Private Tales Nothing and Everything

[Nym]

Nym let herself be held in Settra's embrace, the warmth of his body offering a temporary reprieve from the cold reality of her decisions. His words wrapped around her like a protective shield, a promise of unwavering loyalty that she both needed and feared.

'I am yours..'

'I will not betray you..'

'I will not abandon you..'

She remained quiet as she tried so very hard to fully believe those words. Settra had proven himself many times over, and still there was a whisper in her mind to be cautious and not to make mistakes. Not to be a fool, again.

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against his chest, trying to draw strength from his presence. "I've become so consumed by this throne, by the need to prove myself, that I fear I.." she stopped herself. The vulnerability in her voice was rare, a crack in the armor she wore so tightly around herself. She was Sultana, ruler of Salitra, but in this moment, she was just Nymesha—frightened and unsure of the path she was walking, and she knew she had gone too far.

"I know I have been difficult." she said as she looked up at him, her eyes searching his for reassurance. "Thank you, for standing by me. There is much more that I need to do, and I need you with me.." she sighed, her hands smoothing over the hard panes of his chest, her blood heating.

"I need many things, in fact.." her head tilted, her lips curling with invitation to take her mind elsewhere.

 

[Settra]

"Difficult?" Yes, he supposed so. Difficulty was all that Settra knew. His life had always been characterized by hardship. Hardship and devotion. He was nothing without either. But his devotion for Master Ismael had not been by choice; he was raised by the Shifra. His devotion for Mistress Medja had not been his choice either; Medja was simply the highest bidder, and life as a Hand came as a side-effect of his subservience. Nym, though...

Nym had been different. Nym was the first person that Settra chose to give his devotion to, of his own free will. As her eyes met his he remembered this. Reflected in Settra's gaze was the depths of his devotion to her, a softness that belied his hardened shell. His hand cradled her cheek, that infernal softness of her skin daring to bless the coarse hands of a killer.

The tenderness of the moment began to shift, however, and Settra quickly became aware of Nym's growing need. He let a soft, amused breath escape him, familiar sensations that he would never tire of beginning to course through him.

"Whatever you need, my love," he husked as he bridged what little distance was left between them, lids falling closed as he stole a kiss from her. He pulled back after a moment, only slightly, to finish the thought. "I will provide."