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Zo had said it was meant to help her clear her head.
Alva had called it a bonding opportunity – more specifically, a “girls’ night” (her words) – as she’d excitedly explained that the ancestors had once observed it as a deeply sacred ritual.
Petra had offered to bring ale. When Zo had insisted they had more than enough already, she’d offered wine instead.
It wasn’t that Aloy minded. Far from it. With Erend and Varl in Plainsong for the night and Kotallo deep in a demanding training regimen that had him all but absent from sun-up to sundown, she was happy to spend some quiet time with Alva and Zo. And some less quiet time with Petra.
Still, the concept was foreign. She wasn’t accustomed to lingering. Particularly not with her feet up and mud all over her face. She only allowed herself to wonder for a moment or two if she regretted spending the night here instead of in the basement server room with Beta, who had hastily and quietly turned down the invitation to join them.
She drew a long, slow breath, letting the silence stretch on between them for a heartbeat. Then two.
She lifted a cool slice of pale green fruit from her eyelid to glance at Zo. “Now what?”
“Now we relax,” Zo said plainly, without moving a muscle.
Petra chuckled, “Down, girl.”
With a huff, Aloy complied, weaving her fingers over her stomach. There she stayed, quietly obeying, for another minute or two until her restlessness got the better of her again. “How long do we sit here for?”
Zo sighed, her expression utterly stoic. “As long as we please.”
“If it helps, I could put on some audio files to bring some extra ambience,” offered Alva. “GAIA showed me some lovely recordings of the songs of ancient creatures called whales. I don’t know what they would have looked like, but their voices are beautiful-“
“That’s okay, Alva,” Zo said, and she revealed one eye to meet Aloy’s a moment later. “Aloy-“
“Got it,” Aloy insisted. “Lie down. Clear my head. Relax.”
She couldn’t imagine whale songs would do much to help, but she was tempted to try almost anything. Almost.
She gave it her best effort. Truly, she did. The sound of Petra trying and failing not to snicker next to her wasn’t helping. The mud that Zo had slathered over her skin was surprisingly cool and pleasant, but the fruit slices she’d insisted on using to cover Aloy’s eyes seemed intent on rolling off her cheek at a moment’s notice. She frowned. “Do I really have to keep these things over my eyes the whole time?”
“Aloy.” Zo was sitting up, carefully uncovering her eyes as her shoulders sagged. “If you’re truly feeling restless, I’m hardly going to keep you here by force. But I think it would do you some real good to at least try and take a few moments to breathe.” She shot Aloy a warm, patient smile. “The world isn’t going to stop turning the moment any of us do that. Even you.”
Letting out a long, tired exhale, Aloy nodded and lay back once again. She crunched the slice of fruit between her teeth instead of putting it back on her face, but she did close her eyes as she chewed. “Alright,” she relented. “You make a good point. I’ll try.”
She was making good progress on that front, for a moment or two. Until Petra snorted under her breath, “By the forge, you need to get laid, spark.”
Aloy shot up again, eyes wide and shoulders straight as a spear. “What?”
Zo groaned. “Petra…”
“What?” Petra huffed. “We were all thinking it. She’s so pent up I could feel it from halfway across the room with my eyes closed.”
“Petra isn’t quite wrong,” said Alva. The traitor. “She is a little…tense…” She shrugged and muttered, “…er than usual.”
“She is right here, thank you very much,” Aloy spat. “And I’m not pent up.”
Zo made a noncommittal noise. “Well…”
Aloy furrowed her brow, indignation burning hot and righteous in her chest. “All of you are against me.”
“Aloy-“ Petra was peeling the fruit off her own face as she sat up to look at her from the bed roll she’d spread out at the base of the counter. “I’m only saying it because I care about you, ya know. No judgment, I promise. But you of all people could use a little…release.”
Aloy’s face was so hot she swore the mud was about to start boiling right there on her cheeks. She fell back against the bench with a huff. “I don’t need anyone else for that.”
“Well, sure you don’t – even if it’s just with your own fingers, it still does a body good.” Her eyebrow arched. “You do know where it is, right? The important bit.”
“Of course I know where it is,” Aloy hissed, shooting her a sharp glance. Forge knew Petra was well aware of that. She rolled her shoulders against the metal beneath her, trying and failing to get comfortable as the heat kept raging in her face. It was smoldering like a stubborn brushfire. “It’s not like I have time to…do that whenever I please.”
“I make time,” Zo said breezily. “I’d say it’s more difficult to find a reason to keep me from it.”
Petra let out an approving chuckle as Aloy stared at Zo from across the common room. Before she could stop herself, she was stuttering out, “Just…how often do you…”
Zo laughed, half surprised and half damn near endeared. “Quite the bold question, Aloy.”
Aloy’s face blazed. “I…I didn’t mean…”
“I hardly mind,” she shrugged, still smiling as she settled back against the furs again, replacing the fruit on her face. “I’m not always alone, of course. But even given the times I am…I’d say it’s rare I go more than a day or two without.”
“Every day?” Aloy sputtered.
“Hells, if I go more than two days without giving an itch a scratch, I start getting snippy,” Petra said with a grin.
Petra, Aloy had an easier time understanding. But when Alva let out a giggle and said, “At least once a week, when I can find the privacy,” Aloy had to shake her head.
But Petra caught her eye again. “What about you, flame hair?”
“Me?” Aloy squeaked. Squeaked! She felt like she was dreaming. A fever dream perhaps.
“How often do you stoke your own forge?”
“Or tend to your own fields?” Zo chuckled.
“Or take a dip in the Great Waters?” Alva giggled with a wide and brazen grin.
“Okay,” Aloy choked. “At this point, I’d rather just go back to lying here in silence for Goddess-knows how long-“ She slammed her back down against the bench so hard it knocked her breath out of her, and when she’d caught it again, the silence settling around her like snowfall, she finally muttered, “Definitely not once a day.”
For a moment or two, the only sound was of Petra slowly shifting beside her, and Aloy dared to peek one eye open to glance at her and found the forgewoman staring at her intently. “Just how long’s it been, spark?”
Aloy frowned. “One…maybe two…” She steeled herself. “Months.”
“Months? No wonder you’re wound tight as a strip of leather on a tanning rack,” Petra snorted. “And you’re sure you didn’t forget where it is?”
“Plenty sure, thanks.”
“Aloy, there’s no shame in it,” Alva assured her, sitting up enough that one of those fruit slices rolled down her cheek onto the floor before she could stop it. She hardly seemed bothered. “A little shyness is pretty normal, I’d say. The first time Federa and I were…intimate…I could hardly look her in the eye at first.” A flush crept up to the tips of her ears. “But one does need to get past that sort of thing to…enjoy the moment. And in the end, it wound up being quite lovely.”
“Ah, the first time,” Petra sighed. “I remember mine. Girl from up in the Claim. She used to tinker with her father’s forge equipment when he wasn’t smelting iron. Fire and spit, she had the most beautiful hands.”
“Mine was during a harvest festival.” Zo’s smile stretched warm and fond across her lips, crinkling around her eyes, though not enough to knock the slices of fruit free from her skin. “It was a cool, clear night, and we ducked into the underbrush and fumbled in the dark over each other’s clothes.” She laughed, her shoulders quivering. “I wouldn’t call it good, but I remember him fondly besides.”
Aloy could feel the eyes on her. Even if Zo’s were still covered, the way she went silent was almost expectant. She cleared her throat. “Mine was…Petra.”
Now, that made Zo turn to face her at last, her fruit slices falling neatly into her palm again. “You and Petra? You were together?”
“It was stress relief,” Petra said warmly. “I offered. She accepted.” She cast her gaze back at Aloy again, her smile never wavering. “I think it was quite the enjoyable night for all involved.”
“I don’t regret it,” Aloy was saying before she could overthink it. She shrugged. “It was…I was just glad it was with someone I…trusted. Someone I knew.” She let her eyes flit down to her feet, scratching at the back of her neck as she added, “And it was…Petra is…she knows what she’s doing.”
“That I do,” Petra said with a delighted cackle. “I carry it close to my heart, flame hair. But you know I’m curious…there been anyone else since then?”
All Aloy got from meeting Petra’s gaze again was a playful eyebrow waggle, and it made her lie back again and groan. Finally, she sighed, “There was…one person.” She swallowed. “A Tenakth.” She let her eyes slide shut, if only so she wouldn’t have to meet anyone else’s gaze. “In the Desert Clan. Arrowhand.”
“You never mentioned that,” Zo mused.
Aloy slung her arms over her eyes. “It was just a one-night thing,” she insisted. “That was all I wanted. All either of us wanted.” She could almost picture Petra’s ear-to-ear grin stretching across her face, making her teeth glint in the fluorescent light. “Then he went and got himself the title of Commander, so I don’t foresee anything else happening there anytime soon regardless.”
“You fucked the Commander of the Desert Clan Tenakth?” Petra cackled.
“He wasn’t the Commander then,” Aloy insisted. As if it mattered. “Anyway, it was months ago.”
“Goes to show you’re overdue for a good orgasm, spark.” Aloy choked on nothing but air, pretending it was nothing but a cough. It didn’t work well. “C’mon, all that weight you’re carrying, it’s no wonder you’re tense. Your poor body needs some relief. Draw yourself a nice hot bath, light some candles and work out some of that tension before it infects the rest of us.”
Aloy huffed. “Of course, the fact that I’m stressed has nothing at all to do with the fact that the world is in imminent danger from a group of half-immortal humans from beyond the stars, and everything to do with the fact that I don’t touch myself enough.”
The sound of someone clearing their throat form the other side of the room made her sit bolt upright again, turning to face the noise. Meeting her eye, trying valiantly to hide the edge of a smirk, Kotallo lifted his foraging pack in his hand. “Forgive the interruption,” he said. “I just needed to grab some supplies.”
She pressed her palms so tight over her mouth and nose that she could barely draw breath as she slammed down against the bench again, hiding behind the fronds of the plants between her and Kotallo. Her face burned hotter than a fireclaw’s throat as his footsteps disappeared down the hall and Petra wheezed with laughter.
“By the forge,” she breathed, and she glanced back at Zo, who was resting comfortably with her arms folded neatly over her ribs. “You see what I see?”
“I’ve gotten quite used to it by now,” Zo replied.
Aloy snapped her gaze over to them. “What are you-“ A quick glance through the leaves at her right. Kotallo had made his exit, thank the Ten. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s talking about how badly you want Kotallo,” Alva sighed, swirling her glass of wine in her hand before tipping it back to her lips. “Truth be told, at first I didn’t realize you were trying to be subtle about it.”
Aloy stayed frozen for longer than she cared to admit, her jaw hanging open until she finally shook herself out of her stupor and snapped it shut. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She sat upright, the metal floor cold against the soles of her feet as she curled her fingers around the edge of the bench. “Kotallo is…he’s my friend. Just like all of you, and Varl, and Erend, Talanah, Vanasha, Avad…”
“Oh, and all your friends make your face go that lovely shade of scarlet, huh?” Petra quirked a brow. “You have any dirty thoughts of Sun King Avad clanging around in that skull of yours?”
“What? No-“
“You’ve never fantasized about his great eminence the Sun King, Radiant Avad, all sun-kissed skin and gold tassels hanging off every appendage-“
“No,” Aloy insisted again.
“So you’ve never had a steamy dream about that painted stack of boulders in the shape of a man either, right?” Petra challenged, her chin jutting out toward the door Kotallo had just sauntered through moments before. “Because he’s just a friend too.”
Aloy tried to say no. She tried say anything. But the moment’s hesitation from trying to force out a lie was just long enough for Petra to notice, and Aloy knew it was a lost cause. “That…that’s not the point,” she said instead, so feebly that even she didn’t believe it.
“Far be it from any of us to judge you, Aloy,” Zo said, her tone as unbothered as a summer breeze. “I for one can hardly blame you. I can certainly understand the appeal of Kotallo’s…earnest nature.”
Aloy chewed on her lip as Petra snorted, “I’ve heard plenty about the Tenakth. I’d bet a hefty handful of shards that man is as determined as they come. In more ways than one.”
Death, take her now. She yearned for the metal under her feet to open up and swallow her whole.
Across from her, Alva giggled. “My tastes have always veered more toward the feminine, I’ll admit, but even I can see a charm in his…stamina.”
“Blazing forge,” Petra sighed, a wicked smirk stretching across her lips that gave Aloy little time or room to brace herself for what followed: “I bet that man probably gets between a woman’s legs like he’s approaching an altar to worship.”
Aloy groaned as she shot to her feet, grabbing a towel and wiping the dried mud haphazardly from her face. “Alright,” she choked. “I need some air. You all keep talking as much as you like about whatever dreams you think I’ve had.”
If she was lucky, she wouldn’t have any to speak of tonight.
If the universe had a cruel sense of humor, though, she’d probably dream of Kotallo seducing her right against the base of the Bulwark.
“Aren’t you cold?”
The first words out of Kotallo’s mouth as he sauntered down the mountain path toward her. Goddess help her, just the sound of his voice made her lingering blush rise in her cheeks again. She glanced down at her thin set of cotton sleep clothes where they hung loose around her neck and waist, her bare heels scraping against the stone where she let her legs dangle over the cliffside.
“No,” she lied. She kept her gaze pointedly on the dark horizon until a breath later, when thick fur draped across her shoulders. She hadn’t even noticed it clipped to Kotallo’s armor, let alone hearing him unfasten it. When she turned to face him as he sat beside her, she caught a whiff of his scent where it had worked its way into the fibers, and she resisted the urge to breath it in deeper.
Instead, she just said, “Thank you.”
He answered with a low hum. “If you’d rather not have company, I’ll make myself scarce.”
Aloy shook her head. “I’d never mind your company.”
She said it before she could think better of it. She wondered – hoped – if she could play off the flush in her face as windchill. It was cold enough. “Even when you’re meant to be indulging in a…what was it that Alva called it?”
“Girls’ night.”
“Exactly.” He let out a contemplative breath, leaning back against the rock and letting his head tilt toward the stars. “It’s not unlike the some of the nights I spent with my old squad,” he mused. “Before a battle we would eat together, help each other tend to our weapons or freshen our paint.”
Oh, All-Mother help her, when the wind shifted she got a waft of his scent – tinged with sweat and machine oil, but smelling far stronger of rich spice and clay. It made Aloy’s entire body thrum with something she couldn’t quite name. Want, maybe. Hunger was closer. She swore it made her mouth water.
What was wrong with her?
“I’m not used to it,” she admitted, drawing the fur closer to her shoulders without a second thought. “But it was…nice. Odd, but nice.”
“That doesn’t exactly explain why you’re out here instead of in there,” Kotallo said with a deferential nod.
She managed a laugh. “You know me,” she mused. “I sit still for more than a few minutes and I get antsy.”
And if she had to hear one more person tell her how badly she needed an orgasm or five, she was going to lose the last grip she had on her sanity. And that was already tenuous as it was, now that she knew it was true.
Yet the silence was surprisingly…comfortable. Her next thought crept up on her, popping up in the back of her mind and vying for her attention until she couldn’t help but give it. She managed a smile and a laugh when she did, and Kotallo shot her a questioning glance.
“Can I ask you a…” She cleared her throat. Somehow her voice felt rougher after than it had before. “…personal question?”
Hardly seeming bothered, Kotallo merely shrugged. “You may ask. Whether or not I answer remains to be seen.”
Fair enough. “What was your first time like?”
“First time?” he asked with a curiously arched brow. She mirrored it with her own, and thank the Ten, he caught her meaning easily enough. He didn’t so much as flush, just squinting slightly at the horizon as his hand hung listlessly off his knee. “Quick.”
Aloy snorted. “That’s all you’re going to give me?”
“You want details?”
“No.” Her face blazed hot, her breath catching in her throat. “No, I just meant…we were…we were talking inside. Zo and Alva and Petra and me. We were…swapping stories.” She forced herself to open her eyes again and look at him, finding him meeting her gaze without flinching. “I was just curious. You don’t have to-”
“We were squadmates,” he said simply, with an easy little smile. “We were returning from a scouting mission and shared a tent for the night. A common enough thing, but that evening, there was…tension.” He shrugged. “We broke it.”
Aloy felt a bit like there was a bowstring pulled taught in her chest, vibrating between her ribs and making them groan with the effort of holding it. “Just how long did that tension last before you…broke it?”
“A matter of weeks,” Kotallo mused. “It grew steadily over the days. But that night was…” He drew a long, contemplative breath, letting it out on a sigh that made his shoulders relax. “Different. I couldn’t tell you how I knew, but…a part of me realized there was no use in fighting it anymore.”
She had an idea what part of him had been most involved in that realization. If she didn’t put that from her mind quickly, she’d burst into flames before she made it back inside.
With Petra, it had been practical. A well-timed offer just convenient and intriguing enough to tempt her. And with Drakka, it had been entertaining. Boisterous and fun in a way that she didn’t often have time to enjoy. But this…this was indulgent. The spark in Kotallo’s eye, the heat rolling off him, the way the moonlight played in his lashes as he looked at her without shame or reluctance.
All-Mother help her, he was drinking her in.
That bowstring in her chest felt like a vise.
She swallowed. “I…think I know the feeling, actually.”
“Do you?” he hummed. The question was such a simple one, and yet he made it sound almost melodic, the way it tripped over his lips in that low, honey-sweet timbre of his.
She licked her lips before she could help it, thinking of what that paint of his would taste like. Was it bitter, she wondered? Earthy and gritty like mud or clay? Maybe the dyes he ground for their pigments would give it an almost herbaceous edge. The way it covered his lips day after day, she doubted he even noticed the taste at all anymore.
The arousal that throbbed between her legs did so with such force she thought he surely had to notice. She pressed her thighs together before she could think better of it. It felt like the only thing keeping her sane for the moment.
Fuck, she realized all at once that she had scarcely stopped staring at his mouth since he’d gone quiet.
I bet that man probably gets between a woman’s legs like he’s approaching an altar to worship, Petra had said. And he was staring at her like she was something sacred.
She squeezed her eyes shut, speaking before she could stop herself: “Petra insists I’m pent up.”
From the way her voice was straining, she thought she sounded somewhat closer to constipated. But Kotallo laughed, warm and rumbling in his chest. “Are you?”
She sucked her lips between her teeth, hanging her head and letting her hair fall haphazardly across her eyes. “I’ll admit to being a bit…tense.”
“Hm…and what do you think might help with that?”
Damn him.
Bless him.
Damn him.
She leaned her cheek against her palm, nails scratching against the back of her neck. “You say that like you already have an idea of how to make it better.”
Kotallo hummed, leaning close enough that his nose brushed against the side of her neck. “Worse, I think,” he mused, his lips pressing against the underside of her jaw and making her feel like she had just dropped off the edge of a cliffside. “Then much worse.” All-Mother, Ten above, fire and spit – she could barely breathe when his calloused thumb brushed against her knee. “Then better.”
She whimpered. She couldn’t help it. It tore its way out of her before she could snatch it back, scraping against the inside of her throat. “Would you come inside me?” she muttered. Kotallo’s eyebrows arched so high they almost disappeared under his headpiece, and Aloy choked on her next breath, her face blazing crimson. “With me. Would you come inside…with me?”
His laugh was deep and rich and lovely, his hand trailing shameless along her thigh. “Gladly,” he murmured, a growl rattling its way out of him as he dragged those painted lips of his over her earlobe.
Aloy let out a quiet curse when his lips pulled away from her skin again, his breath puffing hot against her jaw. “Zo and Petra and Alva…they’re all still in the common room.”
“And that’s a problem?” he asked.
“There’s no way to avoid them seeing us. If we go in there to-“ She shivered, her fingers curling against Kotallo’s knuckles. “If we go in there, they’ll know.”
He raised a brow and said again, “And that’s a problem?” She glanced from the door to him and back again, a good three times. “That they know?”
“I…”
“Aloy.” Her lip was still caught between her teeth when she glanced up at him again, and he chuckled as he pressed a thumb against her chin and urged it free. “You never told me.” Fire and spit, his voice was low and sweet and addictive in the way it rumbled down her spine. “Just what do you want? What exactly?”
She gripped the edge of his chest plate. “I want to take you back to my damn room and have my way with you,” she finally forced out, feeling a surge of power as he drew a slow, wavering breath.
“And you can,” he said, making fire pool in her gut, so hot and insistent she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to steady her legs enough to get to her feet. “All you need to do is walk through those doors with me. The way I see it, you could do so with your head hung low and your ego bruised. Or…you could just as easily take pride in it.”
“Just as easily?” She swallowed around the words.
Kotallo hummed as he leaned forward, lips brushing her throat. “There’s an old Tenakth saying…shame kills passion like an arrow to the heart.” He drew a long, slow breath that Aloy felt puffing hot against her skin as he exhaled. “I certainly find no shame in sharing pleasure with you, Aloy. I see no reason why you should. In fact, I think you should be proud of relishing it.”
Oh, she was relishing something alright. Or at least a few parts of her were, in ways that made her shift her hips against the stone as she managed a smirk. “Awfully confident in your abilities, aren’t you, Marshal?”
“Confidence must be earned and tested,” he answered. His teeth grazed across her pulse point and she damn near combusted with the heat it sent coursing between her thighs. Just one tiny touch had her legs quivering before she even stood. Fire and spit, what would the rest of his mouth do to her? As if he could read her mind, he grinned wickedly as he met her eye again. “Let me prove myself, commander. I vow I will not rest until you’re satisfied with my performance.”
Riding that beautiful, thrumming tension, Aloy pushed herself to her feet and willed her legs to hold her steady. “Come on then, Marshal,” she said as she reached for his hand. “Show me how the Tenakth test their mettle.”
That growl that tripped from his throat made his nostrils flare and his eyes gleam. Oh, he was beautiful. He was so beautiful it ached.
The fact that she could hardly remember the last time she’d managed to find any release didn’t exactly help either.
She clasped his hand in hers, her heart stuttering in her chest as she tugged him through the doors. Their footsteps were deafening against the metal beneath them, but the sound of laughter from the common room filled Aloy’s ears a moment later and echoed in her skull.
It went dead silent when the two of them stepped through the threshold. She met Petra’s eyes first, then Zo’s, then Alva’s, and all three of them went slack-jawed as they struggled to decide whether to look at her or at Kotallo.
“We’ll, ah…” Aloy fought back a blush, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ll be in my bunk.” Well, she was hardly ashamed, but being keenly and brazenly proud was still a bit outside her grasp.
Kotallo, though – he seemed damn near an expert. The man was preening as he followed behind her through the doors of her room. Even Petra’s delighted cackle couldn’t put a crack in his resolute delight. It rolled off his body in waves.
Here they were, as the doors slid closed behind him. Alone. Wanting.
And her, with him all to herself.
She drew a shaky breath. “I want you out of that armor,” she said. “Or I’m going to snap it to pieces.”
“We can’t have that,” he chided, reaching for the fastenings on his chest plate. Hers joined in on the other side, undoing the clasps in half the time and fidgeting as he paused over the last one. He arched a brow. “Aloy-“
“If the next word out of your mouth is anything close to ‘patience,’ I’ll lose it,” she warned.
Chuckling, Kotallo pressed a kiss to her jaw and let his chest plate drop to the floor beside him. “If you think I’ll be able to resist seeing you brought to your pleasure, you’re mad,” he sighed. He let his thumb hook beneath the hem of her shirt, drawing it up just enough to graze her stomach.
Fire and spit, just the slightest touch was like blaze.
His hand pressed beneath the waistband of her loose sleep pants, brushing her curls and lingering there until she was quivering with the effort of resisting the urge to rock up against his damn hand. “Touch me or don’t,” she huffed.
“If those are my options,” he chuckled, “I know which I’d prefer.”
His calloused fingers finally, finally found her clit, and it sent such a spark of pleasure through her that she wondered how the hell she’d gone so long without it and managed to stay sane. She slung one arm around his shoulders, the other braced against the desk as she shameless spread her legs wider for him. Her body was so eager it felt like it would happily chase what it needed and drag her along behind. “Kotallo, that’s-“ The moan she let out wavered and echoed like a strange, keening melody. Her knuckles went white against the metal. “Oh, fuck – more.”
He stroked her, pads of his fingers pressing deftly over her slick clit, his arm flexing against her inner thigh. “Blood of the Ten,” he breathed. “You’re practically dripping for me.” He rose a brow, making him look frustratingly playful. “Perhaps Petra was right about you being pent up.”
“Don’t you start,” she chided. Or tried to anyway. She had a feeling the words got lost somewhere between her lungs and her lips, coming out as little more than a wavering moan as his fingers wandered lower, very nearly pressing inside.
Not quite.
Aloy’s moan turned into a curse, and Kotallo had the gall to chuckle at her. “That’s what happens when you neglect your own needs, Aloy,” he chided. He leaned closer, crowding her against the desk with the sheer hulking breadth of his smoldering frame. His thumb brushed against her clit and made her toes curl. “How long has it been since you last tended to your own pleasure?”
“Ah-“ She buried her nose in the crook of his head to muffle a loud and wanton groan. “A while…”
Finally, finally, his fingers slid inside, burying themselves up to the second knuckle and curling so beautifully that Aloy couldn’t help but whine. She bit the sound back a moment later, but Kotallo nudged his nose against her jaw and insisted, “Let me hear you.”
“Those doors aren’t exactly – nh – soundproof…”
When she chanced a quick glance up at him, she saw his eyes gleaming and his lips pulled back over his teeth. “Your body is aching for release, Aloy – I can feel it just as well myself.” As if to prove a point, he languidly thrust his fingers inside of her, rolling his thumb across her clit and making her breath catch. “Don’t hold it back now. Let it come. And let me hear you.”
Aloy did, legs shamelessly spread and teeth driving down into his shoulder as her fist tightened in his hair. His voice broke against the side of her neck, his breath hot against her skin and thumb pressing mercilessly against her clit as he all but dragged her climax from her, one agonizing wave at a time. It slammed into her like the broad side of a rockbreaker, making her spine shudder and her lungs seize. For a moment, it felt as if her entire body was gripping him, too stubborn and desperate to let go.
A moment after that, she might have screamed. She might have cursed. She might have cried out his name loud enough for everyone between her bedroom and Arrowhand to know who had just brought her to her pleasure. She wasn’t sure – all she knew when she found some semblance of sense again was that her throat was rough and her legs ached.
Kotallo was still for a breath or two more, pressing sloppy, appreciative kisses along her neck. “Just how badly did you need that?” he asked, teasing more than curious. She couldn’t have answered even if she wanted to.
“I’m not done with you,” she finally slurred once she’d managed to catch her breath just enough to form the words. Her fingers curled against his scalp, and she laughed when she realized she’d tugged loose two of his hair pins and sent them rolling off Goddess-knew-where. “I ah...I might just need a moment. Before I can walk again. Just give me a second.”
He had the gall to smirk, teeth brushing against her jaw, and she turned her head before she could give it another moment’s thought. She caught his lips against hers and dragged him into a deep and languid kiss.
That was about when she realized his fingers were still very much inside of her, when they curled almost gently to brush against her slick inner walls again. Her legs tensed against his ribs. “Ah…oh come on,” she whined, “You’ve made me embarrass myself enough tonight.”
Kotallo barked out a laugh. “Embarrass you?”
She groaned against his cheek as he continued to lazily thrust his fingers inside her, the sound of it so noticeably and obscenely wet that it made her face burn red. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I came that hard…or that quick…” Her head tilted forward until her nose brushed his clavicle. “But you…doing that…feels like it may as well have been nothing…”
Insatiable wasn’t the worst word she could think of to describe the fire he was stoking in her with those diligent fingers of his.
“I hardly think that embarrassing,” he purred, dropping his voice to little more than a whisper against the shell of her ear. “Divine as it is to feel you come apart, I’d gladly commit every detail of it to memory.”
It ached to push him away, but she bit her lip and urged his touch back. When his fingers slipped out of her she tried to bite back a whimper – and failed – and willed her legs to hold her steady as she hopped down from the desk. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t done, but if it’s a choice between a hard metal desk and a comfortable bed of furs..”
She turned from him, striding over to the bed and tugging her shirt up over her head as she did. She tossed it across the room, watching it drape itself over a spear lodged in her training dummy’s chest and glancing up to meet Kotallo’s eye again. They were gleaming, blazing hot as a burning patch of embers, fixed on her as she lay back against the furs, topless, and toyed with the hem of her pants.
“Come here,” she purred. Where that low, sultry tone had come from, she would never know, but she hardly cared. The way it urged Kotallo to all but launch himself across the room made her giddy all the same.
He dropped to his belly and pressed himself up between her legs, dropping a long and lingering kiss to her stomach and making it quiver. “Is that tension I sense?” he teased. She shuddered underneath him as she laughed, tangling her fingers in his hair again and letting her nails scrape his scalp.
Oh, he liked that – his entire body quivered with it, like she’d set a coil sparking against his spine. Well noted.
“Plenty,” she hummed, arching a brow. “Think we should break it, Marshal?”
Kotallo’s answer didn’t come with words, but it was undeniably enthusiastic nonetheless.
It was late morning by the time Aloy shuffled out of her room, still half asleep and sore in places she’d never imagined could be sore. She felt like she’d just fought off half an army of machines, except instead of riding a charger into battle she’d-
Well.
She’d ridden something else. Not into battle, per se, but something that could kick up about as much dust.
She registered food. That was about all that made it to her brain as she fetched herself a bowl of steamed grains that Zo offered her. She sat down at the bench with a yawn.
“Morning,” came a voice she hadn’t been expecting. A familiar one, yes, but one that jolted her out of her half-slumber. She locked eyes with Varl across the room.
“Varl,” she said.
“Aloy,” he nodded. Next to him, Erend was staring down a chunk of bread like it owed him money. A warm, solid presence settled beside her, and Varl cast his gaze to the ceiling and added, “Kotallo.”
“Good morning,” came a low rumble from her side. A bit…raspier than usual.
Oh.
“I…” Aloy gawked at Varl and Erend both, as the two of them fought to look anywhere but at her. Her spoon hung listlessly in her fingers. “I thought you were…going to be in Plainsong for the night.”
Erend scratched at the back of his neck while Varl seemed to barely resist the urge to bite at his nails. “We were going to stay,” Erend forced out. “But change of plans – those glinthawks were already scrapped by the time we got there and well…we ah…we came back early.”
“They arrived back last night not long after you…retired for the evening, Aloy,” Zo said as she coolly sipped her morning bitterleaf infusion.
“How, um…” She cleared her throat, little as it did to help. “How long…after…”
Petra shrugged. “About five minutes or so.”
Aloy let out a pitiful choking noise as her spoon clattered into her bowl. Forget eating. She preferred to curl into a ball under the table instead until time and pressure inevitably turned her into a lump of coal. “Oh,” she managed to say, though it came out sounding pained. “That’s…ah…” Defeated, she let her forehead fall against her open palm with a dull thump. “You heard everything, didn’t you?”
“Ah, yeah,” Varl said, matter-of-factly. “Yeah, you could say that. You could definitely say that.”
“Sure could,” Erend muttered.
“Just…a bit,” Alva added with a sheepish nod.
“Rather clearly,” said Zo.
Petra cackled around a mouthful of bread. “I for one was impressed.”
Next to her, Kotallo tried admirably to hold back a snort.
Admirably. Not successfully.
Aloy pushed herself up from her seat, marveling at the fact that her legs managed to hold her at all. She kept her eyes firmly shut, not daring to risk meeting a single person’s eye for even a moment. “I’m going to eat in my room,” she said in a low and measured tone.
Dignity was probably too much to ask. She did her best to keep it intact as she took her bowl and got halfway to her room before-
“I can try to go easy on you next time, commander.” Oh, when she dared turn around to look at him, Kotallo had the audacity to arch an eyebrow. “Though I cannot promise I’ll succeed.”
Petra was grinning from ear to ear, and Erend – bless him – looked a little like he was about to have a stroke. Aloy held Kotallo’s gaze for a moment more. Just one more breath.
Two.
Three.
This silence felt like it was going to eat her alive, and yet he didn’t even flinch as he brought an apple to his lips and bit into it with a deafening crunch. Aloy swallowed as she resigned herself to being the one to break it: “I’ll hold you to that, Marshal.”
Even as she let her bedroom doors close behind her and sank back against them with her face so hot it could have melted iron, Aloy couldn’t deny that it was all worth it.
Oh blood of the Ten, was it ever beautifully, gloriously worth it.