knew what people might be doing.
"Are you criticizing me, niece?" Her voice was very cold, almost angry. I hadn't done anything to anger her, not that I knew of at least.
I settled myself a little more comfortably against Doyle's body. I wished for a robe, but knew that covering up when she'd been nothing but polite would imply that I didn't like, or trust, the Queen. The fact that it was true was a matter for my own worries, not hers.
"I meant no criticism, Aunt Andais. I was merely stating a fact. We did not expect your call tonight."
"It is not night, niece, it is morning, just not yet dawn. I see you have slept no more than I."
"I, like you, aunt, have had better things to do than sleep."
She touched the full skirt of her ball dress. "Yes, another party." She didn't look happy about it.
I wanted to ask if the party had not gone to her liking, but didn't dare. It was too personal a question to ask the queen, and she was too easily offended.
She took a deep breath that made the front of her gown shift, almost as if it wasn't tight enough around her body, a bustier without a boost. If you weren't too well endowed, you could wear those gowns that seemed to just float around your body. For me, it would have been an embarrassment waiting to happen. Nudity on purpose is very different from falling out of your dress by accident.
She turned those dramatic eyes to us. The unhappy look changed, narrowed, to one I knew all too well. Malice.
"You're bleeding, my Darkness."
I glanced down at Doyle and realized he was still mostly on his side, turned toward me, which gave her a view of his back and the fingernail marks on his dark skin.