It was over.  She was alive.  She was . . . married.  To . . . Travis.

            A good match, Richard had said.  Was it his idea of a joke?  No, she doubted he had that bad a sense of humour.  She’d thought (she’d wanted) it to be Marcus, but . . . Why hadn’t anyone told her Travis was related to Richard?

            “Probably because I never asked, and it wasn’t really important, anyway,” Altair muttered to herself, then held Carmen closer to her, rubbing her cheek in the kitten’s fur.  She got a soft mrow of protest for her efforts, then the kitten licked her cheek before going back to sleep.

            She’d asked for some time alone and he’d given it to her.  It was too late to try to get out of the marriage.  She didn’t love Travis.  She hadn’t really expected to love the man she married, but still . . . it was Travis!  Travis, who delighted in teasing her.  Travis, who had the foulest mouth she’d ever met.  Travis, who on top of it all was still a rather nice man, despite being an infidel, beardless (stubble didn’t count, not by a long shot) and crude.  Travis, who had gone into the mountain a thousand years previously and rescued her, so Richard could save her.  Travis, who loved her.

            Altair covered her face with both hands and tried not to cry, tried to look at the positive side of things.  One, he was someone she knew and was pretty comfortable around.  Two, he was perfectly all right with her religious beliefs and how she planned to live her life.  Three, he wouldn’t freak out if she ever had to call upon Allah for help again.  Four, he . . . he loved her.  And Altair figured that that was, perhaps, the most important of all, that he loved her.  It was far better to be married to a man who loved her than to a man who didn’t.  It would, it should, make things a little easier.

            But she didn’t love him.

            Altair shook her head sharply and gently moved Carmen to the bed before standing up and walking briskly around her room.  That didn’t matter.  Not anymore.  She would learn to love him.  She would learn to tolerate him, and she would learn to love him.  Altair decided that she would refuse to simply be indifferent to her husband.  She would love him.  It would take time, perhaps, but she had time now.  And Travis wasn’t that bad.  Like Phoenix had said, third-grade boys teased girls they liked, and perhaps that was why he had tried to get under her skin so often.  She could believe that.  She could believe that he’d stop teasing her so much, too.  Then again, Abb’ had teased Mama full often . . . But it had all been in good fun, and besides, Altair was getting much better about taking things lightly.

            So.  She rubbed her hands together, then smoothed her mother’s wedding dress.  She could do this.  She would do this.  She wanted Carmen back.

            “Stop it,” Altair told herself.  “Stop it and go find your husband, spend time with him.  Be a good wife.”  She smiled slightly at that and knelt, picking up Garret before opening the door.  After she was out she set the squirming kitten down in her room and closed the door quickly, then thought again and opened the door, catching Garret as he dashed out.  “You just want to play, don’t you?” she asked him, petting his soft fur as he clambered to her shoulder and rubbed against her cheek, purring like a little motorboat.  “Yes, you just want to get out and see the world.  I understand.”

            She set off down the hall, looking around her home.  It was hers, now.  She would live here for the rest of her life, probably.  And who knew how long that would be?

            Marcus was leaning on the stairway railing, looking down to the next floor.  He looked up when Altair approached, smiling at her.  She flushed and smiled back before averting her gaze.  Allah Almighty, what was she going to do about him?

            “Congratulations, Altair,” he said cheerfully.

            Altair wanted to hit something.  She smiled again.  “Thank you, Marcus.”  She stood there, uncomfortable, as Garret found the coins on her veil and started bapping at them.

            “Travis is with Richard,” the young man offered.

            Well, she had been looking for him.  “Thank you,” she said.

            “They’re in the dining room.”

            “Thank you,” she repeated.  “I’ll . . . see you later.”

            “Sure,” Marcus said, then turned back to whatever he’d been looking at before, or maybe he was just thinking.

            Altair went down the stairs and looked up at him.  He smiled slightly and waved, and she nodded before heading down the next flight.  Well, if he did like her, she’d never know now.  She was married, now.  Married.  Dear Allah.  Which meant . . .

            Altair squeezed her eyes shut.  She’d worry about that when the time came.  She got to the dinning room and paused, closing her eyes and praying for strength.  All she’d do was poke her head in, see what was going on, then leave.  No, she couldn’t leave.  See if they were talking about anything important.  If they were, she’d leave.  If not, she’d stay.

            She was out of luck.  Or maybe Allah had bestowed it upon Travis, because he was out of his seat the moment she opened the door, smiling at her slightly.

            “Altair, come in, please.”

            That was Gawaine.  Well, at least she wasn’t alone with Travis and Richard, or worse, just Travis.

            “If I’m not interrupting anything . . .”

            “Not at all,” Richard said.  “Come in, please, and sit down.”  He gestured, and Travis held out a chair for her.

            Altair fought the urge to tell him she could seat herself and move to a chair not next to him, but she only smiled shyly and took the offered seat.  Travis was being very careful with her, she noted.  He wasn’t trying to touch her, he was only smiling politely at her, he wasn’t even trying to talk with her.  When Garret jumped from her shoulder to the table, skidding a little on the smooth surface, Travis only chuckled lightly and reached out to pet the kitten.  Garret was looking at the surface of the table as if it had bit him, then hissed at it and rubbed his head against Travis’ hand, purring as loud as he could.

            ‘Well, at least someone likes him a lot,’ Altair mused.  She smiled as she watched the little kitten march over to Richard and yowl at him until he was being pet, then, after a few moments, do the same thing to Gawaine.

            “Quite a demanding thing,” Travis commented.

            Altair snorted.  “He’s a punk, just like Garret was.”  Gawaine looked at her and made a face, which she returned.

            “Bite me,” he said.

            “I’d get rabies,” Altair returned.  Travis laughed at the look on Gawaine’s face.  She smiled slightly at him, a smile he returned.

            Oh, Allah, he loved her.  Altair looked down as Garret scampered across the table, almost sliding off of it.  He yowled again and ran over to her, leaping to her shoulder and huddling against her neck, growling at the table.  Altair looked out of the corner of her eye as Travis slowly reached out to pet the kitten, as if she might slap his hand away.  She didn’t do anything, and he didn’t do anything but pet Garret.  Garret licked his hand.

            Kotono walked in behind Richard and smiled at her, then put her arms around her husband’s neck and kissed his temple.  He looked up and smiled, pulling her down into his lap and wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his forehead against her shoulder-blade.

            “He’s such a good boy,” Kotono commented, patting Richard’s arm.  He snorted.  “I tell him to come home safe and he does.”

            “He’s very well trained,” Altair agreed.  Garret started kneading her shoulder and before she could move him, Travis gently disengaged the tiny claws and moved Garret to his lap as he laughed.

            Richard looked up and raised an eyebrow at Altair, who smiled at him.  Kotono laughed and ran her hand through his hair.  “Yes, I’ve had many years to train him.”

            “I’m not a dog,” Richard murmured, kissing the back of her neck.  Altair looked away and Kotono snickered.

            “I should hope not,” Gawaine said.  “That’s . . . wrong.”

            Kotono laughed harder and Richard raised his head again, one eyebrow going up once more.  Gawaine grinned at him, returning the rude gesture thrown his way.  Altair sighed and got up.  Travis got up, too.

            “I’m going to lie down,” she murmured when he and Kotono looked at her.  Richard and Gawaine were still gesturing at each other.

            Kotono nodded and turned enough to kiss Richard, effectively distracting him from Gawaine.  Altair turned and left, trying not to notice that Travis was following her.  When they were out of the dinning room and the door was closed he put his hand on her arm and she stopped, not quite able to turn and look at him.

            “Y, yes?” she asked softly, hating the frightened way her voice quivered.

            “Is it all right if I come with you?” he asked quietly.

            Altair felt like she was going to faint.  “I’m you’re wife, aren’t I?”

            “That doesn’t mean you want me coming with you.”  He turned her around and looked down at her seriously, and Altair wished she had a veil on so her emotions wouldn’t be so naked on her face.

            To Altair’s horror her eyes started tearing up.  She tried to turn away but Travis pulled her close to him, holding her gently as she started to cry.  He loved her.  He loved her.  He’d saved her twice now, he loved her, he wanted her, he wanted to be married to her, why couldn’t she love him back?

            Altair cried out silently for Allah to help her.  She knew what she needed to do, what would be best, but she couldn’t make herself do it.  She kept thinking, and that got in the way.

            Travis was murmuring in her ear, rubbing her back with one hand while the other held her shoulder gently.  He was comforting her, telling her he loved her and he knew she didn’t love him, he was sorry, he wanted her to love him but she didn’t have to, he would protect her and do his absolute best to never hurt her, ever.  After a while his words all blurred together, and from within herself rose a deep calm, a comforting softness that wrapped around her.

            Altair knew this comfort.  She knew it well.  It had held her gently when her mother had died.  It had cocooned her when she’d been in the second car crash.  It was the spark of Allah deep inside of her, letting her know that everything would be all right, that she was strong and would survive, that she was loved and cherished.

            It washed away her spiritual tears as effectively as Travis was gently wiping away her physical ones, and Altair knew love.  She knew Allah’s love, she knew Travis’ love, and for the first time, she knew that small part of all her love that was for Travis.

            It didn’t surprise her.  After all, love came in a great many forms.  Friendship was love.  Given time and the correct opportunities, friendship love could flower, blossom into something more.  All love had that potential.  Her small love for Travis, for her companion in this madness of fighting evil, was no different.  It had the potential, and Altair would nurture it, give it every opportunity to blossom.  She owed it to Travis.  She owed it to herself.

            Altair sniffed one last time and looked up at Travis, and started to laugh shakily.  “I just ruined my make-up,” she said in a quavering voice.

            Travis smiled down at her, his eyes still faintly worried, and shrugged.  “I’ve always been fond of racoons.”

            That made Altair laugh again, and it was slightly less hysterical.  “Rra-koon,” she said.

            “That’s what it is in Arabic?”

            She nodded and wiped at her eyes, but Travis caught her hands and produced a handkerchief from somewhere, gently wiping at the streaks on her face.  She looked at his once-pristine white shirt and touched the black marks gently.  Travis looked down and smiled.

            “Hey, it’s cleanable and besides, I’ve got more.”  He covered her hand with his and kissed the top of her head.  “Are you going to be all right, Altair?”

            “Just don’t make me change my name to Voss and I’ll be fine,” she told him.  Travis looked at her for a moment and she smiled slightly.  He laughed, a soft sound of relief, and hugged her.

            Footsteps sounded and Altair quickly disengaged herself from her husband’s arms.

            “Affection in public is frowned upon,” she whispered to him when she saw him frown.

            Marcus turned the corner and paused, looking unsure when he saw them.  Altair lowered her gaze and fought not to blush.  She’d deal with her feelings for Marcus later, though it half-amused and half-mortified her to note that Travis had stepped closer, putting his arm across her shoulders as he and Marcus looked at each other.  She didn’t know whether it was sweet or embarrassing.  She settled for stepping forward and tugging at Travis’ hand, nodding to Marcus as they walked past him.  He nodded back, then went into the dinning room.

            “So which men are you not supposed to be alone with?” Travis asked with forced casualness.

            Altair rolled her eyes.  “Marcus is my Mahram, Travis.”

            “Meaning?”

            She stopped and turned, poking him in the chest.  “Meaning you need to stop fluffing your feathers around him.  A Mahram is a male guardian or relative with whom marriage is impossible.  He knows this.  I know this.  You know this.  Everyone knows this.  Get it?”  She turned and walked off, not caring if he followed or not.

            Which, of course, he did.  “Oh.”

            They walked in silence until they got to her room.  Altair opened her door slowly, nudging Carmen out of the way.  Garret leapt from Travis’ shoulder to the floor, then pounced on Carmen.  She yowled and smacked him, which started a full-out tussle.  Altair shook her head and stepped in, Travis following her.  He closed the door behind himself and looked around as Altair took her hijab off.

            She looked at him in her mirror.  “You’ve been in here before,” she reminded him.

            Travis shrugged and came to stand behind her, gently putting his hands on her waist.  She moved and he stepped back, letting her past him into her bathroom.  She turned on the water and took out a bottle of cold cream, wetting her face and then looking in the mirror.  She did look like a racoon, and it made her laugh.

            “What’s so funny?” Travis asked.

            “You’re right,” she said as she smeared cold cream on her face.  “I do look like a racoon.”

            Travis was in the doorway.  “You could start a fad.”

            That made Altair snort as she wet a rag and wiped at her face.  “Probably, if I wanted to be seen in public like this.”

            She splashed water on her face, then groped for a towel.  She met Travis’ hand, and, moving hers down slightly, felt the towel he was holding out for her.  His hand on her shoulder made her straighten and turn, and then she felt him gently wiping the water from her face.  When he was done she opened her eyes and smiled up at him, a smile he returned.

            “Thank you,” she whispered.

            “You’re quite welcome,” he replied, then lowered his head slightly.

            Altair felt herself tensing up and forced her muscles to relax.  He was going to kiss her.  That was all right.  He could do that.  She’d never been kissed before.

            Dear Allah, his lips were soft, and like everything else about him today, gentle.  So gentle, like she was going to break.  When she didn’t pull away his arms went around her waist, and for lack of anything better to do, Altair slid her own arms around his neck and hesitantly kissed him back, a soft pressure of skin against skin.

            She felt Travis smile against her lips.  He was pleased with her; this was good.  Altair just hoped she wasn’t doing anything wrong.  Travis pulled back a bit and she opened her eyes, but he was kissing her again, gently still, soft, gentle kisses all in a row.  If the desired effect was to leave her breathless with a pounding heart, it was working.

            Altair laughed softly at this game of Travis’, pulling back before she could kiss him.  “That’s not fair,” she murmured between kisses.

            “What isn’t?” Travis wanted to know.

            “I can’t,” kiss, “keep,” kiss, “up.”  Kiss, kiss, kiss.

            “Really?”  Travis kissed her again, this time biting very gently at her lower lip.  Altair squeaked and he laughed, then did it again.  It made her squeak again.  “You sound like a mouse,” he told her.

            “Rra-koon, fahr, they’re both rodents,” she told him, finally turning her head so he couldn’t bite her anymore.

            Travis wasn’t put off in the least.  His kisses continued from her cheek down her neck and around to her throat, which was exactly where Altair’s heart was.  She looked at the ceiling as her hands grasped at her husband’s shoulders.  It occurred to her that she was trembling and if Travis let her go, she’d collapse.  It seemed that she should let him know this, but she couldn’t speak, only breathe in pant-like gasps and press against Travis’ body.  He held her tightly and when he was done with her neck and ears (oh, her sensitive ears) he returned to her lips.  This time, though he was no less gentle, he was pushier about it, pressing their lips together firmly, and when she gasped he fixed his mouth over hers, very gently running his tongue over her bottom lip.  Altair tightened her arms around his neck and whined softly, holding very still as he showed her what to do.  It was . . . different.  It was . . . nice.

            Altair was distracted, so it wasn’t until Travis growled into her mouth that she noticed he’d been fumbling with her outfit without much success.  Altair laughed and he pulled away, frowning at her.

            “I see nothing funny about this,” he informed her.

            Altair couldn’t help but laugh again; she felt giddy.  He opened his mouth and she placed two fingers against his lips, silencing him.  Travis watched her, his blue eyes dark as he first kissed her fingertips, then licked them.  Altair watched with her heart in her mouth again as he started to gently suck on her fingers.  Her knees wobbled.  Immediately Travis’ arms were around her and he was smiling smugly when he let her hand go.

            “Now,” he suggested in a throaty murmur, “why don’t you take this off?”

            Sometime during their kiss he’d backed out of the bathroom and now they stood in the middle of the bedroom.  Altair blinked and tried to start her thought processes again.  “Uhm,” she whispered, “there are clasps in the back . . .”

            Travis moved behind her, never once stepping away, and lifted the heavy fall of her hair.  He let out a satisfied grunt when he found the clasps and undid them, then kissed her bare neck.  Altair shivered.  Then Travis’ hands were on her shoulders, sliding her dress to the floor and leaving her in her socks, shoes, bra and panties.  The sudden shock of cold air had her shivering and Travis moved in front of her again, running his warm hands over her back and up and down her arms.  Then he looked down and a grin spread across his lips.  Altair tilted her head with a frown and looked down, too.  The cold air had made her nipples harden; that was what Travis was grinning about.  It wasn’t a playful grin, though.  It was . . . it made her tingle.  Altair blushed and looked away.  She tried to cross her arms over her chest but Travis stopped her and she rolled her eyes.

            “Pervert,” she muttered.

            “Thank you,” he whispered in her ear, then kissed her again.  She willingly kissed him back, but squealed when one hand slid down her side to her thigh, squeezing gently.  Travis pulled away and rolled her his eyes at her, moving his hand back to her waist.  “Prude,” he accused.

            “Thank you,” she replied.  Then she blushed.  “You . . . you didn’t have to . . . I mean, I was startled, that’s why I . . . well . . .”

            Another grin broke out and Travis nodded.  “You liked it.”  Altair didn’t look at him.  “Admit it, prude.  You liked my hand there.”  Altair laughed and it was full of nerves.  Travis put his hand back and she tensed, hiding her face in his chest.  It felt . . . it was . . .  Oh, Allah, she was going to faint, really she was.

            Then he moved his hand.  He moved it.  Had he moved it up or down or to the right she would have been fine, but no, he moved it to the left and dear Allah, her whole body was tingling now, radiating out from between her legs.

            Now, Altair knew the basics of sex and arousal.  She’d taken that little slip of paper home in the sixth grade and her father had reluctantly signed it, and she’d learned that when a woman was aroused, her vagina produced lubrication in order to allow for the penis to enter more smoothly, because friction in that area was bad.  Then, when she’d gotten home, her father had talked with her about it.  So she knew that she was aroused.  She knew that Travis’ hand between her legs, his fingers running gently along the hem of her underwear, was arousing her more, all in preparation for him entering her.

            Knowing, Altair was fast learning, was far different than feeling.

            “Now,” Travis murmured, and Altair was surprised to hear his voice shake slightly, “here you are in nothing but your underwear, and I’m still fully clothed.  That’s not fair, is it?”  His lips were close to her ear and she shuddered as she tried to work up enough spit in her mouth to speak.  Unfortunately, all her spit seemed to have migrated below her waist, and all she could manage was a halting whine.

            Travis laughed and that shook, too.  It occurred to Altair, as his gentle touch on the side turned into a rub in the centre, that he was just as worked up as she was.  That sudden thought (which should have occurred to her earlier) made her feel very naïve and virginal.

            The hand between her legs moved and Altair whined again, not sure if it was in relief or protest.  She could barely look at Travis, but he tilted her head up and kissed her, pushing her down.  She sat and found herself at the end of her bed.  Altair squirmed and looked up at Travis, slightly confused and not really able to think at all.  He smiled down at her and untucked his shirt.  Altair didn’t think she could blush anymore, but she did, and looked down.  She tried not to glance at the bulge in his pants, either.

            It was the motion, caught out of the corner of her eyes, of him stripping his shirt off that caused Altair to raise her head.  Dear Allah, he had muscle.  He was no Schwarzeneger, but Allah, he was strong . . .

            Then he had one knee on the bed between her legs and he was leaning over her, smelling of sweat and musk and her perfume.  Altair looked up at him and had to lean back, until she was lying down.  Travis smiled down at her, then did a sort of push-up so he could kiss her.  He lifted himself back up and Altair giggled nervously, glancing at his bare chest and away quickly.  She couldn’t help herself, and Travis laughed again.

            “You can look,” he murmured.  “I don’t bite.”

            “Yes you do,” Altair told him, pushing out her lower lip as evidence.

            “Oh, that.”  Travis lowered himself again and bit at her lip gently, then kissed her.  “All right, I bite.  You’re too . . . how did you say it?  Yes, you’re too yummy not to bite.”

            His soft bites travelled down her throat and Altair laughed, pushing at his shoulders.  Her touch made him tense and he lowered himself until most of his weight was resting on her.  Altair could have sworn Travis trembled as he buried his face in her shoulder, and concern washed over her.  She stopped pushing and pulled him down until he slid both arms under her and squeezed tightly, running her hands over his back.

            “Travis?” she whispered a few moments later.  He’d been kissing her shoulder softly and now looked up.

            “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

            Altair blushed.  “No, I’m not.”

            “Lying’s a sin,” he told her, then raised himself again and kissed along her collarbone, then lower.  She felt his hands move under her, and then her bra loosened and her eyes went wide.  Travis glanced up and caught her look, then smiled reassuringly.  “It doesn’t come off until you want it to,” he assured her.

            Altair blushed.  “Th-thank you,” she whispered before he went back to kissing her, kissing in a straight line down her body until he got to her panties.  There he paused, and Altair gasped as her hips instinctively arched up.  “Travisssss . . . !”

            He laughed at her; the brute laughed at her.  Then he kissed up, covering all the places he’d missed on the way down.  Out of sheer nervousness Altair laughed, and when he tickled her gently she squirmed under him.  Travis stopped and groaned suddenly, which made Altair pause, and only then did she realize exactly what her left leg was rubbing against.  Altair licked her lower lip and then slowly moved her leg again, and again Travis groaned.  He rested his forehead between her breasts, pressing kisses to her slightly sweaty skin as his arms tightened around her.  Altair’s own breathing was irregular and almost harsh; she’d found, she mused, a sensitive spot.

            “Damn it, Altair!” Travis cursed a few moments later, one hand moving with lightning speed to her leg and stopping her.  Then he moved both her legs apart as she cringed from his harsh tone, resettling himself between them.  He looked up and immediately covered her face in kisses.  “No tears, Altair, no tears.  I’m not mad at you, please.”

            Altair sniffled and nodded, kissing him back when he pressed his lips to hers.  This time she kept her eyes open and Travis looked surprised that she’d kissed him.  Then he smiled and Altair returned it.

            “Emergency avoided,” he whispered as he pulled away.  That made Altair laugh.  Then Travis was kissing her again, right above her breast.  That made Altair gasp.  Travis glanced up.

            “I . . .” Altair blushed and raised one hand to her bra strap, tugging at it.  “I think I, I want . . .”

            Travis nodded and saved her from having to voice her desire by sitting up and pulling her into his lap, running his hands up and down her back.  Altair rested her head on his shoulder and mimicked him, trying to ignore the feeling of him pressing between her legs until he pinched her rump gently.  Then she squealed and hit his back gently in protest.  Travis laughed and kissed her neck, his hands sliding her bra straps off her shoulders.  He looked at her, waiting.

            Altair was burning alive.  Did she really want him to see her?  She could ask him not to look.  Or touch.  Or kiss.  Then she mentally hit herself.  Yes, she wanted him to see her.  She wanted him to tell her that she was beautiful again.  Slowly, blushing and looking anywhere but at Travis, Altair sat straighter (ooooh, that rubbed so right) and let her bra fall off.

            Nothing happened for a moment, and somewhat emboldened, Altair glanced at Travis.  He was smiling at her, and she smiled hesitantly back.

            “You’re beautiful,” he told her again.

            “You only say that because I’m topless and in your lap,” she said.

            “I haven’t even looked,” he said as he trailed his fingertips up and down her throat, while the other hand rested on her hip.  Altair just looked at him and his smile broadened.  “You know,” Travis said conversationally, “when someone goes blind, their other senses become better, clearer, so eventually they can practically see with touch and sound.”

            Altair nodded, a little thrown by the change in conversation.

            “And sometimes,” Travis said as he closed his eyes, “sometimes you see best when you don’t see at all.”

            With that he rested both hands on her hips and slowly dragged them upward, over her ribs until he was cupping both breasts.  Altair gasped, and Travis smiled.  He trailed his hands over her skin, exploring, squeezing gently, and every time Altair made a noise of pleasure he smiled and did whatever he’d done again, then moved on.  Altair got the feeling that Travis was memorizing her sensitive spots and what she liked best.  The rapidly-shrinking part of her mind that was still capable of rational thought told her that that was very sweet of him.

            Altair whimpered and lowered her head until her forehead rested on Travis’ shoulder.  With one hand still on her breasts, Travis moved the other one in ever-increasing circles on her back, tilting his head back slightly.  Altair pressed closer to him, gasping as she rubbed against his groin.  Travis groaned and pressed his free hand to her rear, holding her against him as his hips tilted up.  Altair moaned again, vaguely thinking she sounded stupid, and looked down at Travis.  A light sheen of sweat covered his face and he licked his lips constantly.  His eyes were still closed.  His lips drew Altair’s attention again and she tilted her head down on a sudden impulse and kissed them softly.

           Travis’ eyes flew open and he murmured her name, both hands pulling her hips against his now.  His kissed her back, his mouth hard and demanding on hers as they rocked against one another.

            Suddenly the pit of Altair’s stomach seemed to explode with a tidal wave of numbing emotion.  She cried out into Travis’ mouth as wave after wave of pleasure/pain ripped through her, and he held her as she trembled and shook.

            When the fog in her mind cleared, Altair was lying flat on her back with Travis next to and leaning over her.  He was gently pushing sweaty hair out of her eyes, leaning down every few seconds to press a kiss to her face.  She blinked up at him in confusion, frowning slightly.

            “T, Travis . . . what . . .”

            She could feel his chuckle vibrate through his chest as he kissed her lips gently.  “Welcome to the wonderful world of orgasms, Altair,” he whispered against her lips.  “How do you feel?”

            Altair blinked rapidly.  Her world was still spinning and she was grateful that she wasn’t upright anymore.  “. . . awake . . .”

            Travis laughed again and kissed her neck while he slid his hand down her stomach and just under the hem of her panties.  “Really?  Then I guess I didn’t do as thorough a job as I should have.”

            “That wasn’t thorough?” she asked, which earned her a softer laugh as he kissed her again.  She absently kissed him back.

            “Not if you’re not exhausted,” Travis murmured as he slid his hand completely into her underwear.  “Well, aren’t you just curly everywhere . . .”  Altair jumped and looked at him with wide eyes, wondering what he was doing now.  “Relax,” he whispered.  “This will feel good.”

            “As good as just now?” she whispered back.  She was still tingling (and very awake).

            Travis smiled and nodded without speaking, watching her carefully as his fingers moved slowly.  Altair nodded back absently, and sighed softly as the delicious warmth that had spread through her earlier started again.  Not quite able to meet the intensity of Travis’ gaze, she closed her eyes and simply let herself feel.  Her bed was soft underneath her, and she could feel the warm length of Travis’ body next to hers.  She could feel the heat of his chest against her arm, and the heat of his legs against hers through his jeans.  His hips pressed ever-so-slightly against her, and she felt him, too.  Oh, and his fingers.  She felt those.  Oh, yes, did she feel those.  They moved in different rhythms and pressures, causing her to cry out and rub against them.

           The pleasure Travis was giving her grew, and Altair clutched at him, whispering his name over and over like a mantra.  At first Travis leaned closer, asking if she needed anything or wanted him to stop, but she held on to his shoulders and pulled him against her, her eyes squeezed shut, and eventually he correctly decided that she really didn’t want him to stop and just needed to say something other than those stupid-sounding moans (which didn’t sound so stupid when she made them, only when she thought about them).

            “Travis!” Altair cried out, and he pressed closer to her, kissing her neck, sometimes biting at it.  Oh, those bites would leave marks.  His hips pressed against her again, and again, and she didn’t think he knew he was doing that.  It was . . . something was . . . that exploding feeling, she decided.  That was what felt like was building in her stomach, between her legs, centred in the area Travis was concentrating his fingers at.

            “God, Altair, I love you,” she heard him whisper.  “I love you, I love you.”  He bit down again and this time it hurt and she cried out in pain, and immediately not only did Travis let her skin go and kiss the wounded area, but his fingers increased their pressure, which effectively distracted her.  She though she heard Travis apologize, but she was off again in a whirlwind of pleasure, yelling his name as her nails dug into his back.

            It wasn’t like last time.  Travis kept the pressure up and Altair lost count of the explosions of pleasure/pain, feeling that she should pass out soon if the emotions didn’t stop.  But eventually they did, and she let Travis go, falling a couple of inches back onto her bed.  She felt Travis’ hand leave her underwear, and felt him kiss her cheek.  She made a small, tired noise and smiled slightly, curling toward him.  His arms wrapped around her and held her comfortingly.  After a while Travis pulled away, and Altair was too tired to open her eyes.  She felt the bed shift as he sat up and then shift again when he left it, and frowned slightly at that, wondering what on earth he could be doing.  Swift footsteps sounded, then the bathroom door closed.

            Altair snuggled into her blankets, shivering slightly as the cool air of her room met her heated and sweaty skin, chilling it and causing goose-bumps to rise up.  She heard Travis make some noise from the bathroom and paused in her shifting, but didn’t hear anything else and after a moment the door opened and then Travis was climbing gently into the bed with her.  She made a small noise of protest at being moved and groped for the covers.  Travis laughed quietly and covered them both, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her temple.  Altair made a face and twisted in his arms until her back was pressed against his chest, then took the arm over her and held it close, between her breasts, and entwined their fingers.

            She heard Travis sigh softly and settle next to her, kissing her shoulder before curling up slightly, moulding his body to hers.  She vaguely remembered that it was called spooning (but she was tired, and didn’t want to think).  Travis was warm behind her, and apparently he’d taken his pants off in the bathroom, but she didn’t really care about that, either.  All Altair cared about was sleeping, so she did.

 

 

 

 

            He didn’t take her that night.  Altair woke up a few times, once or twice when she thought she heard someone talking, once when her arm fell asleep, and sometimes she jerked awake with a frightened whine, flashes of heat and pain and loss making her tremble.  When that happened Travis held her and let her cry, wrapping himself around her and giving her as much comfort as she needed.  But not once did he make love to her.

            In the morning what woke Altair was the nagging feeling that she was late for something, and that there was a man in her bed when there shouldn’t be.  She held very, very still before looking over her shoulder, and could have fainted when she saw that it was Travis.  Why Travis should be in her bed, in only his underwear, wrapped around her, while she was only in her panties ---

            Altair relaxed all of a sudden when it occurred to her that yes, there should be a man in her bed, and that man should be Travis, because she’d married him the day before.  And that night . . .  Altair blushed and giggled quietly.  Oh, Allah, that had felt so perfectly wonderful, so delicious and overwhelming . . .  She licked suddenly dry lips and glanced at her clock, then did a double-take.  No wonder she felt she was running late; it was past the time she usually woke up for morning prayers.  Altair glanced back at Travis again; she didn’t want to wake him up.  He might convince her to stay in bed . . .

            The thought made Altair shiver in delight and she grinned to herself, then shook her head and gently moved his arm so it wasn’t across her.  Travis moved a little, one leg sliding between hers.  Altair suppressed a sigh and slid her legs free.  Then Travis put his arm over her again and she glared over her shoulder.

            He was awake, that jerk, and deliberately hindering her efforts to get up.  She frowned at him and he kissed her nose.  Altair shook her head sharply and pushed at his arm.

            “Let me up,” she said.

            “Why?”

            “I need to shower.”

            Travis grinned and his gaze flicked down her body.  She blushed and tingled.  “Can I come, too?”

            Altair could have strangled the infuriating man.  “No, infidel, you can’t.  I need to get up and shower and pray.”

            Travis’ grin had broadened when she’d called him an infidel, and now he was kissing her shoulder.  “Well, if you must . . .”

            “Yes, I must.”  It took some tugging, but Altair managed to free herself and after a little more tugging, pull on a robe.  She hmphed as Travis chuckled at her and stalked across the room to the bathroom, closing the door quite firmly behind her.  She heard him laughing through it and scowled, then flicked the shower on and let her robe slide off.  She slid her panties off, raising an eyebrow at them (was her body supposed to produce that much fluid?) before setting them aside, then looked herself over in the full-length mirror on the door.

            Marks, marks, marks.  Hickeys, her memory told her.  He’d given her hickeys.  Thank Allah she was supposed to wear the hijab.  She’d have had to kill Travis if it had been otherwise.  He’d bitten her so much . . . not that she had protested any but that one . . .  Look where his hands had been . . .  Altair stared at her body as if seeing it for the first time until the mirror fogged over, then she slowly climbed in the shower.  She washed slower than usual, her mind on the previous night and what had happened.  A though occurred to her and she slid her hand between her legs, ignoring the tinglies that danced along her flesh in remembrance, and felt carefully.  Yes, she was still a virgin.  That meant that Travis hadn’t . . .  But he’d been so aroused (she’d felt it, oh yes, she’d felt it) . . .

            Altair stood there and wondered for a few seconds, then she remembered (vaguely) him getting up after the second time, and going into the bathroom.  He hadn’t . . . had he?  She closed her eyes and leaned into the hot spray of water.  Yes, he probably had.  But why?  She would have welcomed him at that point.  Had she done something wrong, something to displease him?

            She stood under the water until Travis knocked on the bathroom door.

            “You haven’t drowned, have you?” he asked.

            Altair jerked slightly and shut the water off, reaching out for a towel and wrapping it around her hair, then grabbing at another one for her body.  “No, I’m fine,” she called back.

            “Need help?”

            “No, thank you.”  She glanced around as she got out of the shower, then sighed and opened the door a crack.  Travis was leaning against the wall by it and gave her a crooked smile.  She blushed.  “Uhm . . . I don’t have any clothes . . .”

            He grinned and waved his hand at the dresser.  She glared at him.  “Be my guest.  It’s your room, after all.”

            He obviously wasn’t going to get her some clothes.  Altair sighed and tightened the towel around her body, slipping out of the bathroom and blushing more as she felt Travis’ eyes on her.  He watched her cross to her dresser, watched her bend slightly to retrieve adequate clothing, and watched her cross back to the bathroom.  She almost made it in (belatedly remembering she could have used her robe), but his hand shot out and pulled her against him tightly.  Altair made a tiny noise and struggled a little, trying to get away.

            “Travis, please, I need to get dressed.”

            “Why?” he asked softly, bending his head down to kiss her neck.  One hand was on her thigh again, creeping inward and before Altair could get lost in the sensation she pulled away, panting.

            “Look,” she said icily, though her voice shook, “I have to pray.  I have to.  I can’t miss a prayer time just because you can’t control your hormones.”

            Travis’ face darkened and for a moment Altair thought he was going to yell at her.  Well, she’d yell back if he did.  Then his face cleared and he nodded.  “I understand.  Please, forgive me.”

            “I forgive everyone,” she retorted as he turned and went into the bathroom.  Once the door was closed she rolled her eyes, dressed and went to pray.  She heard the shower going, but ignored it, and when she was finished she knocked on the bathroom door.  The shower had been off for some time.

            “What.”

            Great, she’d hurt his ego.  “I’m done now, thank you.”

            The door opened and Travis stared down at her.  Altair looked up at him.  He stepped closer and tilted his head down, but she turned her head away before he could kiss her.

            She could have sworn he growled.  “Can’t I kiss my own wife?”

            “I don’t want to be kissed right now,” she said.  “I need to feed the kittens and then go eat.  I’m starving.”

            Travis was still staring at her as she fed the kittens, and didn’t stop when she opened the door.  She turned to him.  “What, Travis?  What’s wrong?”

            He moved past her, brushing fully against her body.  “Nothing.”

           Altair told herself to stop tingling and followed him after shutting the door, scowling at his back and pulling her veil up.  “Something’s wrong.  Did I do anything wrong?  I’ve never been married before, you know.  I’m going to make mistakes.”

            “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

            But he was speaking shortly, almost biting his words off, and not looking at her.  Altair almost had to jog to keep up with him.  She grabbed his arm and started to insist that he tell her what was bothering him, but before she got more than two words out he turned and shoved her against the wall, pulling her veil down as she squeaked and kissing her harshly.  His hands were on her roughly, one at her chest and the other pulling her hips against his.  She couldn’t feel much through the layers she wore, but she felt enough to know he was excited.  Altair struggled and beat her fists against Travis’ chest, but he ignored her protests.

            She was frightened and near to crying as she tried to plead with him to let her go.  This wasn’t nice, it wasn’t fun, it wasn’t Travis being gentle at all, it was Travis taking what he wanted and not caring what she felt.  Altair had a horrifying vision of this being how Travis truly was and she whimpered.

            “Travis.”

            That one word was all it took.  Suddenly Altair was free from her husband’s embrace and slumping against the wall as she started to cry.  Someone’s arms went around her and she looked up, but Kotono was looking at Richard, who was glaring at Travis.  Travis didn’t look that happy, either.

            “Take care of Altair, Kotono.”  Her friend nodded and stroked her hair.  Richard was still glaring at Travis.  “We need to talk.  Now.”

            Travis followed Richard without protest and Kotono tilted Altair’s chin up, wiping gently at her tears.  It brought to mind Travis’ gentleness the previous night and Altair started to cry again.

            “Oh, kodomo, don’t cry . . . don’t cry, Altair-chan­­, don't cry."  Kotono kissed her forehead like a mother would and held her close.  "Tell me what happened."

            So Altair did.  She cried as she told Kotono how they’d fought this morning, how he’d been so cold to her just because she didn’t want to be kissed.

            Kotono held Altair as she cried.  “You were . . . together last night, yes?”

            Altair looked up at her, confused until what Kotono was tactfully trying to ask sunk in, and then she blushed and shook her head.

            “No?”

            “We didn’t . . . I mean, yes, but he didn’t . . . I’m still . . .”

            Kotono nodded and pulled her close again.  “I see.  I see.  I will tell you what I think.  I think Travis loves you very much, and I think you frustrate him very much, too.  I think he wants you very much, but doesn’t want to force you into things.  He knows you don’t love him like he loves you.  For a thousand years he’s been worried about you, worried that the cryogenic freeze would go wrong, worried that it would damage you, worried that you would hate him when you woke up.  He worried most of all that you would die this time and he wouldn’t be able to save you again.  Richaado and I tried to reassure him, but he wouldn’t listen to us.  We tried to get him to have relationships, even if they wouldn’t last, but he refused.”  She smiled slightly.  “I could not have stayed celibate for a thousand years.  I think he is very frustrated in many ways, Altair.  But what I do not think is that he meant to hurt you or make you afraid.  Travis would rather cut his arms off than make you fear him.”

            Altair looked up, wiping at her eyes.  “B, but why---”

            Kotono nodded slowly.  “Why, indeed.  You insulted him.  I know it was only to make him let you pray, but you still insulted him.”  She shrugged.  “I can’t answer that question.  Perhaps he went out of his mind for a moment.  You may not notice it, Altair, but you are very beautiful.  What you wear makes you mysterious, too.”  She sighed and stood up, pulling Altair with her.  “Please, forgive Travis this incident and give him another chance.  Richard and I will watch to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”  As they walked to the dining room Kotono looked at Altair out of the corner of her eye.  “It is hard to want something but not be able to have it, isn’t it, Altair?”

            Altair looked up, her eyes wide, but Kotono merely opened the dining room door and stepped in.  Had she meant Marcus?  Altair raised her veil and followed her friend, sitting between her and Gawaine.  She didn’t know when Richard and Travis would come in, if at all, but she didn’t want to sit next to Travis right now.

            Gawaine must have been feeling rather perceptive, because he leaned over and touched her hand gently as she stared down at her food.  “Are you all right, Altair?”

            “Hmm?”  She looked up and shrugged.  “I think I’ll be fine.”

            “But you aren’t now.”  He looked around, noting Richard and Travis’ absence, and frowned.  “What happened?  Did Travis---”

            “Leave her alone,” Kotono spoke up.  Gawaine frowned and when Travis and Richard came in when breakfast was almost over, rather pointedly moved his chair closer to Altair’s.

            For her part, Altair had lost all appetite and couldn’t look at Travis.  Richard placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned down.  “I talked with him,” he murmured.  “He won’t do anything like that again.”

            Altair nodded silently and he squeezed her shoulders as he straightened, then sat by Kotono.  After a few moments she pushed her plate away and stood.  Gawaine followed suit.  Travis scowled at the table.  She left, Gawaine following her, and headed for her room.

            “I don’t know what happened, and you don’t have to tell me,” Gawaine was saying, “but it has something to do with Travis and I have the suspicion Richard ripped him a new hole instead of talking with him.  You let me know if he ever hurts you, you hear me, Altair?”

            She could have cried.  “You know I love you, right?” she whispered instead.  Gawaine turned her around and hugged her, grinning.

            “You just want my hot body.”

            “I prefer my men untoasted and able to tell the difference between seven and three digits,” she laughed as she hugged him back.

            “Bite me, Muslim-girl.”  He opened her door for her and bowed her in.  “You want some company?”

            Altair sat at her desk and booted her laptop up, picking Garret off of a yowling Lex.  He curled up in her lap, biting gently at her fingers as he growled playfully.  “Yes, please.  I don’t want to be alone.”  Gawaine came in and closed the door, sitting down next to her.

            “What are you doing?”

            “I need to contact that religious society,” she said as she tapped at the keyboard.  “I refuse to mooch for the rest of my life.”

            Gawaine laughed and pet Carmen as Altair brought up a search engine.  “Yeah.”

            They talked as she typed up a nice e-mail, laughing together over their past lives, relieved that they’d both survived, sad that Ta’len, Nicole-Renee and Noah hadn’t.  Altair had just sent the e-mail off when someone knocked at the door.

            “Who is it?” they both asked.

            There was a pause.  Then, “Travis.”

            “Come in.”

            “Go away.”

            Altair and Gawaine looked at each other.  “I don’t think he should come in,” Gawaine said.

            “He has every right to,” Altair replied.  She raised her voice.  “Come in.”

            Gawaine scowled and stood up behind her, taking the position of bodyguard as Travis opened the door slowly.  His gaze flicked disapprovingly to Gawaine and then he closed his eyes and sighed.  “May I please speak with you, Altair?”

            She sat back in her chair.  “I’m listening.”

            “Alone?”

            “I’m not leaving,” Gawaine said coolly.

           Travis glared and Gawaine glared right back.  Altair sighed and stood up, coming to stand between them.  “Gawaine, may I please have some privacy with my husband?”

            He glowered at her and moved to the door.  “I’ll be outside.”  As he passed Travis he paused.  “If I hear anything that sounds like you’re hurting her, I’ll kick down that door and beat the shit out of you,” he threatened.

            “If I hurt her, I’ll let you,” Travis replied.  Gawaine looked at him for a moment, then nodded and left.  Travis turned to Altair.  “Altair . . .”

            She looked away and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Yes?”

            “I’m . . . well . . . shit.”  She heard him sigh in frustration.  “I’m an idiot, first of all.  Next, I’m stupid.  I’m . . . I’m sorry, Altair.  I never meant to frighten you.”  He was behind her; she could feel him.  “I didn’t mean to make you cry.  Believe me, Richard said he’d kill me if I ever did anything like that again.  I’ll kill me if I ever do.”

            “So why did you?” she whispered.

            “Because I’m a shithead.”  She flinched.  “I’m sorry; I’ll watch my language.  I don’t know.  Because you’re beautiful, because I want you, because you bug the . . . . you frustrate me.  Because maybe you’re right, maybe I can’t control my hormones.  Because you can tear me to pieces with a look, much less a word.”  He hesitantly placed his hands on her shoulders and Altair let him.  “I’m so sorry, Altair.  Please, forgive me?”

            She wanted to scream.  She wanted to yell, to fight, to kick and throw a fit.  Instead Altair turned sharply and beat on Travis’ chest with her fists again, crying.  “Don’t you do that again, Travis Voss!  Don’t you ever do anything like that again!  Do you hear me?  Do you hear me?!”

            He held her as she sobbed, promising her.  He kissed her head, her face, pulled her veil down and kissed her lips.  Altair sighed into the kiss and slid her arms around his neck as he pulled away.

            “Kiss me again, Travis,” she whispered.  “Make me forget we fought.”

            Travis nodded and did what she asked.  His lips covered hers and his hands went to her outfit.  She helped him pull it off, then let him unsnap her bra and watched it fall.  He ran his fingers through her hair before placing his hands on her hips and pushing her underwear down.  Altair hid her face in his chest as she blushed.  He hadn’t seen that last night.  Touched it, oh yes, but not seen it.  When her panties were around her ankles he kissed her again before taking his shirt off, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of the clothes.  Altair daintily stepped out of her panties as he took his belt off, and her heart hammered in her chest as she thought that surely, now he would put all that lubrication to good use, but he merely slid out of his shoes before picking her up and gently depositing her on the bed.

            Altair watched him lay next to her, still blushing as he kissed her gently, then moved down her neck.  She let his warm hands wander her body, touching gently, then firmly, but always carefully.  He kept kissing her as he did this, one arm beneath her head.  His other hand explored her, but Travis never pulled away from her lips for more than a second.

            “Hold onto me,” he whispered once, moving her idly grasping hand to his neck, then sliding his own hand down her arm and under her back briefly before returning to her breasts.

            Altair did as suggested, wrapping both arms around his neck as his hand left her breasts and travelled between her legs.  Ooooh, he was touching her again, rubbing gently.  Altair laughed breathlessly and Travis smiled against her lips.  She opened her eyes and saw that he was watching her, and blushed.  She was doing that a lot lately.  Then she closed her eyes again and just kissed Travis.  He was being gentle again, thank Allah.  He wasn’t even kissing her like he’d done last night except for at first.  He just pressed his lips to hers, over and over, very rarely using his tongue.  And in the meantime, his hand between her legs was working slowly; if his kisses hadn’t been making her heart pound, his hand would have been doing the trick just fine.

            At one point, as Altair was making quiet moaning noises against Travis’ mouth, she felt his fingers slip inside of her.  The young woman’s eyes flew open and she made a noise of surprise, freezing.  Immediately Travis stopped everything he was doing, and in the sudden stillness she felt him trembling.  He drew back from her lips and looked down at her, waiting.  Altair was at a loss for what to do.  Even she’d never put her fingers there (she doubted tampons counted).  She looked up at Travis.

            “Will this be fun?” she asked shyly.

            He nodded, eyes never leaving hers.

            Altair smiled and pulled him back to her.  “Then get down here and kiss me some more.”

            “As you wish,” he murmured, lowering himself once more and kissing her.  His hand moved, and while his thumb worked outside, inside his fingers found a spot that made Altair squeal.  Immediately Travis hushed her and jerked his head to the door, reminding her of both Gawaine and his threat, and they looked at each other and laughed.

            “I should . . . tell him to, to g-g-go,” Altair stammered, arching her neck.

            Travis took the cue and kissed it, nipping gently.  “Let him listen.”

            Her eyes widened and she laughed again.  “Th-that’s not, not p, proper!”

            “Bet he listened last night, too.”

            Altair was scandalized.  “No!  Gawaine---”

            “Hasn’t gotten laid in over two thousand years.”  His fingers pressed down suddenly and Altair cried out, only to have her cry cut off by Travis’ lips on hers.  She immediately kissed him, hands clutching at his shoulders.  He had wonderfully broad shoulders.

            “Allah Almighty, your stubble scratches,” she gasped when he let her lips go.

            “Are you protesting?” he rumbled, kissing down her throat and to her chest.

            “No . . .” It was a breathy whisper and Altair arched her back as Travis’ warm mouth closed over a nipple, sucking gently.  She groaned, pushing up against his mouth and hand, holding his head to her chest.

            But eventually, after giving much loving attention to both breasts and laughing at both orgasms she had, Travis pulled away.  He didn’t go far, though.  Just down to her stomach.  From there, as Altair lay back and panted, he kissed to her abdomen.  Then he went lower, settling himself between her legs and kissing places that made her see stars.  Then his tongue, oh Allah, his tongue, and she cried out and thrashed, not knowing if she was trying to push herself away from or against him, only knowing that this was far more fun than last night and she was going to die from this, she was she was she was---

            When Altair came to, Travis was grinning down at her.  “Good morning, Sunshine,” he said.

            Altair just looked at him.  “Did I faint?”

            Travis shook his head.  “Naw, you just fell asleep really fast.”

            “So I fainted.”

            “Nope.”

            “Don’t lie to me.”

            “I’m not.”  He kissed her nose and she jerked her head.  Travis kissed her lips now, and Altair willingly returned the gesture.  She liked kissing.

            “You know,” she said after he pulled away, “if we keep doing . . . this . . . we’re not going to get much done.”

            “We’re getting a lot done,” Travis protested.  “When you come, you have the cutest way of scrunching your face up.  It’s really quite amusing.  I’d say that’s accomplishing something.”

            “When I what?”  Travis licked his lips.  Altair blushed.  “Oh, stop it!”

            He was laughing, leaning down to kiss her when someone knocked.

            “Travis, I need to talk with you.”

            “Marcus needs a babysitter,” Travis muttered.  Altair smothered her giggles in his chest and he pinched her side gently.  “Let me up, minx.”

            As Altair let him go and dove under the covers, Travis stood and walked shirtless and barefoot to the door, opening it enough to show that Altair was either in bed or the bathroom, and the bathroom door was open, showing it to be empty except for Umar.  Her husband leaned in the doorway, looking down slightly at Marcus.  Altair rolled her eyes as she peeked out from under the covers.

            “Yes, Marcus?  I’m rather busy at the moment.”  The door, the pose and the lack of clothing was all to leave no doubt in Marcus’ mind exactly what (or who) Travis was busy doing.

            She heard Marcus cough and when he spoke, he sounded embarrassed.  “Well, I’m sorry, Travis, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, but Richard said to ask you to show me how the security system works.”

            “I’ll show you later.”

            “Well . . .”

            “Or I won’t show you at all.”  She could imagine Travis grinning slightly at Marcus, letting him know that he should leave, that Travis intended to return to his previous activity whether Marcus stayed outside or not.

            Marcus sighed.  “All right.  I have a meeting from six to eight, but before and after I don’t have much to do.”

           “Right.  I’ll find you when I’m ready.  Goodbye.”  He closed the door firmly in Marcus’ face and returned to the bed, pulling the covers down.

            Altair squealed from the sudden cold and jerked them back up, but Travis was in the way, one leg between hers.  She moved her legs farther apart almost instinctively and Travis groaned, hanging his head and shaking it.

            “What’s wrong?” she asked, reaching up to touch his hair gently.

            “You’re so damned naïve, aren’t you?” he asked.

            “Well, yes, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

            “You just don’t get it . . .” Travis sighed and kissed her forehead as Altair looked confused.  “It’s all right.”  He lay next to her again and pulled her close.  “What do you want to do today, minx?”

            Altair snuggled closer to him and breathed in his musky scent.  “Grow you a beard.”

            “Not happening.”

            “Stubble makes you look scruffy.”

            “A beard makes me look horrible.”

            He was very lightly tickling her and Altair squirmed as she giggled.  “Men look strange without beards.”

            “Mmm, don’t care.”

            Altair smiled up at Travis.  “May we go to Mecca, please?”

            “We can go anywhere you want.”

            “I need to perform Hajj.”

            “We can go whenever you’re ready.”

            Altair smiled and nodded, then frowned a little.  “You weren’t very nice to Marcus.”

            “Marcus needs to learn what’s his and what’s not.”  Travis looked down at her and caught the look on her face.  He sighed.  “I’m sorry, Altair.”

            “Marcus . . . likes me?”

            “We all like you, minx, but . . .” Travis shrugged.  “I don’t know.  He didn’t seem too pleased when Richard announced we were getting married.  Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”  He leaned down and bit her shoulder gently, then kissed it.  “But I don’t want to lose you again.”

            Altair smiled.  “You never ‘lost’ me, Travis.”

            He raised his eyebrows at her.  “I almost lost you to a dragon, then I lost you for a thousand years, and I very nearly lost you last week.  I’m not taking any chances.”

            She looked down.  “You think I’d run off with Marcus?”  Her voice was small.

            Travis frowned and pet her hair.  “Well . . . no.  No, I don’t.  You have too much honour for that.  But I know how you feel about Marcus, and, well . . .” He trailed off and when Altair looked up at him, he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

            “I’m sorry I don’t love you,” she whispered.  Travis grunted.  “I am, Travis.  I am sorry.  I want to love you, because you’re my husband.  I’m determined to love you, in fact.”  Travis had closed his eyes, and now he opened one and looked down at her questioningly.  Altair blushed.  “I told you before that love comes in all forms, and given the correct opportunities and nurtured, it can change forms.  I love you as my friend; therefore I can come to love you as my husband.”  She bit her lower lip and Travis raised one finger, gently pulling her lip out from between her teeth.  She looked up at him again.  “I won’t settle for anything less than being in love with you as a wife should love her husband, Travis.”

            Travis laughed and she felt it start in his belly, then move up.  It made her smile.  He kissed her.  “And you will,” he said.  “You can do anything, gorgeous.”

            “Except convince you that I’m not that pretty,” she muttered.  Before Travis could protest she sat up, then threw one leg over his waist and straddled him.  He went still and looked up at her, putting his hands on her waist and squeezing gently.

            “That’s not a good idea,” he whispered.

            “Why not?” she asked, feeling rather impish.

            “It’s just . . . not.”

            Altair smiled indulgently and slithered down his body until she could rest her head on his chest.  His arms went around her shoulders and he rubbed them.  “How’s this?”

            “. . . somewhat better.”

            Altair laughed and kissed his shoulder.  Travis grumbled something and held her tightly, until she fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

            To say Travis hadn’t touched her all week would have been an outright lie.  To say he hadn’t taken her, well, that was in the grey area between truth and lies.  Had they had sex?  That depended on whether his fingers inside of her counted.  If that activity did, then yes, they’d had sex more times that Altair could count (well, if she wanted to, she could, but she didn’t want to).  If it didn’t (and Altair was inclined to think it didn’t) then no.  Not once had Travis ever had less than his pants on when he touched her.  Everything else, his shirt, shoes, socks (she wasn’t sure if he wore underwear or not) came off, and Travis delighted in undressing her, but not once did he take his pants off (his belt he was in the habit of tying her up with, but that wasn’t his pants).

            Altair had explained that they weren’t supposed to be very affectionate in public, and, deprived of that form of touching her, Travis seemed to devote most of his energy to seeing how many times in a row he could make her orgasm.  The energy not devoted to that he devoted to just spending time with her, whether they were both reading quietly, or curled up on the bed, or just plain being together.  Altair was taking every opportunity, as she’d said she would, to fall in love with Travis.  They’d had some light quarrels (nothing like that first one) but on the whole, they got along wonderfully.  She especially liked it when he taught her how to shoot.  Not that she really needed it, but his arms around her were nice and she suspected he liked it, too.  She certainly got tossed onto their bed quicker the more they touched in public.

            Their bed.  Well, yes, it was.  Travis still had his room (and once or twice she’d banished him to it) but he spent most nights in hers, playing his games and amusing himself with the sounds he could coax out of her.  Travis, she’d learned, was a very thorough, very playful lover.

            But he still hadn’t taken her.  Altair was near to screaming from frustration.  Every night (except the times she’d banished him to his own room) he touched her, kissed her, licked her (oh, that was fun!), did everything but take off his stupid pants (and stupid underwear if he wore any) and make true love to her.  She couldn’t figure out what she was doing wrong.  Certainly, he was always pleased with her reactions (minus the book she’d thrown at him) and he certainly wanted her, but he never took his pleasure of her.  He always waited until she was asleep or had been lying quietly for some time before going to the bathroom and relieving himself.

            Why?  Altair sighed and idly flipped through her mail (yes, she’d been sent e-mail!) as she pondered her predicament.  Gawaine, Gawaine, Gawaine, Kotono, the society, someone else she’d met through the society . . .  It didn’t add up.  Every time she rubbed against him innocently or otherwise he let her for a while, then stopped her.  When she asked he said it wasn’t a good thing.  Why wasn’t it a good thing?  Allah knew Travis’ hormones worked properly, as did hers; yesterday she’d jumped at him the moment he’d walked in her door and they’d both fallen with a crash that had Richard poking his head in to see what was going on.  Travis had already been undressing her and had told Richard to get the fuck out.  Then he’d gone down on her (she swore, her language was deteriorating the more she was around Travis) and hadn’t stopped until she’d been too tired to move.

            Allah, what was so wrong that her husband wouldn’t make love to her?  Nothing worked.  She’d belly-dance and he’d tackle her the instant she was done, but he wouldn’t have her.  He was taking her to Mecca so she could perform Hajj in three days.  They’d stay for a week.  Maybe then . . . maybe he thought it had something to do with performing Hajj.  Maybe afterwards he’d finally take those stupid pants of his off and lay with her like he should.

            “What’s up, pussycat?” Travis said as he walked in.

            Altair jumped slightly and smiled at him, getting up and throwing her arms around his neck.  “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

            “Or getting off, same thing.”  He laughed as she swung at him, catching her hand and kissing it.

            “Don’t you ever knock?” Altair asked.

            “Plenty of times.”  He reached out and knocked on her desk.  “See?”

            “You’re so mean to me.”

            “I know.”  His smug acceptance of every insult she gave him made Altair laugh (when it wasn’t making her want to throttle him).  “So, did you miss me the whole hour I was showing Junior how to run the group for next time?”

            Altair rolled her eyes and pushed away from him, but as she turned he caught her around the waist and kissed her cheek.  “No, I didn’t miss you at all.  I hardly noticed you were gone.”

            Travis snorted.  “Right.  You noticed, you know you did.”

            “What did I notice?” she asked nonchalantly.

            Travis grinned against her cheek.  “You noticed the significant lack of orgasms you were having.”

            “Travis!”  She was, once more, scandalized by his cool acceptance of sex (well, sexual activity; they’d yet to get to the actual ‘sex’ part).

            “Speaking of, it’s been over an hour.  Are you sure you aren’t having withdrawls?”

            Altair snorted as she tried to get free and Travis tried to undress her.  “You’re loony.  Who throws who onto the nearest flat surface?”  She turned and pressed up against him, sliding one leg between his gently.

            Travis didn’t notice or didn’t care.  He grinned down at her and accepted her kisses.  “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep tossing me around like that, you know.”

            Altair sighed and stood on her toes slowly, making sure her leg rubbed against his groin as she rose up to kiss him.  “Shut up, infidel.”

            Travis had settled for simply hiking her skirts up around her waist and pushing her against the wall.  He hooked the leg not between his around his waist, and pressed into her as he took her hijab off.  “Admit it.  You like it.  You’re a hedonist at heart.”

            “No.  I hate it.  I wish you’d never leave your room.”  She shook her head even as she tightened her leg around his waist and reached her arms around his shoulders.

           “Lying is a sin, remember?”  He bit down on her neck (she was never without hickeys these days) and sucked gently.

            “Allah forgives me, because He loves me and not you.”

            “Nuh-uh.  I’m His favourite.”

            “Are not!”

            “Are too!”

            Altair glared at Travis and then collapsed in giggles.  He laughed with her and slid his fingers under the hem of her underwear.  “God, Altair, that was quick . . .” He took his hand out and watched her as he licked his fingers clean.  Altair watched and trembled; Travis knew how to make any innocent gesture erotic.

            “It’s a defence mechanism,” she whispered.

            “Oh, really?”  He reached down again and she pressed her lips against a moan as he rubbed her.

            “Re-really.”

            “And how does this defence mechanism work?” he asked, once more removing his fingers and licking them.

            Altair pushed forward suddenly and took his fingers into her mouth, blinking slightly at the taste.  Travis froze, looking like a deer caught in headlights, then groaned as she started to lick and suck on the tips of his fingers.  She watched him as she slowly reached up and started sucking on one finger, taking more and more of it into her mouth, not moving on until she was sure it was clean of her taste.  Then she moved to the next one.  By the time she was halfway done Travis was visibly trembling and swallowing sharply every few seconds, throaty groans coming from his mouth as he pressed against her.  She could feel him against her leg; he was hard, wonderfully so.  Maybe tonight . . .

            But Altair was out of luck.  She’d just put his third finger into her mouth, rubbing her leg slightly as he unconsciously rocked against her, when Travis jerked out of her grasp and pushed himself away from her.  Altair stumbled and barely caught herself on her desk, looking up at Travis with wide eyes.

            “Travis, what---”

            “I have to go,” he whispered hoarsely, his own eyes wide, then turned and left, not even closing her door behind him.

            Altair stared speechlessly at the open door for a few seconds, then sank to the floor and screamed as she beat her hands on it.  It wasn’t fair!  What was wrong with that man?!

            She was crying when Richard hurried in.  He knelt beside her and pulled her up, and she threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder.  She screamed again, muffling it against his shoulder, and beat at his back with her hands.

            “Altair, what’s wrong?  What happened?”

            “I think I hate him,” she whispered after a moment of calming herself down.

            Richard tensed.  “Did he hurt you again?”

            Altair laughed hysterically.  “No, no, no, no . . .”  It was a good thing Richard knew Arabic, because that was all she was capable of right now.

            “What happened?”

            She laughed again, a short bark of sound.  “What happened?  What didn’t happen, is the question.  What’s wrong with him?  Am I not pretty enough?”  She looked up at Richard and he wiped at her eyes for her.  “Am I not pretty?  He tells me often that I am, but is he lying?  Am I repulsive to him?”

            “No,” Richard murmured, “you don’t repulse Travis.”

            “Then why won’t he---”  She broke off, turning red, and hid her face in his chest.

            “Why won’t he what?”  She was silent and started crying again, and Richard either already knew the answer or guessed.  “I . . . I don’t know.”  Well, that was news.  “I don’t ask about that.  He says you two are getting along fine and has nothing but good things to say about you.  I’m sorry; I don’t know.”

            “What am I doing wrong?” she asked.

            Richard shifted and wasn’t looking at her when she looked up at him.  “I don’t know,” he said, and he sounded embarrassed.

            Altair sniffed and looked at him again, suddenly caught by the pleasant shape of his lips.  Richard looked down at her and she leaned up to him, and would have kissed him except she suddenly turned her head at the last moment, laying it on his shoulder with wide eyes.  What had she been about to do?  Kiss Richard, who she saw as a father figure?  Was she crazy?  Just because her husband wouldn’t have sex with her, she was going to kiss another, married, man?!

            Altair broke into fresh tears and Richard stood up and set her on her feet.

            “Stop crying.”

            Altair stopped.

            He frowned down at her and she turned red; he knew what she’d been about to do.  “Tell me exactly what’s wrong.”

            Altair told him.  She told him what Travis would do to her (not that she was complaining, far from it), how he could spend all night pleasing her but not once would he let her touch him intimately, not once would he take his stupid (stupid stupid stupid) pants off and really make love to her.  She told Richard how the few times she’d asked why he made her stop moving against him that he’d told her it was a bad idea.

            Richard listened, then asked if she wanted him to have sex with her (he agreed that fingers didn’t count; she asked).  She said of course she did, she had wanted it the first night, but he’d gone into the (stupid) bathroom instead.  She was starting to hate that bathroom.

            After she was done he nodded, then took her arm and lead her out of the room.  “We’re going to find out the answer to your problem,” he told her.

            “We?” she squeaked.

            “Yes.  You’re going to stand out of sight and I’m going to ask Travis why he won’t have sex with you.”

            Altair’s protest died in her throat and she calmly followed Richard to Travis’ room, waiting as he knocked on the door.

            “Who is it?”

            “Richard.”

            “Come in.”

            He opened the door and looked around, then took Altair’s arm and pulled her in with him.  Travis was in the bathroom, splashing water on his face.  Richard made Altair stand against the wall as he walked in.

            “Anything wrong?”

            “I should say so.  Do you enjoy making your wife cry?”

            There was an uncomfortable silence, then, “No.”

            “Why do you do it, then?”

            “What did I do now?”

            Travis was being oddly brusque.  Richard didn’t seem to notice or care.  “You reduced her to screaming incoherently on the floor and trying to beat it into a pulp.  What do you think you did?”

            “That’s none of your business, Mantooth.”

            Richard’s voice dropped several degrees.  “Yes, Voss, it is.  She’s my ward.”

            “She’s my wife.”

            There was the sound of a body hitting the wall, and then Richard growled, “What’s wrong with you?  She told me, Travis.  She told me you damn near run away when she does anything to suggest you stop fingering her and start fucking her.”

            “Don’t talk like that about her!”

            Another smack of flesh against wall.  “Then why the hell won’t you?”

            Travis sounded snide.  “Maybe I don’t want to.”

            “Why not?”

            “Maybe I don’t want to stick my dick in her, ever think of that?  Maybe I find it distasteful.”

            “I know you don’t.  I know you want to.  Don’t fucking lie to me, Travis.”

            Now her husband sounded sullen.  “Why don’t you fuck her yourself, then?”

            Richard was silent for a long time.  Finally he spoke.  “I could have.”

            “What?”  Travis now sounded alert.

            “I could have.  She stopped herself, but she almost kissed me when I went in to see what was wrong.  Had I kissed her, she probably would have done anything I wanted.”

            “She threw herself---”

            Now the sound was flesh against flesh.  “Do not ever suggest that Altair throws herself at people, Travis.  Never.  For all your defensiveness of her, you’re mighty quick to tear her to pieces.”

            Travis growled a little.  “What the hell do you want?  You want to fuck my wife?”

            “I want my ward to be happy.  If I had known you’d treat her like this then I would have let Marcus marry her, like he asked.”

            Altair’s heart leapt to her throat and tears filled her eyes.  Marcus had wanted to marry her?

            “What?!  That bastard asked you if he could marry Altair?!”

            Richard smacked Travis again.  “Don’t call my great-great grandson a bastard; if anyone, the bastard is you.  And yes, he did.  He asked me twice, in fact.”

            “So why did you marry her to me?  You know she wants him; hell, everyone knows she wants him.”

            Richard’s voice was quiet.  “Because you’ve loved her for over a thousand years.  Because you specifically went against my orders and protected her throughout her life.  Because you’ve risked your life to keep her safe.”

            “And you didn’t even ask Altair?”

            “After much thought, I came to the conclusion that you were a far better match for Altair than Marcus.  Kotono agreed.”

            “Damn you, Richard, damn you to---”

            “Shut up, Travis.”  Travis shut up.  “Now tell me the truth; why won’t you have sex with Altair?”

            Travis was quiet for a long time and Altair covered her face as she cried quietly.  Finally he spoke up.  “I don’t want to hurt her.”

            “You think it always hurts?”

            “No.”

            “I think she would forgive you the pain if it did.  I know she would.”

            “That’s not it, damn it!  What if I do take her to bed?  What then?  She may wake up and hate me.”

            “After all you’ve done with her, somehow I doubt that.”

            Travis snorted.  “That’s different.  I don’t want to rush her.”

            Richard sounded exasperated.  “Have you asked Altair if you’re rushing her, Travis?  Or have you just assumed that you knew best?”  Travis was silent.  “I think you’re an idiot, Travis.  Anyone could see that if anything, you’re going too slow with her.  You know what she thinks?  She thinks you find her repulsive, that that’s why you won’t sleep with her.”

            “God knows I don’t find her repulsive at all, Richard.”

            “Well, God may know that, but Altair doesn’t.”  He snorted.  “I think maybe I was wrong.”

            “What?”

            “I think maybe Marcus is the better match for Altair.  He would talk with her, at least, if he thought something he wanted to do would hurt her.  He would be honest with her.”

            Travis snorted.  “Marcus is a naïve virgin who thinks---”

            “Marcus hasn’t been a virgin since he was fifteen.”

            “Fuck, I don’t want to hear that.  So he screwed some cheerleaders, so what?”

            Another smack, or maybe Travis had just been punched because he groaned.  “Shut the fuck up, Voss.  Stay away from Altair.”

            “You can’t ground me from my own---”

            “Yes,” Richard said as he came back into the doorway, “I can.  Stay away from Altair until I decide if maybe Marcus should be lucky enough to be married to her; you certainly don’t seem to want her.”

            “Damn it, you know I want her!”  Travis sounded almost desperate.  “You know how much, how long I’ve wanted her, Richard.  Damn it, I would do anything for Altair!”

            “Except make love to her.”

            Travis was making small noises of protest, but in the end he fell silent.  “I love her, Richard.  I love her so much it hurts.”

            “Then why can’t you make love to her?”

            “I . . . I can’t.  I just can’t.  She’s too pure for that, Richard.  I don’t want to taint her innocence.”

            Richard snorted.  “You’ve been tainting her innocence since the night you married her, Travis.  Married people have sex; that’s a fact of life.  You can’t avoid it.  Kotono and I have been married for almost a thousand years and we still have sex.”  Altair could have done without that information.  “Do you think Altair thinks you’re tainting her?  Weren’t you listening when she got over being traumatized about marrying you enough to be excited that she could finally have children?  Remember her telling Gawaine that the ‘old-fashioned way’ was the way she wanted to have children, that it had to be fun or else the human race would have died out pretty quick?  Do you think she doesn’t remember having sex in her previous lives?”  Actually, Altair hadn’t, but now that she thought back, she did.  Oh, what fun.  “She’s not as innocent as she appears, Travis.  She’s a mature woman who knows her own mind and knows what she wants.  She wants you.  You want her.  You’re married to her; what’s the problem?”

            Travis was quiet.  Finally Richard sighed.  “I think you’re being an idiot.”

            “Don’t make me stay away from her,” Travis whispered.

            “No.”

            “Please.”

            “Don’t go near her if she’s not in someone else’s company.”

            “Please, Richard.”  His voice was getting softer.

            “That’s an order, Travis.  I don’t want to Dominate you, but I will if I have to.”

            There was a long, long moment of silence and what sounded like a sob.  Then, “I’ll stay away.”

            “I know.”  Richard turned and pulled Altair away from the wall, pushing her in front of him until she was walking as fast as he wanted her to.  When they were back to her room she turned to him with wet eyes.

            “Marcus loves me?”

            Richard nodded silently.

            “He asked to marry me twice?”

            Another nod.

            “And you said no?  When you knew, when apparently everyone knew, that I wanted him?”

            “You heard my reasons.”

            Altair sank onto her bed and stared numbly at the floor.  “What’s ‘Dominate’?” she finally asked.

            Richard sat next to her and sighed.  “It’s something vampires and mages can do.  I was a vampire and I’ve almost always been a mage.  It’s a form of mind control; all I need to do is tell someone to do, or not do, something and they do whatever I tell them to.”

            “You would do that to make Travis stay away from me?”  She looked up at him.

            He nodded.  “I would.”

            “I don’t want him to stay away from me.”

            “I know,” Richard sighed, “but please trust me.  If he doesn’t get his head out of his ass in a few days, I doubt he ever will.”

            “Then will you let Marcus marry me?”

            “Don’t push him away because you want Marcus, Altair.”

            She narrowed her eyes.  “I wasn’t going to do that.  I was just wondering who else you were going to pawn me off to.”

            Richard looked at her for a long time, then sighed again.  “If you decide you don’t want to be married to Travis anymore, you can marry whoever you want.  But give Travis a chance.  You haven’t been married even a week.”

            Altair sighed.  “I know.  I promised myself that I would love him like a wife should, Richard.  I told myself I wouldn’t settle for less.”

            “That’s a good goal.”  She shrugged and Richard stood up.  “I’ll have dinner sent up here if you want.”

            “Yes, please,” she whispered.

 

 

 

 

            By the next morning it seemed everyone knew Travis had been ‘grounded’ from her.  He didn’t talk to anyone unless he absolutely had to and refused to do anything concerning Marcus but glare at him, especially when the young man sat next to Altair at breakfast and started talking with her.  She tried to ignore the black looks Travis was giving them and have a decent conversation; now that she knew Marcus loved her, she noticed all the small things he did that communicated that affection.

            She wanted to cry.  Richard had said that Gawaine would take her to Mecca, but she didn’t want to go if Travis couldn’t go with her.  She thanked him politely and said that she’d changed her mind about going.

            That night Altair cried herself to sleep.  Over the near-week she’d been married, she’d gotten used to Travis sleeping with her (even when it was platonic) enough that she was lonely without him next to her, without his stubble scratching her neck when he kissed it sleepily.  Yes, she missed being intimate, too, but most of all she missed his company.  It hurt that she could see him in the hall and he’d turn and walk the other way, it hurt to know that she couldn’t brush against him and then anticipate being tossed onto her bed when the day was through or Travis got her alone for a while (whichever came first).

            But Marcus was being very attentive to her.  Not too attentive, though.  He was being a friend.  He talked with her.  He never once mentioned love, or Travis, or marriage.  He kept to safe subjects, for which Altair was grateful.

            A couple days later, when she and Travis should have been in Mecca, she turned a corner sharply and ran into him.  She fell with a squeak, dropping the pile of paper she’d been carrying, and stared up at her husband in shock.

            Travis looked just as startled.  He opened his mouth but only a small sound came out, then he shook his head and knelt, helping Altair pick up her papers.

            “I, I’m sorry,” she stammered.  “I wasn’t looking---”

            “It’s all right; it was my fault, too.”  He didn’t look at her until they’d gotten the papers  all piled neatly again, then she looked up and into his eyes.  She felt his hand on the stack shake as he stared at her.  Suddenly they were a lot closer and she could feel his breath on her lips.  “Altair . . .”

            She leaned forward and kissed him.  Travis groaned and shook as he tried to pull away, but Altair reached up and pulled at his collar and he stayed put, kissing her back.  They knelt there on the floor, the papers forgotten between them, and kissed for what seemed like both forever and a split second.

            It was Richard clearing his throat that made them both jerk back guiltily.  Altair hesitantly raised her gaze to the man, but he was staring darkly at Travis, almost accusingly.

            “Th-that, that was my fault,” she whispered; Altair didn’t want Travis to get in trouble for something she’d done.  Richard looked down at her, looking faintly surprised.  She cleared her throat.  “I wasn’t looking where I was going and I turned the corner too quickly, and I ran into T-Travis, and he was helping me pick my papers up and it wasn’t his fault at all, it wasn’t---”

            “That’s enough,” Richard said.  Altair closed her mouth.  “Travis, go help Security.”

            Her husband stood up slowly, looking not at Richard but at her, and slowly did as he was told.  Richard looked down at her for a moment, then turned and left.

            Altair gathered her papers up and held them to her chest, trying not to cry.  She couldn’t be alone with her own husband.  Who didn’t want to have sex with her.  Altair whimpered and fled to her room, re-organizing her papers before taking a shower in preparation for praying.  As she prayed, she asked Allah for guidance, for any sign as to what she should do.

            After praying she lay down for a bit, trying to relax as the kittens curled around her for the night.  Her thoughts drifted, then settled on Travis.  She had the sudden urge to go see him; somehow she knew he would be laying down, his shirt off and feet hanging off the end of his bed like he liked to do, and she got out of her own bed and left, thanking Allah silently for showing her what to do.

            Altair took a deep breath and knocked lightly on his door when she got to it, looking around to make sure Richard or Kotono wasn’t about.  She saw a security guard, but paid him no mind.  There was no answer; Travis must be sleeping.  Well, that was all right.  If he could sneak into her room when she was asleep, she could sneak into his.

            She opened the door and true enough, Travis was lying in his bed without a shirt or shoes, his stocking-clad feet hanging off the bed.  His head was pillowed on his arms and his eyes were closed; the steady up-and-down movement of his chest told her he was fast asleep.

            That would change.  Altair smiled as she locked the door, then slipped out of her clothes and crawled as gently as she could under the covers, shivering slightly.  Travis snorted lightly in his sleep and shifted a little, and Altair smiled as he opened his eyes slowly.

            “Good morning, Sunshine,” she said softly.

            Travis jumped; he actually jumped.  He sat up, too, and almost glared at her.  “Damn it, Altair, don’t sneak up on me like that!” he hissed, then stared at her.  “What are you doing here?  You know what Richard---”

            “Oh, shut up, infidel, and get under here with me.  I’m cold.”

            “Altair, if Richard finds out he’s going to be---”

            “Fine,” Altair said, “I’ll get out there with you.”  She clambered out from under the covers and Travis stared at her.  “What?  You’ve seen me naked before.”  He stammered something that she waved off as she curled up in his lap and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.  “I wish you’d get under the covers; I’m freezing.”

            “Altair, Richard said---”

            “Yes, well, Allah said that I should come see you,” she retorted.  “Who am I going to obey?  Richard or Allah?”

            Travis sighed and tightened his grip on her.  “You have a point,” he conceded.

            “I know,” Altair replied.  She shifted back against him more and had the satisfaction of feeling him tense in several ways.  He whispered her name and lowered his head, kissing her neck and shoulders.  Altair smiled as she let him, then turned around and straddled him after a minute or so, resting her arms loosely around his neck.  “Make love to me,” she said simply.

            Travis’ eyes went wide and he stared at her.  “W, what?”

            “Make love to me,” Altair repeated.

            “Altair, I---”

            “Please,” she insisted.  Travis shook his head and tried to push her off of him, but she held tight.  “Please.  I want you to, Travis.  I’ve wanted you to make love to me since our wedding night.”  He opened his mouth and she grabbed his hand, interrupting him as she placed it between her legs and pressed his fingers against her hymen.  “Here.  Feel that?  That shouldn’t be there, Travis.  It should have been gone that first night.  I’m telling you, I don’t want it anymore.  I want . . .” she hesitated and swallowed, then went on.  “I want you, Travis.  I don’t want you like usual.  I want . . .” she took another deep breath and pressed her hand against his crotch, where he was slowly hardening.  “I want you.”  Travis groaned at her touch and she pressed more firmly, blushing as she explored his general (very general; the man wore jeans) shape.  Eventually his hand between her legs noticed where it was and fell into its usual routine, and Altair sighed as she lowered her lips to Travis’.  “Please . . .” she whispered.

            “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered back, but his free hand had covered hers, showing her where and how to put pressure as he moaned again.

            “I promise,” Altair murmured, “any pain will be necessary.  My mother didn’t feel any pain, Travis.  I probably won’t, either.  Not every woman does.”

            Travis was muttering protests even as he lay her down and unbuttoned his pants.  Then he slid them off and cursed.  “Christ in a bucket, it’s cold.”

            Altair giggled and held the covers open or him.  “You should have gotten under the covers first, silly.”

            He slid under, then ran his hands over her flat stomach and up, over her breasts.  She squealed from the cold and laughed, curling up against him.  “You know,” he whispered, “you can change your mind any time and I’ll stop, I swear I will.”

            “I know,” she whispered back, then pulled the covers over their heads and put one of his hands between her legs.

            Travis raised an eyebrow at her.  “My, my, aren’t we eager?”

            Altair bared her teeth at him as his hand started moving and he nipped at her lower lip.  She sighed with pleasure and arched up into his hand, pulling him down for more kisses.  Travis gave them willingly, sliding his fingers inside of her to find that one spot again, pressing against it until she cried out.  This went on until Altair was almost seeing stars.  Finally she reached down and pulled his hand away, shaking her head.

            Travis kissed her again.  “What’s wrong?”

            “You, now,” Altair muttered, pulling at his waist and moving her legs apart more.  “You now.  You.”

            Travis hesitated and Altair looked up at him pleadingly.  Finally he sighed and shifted until he was between her legs.  “You’re positive?” he asked.

            “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” she panted, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling down.  Soft skin met hard skin and she gasped, eyes going wide.

            That wasn’t even the beginning.  Travis sighed and lowered his head for a moment, and when he looked up again he seemed almost shy.  “Promise me you’ll let me know when you want me to stop,” he whispered.

            “I want you to start,” Altair whined.  “Then I’ll worry about stopping!”  But he just looked at her, nude and trembling and oddly vulnerable and finally she nodded.  “I promise,” she whispered.  “I’ll tell you when I want you to stop.”

            “Thank you,” he murmured, then moved his hand back between them, rubbing her gently again.  He rested his weight on his other arm and when Altair would protest his hand, he shushed her.  “I know what I’m doing,” he told her.

            Altair subsided and gave herself up to the pleasure, and soon Travis had her panting and whining for more.  After a while he slowed, and she opened her eyes.

            “Is it, is it all right, Altair?” he asked shakily.  “Is now all right?”

            She’d never seen him so shaken up.  He’d always been calm and in control of the situation.  Now he was . . . nervous.  Shaking.  Waiting for her to give him the okay.  Altair smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck again, pulling him down for a long kiss.  “Now is the perfect time,” she whispered.

            Travis smiled at her and that shook, too.  “It might . . . you’ll feel some pressure,” he let her know.

            “I don’t care,” Altair said firmly.  Travis laughed and then she did feel pressure, and her eyes went wide momentarily as her heart skipped several beats.  Her first reaction was to tense up, but that would be a bad thing, something told her.  It was probably Travis whispering for her to relax.  Had to be it.

            Then his thumb was on her again and she almost forgot the insistent pressure.  Altair smiled up at Travis as her lips parted and she licked them, and he managed a semi-smile back before closing his eyes and lowering his head to her shoulder.  Altair wrapped her arms around him reassuringly, kissing his shoulder.

            “Put your legs around my waist,” he whispered and she did.  “That will make it . . . oh, God . . .”  He was moving slowly (too slowly by Altair’s thinking, but hey, he knew what he was doing and she was more than clueless; sixth grade was too far behind her and she couldn’t concentrate on past lives), pressing kisses to her neck and shoulder, one arm wrapped around her waist while the other guided him into her.  “Oh, Christ, that’s tight . . .”

            Then he went still and Altair opened her eyes, looking blurrily down at the hickey she’d given him.  Travis raised his head and looked at her, brushing her hair out of her eyes.  She blinked up at him.  “Is that . . .”

            “It?” he asked, then smiled and kissed her; he was still shaking.  “No, no, not by a long shot . . . you’re all right?  You don’t want to stop?”

            He sounded so anxious that she hurried to comfort him.  “I’m perfectly fine, Travis,” she whispered into his ear, running her hands over his back and through his hair.  “I don’t want to stop.”

            “Good . . .” He swallowed sharply and kissed her lips hurriedly.  “I’m going to move, all right?”  Altair laughed softly and nodded, and then he did.  He watched her and she watched him back, concentrating on the sensation.  It was so very different than anything she’d ever felt . . .  Travis brushed his thumb over her lips and smiled down at her; she smiled back and then gasped softly.  Oh, that felt nice.  That felt very, very nice.  In fact, it felt so nice that she might have to start squirming . . .  “Damn it,” Travis moaned when she did, “damn it.”  Altair made a questioning noise and he kissed her again, and again, and again.  “Nothing, nothing, tra la la,” he whispered.  “I love you, Altair.  I love you so much . . .”

            Altair laughed quietly and then cried out, using her legs around Travis’ waist to pull herself up against him.  She was getting into this, now.  And oh, his lips on her, on her neck, her chest, his hands on her body, it was heaven.  When Travis jerked his head up she cried out again, pulling his face down so she could kiss him, and he relaxed when he saw that it had been a cry of pleasure and not pain.

            He was being careful, only moving faster when she urged him to.  She urged him often.  They were in the middle of a particularly passionate kiss when someone knocked firmly (all right, it was more of a pound) on the door.

            “Travis!”

            “Fuckin’ A,” Travis cursed, pulling back from Altair’s lips and stopping.  “Son of a fucking bitch, what the hell do you want?” he yelled, glaring at the door, pushing himself up more.

            “Unlock the door, Travis,” Richard ordered.

            “Fuck off,” Travis called back.

            “Travis!”

            “Look, Richard, go the fuck away, all right?”

            “You know you’re not supposed to be near Altair,” Richard growled; he sounded angrier than Altair had ever heard him and she huddled against Travis’ chest.

            He kissed her forehead and trembled.  “Yeah, well, apparently you forgot to tell her not to come near me, now go the fuck away!”

            The lock clicked (damn Richard’s magic!) and then the door opened.  Altair squealed in protest and hunched her shoulders as Travis lowered his upper body, trying to hide her from sight.  She peeked out at Richard sullenly and he paused, mouth open to probably yell at Travis.

            “Get.  The.  Fuck.  Out!” Travis gritted through clenched teeth, glaring daggers at Richard.  His whole body trembled from a mixture of anger and arousal.  Altair had lowered her arms to cover her chest but now she moved them, visibly wrapping them around Travis’ shoulders and pulling him down, watching Richard as she did so.

            “Please go away,” she whispered.

            “Richard?”  Kotono stepped up, took one look inside the room and smacked her husband upside his head.  “Stop being such a voyeur, Richard, and leave them alone!  Kami-sama, why do I put up with you . . .” She pulled him away and shut the door with an apology, and then Altair could hear her berating Richard for being a controlling asshole.

            Altair looked up at Travis and couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped.  He laughed with her, then kissed her.  “Now, if the mood hasn’t been spoiled . . .”

            “If you don’t continue, I’ll have to kill you,” she whispered.

            “Well, then,” Travis said as he started moving again, “I’d best obey my wife.”

            “Yes,” Altair moaned, “you’d best obey me.”

            Then Travis kissed her and touched her, and she was quite at a loss for words.

 

 

 

 

            Altair woke to Travis leaning over her, kissing her gently.  She sighed and stretched, smiling up at him.

            “You’re all right?” he asked softly.

            “You asked me that about ten billion times last night,” she reminded him.  “Nothing’s changed.”

            He smiled and kissed her again.  “Good.  Now, I think it’s time for you to pray.”

            Altair looked at the clock and sighed.  “Time for a shower, then prayer.”

            Travis nodded and let her up.  She walked to the bathroom and paused in the doorway.

            “You know,” she said as she looked back at him, “I could use some help.”

            Travis grinned and got up to help.