The kiss broke, but the space between them remained charged with electricity. Ari pulled back barely an inch, his breath mingling with hers, the taste of wine and eight years of longing still on his lips. The moonlight, filtering through the cracks in the roof, bathed Thalassa, making the metal of her mail gleam like celestial armor.
Ari's voice was a low, provocative purr, a vibration against her skin. "Eight years, Thalassa. Eight years waiting to taste this again. And now… I don't plan on stopping until I've explored every inch of the Captain's territory."
Thalassa gasped, a visible struggle between raw desire and the need to maintain the control she had cultivated for nearly a decade. "You talk a lot for a simple village priest. Do you think you can handle a Templar?"
A slow, predatory smile, one no parishioner had ever seen, spread across Ari's face. "Oh, I don't think so. I know so," he leaned in and whispered in her ear, his voice both a caress and a command. "But first, the saint must be stripped of her armor. It's time for confession, Captain. And tonight, I will be the one to hear each and every one of your secrets."
The ritual began. Ari didn't rush; he turned it into a ceremony, an act of deliberate profanation. He started with her hands. With excruciating slowness, he unbuckled the leather straps of her gauntlets, freeing her fingers one by one.
"These hands…" he whispered, kissing her knuckles. "Hands that have wielded a sword for the Light, that have signed sentences and led armies. But they also know how to cling to sheets in the dark. I want to see them. I want them to touch only me."
He set the gauntlets aside, a dull, metallic thud on the hay. Thalassa watched, mesmerized, her breath hitched.
Next, the mail. Ari found the side clasps and unfastened them with a dexterity that suggested experience in removing armor, or at least, in unfastening complicated things. The heavy vest of metal rings slid from her shoulders. He helped her take it off, the metal tinkling as it fell onto the hay, a sound of abandoned duty.
"All this metal…" he said, his gaze sweeping over the contour of her body, now protected only by a thin linen tunic. "All this weight to protect your heart from the world, Thalassa. To keep everyone at a distance." He leaned in until his lips brushed the skin of her neck. "But it can't protect you from me. It never could."
She trembled visibly. She opened her mouth to let out a sarcastic retort, to call him a blasphemer, but all that came out was a broken whisper. "Shut up, Ari…"
"Shhh," he silenced her. "I'm not Ari, the idiot priest, here. And you are not the Captain. Forget all of that."
The moonlight outlined her figure through the thin fabric, revealing the curve of her hips, the fullness of her breasts. He stared at her with a burning intensity that made her blush from her neck to the roots of her hair.
"There we go," he said, his voice thick with a possessive reverence. "The real Thalassa. The one I've missed every single damn day."
With a gentleness that contradicted the ferocity of his gaze, he laid her back on the blanket. The hay rustled beneath them. A wider crack in the roof let a silver beam of light fall directly on her body, illuminating her as if she were on a pagan altar.
"The Silver Maiden…" Ari whispered, kneeling beside her. His tone was not that of a lover, but of a worshipper before a forbidden deity. His gaze fixed on her chest, where the linen tensed with each ragged breath. "Look at these treasures. They aren't a girl's. No. They are a warrior goddess's. Full, firm, proud…"
Slowly, he pulled down the collar of her tunic, exposing first the curve of a shoulder, then her collarbone, and finally, her breasts. They were large, with pale, perfect skin and proportional, soft pink areolas.
"…And these nipples," he continued his sermon, his voice a hypnotic purr. "Pink as the first flower of dawn, begging to be worshipped. A priest must attend to the pleas of the devout, don't you think, Thalassa?"
She could only manage a choked sound, a mix of "yes" and "please."
He leaned in, his hot breath raising goosebumps on the sensitive skin of her breast. He didn't kiss it. First, he circled it with his tongue, tracing the outline of the areola. Thalassa arched her back with a sharp, hissing moan. Ari smiled against her skin.
"Yes… like that. They respond to worship."
Then, he took her into his mouth. He suckled gently at first, then harder, tugging at her, making her squirm beneath him. The nipple hardened instantly, becoming a perfect pearl, a taut, sensitive peak.
"Ngh… Ari!" she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
He moved to the other breast, giving it the same devoted adoration, alternating between them until she was breathing in short, desperate pants.
His hand descended, sliding beneath the tunic. His fingers traced the defined muscles of her abdomen. "All this strength…" he murmured against her damp skin. "All this discipline, all this iron will… only to end up trembling under my hands. I love it. It drives me crazy."
"You…" Thalassa panted, struggling for words, to maintain a shred of control. "You… have always… always been my only… weakness, Ari."
"Good," he whispered back. "That's how it should be."
His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her hip and the inside of her thighs. They were the thighs of a Valkyrie—strong, powerful, with soft, pale skin. "Perfect," he decreed, his voice hoarse. "Perfect for trapping a man and begging him never to stop."
He caressed the sensitive skin, getting ever closer to her core. She opened her legs instinctively, a silent, desperate invitation.
His fingers finally reached her sex. The tunic was soaked, a shameless, liquid proof of her desire. The fine, silvery-white pubic hair was damp, and when his fingers brushed the delicate, tender pink folds, she cried out his name.
"Ari!"
He smirked, a smile of pure, possessive satisfaction. "Ah… I see the Captain isn't as cold and silver as she pretends. The river of life runs strong here. It seems my sermon is having a profound effect on the congregation."
His fingers played with her, an expert, torturous touch, brushing, pressing, but not yet entering, not giving her the relief she so clearly craved.
"Ari… please…" she moaned, frustration and pleasure turning her voice into a plea. "Don't… don't play… please…"
"Play?" he repeated, his finger finally sinking a little into her wet heat, making her cry out again. "Isn't this what you wanted? Isn't this why you crossed half a kingdom, lying to your commander?" He pushed deeper, and she arched violently against his hand. "Tell me, Thalassa. I want to hear you say it."
"Yes!" she sobbed. "Yes, this is why! Now, please!"
The tension was a living animal in the small barn. The smell of hay, wine, and sex filled the air. With a fluid motion, Ari shed his own clothes and positioned himself over her, between her open legs. He looked into her eyes, his face inches from hers.
"Now…" he whispered against her lips, his smile pure, playful venom. "Will you remember the right path, Captain? Or do you need this humble priest to guide you again?"
A sound between a sob and a choked laugh escaped Thalassa's lips. She grabbed his hair, her gaze as desperate as his was dominant. "Just get inside me already, you idiot!"
He obeyed.
The first thrust was slow, deep, almost reverent. It was the feeling of fullness after eight years of emptiness. The sound was the rustle of hay and a synchronized moan from both of them. He paused, buried completely inside her, letting them both savor the moment.
"Whose are you, Thalassa?" he whispered, his voice deep, raw, a vibration she felt in every corner of her body.
"Yours…" she panted, her eyes squeezed shut.
"No," he commanded, beginning to move, a slow, torturous rhythm. "Look at me. Look at me and tell me. I want to hear it."
Her eyes snapped open, two blue pools of pure lust. "Yours!" she screamed this time, her voice breaking as he increased the pace. "I've always been yours, Ari!"
"Louder," he growled, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. The rhythmic sound of their bodies colliding joined the rustling of the hay. "I want even the ghosts in this barn to know who the great Captain of the Templars belongs to."
"Ah… yes… there!" she cried out, her nails scratching his back. "Harder, Ari, harder!"
"What would your soldiers say if they saw you now?" he taunted, his voice a rough caress between thrusts. "The Silver Maiden, screaming my name, broken beneath the body of a heretic priest?"
"To hell with them!" she sobbed, her head thrashing on the blanket. "Only you…! Only you, Ari!"
That was the last confession he needed. The final surrender. His rhythm became savage, a storm of pure need. There were no more words, only sounds. His guttural grunts, her sharp cries. His name, over and over, like a profane prayer. He gripped her hips, lifting her to meet each thrust, her firm, pale ass moving to the rhythm of his force. Every lunge was a claim, a reaffirmation that she, despite her rank, her power, her armor, belonged to him.
The end came like an explosion. A final, torn scream from her that seemed to shake the barn's foundations, followed by a deep, guttural groan from him. Their bodies trembled violently, a shared convulsion that left them empty and complete at the same time.
They collapsed together onto the blanket and hay, a tangle of sweaty limbs and ragged breaths. The silence that fell afterward was absolute, broken only by the sound of their hearts beating as one. The air was thick with their scent, the undeniable proof of what had just happened. Ari pulled her close, holding her against his chest, stroking her silver hair, now loose, sticky, and tangled.
Several minutes passed before either of them could speak.
"I've missed you…" Thalassa finally whispered, her voice an exhausted, hoarse murmur against his chest. "...so much."
Ari kissed her hair, her forehead, her temple. "And I, you," he answered, his own voice thick with emotion. "Every damn day. Every lonely night in that cold, empty church."
They stayed like that, holding each other, the heat of their bodies fighting the cool of the night seeping through the cracks. He felt her relax completely, the weight of her body surrendered to him as she fell asleep in his arms.
Ari watched her sleep, the moonlight softening her features, erasing the Captain and leaving only the woman he loved.
"Tomorrow," he thought, holding her a little tighter, "you'll go back to being Captain Thalassa. Cold, distant, and my commander. I'll have to call you 'ma'am' and bow my head like a good boy. The world will get between us again."
A small smile played on his lips.
"But tonight, here, in our barn, you're just Thalassa. You're just mine. And I swear by all the gods I don't believe in, that's worth any monster, any danger, and any dawn that awaits us."