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It is really rather comical, now that Golden Cheese gives it a proper amount of thought.
The day of their first attempt, she happened to catch him in the palace pantry, helping himself to a mango. He seemed to have gone well out of his way to acquire it, if the gaggle of unwanted fruits and vegetables carelessly scattered across the tables and shelves served as any indication. Not wanting to interrupt him - she quickly decided that simply leaving him to enjoy his snack in his natural habitat undisturbed would be the more charming course of action - she floated past the sandstone entryway, light as the feathers that carried her and silent as the aiding breeze, lingering just long enough to watch and enjoy the slight quirk of his lips as his teeth pierced the mango's skin and tore into its flesh.
She paid it little mind then, save for what it took to shake her head and smile to herself in mild amusement. A bit curious, yes, that he would go to such trouble for something so small - but nothing she had not seen from him before, in some way. What Burning Spice wanted, he simply took, regardless of what it was and the effort required. Such were his ways and whims, beholden to a similar greed as she.
Just as he took her later that same night, laid in the nest of cotton pillows and silk sheets he had so lovingly arranged just for them to enjoy, exactly as they had promised one another would come to pass. A slight ache in trembling legs as they hung far over broad shoulders, shaken with pleasure and a spark of discomfort as muscles burned with their prolonged stretch. Slender fingers swam through waves of ebony, pinpricks of blood welling where manicured nails buried their desperate appeal for closeness into his scalp; scarred, brutish hands grasped and pawed at her in turn, messing once finely-combed feathers, circling her shoulders with a near-bruising grip, betraying his affection through holding her chin in a savage yet tender cradle. Never mourning his absence inside of her for even a moment, the sharp, wet collisions of their hips ringing in her ears as he drove his cock deep enough to strike her blind and dumb. Drowning themselves and each other in sensual bliss over and over and over again, from earliest nightfall until she saw the dawn looming behind the curtains from the corner of her lidded eye. Every breath she took, every whine and moan he punched from her lungs with a thrust, he answered with a kiss: peppered across her collarbone, branded into her neck, seared against the shell of her ear and the apples of her cheeks. And in those he used to briefly smother her cries of pleasure hid the taste of mango; still lingering on his lips, still haunting his breath, still singing the softest notes on his tongue.
Curious, indeed, that he had apparently eaten enough before their night together for a clue to still remain noticeable. But not yet enough to raise an eyebrow.
More curious still, however, was that the next day, she caught him doing it again. Their opposing paths through the palace crossed by chance; her on her way to business in the throne room, and him off to... who knew where, really. And within his gluttonous grasp, yet again, was a mango: plump, fragrant, perfectly ripe. Dyed such warm, blushing hues of red and orange. Bleeding golden ichor onto his fingers as he carved a gaping wound into its flesh with his fangs.
"And where do you think you're going, making such a mess of yourself and my floors?" she asked him half-jokingly.
"The sparring grounds," he answered her plain. "The palace guards called upon me to test their might once again, and I chose to oblige."
"You mean you found an excuse to let off steam by pummeling them into the sand?"
The corners of his lips quirked into a slight smile. "And if I did? I hunger for combat, and my preferred sparring partner is currently unavailable."
"The only thing you really seem to hunger for is that poor mango you've so heartlessly massacred," she remarked. "And now you're lashing out further by making a mess of my palace. Here I thought my own husband would have some manners."
"Making a mess, huh?" The smile grew, just barely hidden by the juicy remains of the mango as he brought it close to his mouth. "I'm only getting a bit of practice in for tonight, my little bird. The mess we'll be making then shall be far bigger and sweeter than this."
"So you think our ends justify your means, hm?" An eye roll, swift and scathing, though betrayed by the subtle mimic of his smile on her own lips. "I must say, I find it quite the shock that you apparently doubt your prowess enough to think you need practice. Practice, after all of our days and nights together! It would be funny if it wasn't... so... disappointing..."
She trailed off, the words dying on her tongue as his own slid out. Their eyes remained locked, lidded scarlet peering into stunned gold; the flat of his tongue dragged up the mango hard and steady, a dramatic show of his borderline lustful attempt at savoring the taste. Around a particular chunk near the top, he swept over it, swirled around it, careful to keep his stare solid and unblinking as he took it into his mouth and suckled. At the first sign of movement - her lips parted, only a hair's width, whether she meant to speak or draw in a gasp he knew not - he changed course, suddenly diving into the mango with a monstrous appetite, thrusting his tongue into the fresh cavity and greedily sucking up every drop of juice. When he pulled back, the mango seemed reluctant to let him go; a thick, gooey strand of saliva and juice clung to the tip of his tongue, bridging the gap between him and the mango before it broke with a lick of his lips.
At this obscene display, Golden Cheese's cheeks flushed a sweltering and dreadfully conspicuous red, and out of her mouth came an indignant squeak. And thus, Burning Spice's smile ripened into that sharp-toothed grin she held in such simultaneous contempt and adoration, a deep, hearty chuckle rumbling in his throat and rocking his shoulders.
"Well don't be late," she huffed, perhaps a bit too quickly, as she began her march past him. "And stop getting mango juice on the floor!"
"As you wish, my queen," he purred over his shoulder at her, keeping that smug, obnoxious, far-too-knowing grin until she fully retreated from the hall and from his sight entirely.
Eventually, as promised and expected, he stayed true to his flirtatious word. He did, indeed, go on to make a bigger mess than he had that quaint afternoon; stealing her away as soon as she stepped through the bedroom door and devouring her lips before she could huff or puff any more at him. Gone was her jewelry, her clothes, her dupatta; strewn across the floor in careless exile. Whatever flustered indignation yet lurked in her mind and heart died a swift and silent death, melting away as he stripped her bare and turned his starved attention to the rest of her body, tracing her curves and marking her skin with his lips and tongue and teeth, each kiss hungrier and each lick wetter than the last. Making the delicious journey all the way down, until he reached a spot far sweeter than any mango could ever hope to be.
"Darling," she strained, her sound mind crumbling by the second, clutching the sheets just as she clutched at her wavering sanity, "What are you doing? Shouldn't you... Aren't you going to...?"
"I am," he pulled back to say - and oh gods, she didn't know what drove her madder: his hot breath against her wetness, the devious glint in his eye, or the sight of her juices glistening on his lips and staining his chin. "And I will. I only wish to prepare you better for what comes next, my beautiful queen."
"I don't need you to- ah!" A strong flick of her aching clit with his tongue sent her reeling backwards, her head falling back against the pillows and her legs parting even further in an instinctive plea for more. Before she allowed her eyes to roll back into their sockets in mindless ecstasy, she saw him glance up at her through his lashes one more time, the same lewd smugness from hours before returning to adorn his features.
And within that pleasurable limbo he kept her trapped; lavishing her clit and folds, slipping his tongue past the stretch of her entrance to lap at her tender walls, gorging on her slick as it pooled out of her; making love to her with his mouth until she whined and mewled enough for him to make love to her with something else of his instead. Such a euphoric relief was him finally hooking her legs around his waist and pushing in - slowly, deliberately, so she could feel every throbbing inch and he could revel in the divine sensation of her pussy swallowing him whole - that she nearly wept. As he rocked into her heat, losing himself in their rhythm, he leaned down to capture her lips once more - and on that hot, sinful tongue that slid into her mouth to caress her own, she tasted his desire, tasted her own essence... and she tasted the sugary tang of mango, all too familiar now, more powerful tonight than it had been last.
Had she the mind and will, she would have asked after it. Ultimately, however, she chose instead to surrender to his intoxicating touch and taste without further comment, aside from babbling his name like a mantra and pleading for him not to stop, for him to go harder, faster, deeper. By the time the fog lifted from her brain and her thoughts could be recollected and reassembled, daybreak had already returned, and by then, the siren song of sleep rang too enchanting to ignore. So what if her husband had randomly developed a new snacking habit? What was it to her? She could spare it an idle thought later. Later, without the strong arms holding her flush and tender against a thick chest, dabbled with sweat and heaving for breath. Without his lips, rough and warm, greeting her skin, anointing her forehead with tired kisses. Without him still buried deep inside of her, the occasional twitch and throb and the weighted heat of his release painting her insides in multiple coats sending tiny jolts of electricity up her spine. Wonder about his odd behavior later. Sometime. Maybe.
Yes, quite curious and comical was it and he. Alas, still not quite enough to rouse her. Twice was but coincidence, after all.
But on the third day, upon entering the feasting hall in search of her late breakfast and catching him stuffing his face with mangoes again, she felt that her hand had finally been forced.
"Burning Spice?" She flew and settled down by his side, eyeing him strangely as she pulled out her own chair to sit. "What are you doing?"
"Eating," he answered between mouthfuls of the golden yellow fruit, as if there couldn't have been a more obvious truth in the world. "What does it look like?"
"It looks like déjà vu," she told him. "This is the third day in a row I've caught you remorselessly devouring mangoes like this."
"Third?" He paused, eyebrows knit, until mild realization dawned on his face and he nodded. "Ah. I thought I'd sensed your presence by the pantry that morning."
"The pantry, the corridor, the feasting hall here and now..." Her voice, befuddled, rose with each finger counting off each coincidence. "In all of which, I've found you scarfing down mangoes. Of course, that is not a failing, no crime has been committed-"
"Except when I got mango juice on your precious palace floors, no?" he interrupted her, eyes twinkling with mirth as he bit and chewed and swallowed another mouthful.
She made a face and let out a breath through her nose. "What I'm trying to tell you, Burning Spice, is that... it's curious to me. Overwhelmingly so, at this point. I don't remember you devouring anything in such great quantities, nor with such fervor."
"Are you sure about that, pretty bird?" He swept his gaze over her form once, top to bottom, before settling back on her face, a smirk threatening the corners of his mouth. "I can think of a few things I've devoured quite happily, perhaps even more so than you describe. Should I come closer and help you remember?"
Her cheeks warmed at his thinly veiled solicitation - he chuckled under his breath at the sight of her, lecherous bastard - and she shook her head. "Oh, stop it. I ask you a plain and honest question."
"And I give you a plain and honest answer, birdie."
"I'm serious, Burning Spice," she sighed. "Just tell me what it is. By now, it's come to kill me. You would spite me and threaten my immortality in such a way? Your soulmate, without whom you cannot live either?"
"Tch..." Another chuckle, albeit a half-hearted one, eyes flitting to what remained of the mango in his sticky palm. For a moment, he appeared almost... shy?
The silence lingered a moment longer before he spoke quietly: "It's nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Well, I don't believe you." She crossed her arms, her gaze turning critical. "It's been three consecutive days of you wiping out the palace's mango supply, to a degree that lets me taste it on your breath when we kiss ages afterwards. Hell, last night the flavor lingered even after you tasted me. That implies that you're eating quite the hefty servings, does it not? And now that I dare to ask, you clam up and squirm in your seat, looking every which way but at me. Why is that? You've never cared this much about mangoes, or any fruit, really. And you've cared about facing judgment for your actions far less."
He returned her stare for a blink or two, before his eyes fell to the mango again. Now his turn had come to blush, the apples of his cheeks taking on a tint rosy enough to view even against his red skin.
"I..." He wavered, uncertain, before letting out a soft sigh. "It's foolish."
"Even if it truly is, my love..." Gently yet gladly did she reach over and lay her hand atop his own, allowing the juice and pulp to stain her flawless skin a sticky, vibrant yellow without a care. "I'd be happy to hear it. I'm only curious, is all. If it really is as silly as you suggest, then I promise I won't laugh."
"Making promises we don't intend to keep, are we."
"And how do you know for certain that I won't? You think so little of me? Your queen? Your wife? You wound me so deeply, darling!"
The teasing lilt in her voice seemed to lift his spirits some, and he offered her a faint smile - one that faded as quickly as it came, evaporating with her gesture for him to continue.
"Go on, then," she said. "I'm listening."
The fire in his cheeks burned hotter with the second sigh that left his lips. "In my land... in my culture," he tried to explain, "mangoes are hailed as a symbol of fertility."
Curiosity came to share space with sincere fascination in Golden Cheese's eyes and mind, the weight of his little revelation causing her head to tilt to a side. "Oh?"
"They're sweet... lush... always plentiful, even in such harsh lands. They are coveted by the Wild Spices for reasons both practical and spiritual. To us, mangoes are far more than just fruit. They are love, wisdom, prosperity..."
"And fertility," Golden Cheese murmured, finishing his sentence for him. He nodded.
"In my time, when couples expressed a desire for children, they were encouraged to eat plenty of mangoes. Both mother and father, at least one full fruit a day, until they at last earned their great blessing. It was thought that the mangoes would enchant you with their properties. Share with you their vitality." More bashful still he became, as he murmured his next line: "It was always recommended that... that they be consumed prior to the act, to reap the most benefit."
"Is that so?"
With a blink, the mango came to be regarded with a sort of fragile contempt; the holes Burning Spice seemed eager to burn into the pulp came through blazing, narrowed eyes, his lips pulled in a frown so taut that Golden Cheese figured it must ache considerably.
"Is that really it, love? You make out such a benign action to be a humiliating secret. A failing of historic proportions."
"Superstition," he growled. "Foolish, fanciful, meaningless wish-making is what it is."
"As if there's shame to be found in making wishes. And to insinuate such a thing in my kingdom! No, ours!"
His expression wavered, sheepishness turning the tide in its favor, beginning its slow wash over his face.
"Besides. However you want to view it, and whether your insults ring true or not... Still, you listen. Still, you follow in the steps of hopeful mortals long-gone."
She found humorous affection in the mango juice that seeped into the skin of her palm as she laced her fingers through his. His mess bleeding over, sticking them together, a sweetened fragrance wafting from the stickiness made lukewarm by his touch. In past circumstances, she would have cursed him for dirtying her even in such a small way; now, she paid it no mind, welcomed it even. The feeling of their hands intertwined stood above all.
"And you do that because..." She trailed off, eyes pensive and soft. Gently she asked her question: "You're worried? Afraid?"
Already she knew the answer; they both did. But it was an answer that could not bear to be unspoken. Not anymore.
"My love... My soul... Do you not think we will succeed?"
She watched his throat bob with a dry swallow, his answer coming through hesitant. "I... I fear that... that I've yet to pay the full price of my crimes. That even now, despite how I've changed, I am to be denied absolution. And in that denial, I am also to be denied this happiness."
"Burning Spice..."
"I am Destruction," he continued. "No longer is the power of Change within my grasp, save for its ruinous aspect. Perhaps the Herald could create once, but he is no more. I am fit only to corrupt. To destroy. Am I not?"
"No," Golden Cheese countered resolutely, "nonsense. You've proven to still be capable of so much more. Would you be here with me now if you weren't?"
"Would I ever have allowed fear to turn me superstitious if I was?"
His self-doubt weighed heavy on both of their hearts, but Golden Cheese would not tolerate it any more than she already has. Squeezing his hand, she brought her other to his chin, tilting his head forward to guide his eyes to hers.
"You frown upon superstition. Perhaps I would have, too, in days long past. But here and now, I only see a man who dreams so vividly of a bright future that he would seek any means to make it real." Away her hand went from his chin to the mango, taking it for herself and holding it aloft as if it were a brand new treasure. "You call it meaningless wish-making. I call it greed. The truest kind, the one born and nurtured in the deepest depths of your soul. A longing for something great, great enough to supersede all of your fears and doubts."
"Pfft." He rolled his eyes, the ghost of a smile coming and going. "Of course you'd say that."
"I say it because it is true. Unless you think me a fool as well? Or a liar, like your comrade?"
Insisting he believed her a fool drew an unhappy glance; shifting gears to him believing her deceitful sparked anger, shock, his eyes rounding in tandem with the clench of his hand around hers.
"Burning Spice... listen to me." Quickly the mango was set aside, exchanged for the hand she'd first stolen it from. The tender cradle of her palm was all it took for his frustration to subside, his expression once more softening with the weaving of four hands instead of two.
"It's alright to worry. Even mortals often do," she told him. "It only saddens me that you'd feel ashamed to tell me so... and even more that you think you'd be the one responsible for a bad outcome, if we end up facing one."
"And why wouldn't I be? With the way I am, this curse I bear? Destruction cannot create. I... I can't..."
"You can," she soothed. "You still view destruction only as a negative force, a gift of nothing but misfortune. You don't give it nor yourself the respect either deserves." A soft clack came from the meeting of their Soul Jams, the tilt of her head bringing her forward into his chest. An impossible warmth bloomed from the spot of their feather-light collision, energies familiar and novel surging through the pair, a flame lit within twin souls that shone through the glow of scarlet and gold. "You've changed, my love. And with you, your power. Your destruction is no longer one to take from others and leave them hollow. It is to cleanse the old, and make way for the new."
When he felt one of his hands begin to be tugged somewhere, he hummed, but otherwise offered no resistance; casting his eyes downward, he followed their trail to Golden Cheese's person, his heart skipping a beat as she pressed his hand flat over her belly.
"That is all we're doing, is it not?" she asked. "Making way for something new?"
He gulped, the struggle to speak past the breath caught in his throat proving a bigger one than he wished. Catching onto him, she giggled.
"... I am Destruction," he eventually managed to mumble, doubt still coloring his voice but in a weakened tone.
"And I am Abundance," she said back, calm and content and radiant as ever. "We are meant to be together. Should any union bear fruit, it shall be ours. I know it."
A pause. Suddenly, a sense of mischief flared in Burning Spice's heart - not his own.
"Speaking of fruit..." Neither could help but mourn their closeness as Golden Cheese leaned away, the divine light sparked from their virtues' caress dissipating with her departure. Soon after, one hand slipped out of Burning Spice's own, and he instinctively squeezed the air in absence of his wife. Once more in her possession was a mango - a different one, untouched by claw nor teeth, plucked from the small stockpile haphazardly gathered onto the table.
"I believe you said both prospective parents are to consume these?" she mused. "At least one each day?"
"I... Yes. That's right."
"Then you would do well to part with this one."
"But-"
"I told you, what you partake in is but another expression of greed," she said. "You really think I'd stand idle and let you do so alone?"
Before he could answer, she brought the mango to her mouth. Another heartbeat went amiss as he watched her lips part, her teeth sink in, her tongue peek out to swipe at the meat, and the juice dripping from her lips after she'd chewed and swallowed. In shameless mimicry, she kept her gaze leveled and didn't blinked once.
"I'll be taking this, then." Rising from her perch beside him, she gave him a nod. "I've got important matters to attend to, as I imagine you also do."
Her heel-turn was smooth, elegant, the sway of her hips almost hypnotic as she walked away. Throwing him one more glance over her shoulder - and showing off another bite of her mango, for the blush the motion painted over his cheeks was too adorable - she purred, "I'll see you tonight, love."
He opened his mouth to speak, but if any words had been spoken, she missed them; perhaps she'd turned away too quickly, or perhaps the fleeting sight of her had dried his tongue before it could be put to use. Ah, well. Such follies would be atoned for soon enough.
Soon enough, as the desert sun dipped below the horizon, the palace walls bathed in waning flame as the two met beside their bedroom door once again. "Ah, my darling," Golden Cheese sighed, "how I missed you."
"Only hours have passed, little bird," Burning Spice chuckled. "But... I mourned your absence just as much."
"Show me?"
Her feet had already left the ground before her question had fully been asked, a flap of her wings serving to raise her to eye level. As she locked her legs around his waist, he circled his arms around hers, holding her steady as he nudged the door open with his shoulder. "Heh. Eager, are we?"
"Aren't you?"
"Desperate." His truth came out low, husky; punctuated by the press of his lips to her jugular, curled into a smile as she tilted her head back to offer her neck to him freely. The sound of the door pushing shut was the key to his shackles; kisses to her neck turned open-mouthed and greedy, the hands once used to hold her now raking up her back and hiking up her skirt to paw at her thighs. Their clothes vanished quickly, Golden Cheese breaking her leg lock only once to free him and herself of her skirt and underwear. A shiver passed through her as she felt the tip of his cock teasing at her sex, the lightest brush against her entrance that almost sent her spiraling.
"Did you finish your breakfast this morning?" she breathed into his shoulder, already on her way to paying back the love bites dotting her collarbone as he settled himself down on their bed, still trapped in her embrace.
"I did," he answered quietly. Sheepishly, almost.
"Good," she commended him. "I finished mine as well. We've done everything right so far."
"Still, you insist on this silly folktale?" A breathy laugh from him, warm and heavy with a blend of amusement and desire.
"I insist on being as greedy as my husband as been," she proudly corrected. "And..." She caressed his cheek. "I want to indulge him, and help lay his fears to rest."
His eyes were a hearth, flames of pure adoration crackling within; for a moment she found herself in a trance, lost in their enchanting glow. Until she was snapped out of it by his grip on her hips turning bruising, a loud gasp tearing from her throat as he shoved himself up into her soaked heat.
"G-gods," she hissed. Between shaky breaths, a smile bloomed, pained yet euphoric. "Oh gods, Burning Spice, I missed you."
"Only been a few hours," he repeated - but he, too, was speaking around puffs of breath, his mind already falling victim to their shared pleasure.
"Too many," she told him. "Too many. I need you. Please."
Violet nails carved deep crimson lines into Burning Spice's back, drawing blood from his flesh and growls and moans from the pit of his throat as he bounced Golden Cheese in his lap, far too happy to oblige her plea. Sharp claws met her in turn, raising delicate welts along the length of her spine, tempting her to arch her back and flex her wings out of pleasured instinct. Jolts of electricity sparked in her core, rattled her every nerve; stars danced across her vision with every stab of his cock to her sweet spot, and in mindless pursuit of her climax, she ground down into his pelvis, cursing under her labored breath as the patch of hair at his base gave her throbbing clit much-needed stimulation.
Mango, fresh and delicious; that was all she could taste when she crushed their lips together, diving her tongue into his mouth. Mango, sweet and holy, the new drug of choice for their lovemaking. Mango, the flavor that overwhelmed her taste buds as her orgasm overwhelmed her mind and body, breaking their kiss to scream in ecstasy as she tumbled over the edge, holding onto him for dear life as he quickly followed suit, white-hot release flooding her insides with a drawn-out moan.
She could still feel it stuck to the roof of her mouth, echoing in the back of her throat, as they eventually wound down from their last shared high of many for the night. Content beneath the weight of his body draped over hers, his face buried in the crook of her neck, his hair damp with sweat but still a pleasure to comb and coil around her fingers. A sigh left her lips as her inner thighs, a mess of cum and slick, were eased of their ache by a dutiful massage from large, calloused hands. Mango, such a blissful taste to accompany such a blissful night.
It haunted her thoughts, too, the next morning. Surprising, curious, comical, that a food so simple could be turned so addicting in the blink of an eye. Perhaps Burning Spice's greed truly had infected her; so hungry and hopeful were they both, for the miracle they sought. Between audiences and royal inquiries, she found herself snacking on the quaint little fruits almost absentmindedly, as if they'd always been part of her diet and routine and she'd never known anything different.
But another surprise came, along with the evening meal she'd gone to share with kingdom clergy. Careful as always were they in the offerings they arranged for her; only the finest food and drink for Her Radiance, lest they be stricken with the deepest shame. One single item stood out from the rest; a fruit, a delightfully round shape, its skin dyed a brilliant ruby that almost twinkled in the light.
How could she have forgotten this little treasure, this token of her own people's beliefs and wishes? She could have been indulging in it all this time! An egregious mistake on her part, that was for certain. With a glint in her eye, she claimed it for herself before anyone else could; by dinner's end, she told them she intended to savor it another time. A truth simple and vague enough to avoid further scrutiny.
She waited ever so patiently for her beloved husband to arrive, coveted fruit in hand. At the first sight and sound of the doors giving way, she readied herself - and what greeted Burning Spice's vision as he ventured into their marital sanctuary was his wife, his soulmate, ogling him through her lashes as she reclined on one side, tilted head and seductive smile propped up by one arm. A curtain of golden feathers had been drawn over her body, shrouding her figure; at the swirl of wind from the door's rapid closing and her other half's growing delight, she drew her wing back, flared for added effect - revealing that she was exposed but for the panties hugging her hips, dyed a blood-red shade she knew he adored.
"There you are," she cooed. "What kept you away from me so long? You should know better by now than to make a goddess wait."
"Such is the burden of kingship," he said - and she couldn't help but laugh a little, for he seemed to hardly notice himself speaking at all, so preoccupied was he in devouring her with his eyes. Licking his lips hungrily, he took a step forward - just one, barely, before a sharply raised hand halted him in his tracks.
"Ah ah. You condemn me to my lonesome for so long, then you dare to approach me while still dressed?" Her fingers curled until one remained, drawn forward to gesture critically at his offending attire. "Get rid of all that, I tire of it. I crave the touch of skin and flesh, not gold and fabric."
Animal in heat that he was, Burning Spice obeyed her without question. She observed with immense relish, her smile now the grin of the canary that had outsmarted the cat, as he stripped himself of his sash, his dhoti, his collar and beads; gifting her the priceless view of his sculpted muscles and rapidly hardening cock. He was upon her an instant afterwards, the bed creaking under the added weight, her lecherous joy mirrored in his face. But once again she stopped him, just short of the full reverent slide of his hands down her abdomen, fingers peeking under the waistband of her underwear. "Ah ah," she chastised him again. "I have something to show you."
Her hand disappeared behind a pillow, reaching for... something. His eyes narrowed and brow pinched with impatience, frustration, almost pouting at her - then her hand reappeared and within it was...
"...A pomegranate?" he asked. With a blink, his pout was gone, replaced with mild confusion.
"Indeed," she told him rather smugly. "As luck would have it, my own people champion this enchanting little morsel for reasons similar to your mangoes. You must forgive me for not recalling it sooner; how foolish of me to let it slip my mind, honestly! We could have been partaking in it as well as mangoes right from the start."
"Heh... Is that so?" Mild confusion turned into mild amusement, pulling the corners of his mouth up into a small smirk. "You forget, but I never knew to begin with. I suppose we both have these to answer for."
She held the fruit higher, for them both to marvel at. "Since eons past have pomegranates been adored by this kingdom. Painted a scarlet so captivating, so seductive, as to rival the priceless jewels we hoard. And within their lustrous shells hide wishes, promises..." A crunch resounded with the firm press of her hands; from a single winding crack, the pomegranate split in almost perfect halves, its glittering insides revealed. "Seeds that appear like droplets of sunlight turned to wine, so sweet and rich. We found ways to weave them into every feast, every ritual. The rind, the seeds, the juice. None would dare let anything go to waste."
He watched, intrigued, as she held the pomegranate closer to herself. "Fabled jewel of the desert, treasured offering to gods and mortals alike. Symbols of abundance, renewal..." A hair's width from her lips now. "Fertility," she whispered before digging in, her eyes lidded and fixed on her husband's flushed, enraptured expression as she coyly lapped up every seed but one. The one she offered him upon her tongue, with the temptation, "Try it yourself."
He was glad to. Pushed forward by a hand on the nape of her neck, he all but swallowed her tongue whole, coaxing a moan as he greedily sucked on the muscle and the seed along with it. Lost in the heat of their kiss, she almost didn't notice him scratching at her hips, trying to tug her underwear down. Almost.
She forced him down onto the bed with a shove that knocked the wind from his lungs. "Still so rude," she lamented. "At least let me finish my meal first, no?"
The other half of the pomegranate was devoured with renewed fervor - deliberate, calculated, the flash of teeth and hard stroke of her tongue against the seed pulp meant to push Burning Spice further towards delirium. And by the stolen glances of his wide eyes and bitten lip and the bead of white trickling down the side of his member, she was successful.
Tossing the hollowed shell aside, she leaned forward, downward, draping her body over his. Her face was a mess of pomegranate juice, the smile she gave him seemingly dipped in sweet-smelling blood. "Keep still for a little longer," she said. "I'm not done feasting just yet."
The press of her lips to his was nothing but soft, gentle. It took all of his might to resist the urge to break her chastity and swallow her tongue, her breath, her sweet song again. But he willed himself to obey her again, however painful it was to do so, only sighing softly when she pulled away. She was far from finished, however; another sigh left his lips as hers wandered over his cheek, his chin, the apple of his throat. More kisses, equally as tender; pomegranate juice as her new lipstick, sweet juice marking a dark, sticky trail along his skin.
"Such a precious thing," she murmured into his collarbone. "A delight to the senses and the soul." Another kiss, another mark. "A beauty divine and intoxicating..." Down his chest, a slow shower of kisses over the meat of his pectorals. He hummed at the sensation of her tongue peeking out, tracing over the edges of his tattoos. "An emblem of vitality, a symbol of life and death." His hands twisted into the sheets as she kissed his Soul Jam, sweetening it to the taste of pomegranate as a pleasured curse poisoned his breath. He found himself arching his back to meet her, Destruction's fiery glow lighting her face as he sought more of her touch. "To know its essence is to know its power..." She was thorough with his abdomen, diligent, doting. Daring to indulge himself, he brought a hand to her hair; a smile graced his lips as he wove his fingers through her fluffy golden locks without resistance. "To savor its taste is to savor eternity." Finally, she reached the end of her journey. Lips still stained, there was just enough juice left to paint her canvas one more time. How fortunate that this part was the best one. "Jewel of the desert, indeed. So difficult to resist its temptations..."
"Golden Cheese-" His plea dissolved into a moan before it could even be spoken, as the final kiss she pressed into the base of his cock melted into a lick, languid and delectable, following the white trail up the shaft until she could swirl her tongue over the weeping tip. "And they fulfill our wishes for fertility, just like mangoes," she breathed against him, sending a shiver up his spine. "The trees veil lovers with their shade, so no one may disturb them... the fruit invoke our sensuality, fan the flames of our passion." She smiled. "I wonder how you compare."
Taking him into her mouth always proved a bit of a struggle, thanks to his size - but she was always eager to try, and now was no exception. Little by little, with the gentle bob of her head, she swallowed him up, the flat of her tongue gliding over the underside in repeated caresses. He cursed again, louder this time, grasping at her hair when she pulled back to suckle the tip harder.
It was a short-lived action, ended just as Burning Spice had begun bucking his hips out of base instinct - "just as delicious," she told him afterwards, as she lapped up one last bead of precum. But it was fine, understandable to both; he couldn't be brought near the edge so soon. Though he missed her mouth, he was content to part with it - glad, enthusiastic even, because what came next was her rising to her knees and straddling him, underwear at last disposed of, the head of his cock grazing her dripping folds as she lined herself up with him.
"They promise us new life. New beginnings."
Destruction burned hot and bright against her palm as she laid it to rest atop the stone. A slight thrum against her fingertips; the beat of his heart, strong enough to echo through the gem. His hands came to eclipse her own, clasping them adoringly, reverently. Cradling them against his heart and soul.
"And is new life not what we both desire?"
Surprise, worry, and euphoria bled into one another as he watched and felt her sink onto him like lightning, warm wetness enveloping his cock down to the base in one smooth motion. Her face twisted into a grimace, wings spasming in discomfort at the sudden, massive stretch of his cock reaching into her deepest depths; despite it, she began moving right away, hisses and gasps of pain and pleasure spilling from her mouth as she rode him with loosely controlled desperation.
"Please." Her voice was but a breath, her words a hushed prayer. To him. To the gods. To the heavenly fruit they beseeched for sugar-sweet aid. "Please, I want it, I need it, ple-hah, please, please I want it so badly, give it to me, please, please-"
He had no answer for her pleas but for his look; stunning, gorgeous, perfect woman, his other half, his radiance, she who had hung the sun and moon and stars in the sky just for him. He freed her hand to go and smooth over her hips instead, kneading the supple flesh but permitting their freedom of movement. Too entranced by the sight and sensation of her forceful, needy grind to dare interrupt.
"Please, please, oh gods please-"
"My queen," he panted, for her love and praise were all he could speak, "my love, my goddess, m-my little bird-"
Sweat clung to her brow, dabbled her stomach, trickled with the bounce of her breasts as she inched closer and closer to her peak. Destruction's gentle hold became a starved clasp, fingertips forcefully rubbing and sliding over the gleaming surface; at this, the thread of Burning Spice's sanity snapped, and he lifted his hips to meet her halfway and savagely fuck up into her heat.
"Kiss me!" he snarled. And she listened, using her final shred of lucidity to lean down and trap him in her arms, clawing at his back and shoulders as she crushed her lips to his. Curses and cries of mind-numbing bliss were swallowed whole as they careened over the edge together, the knot in her core unwinding as his cum spilled over in thick, pulsing waves. His thrusts continued, strong and erratic, her moans turning to high-pitched whines at the overstimulation.
Still their lips remained locked, softening with the fading high and as their grind came to a stop. Their combined juices leaked down Golden Cheese's thighs as she lifted herself up, releasing him from her snug grip; both couldn't help but whine at the loss of contact, Golden Cheese pecking at his lips as they parted almost in apology. A thin trail of saliva tethered their tongues as their kiss at last broke too, breaking with enough distance. Eyes lidded and face flushed, she swept her tongue over her lips, savoring what flavors lingered. A smile played on her lips as she playfully whispered, "Mango."
He was quick and eager to mimic her, licking at his own smirk before he answered back, "Pomegranate."
It made her giggle, and her giggle made him chuckle. And once more were they lured into a kiss, for how could either resist the other's music?
"I'm sure it'll work now," she murmured against his lips. "All that we've devoured, such sweet holiness... We are certain to be blessed."
"Superstitious bird," he teased. "Trying to seduce me with grand tales of simple fruit."
"Ha! As if you hadn't been gladly submitting to those of your own people before today. Besides... I succeeded in my seduction, did I not?"
"You did. Perhaps too well." She was far from surprised when he snaked his arms around her waist and rolled her onto her back, pinning her beneath him, her wings stretching beneath her as they touched priceless silk. Happy to be trapped in her new cage, she moaned as he slipped his hand down to massage her slit; his was the grin of a devil as he toyed with her, gathering the cum and slick drooling from her entrance and slathering it over her folds, her clit, furthering the mess. "I believe in the fruits' promises," he said, wiping his fingers on her thigh before grabbing at her legs to pry them apart. "But I'm certain it would help if our nights continued."
"Yes," she breathed, shuddering in anticipation as she felt something stiff begin to prod at her entrance again. "I couldn't agree more." And whatever words she had left to spare him were erased from her mind entirely, no room left in her thoughts beyond him and his relentless pounding.
Of course their long nights continued; until they'd earned their blessing, they would continue striving after it, stubborn creatures that they were. But with the holy fruits' promises came a new curiosity, an urge towards exploration. Until their greed was finally satisfied, novel ways to achieve it were pursued with enthusiasm.
On the fourth night, Golden Cheese brought a pitcher; mango and pomegranate squeezed and stirred together into one drink, for them to share. Hours of endless lovemaking proved as exhausting as they were exhilarating. The cool, crisp glasses truly were a godsend, coming to be cradled in their hands as they cradled each other in the afterglow, a clink born from each new pour and toast.
"Not bad, right?" Golden Cheese asked, all but beaming into her juice. "A good refresher in the in-between. I'd say we were in sore need of something like it."
"Yes..." She was right, of course; the juice brought a small smile to his lips as it washed over his tongue, the lushness of mango combined with pomegranate's tart yet rich flavor a shockingly delicious mixture. A good refresher, indeed. And yet... raking his eyes over her figure, dotted with sweat and scandalous bruises, he found himself wanting more. Thirsting for it.
"Hm? What are you-" She silenced herself with a gasp as he gripped her shoulder tight to keep her still, his mouth stretched into a salacious, laughing grin as he tipped his glass over and poured its contents down her front. "Oh, you savage! Still a beast... inside... hah..." Her surrender came quick, under the brush of his hot tongue over her stained skin. Greedily he lapped up the mess he made, drinking in her soft moans as he drank the juice running down her neck, her breasts, her stomach; he heard her breath hitch as he traveled further down and licked at her belly, showering it with sticky, wet kisses when he believed his work was done. But he found a hand in his face when he rose back up to kiss her mouth, pushing him back. "No, no. Now it's my turn to finish my drink."
Fine, so be it. It was only fair. But the pout his smile had crumpled into only grew as the moments passed; her sips were agonizingly long and indulging, meant to spite him, he knew. When the glass reached just over halfway empty, he caught a glimmer in her eye - then she was smiling into her glass again, and before he knew it, juice had been violently splashed onto his chest.
She moved far quicker than he, erasing the gap between them and fixing her mess with a greed that outmatched his own. His heart hammered at his rib cage faster, faster, his face growing unbearably hot as she licked him clean, holding his gaze as her tongue slid and swirled over his Soul Jam.
Her reward for a job well done was being wrestled onto her stomach, a whorish moan buried in the sheets at the rough, teasing slide of his cock against her pussy rising into a scream as he re-entered her with a sharp snap of his hips. "Slutty little bird, aren't you. Begging to be bred," he growled into her ear. A hand came to press and rub into her belly, making her shiver. "Here, yeah? That's where you want me? Where you need to be filled? Is that what you want me to do to you, birdie?"
"Yes," she moaned. "Oh gods yes, please-" She spoke no more words other than his name for the rest of the night, for he had her forget them all in a flash.
The fifth night came with dessert: cake and tarts and other delights, freshly baked just hours before by Her Radiance's finest pastry chefs. More delightful still was her acting as his platter. Mango cream on her breasts, pomegranate mousse on her thighs. At the end, he saved a sliver of his appetite for her, curious to see whether her pussy still tasted sweeter. It absolutely did.
And once again, he was outclassed by her greed and gluttony. Whether she viewed it as a competition or had sincerely handed herself over to such mindless lust - who knows, maybe both - was a mystery he pondered as he reclined over the small mountain of pillows, arms crossed behind his head as he watched her enjoy her meal off of his abs with great pleasure.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself."
"Believe it or not"-She spoke to him between bites of mango cake and swipes of her tongue over taut muscle. Gods, she was adorable with that little dollop of frosting on her nose.-"I've always wanted to do something like this with you."
"Oh, I can believe it, little bird. You didn't regard my torso much differently before."
She stuck her tongue out at him in faux mockery before she continued her feast. He made sure to check if that was sweeter than their desserts, as well. It was.
The sixth night was as sweet and simple as their coveted fruits. A bowl of them, sliced up and scooped out, easy to pick at with your fingers. In the wake of their last round, they lay tangled in each other's limbs, heaving for breath, trembling with exhaustion. Burning Spice's hand eventually wandered, brought the bowl close; his eyes reflected the humble warmth of his tired smile as he fed pomegranate seeds to his beloved wife, and when she brought slices of mango to his lips in return.
"I only hope the pregnancy isn't so terrible," Golden Cheese said. "I've known many women for whom theirs was far from easy."
"You are the goddess of abundance," he replied. "There never has been and never shall be a woman better suited."
"Good answer." This time she held the mango in her teeth; he took it from her with a quick bite when she leaned in close, paying her back with a deep kiss.
"I hope the child is... pleasant," he found himself saying. "That they at least know and act better than I once did."
"Oh, but that bar is dreadfully easy to clear. They'll be fine."
He let out a breath through his nose. "Perhaps they'll go on to be charitable to a fault, believing materialism to be a mortal folly and giving up all their gold and jewels to the first person they meet."
She didn't dare back down from his little jab. "Or perhaps they'll grow up to choose non-violence. Pacifism, even. They can be known across the world as a soft-hearted healer to rival Pure Vanilla himself."
"Oh gods, don't even try to jinx it."
She laughed, into her handful of mango and afterwards. It wasn't long before his composure broke and he began to laugh, too.
"...Will she have hair like yours?" she quietly wondered, as she fed him more mango. "A wave of darkness cascading down her back, delightful little curls at each end, and perfectly framing her face?"
"Perhaps... he'll have your hair instead," he mused, content as she lapped up the seeds. "Rays of sunshine made soft as cotton. A comfort to the eye and to the touch."
"Will his eyes hold flames of scarlet undying?" It was his turn to enjoy the pomegranate now.
"Perhaps her eyes will outshine every last ounce of gold in this kingdom." It pleased him so, how happy she seemed to eat up the mango. "More beautiful and vibrant than all the gold on earth."
"She'll be strong like you."
"He will soar freely through the skies, just like his mother."
"My smile?"
"My frown."
"Your discipline, your wisdom?"
"Your altruism, your persistence."
"... They shall be heroes."
"Indeed, they shall."
"I hope so."
A pleasant silence enveloped them.
"... I will love them," Golden Cheese murmured. "No matter what happens, I will love them. For they will be my treasure. Ours."
"And I will love and treasure them," Burning Spice said, "just as I do you."
No more fruit, for they had consumed it all by then. And by then, neither wanted anything else but each other, for their kisses and their love tasted sweeter than anything in the world.
Countless nights of devotion and bliss, sweetened with sugar and superstition. Lost in the throes of passion, together in search of their great blessing.
Planting seeds until something grew.