He sits listening intently to you, to your every sweet word. He cries with you and looks concerned about your crying. You finished your speech and saw how your 'I love you' sent his heart into the sky and how he scribes his tiloni and yours onto a cloud for all to see.
You want to hold onto the epiphany that opened your mind and heart and set your tiloni onto the same path as his. You stop time to watch it all happen so slowly. A millionth of a second goes by, and another. You crave his kiss, but he looks at you frozen in time. Another millionth and another and an hour passes. Your chest felt huge but your loud beating heart sounds deep inside. It is so empty without him there. You went on a dream walk, seeing your crew mates, your forever friends, your family, but they did not recognize you. You are different. You would say, "Look! Look at my beautiful man!" but no one hears you. The skin on your forearms crawl with tingling waiting to feel again his touch. You are short of breath all day though you floated everywhere. Your temples throb, awaiting for his response. A day seemed to pass and still no response. You are love sick and don't care, ill beyond healing except for his ministrations. You feel his hand on your vulva with every thought. Again you wait. The panic of never seeing him kiss you pains you beyond belief. You have never felt this way before, ... except for one ancient memory where you felt this way, the way that a god feels when it is being worshiped. Dukalu was wrong in that Kiltzi doesn't exist in this world. You know in that instant that you ARE the incarnation of Kiltzi. It was she that gave you the chant. She sought out Dukalu, for a twin soul always finds its mate or goes through many incantations lonely. Dukalu felt that pain, but you hid from it. Dukalu is also incorrect about the legend of Qotal and Kiltzi. Men misunderstand the passions of gods. The gods have no notion of brother and sister. There was no shame, only loneliness and separation and lost love. Gods just are. The tale is about forbidden, hidden from all, denied love. Dulaku was Qotal unrealized, as you were Kiltzi the manifested and made real. True, the first Kiltzi rejected Qotal's love, but you are together at last. The vampires were ever jealous and corrupted even the legends. You knew the legend and it was beautiful, eternal love. You recall your love for him and know that the illusion of it that the Mistress gave was merely a trick, but still she has moved you to your power so there is thanks in that. "Enough," you say, and time returns to its normal pace.
Dukalu bent to you with all the concern of a true boyfriend, but he did not want that title. He cherishes you and it pains him to see you cry. With lips and kisses and tongue, he dries your tears and kisses your eyes. He looks to you with reverence and kisses you on the lips with possession. This is not the frenzied passion of before. He kisses your forehead as you let him do what he will, as long as touches you and makes your heart ache with his instead of by itself. He lowers his gaze and kisses the base of your throat. He is doing rites. His hands have taken yours and pushes your fingers against his as he holds your arms back on the pillow. This is not for you to touch him. He wants to worship you in the way that you deserve. Slowly he pushes down to your breasts and kissing between them. His rites are one of husbandry for which no rite of ceremony in a temple can compete. He draws his hands down your arms and reaches his tongue into your navel, pressing in the depth until a thrill runs up your spine. He is swearing alligence to you and doing it slowly and purposefully. his finger reach your skirt and it gives way over your ample hips. His finger press into the buttocks and lifts you so he can strip the clothes off of you, pulling them over your toes as he squats at the end of the bed. Then he looks to see you watching as he stands to remove his own pants, his cock proud and wanting. With that, he genuflects and claims to be your man forever. His hand on your thigh, he opens you up, admiring, looking at your beauty, the sacred passage for his offspring. The kisses the fine hair mound and he hold his mouth here until you gasp. He finds your cliteras and you wonder if this is the time to tell him, that you inherit the little know Elvish trait, that of having two cliteras. Never mind, his tongue has found you out, while you feel his fingers moving up and down and between your lower lips, until he reaches inside you and finds your most sensitive spots. Lifting his head from your mound, he moves up you slowly like a jaguar hunting, only he already has found his prey and it is willing to be taken. You legs wrap around each other as he kisses you and places his cock on you, tracing all your edges. Your hand has found his ass and pulls him into you, but he goes slowly, ever so slowly. It penetrates deeper you think than any man could, because you know him, you have always known him, and you receive his offering with gladness. Then, as his body fits into yours and you gently rock back and forth to each other, his passion grows beyond his own bounds. The rite must conclude with both participants as mates, as husband and wife would to consummate their bond. He doesn't have the face of a priest now, nor paladin, for he takes up the dance of worship that have proclaimed the gods' divine plan. He rocks you until your back sweats with excitement, his hands under your hair to hold onto to something in his saint's ecstasy. With a flash of excitement, he cums into you, without concern about making you pregnant, for he is already your husband and will be your protector forever and ever and ever.
