I lay there with Kalia's head heavy on my shoulder, her breathing slow and steady now.
The banquet noise had faded a long time ago—only the low crackle from the brazier was left in her chamber.
Her leg was thrown over my thigh like she was still claiming me even while asleep. Warm. Soft. Trusting.
I stared up at the dark ceiling beams, mind spinning.
Chief. The word still felt strange, like armor I hadn't broken in yet. Heavy, but good heavy. And underneath that weight was her—Kalia. Older than me, sharper than me in some ways, carrying grief that hadn't quite left her eyes even when she laughed. Yet here she was, curled into my side like I was safe.
I shifted just a little. She stirred right away.
"Can't sleep?" Her voice came out rough, still thick from crying earlier and the wine.
"Not with you pressed up like this." I ran a claw lightly down her arm. Watched the little bumps rise on her skin.
She lifted her head a bit. Eyes caught the firelight. "Want to play a game?"
I turned toward her. "What kind?"
"The kind that makes tonight less quiet."
I propped myself on an elbow so I could see her face properly. "Games need stakes. Otherwise it's just... going through motions."
She bit her lower lip—slow, knowing. Heat moved through her look.
"If you win," she said quieter, "I'll put on that thin silk nightgown I usually wear. The almost-see-through one. And you can have me in it. Slow. No tearing it off. Just... like that."
My cock gave a hard twitch under the furs just hearing it. I could already see the silk sticking to her skin in the firelight, the way it would slide up her thighs when I pushed it higher.
"And if you win?" I asked.
"One request. Anything. No arguing."
I looked at her a long second. Then nodded. "Deal."
I explained the rules while my pulse hammered in my ears.
"Three rounds. Each round you get ten minutes. I stay kneeling, hands on my knees. You can only use the one thing I pick. Nothing else—no hands, no tits, no grinding unless I say. Touch anything extra without permission and you lose the round."
Her breath caught. "Got it."
I moved to the middle of the bed, sat back on my heels, knees apart. My cock was already standing thick and heavy—darker at the tip, veins standing out from whatever changes the evolution carved into me. Ready.
I pointed at her mouth first. "Round one. Only that."
She crawled over on hands and knees. The silk shift rode up her thighs as she came closer. Her eyes stayed locked on mine the whole way. When she settled between my legs I felt her warm breath hit me before her lips did.
No games, no licking around. She just leaned in and dragged her tongue slow and flat along the underside from base to tip.
My fingers dug into my own knees. Fuck.
Then she took the head inside—warm, wet, soft suck at first. Then deeper. Cheeks pulled in tight. Tongue pressed underneath, swirling lazy but firm. She hummed low and the vibration went straight through my balls.
I kept my breathing even. Let it build. Watched her. Sweat started showing on her forehead in the firelight. Her eyes flicked up—frustrated, hungry. Eight minutes in she pulled off with a wet gasp, lips shiny and red.
"Damn you," she muttered, breathing hard.
I gave her a slow grin. "Two more rounds."
I eased her onto her back. "My choice now."
I kissed down her stomach first, then her inner thighs—slow, letting my breath tease her before my mouth got there. When my tongue finally found her clit she jerked. I circled it steady, then sucked—soft, then harder. Her fingers knotted in my hair. Hips rolled up trying to get more. When I flicked fast she broke—thighs clamped my head, back arched, a cracked cry ripping out of her while she shook through it.
She collapsed panting, cheeks flushed dark, eyes glassy.
"You cheated," she rasped.
"Only with practice." I kissed the inside of her thigh once more, tasting how wet she'd gotten.
"One-one. Last round decides."
She sat up. The shift slipped off one shoulder, baring most of her left breast. Nipple tight from the cool air and everything else.
"Choose," I said, voice rougher now.
Her eyes dropped to my cock, then back to my face. She swallowed.
"This time... here." She turned the words careful, like testing them.
I waited. Saw the quick flash of uncertainty in her—grief still living somewhere behind her ribs—but then she decided. She wanted the win. Wanted me.
She rolled onto her stomach, then pushed up onto hands and knees. Back dipped. Ass presented. Open.
I moved behind her. Used my fingers first—scooped some of her slickness and coated myself with it. Pressed the head against her back entrance slow.
She tensed, then breathed out long and pushed back a little. "Okay."
I went careful. Inch by inch. The grip was brutal—tight heat squeezing every ridge. I groaned low, hands locked on her hips to keep from slamming forward.
"Halfway," I murmured. "Still good?"
"Yeah." Her voice shook. "More."
I sank the rest of the way. Paused. Let her feel it. Then started moving—short, slow rolls first so she could breathe through it. She rocked back to meet me after a minute. Little hitches in her breath every time I bottomed out. Wet sounds mixed with skin slapping skin. Her moans climbed higher, throatier.
I felt my balls tighten, the coil getting tight too fast.
She squeezed down deliberately—timed it with my thrusts like she knew exactly what she was doing.
"Time—" I tried to grit out, but it was already over.
Pleasure slammed through me. I buried deep and came hard—hips jerking, low growl tearing out while I emptied inside her.
She laughed—breathless, victorious.
"I win."
I pulled out slow. Both of us shivered at the sudden empty feeling. She turned fast, eyes bright.
"My request."
I lifted a brow, chest still heaving.
She pushed me flat on my back. "You played so good... let me clean you. With my mouth."
I slid my fingers into her hair—not pulling, just guiding. "Then do it."
She dropped down. Tongue traced lazy lines along the shaft first—tasting sweat, her, me, everything mixed. Slow laps. Then she took me deeper, sucking gentle but thorough, drawing out the last little aftershocks. Soft pulls that made my thighs twitch even though I was spent.
When she finally lifted her head her lips were swollen, shiny, satisfied. She looked straight into my eyes.
"Next time," she whispered, "we make the stakes higher."
I tugged her down beside me, arm hooking tight around her waist.
"Next time," I said against her hair, "you won't need to win to get whatever you want."
We stayed like that—tangled, sticky, breathing each other in—while the brazier burned down to almost nothing and the night stretched quiet ahead of us.