It had been five months since the royal wedding. The time had flown by in some ways, yet dragged in others. There was so much to do, and so many changes to adjust to, especially for the new queen. Viren had seen little of her since the wedding evening. When he did catch a glimpse she seemed intensely preoccupied, but happy.
Now King Harrow was away, meeting with village leaders in the northwest about potential investment in large-scale irrigation projects. Viren expected correspondence eventually about his proposed new well-drilling techniques, but was content to not have to make the arduous journey this time.
On a later evening of the king's absence, Viren was summoned to the queen's chamber. Sarai embraced him warmly when he arrived. He returned the hug and matched her tired smile. She stood barefoot in a loose robe. He couldn't recall seeing her so undressed, and while it lent her a certain vulnerability, her confidence and strength were still preeminent.
"Viren, it's good to see you. We're supposed to be holding this place together in His Majesty's absence, but we've barely crossed paths the whole time. You're like a very efficient ghost. Do you always lurk in dark corners when you're in the castle?"
He ducked his head, blushing slightly.
"I beg your pardon. I am ever at your beck and call. You need only to summon me. Harrow certainly does on the slightest whim, so I might have forgotten that some people would hesitate."
She laughed at that.
"Everything is new to me, and a bit confusing until I learn the new set of rules. I finally decided writing you was familiar and appropriate."
"Of course, my queen."
"You can still call me Sarai. Please."
"As you wish."
She reached out, took his hand, and led him to sit beside her on the bed. Everything seemed both good and familiar and new and strange. Her thumb stroked the back of his hand as she turned to him and looked him in the face.
"Viren, I have a... proposal. A re-opening of negotiations, if you will. Not as queen. Only as Sarai."
She slid to the floor, to kneel in front of him, graceful, decisive, and awkward all at once, still holding his hand.
"I'd like to kiss you." She tapped the back of his hand.
"Viren, may I kiss you, here?"
There was a long moment where he felt like the world tilted to settle the past in its proper place on the road to this moment. He looked at her, taking in her posture, the gentle hopefulness in her face, and finally looked deep into her eyes, swallowing down the intensity of his emotions.
"Yes."
She slowly bent her head, placed a kiss behind his knuckles, and sighed, letting out twlelve years of breath.
He'd dropped his hand to the bed. She turned it over, tapped the pulse point in his wrist.
"Viren, may I kiss you here?"
"Yes."
This time the warm touch of her lips felt like a blossom of tingling heat and summoned the rushing of blood in his ears.
He was holding his hand in a loose fist. She gently uncurled his fingers, then tapped each one in turn, close to where they met his palm.
"Viren, may I kiss you here?"
"Yes."
"Here?"
"Yes."
Finally the center of his palm, and that felt... indescribably good, as though all the sensation in his body had centered there, where he touched and held so much and now felt connected to such love and promise through the sweet wet warmth and light suction of her kiss.
She repeated the process with his other hand, dropping the verbal exchange in favor of tapping each place and waiting for his nod.
Viren's world was spinning slightly, and breathing had become a challenge in the best of ways. He lay back on the bed. Sarai smiled at him fondly and moved to recline beside him. She lifted her left hand to his hair.
"Viren, may I touch you here?"
"Yes"
"May I kiss you?"
"Yes." She reverently kissed his forehead, then slid her hand to his collar and sat up.
"May I attempt to get you out of these excellent yet somewhat concealing garments?"
"Yes. Let me know if you want help."
He hadn't worn the cape to this less-formal meeting. She deftly disengaged the clasps of his vest and overshirt and he moved to help her slide them off over his arms. She draped them around the bedpost in the far corner more haphazardly than he would have, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
Sarai's fingers hovered at his neck.
"Viren, may I touch you here?"
"Yes."
The touch of her fingertips was light, but not teasing, as they caressed the side of his neck, pushing aside his shirt, ghosting over collarbones and the hollow of his throat. She opened her mouth to say something, then cocked her head and turned toward the door.
"Good evening, your Majesty. How long have you been standing there?"
"A few minutes. A wonderful use of my time. You are both so beautiful."
"Viren, is he invited?"
"Of course."
"I'm happy to sit right here for the moment."
Harrow seated himself in the chair near the bed, beaming at the two of them. The joy that bubbled up in Viren's chest threatened to overwhelm his conciousness. He was grounded some a moment later by Sarai squeezing his hand.
Again she reached out, nearly touching his chest.
"May I kiss you here?"
"Yes."
She unlaced his shirt and pushed it aside to kiss his breast, then tugged lightly at the fabric.
"May I take this off?" He nodded and she did. He had no idea where the shirt ended up, preoccupied as he was with the feeling of the cool night air and the heat of the king's gaze.
Sarai's hands were on the closures of her robe.
"Viren, may I take this off?"
"No. Please... Let me..."
His hands were trembling slightly as he opened each of the fastenings. He folded the robe meticulously and got up to hand it to Harrow, who dutifully stowed it on the table.
When he rejoined Sarai on the bed she slid her arms around his neck. The warmth of her body seeped into him through her thin shift. His pants felt a bit snug, yet everything felt right and perfect. Sarai rolled them so she was on top of him, leaning most of her weight on her left side with her right leg resting lightly between his.
She touched his cheek.
"Viren may I kiss you here?"
"Yes."
His lips were next. Her voice was a whisper, forced out between lips she was nervously biting.
"Viren, may I kiss you here?"
"Yes, Please."
There was that sensation again, of memories and lives shifting and aligning as they should, at long last.
He held her shoulders as she leaned down and kissed him, so soft and gentle and sweet, and he kissed her back the same way.
She propped her head on her hand and blinked back a tear.
He said, "I hope I'm worth the wait."
"You are. Of course you are."
Then she yawned and they all did. It had gotten late. Harrow came to the bed, slightly damp from quickly rinsing off the sweat and dust of travel. He knelt on the bed beside Sarai and embraced her, folding himself around her so every inch of them that could touch did.
Then he somewhat awkwardly wiggle-crawled across their legs to the opposite side of the bed and did the same to Viren, kissing him and whispering endearments for a few moments before sinking into sleep and starting to snore. Sarai snuggled closer on Viren's other side and managed to help him get quilts over all of them before she too was claimed by sleep.
As usual, Viren found that sleep eluded him through much of the night. But wakefulness was no hardship in the affectionate if unconscious embrace of his king and queen.
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