“You’ve been very patient, haven’t you?” He ran his hand down her arm.

She batted the soft touch aside and tossed her head. “Maybe I should make you suffer a bit in revenge. What would you do if I said no?”

He grabbed her raised forearm just below the wrist. “Don’t.”

“I might.” She grinned and backed away a pace, using his grip on her arm as a tether that bound him to follow. “What would you do?”

“Suffer, I suppose,” he growled, watching her warily. He was intensely hard. It had been so long since he’d experienced anything other than a mild nocturnal erection, it was almost like adolescence again.

“Ugh!” Gall rolled her eyes, and her entire body writhed with exasperation. “Stop being noble and just take me, idiot!”

She grabbed the flaps of his jacket again and hauled herself forward. Derik staggered back against the door, hands fumbling at her sides. When he’d regained his balance and folded his arms around her, he kissed her. The feeling was like the sun warming his skin after too long between; he needed it down to his core. She pressed upward into him, thrust her tongue inside his mouth, and hooked a leg around his. He supported her with one hand squeezing her bottom and held her tighter, groaning under the pressure.

They were both panting when they broke for air this time.

Fellrazer rumbled inquisitively at them, and both, having completely forgotten he was there, shot resentful glares at the beast.

“Go in the bathroom!” Gall told him, gesturing urgently. “Go on! We don’t need an audience!”

The dragon went reluctantly, casting doubtful looks at her over his shoulder with each step.

Derik was sharply reminded of the void in his mind where Skepnadth had once been. His dragon would have shared in his pleasure, magnifying it by his own quiet joy in his rider’s happiness. Nothing would ever compare to that, let alone the soaring ecstasy of Skepnadth’s mating flights. The lack tore at his heart, but he found the pain was not strong enough to deter him. His body’s burgeoning need demanded satisfaction and would not be gainsaid.

He shucked out of his jacket and sat down on his cot to undo the laces of his boots. Gall finally got Fellrazer safely shut away, then followed suit, whipping off her blouse and bandeau faster than Derik would have believed possible.

He stopped what he was doing and stared like he was seeing a woman for the first time. Her small breasts sat somewhat incongruously on her otherwise flat, muscular chest, the nipples pale pink and peaked now that they were free. Derik wanted them like an unresolved chord.

Seeing that she had his rapt attention, Gall smirked and made a little show of stripping off the rest of her clothes, wriggling deliciously as she eased the bands of her pants down over her hips. Her bush was just as red and wild as the hair on her head. Derik wanted that, too.

He stepped out of his boots and went toward her, but she put her hands on his stomach, stopping him, and pushed up his shirt, running her palms over all the muscles she’d admired for so long.

She hummed with satisfaction. “Yes. Finally. And wow, you’re hot,” she observed unartfully; then added, with mischief, “Hot for me?”

“Melting,” Derik answered, gaze fixed on her eyes. “If you’re going to do that, do me a favor while you’re at it.”

He dropped to one knee and raised his arms, and she obliged him by pulling the shirt off over his head. For a moment, he let her caress his arms and shoulders. It was an exercise of will to hold still for it; he was taut and nearly trembling with the need to do, not be done to. The enraptured look on her face was worth it for a little while, until she lingered inquisitively over his right shoulder, flecked with sunken white scars left by ambitious trailers of Thread that had managed to eat through his flight jacket while the main clump had attacked his face. He didn’t want to think about that.

Abruptly, he tugged Gall down to his raised thigh, and she gave a delightful little yelp of surprise. With his arms wrapped tightly around her strong, compact body, he took the tip of one of her breasts in his mouth and sucked hard on the nipple. She gasped, and he did the same to the other one. It was just as pleasing as the first, firm but yielding against his tongue. A cry broke from Gall’s throat; her body arched and she dug her blunt nails into his shoulders. It wasn’t painful, but he grunted in response and lifted her away from him.

She struggled, her bare toes sliding on the generic surface floor. “Don’t stop, dammit!”

“Hush. I know what I'm doing.” Ignoring her angry scowl and her nails biting his arms, he kept his grip on her hips, turned them both, and sat her down on the edge of his bed.

She got the idea. Her face relaxed into an eager grin, and she leaned back, opening herself to him.

Derik sank his face into the welcome heat between her legs, and she wound her fingers into his hair, holding him tight. He explored her wet folds with his lips and tongue, savoring the taste that was richer than mead, headier than wine. With one hand, he braced her leg so she couldn’t writhe away from him, and with the other he caressed her chest and belly. His fingers were rough with calluses and he was not gentle, but she clasped his hand against her breast, demanding more. He squeezed, pinched, and meanwhile turned his tongue on the place it would do the most good. With her vocal encouragement, and sharp corrections if he faltered, he found her rhythm and soon had her panting, then squalling in ecstasy—music to his ears. She threw her legs akimbo over his shoulders to give him more room to work, and he had to use both hands to keep her in place as she bucked and thrust into his mouth. A final convulsion arched her spine and tore a ragged cry from the depths of her lungs, and she sagged, replete.

While she recovered, Derik wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and stripped off the rest of his clothes. His erection hadn’t diminished in the slightest, and he ached for his own release. It would be all the sweeter for having put hers first. He lifted Gall’s legs and turned her lengthwise on the bed in a swift action, then carefully climbed over her.

“Wait,” Gall said, raising herself on her elbows. “Lemme look at you.”

With a wry grimace, he indulged her, spreading his hands as far as the wall would allow. “Am I everything you imagined I would be?”

Her eyebrows rose, and she grinned. “You’re all right.” Her voice had notched up a few intervals. She was nearly squeeing.

“So glad you approve.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get down here.”

Derik was already lowering himself. Gall wrapped her arms around him, kissing his face, sucking and nipping his neck and ears, and driving him frantic, because she was making it impossible for him to enter her.

“Scorch it, Gall,” Derik hissed; she’d just bitten his left shoulder hard enough to really hurt. That was going to leave a mark. The idea was more inflaming than upsetting, but he had his limits. “Enough!” He pulled free and forced her to lie prone with his hands pinning her arms.

She grinned a wild spotted-cat’s grin. “You wanna play like that? Okay.”

Gall heaved and twisted with her legs around his waist. Derik’s world spun, and he hit the floor hard on his back with a grunt. It was a short drop and he avoided knocking his head, but he was still too stunned to react. The next thing he knew, Gall was on top of him, straddling him, grinding against his rigid shaft.

“Ah, gods,” she sighed, “this is gonna be good.”

He thrilled with the sensations shooting through his core and groaned when she rubbed the rough pads of her palms over his nipples. This wasn’t what he wanted, though. A part of his mind quailed at the thought of being taken without his say-so, and he regained enough of his senses to be angry about it.

“No. Not like this.” He was through with her flippant attitude, through with being provoked, through with fighting for control of his life. Using every physical advantage he had, he wrenched himself to his feet and carried Gall with him.

Surprised in turn, Gall yelped and clung to him through the motion. She regained her bearings faster than he had and laughed.

He snarled in frustration and dropped her back onto his cot. Its springs squealed alarmingly. Her head bumped the wall, not dangerously hard, but hard enough to knock the grin off her face.

“Hey! Careful!”

“Gall.” Derik knelt, gripped her shoulders, and glared at her through his good eye. “If you want me, then shut up, hold still, and let me do this. Please.”

There was a beat in which he couldn’t read her expression and wasn’t sure which way she’d jump. But one of her better qualities was a remarkable intuition, and she had a knack for dancing along the knife-edge of his tolerance.

She nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, do it.” She rotated herself, and even shoved his pillow under her hips to make his approach easier.

He climbed over her again and pressed himself down on her. His fingers found a grip on her hair and his mouth tore a kiss from hers. She returned his intensity in kind: raked her nails over his scalp, took his lower lip in her teeth. He shook free, which was a mistake, but he was already poising himself at her entrance and wasn’t about to let a little injury stop him.

“Come on,” Gall said. “Don’t hold back. I can take you.”

He gave her a nod. With one thrust, he sank deep within her. The enveloping wet heat sliding over his drumskin-taut head seemed to fill his body from the inside out. Gall gasped, eyes alight with excitement; Derik’s shoulders shuddered. He groaned through gritted teeth and clenched his fingers in her hair. She moved under him; away, toward, he wasn’t sure. He pulled back and glided in again slowly, feeling the friction stoke the building fire in his loins. It wasn’t enough. He had thought of giving Gall another chance with him inside her, but it wasn’t going to happen. His need was too urgent.

“Sorry,” he rasped, and began pumping harder.

She didn’t object—if anything, she was confused—and she threw herself into the action with gusto. Her hands roamed his shoulders and chest; she sat up and kissed him or sucked on his nipples; she reached down to fondle his buttocks and balls.

Some of it was good. Most of it was distracting. “Stop,” he growled. “Just . . . please.”

She gave him a measuring look, and to his dismay, she pulled herself out from under him—but before he could protest with more than a velar noise, she flipped herself over onto her elbows and knees, and he understood. Take me, she’d said before, and now she was giving him access to do so without interference. With a sigh of gratitude, he locked his hands around her hips and reentered her, hard. He needed release, needed it too desperately now, which made the point more difficult to reach. Each pounding, rapid thrust made Gall cry out; whether from distress or pleasure, impossible to tell, but she held firm for him like the warrior she was. He could almost love her.

Finally, finally, the crest of fire reached its peak. A last few firm strokes, and a cry ripped from his throat as he came. He kept her tight rear pressed against him as the aftershocks jolted them both.

When the pulses subsided, Derik’s knees were trembling, and it was all he could do to pull out with a final shudder and keel to one side without collapsing on top of Gall. She dropped and rolled to her own side, her back to his stomach, one knee raised. He curled around her and nuzzled into her hair, and she squirmed under his arm.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Shh,” came the breathless response. “Just gimme a couple minutes, huh?”

He realized what she was doing: not letting him hold her back. Though his fingers had gone slightly numb and clumsy, he helped as much as he could by playing with her breasts, stroking her thigh, and kissing the back of her head. With a deep moan, she brought herself off for a second time and went limp.

For a while, nobody said anything. They lay together in the heat and damp, skin to skin, and caught their breath.

Gall was the one to break the silence. She shifted onto her back, the better to be heard, though there was barely enough room on the cot. “That,” she declared, “was almost worth such a goddamn long wait.”

Derik was clinging to consciousness through sheer will, and he couldn’t muster enough energy to be insulted. “Sorry,” he slurred, eyes half-closed. “Been a while.”

“No shit.” She socked his shoulder affectionately; at least, he was pretty sure it was affection. Then she sighed. “Right. Gotta go.” She started to sit up.

In a panicky reflex, his arms pulled tight around her. “Stay. Stay with me.” If she just left, it would be like it hadn’t mattered.

“Derik.” He could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “I have to let Fellrazer out, and I have to pee. Don’t be pathetic.”

That stung, but he made some noise he hoped was accepting and let her go. She turned the light out before heading into the bathroom, which was rather considerate of her. He shifted onto his back, relaxing with more room to spread out. His eyes slid shut, and he just listened. There was the sound of Gall’s voice speaking reassurances to her dragon . . . Fellrazer’s claws clicking on the floor as he made his way to his bed in the fireproof corner . . . water running in the sink . . . the rustle of a blanket and the squeal of the springs under his mattress . . .  .

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