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Mephala didn't ordinarily visit her partner's realm.

It wasn't because she didn't love her, nor was it out of a lack of curiosity. Rather, it was about practicality.

Sure, Boethiah had a magnificent tower she chose to dwell at the top of, but wrapped around it were deadly hedge mazes for those she deemed worthy-not that any mortal ever made it through to the end alive anyway.

"Keeps out the rats," Boethiah would say.

And it did.

Mephala knew how to navigate it, but it was tiresome. Even if she was up to it, Boethiah was rarely home anyway, choosing to spend her spare time manning her various Tournaments. Mephala didn't want to distract her out of pure respect.

At least, ordinarily she didn't.

But Mephala was a Daedra with needs, and she couldn't help but wonder how Boethiah would react if she were to arrive unannounced. When needs arose, it was usually Boethiah who would visit her, but Mephala, quite frankly, didn't feel like waiting.

She waltzed around the rims of the Arena, watching what appeared to be twelve people of all races attempting to kill each other. Mephala didn't recognize any of them, likely because their collective interests were in her partner, not her. There were other Daedra in the stands, clapping whenever blood was shed. A warrior fell, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

Mephala took this as an opportunity to sneak up on Boethiah.

She was in the front, as always, shouting things out to her potential champions whenever she felt necessary. Her hair was down-a rarity-and she was clad in her usual chest armor, though Mephala knew good and well she wouldn't actually get involved in any fighting. She was also incredibly focused, leaning over the edge of the balcony. It made way for Mephala to simply stand behind her and lazily let her spidersilk robe fall open.

And she waited.

It took a while for Boethiah to finally get bored enough to peel herself away from the edge. She stretched, then looked over her shoulder. Then she did a double take before turning around completely.

"Uh," she began, ever eloquent, her eyes fixated on Mephala's breasts. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"My eyes are up here," Mephala teased, though she really didn't mind. She was glad Boethiah was looking. She could see a faint flush forming on her cheeks and on the tips of her pointed ears that peeked through white hair. There was something very satisfying about making such a stoic, cold Daedra blush.

"Sorry," said Boethiah, who was likely not at all sorry. She stepped forward and closed the robe, concealing Mephala's breasts.

Mephala just wished her hands were on her breasts instead, and that they weren't divided by a layer of fabric.

"What are you doing here?" Boethiah repeated, petting out a few wrinkles in the robe.

"Just wanted to see you," Mephala replied, letting two of her hands meet Boethiah's. She linked their fingers. "I got so lonely."

Boethiah rolled her eyes, but also chewed her lip. "Can you behave for about an hour?"

"Why?"

"That's probably how long these idiots are going to last. They're starting to get tired, and that means they're getting--"

Boethiah was interrupted by roaring cheers around them. The vibrations of the collective voices made Mephala shiver.

"--sloppy," Boethiah finished.

"Alright," Mephala said. "Then in an hour..." She stood on her toes for her lips to reach Boethiah's ear. Then she whispered, "You better bend me over that railing and make me yours."

Boethiah's eyes widened, and the blush darkened. Mephala always wondered if she was Boethiah's only weakness. She'd never seen her get soft with anyone else, let alone blush. She considered kissing her over it, but Boethiah pulled back before she could.

Then she cleared her throat and collected herself. "Maybe. If you can behave for one hour. Sit with me."

There was only one seat at the head of the Arena, a throne of what appeared to be mortal bones. But with a wave of her hand, it turned into one of the usual spectator benches, room for two.

Boethiah made herself comfortable, then motioned for Mephala to sit beside her. Mephala chose to position herself as close as possible to her, their legs and hips touching. Boethiah smirked and put an arm around her shoulders, then turned and scowled to something in the distance.

"What's wrong?" Mephala asked.

Boethiah gestured to some Dremora at the left. They were staring at the couple quite intensely, murmuring among themselves.

Finally, Boethiah snapped, "Can I fucking help you?"

The Dremora immediately turned away as though they hadn't been looking at all.

"It's probably interesting to them to see you so..." Mephala let her hand wander up Boethiah's armored chest. "Smitten."

Boethiah took Mephala's hand and placed it back on Mephala's lap. "They can be fascinated in the bloody carnage I so kindly hosted for them. They're not even my Dremora! If I wanted them to look at my love life, I would have built an arena around my bedroom."

"I wouldn't mind that," Mephala replied, letting one of her other hands wander along Boethiah's thigh. Mephala always found her thighs quite nice--firm from all her years in combat, but her skin was impossibly soft.

Boethiah shot her a look. Her ruby eyes were always so delightfully bright, so awake and aware. Mephala remembered thinking that, the first time she ever looked into them, that Boethiah was the only person she ever felt was looked back. It was as though they were the only two people awake in a world full of sleepwalkers.

"I'm sure you wouldn't," Boethiah replied, "but unlike you, my reputation is very far from my sexuality. I like to keep them separate."

"Separate? Does no one know the sex life of the Great Boethiah?" Mephala teased, giving her thigh a squeeze.

Boethiah emitted a shaky exhale. "Not really. I'm not normally very interested in things like that."

"You seem very interested when we're together." Her hand wandered closer to between her legs.

Boethiah, perhaps subconsciously, parted them slightly. "That's because I like you. It's different when it's you. But it's not something I crave-don't make that face, of course I want you. It's just not something that crosses my mind with other Daedra, or my Champions, or anyone."

"What about Fa-Nuit-Hen?" Mephala didn't really care, necessarily, if Boethiah has had mortal affairs in the past. She knew of one of them-Fa-Nuit-Hen's mortal mother, long before she and Boethiah were a couple. The woman was long dead, but the thought still made her chest hurt, and she wasn't sure why.

Boethiah suddenly looked rather uncomfortable. "I mean. Sure, he happened."

"And clearly there had to be some," Mephala made a profane gesture, "to make him happen."

Boethiah glared at her, but she was laughing. "Don't ever do that again."

Mephala made a different, but equally sexually repugnant gesture.

"Stop it!" Boethiah shoved her hands away with her free hand. "You know I had a partner before you. Don't make it weird. You knew her."

"I know. But that means you have screwed mortals," Mephala joked, though there was a pain in her chest.

She rolled her eyes, then frowned at Mephala. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Mephala looked away. "Oh, there's only nine now," she murmured, motioning at the Arena.

Boethiah looked for a moment, then turned back to Mephala, clearly dissatisfied. "Are you jealous?"

"No," Mephala lied.

"You're jealous."

"I am not."

"Of a mortal . Who is dead ."

Mephala sighed. "I guess there's a part of me that wants to think you were always mine, even if it's a lie."

Boethiah rested a hand on Mephala's cheek. "Look at me."

Mephala looked up at Boethiah. Mephala has seen many emotions in Boethiah's eyes--zeal, anger, the glint of trickery, the embers of plots--but this was something else entirely. Before she could attempt to decipher it, Boethiah kissed her.

It was gentle, far sweeter than Boethiah usually was, especially around others. It was also over in moments, as Mephala could feel the excited cheers of the Dremora by them that had nothing to do with the match.

Boethiah pulled back, conjured daggers between her knuckles, and threw them at the group. The Dremora ducked.

"Next time," Boethiah hissed, "I won't miss. Mind your own fucking business."

The Dremora turned back to the match.

"Anyway," Boethiah continued, "I like to think that, too. Honestly, I think we were, as awful as it sounds, made for each other. The Khajiit believe this, and the more I look back on things, I think they were right." She emitted an uneasy laugh. "I think I always loved you, too, but we were led to believe we couldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"Love. But they were wrong. I always remembered feeling strange around you. There would be some stuffy meeting, and you would be there, and then suddenly I'm feeling unstable and have to be anywhere else. Yes, I had feelings for people before you, and I have a son. But now that I have you, I can say I loved none of them."

"You don't have to go and say--"

Boethiah put a finger to Mephala's lips. "I'm not saying it to make you feel better. I'm saying it because I love you, and I trust you, and I want you to know that. And if you tell your little gossip friends anything about all this..."

"I'm good with secrets," Mephala replied, patting Boethiah's leg. "I won't tell." And she meant it. She knew the art of lies as a weapon, but she would never wield it against Boethiah, especially about matters like this.

Sometimes, it seemed as though Boethiah had discovered emotions two months ago and was just figuring out how to handle them, but Mephala knew it was just because of what a private person she was. She'd face the world as a battlefield, but Mephala wasn't a war to be won. Mephala privately wondered if this vulnerability scared her, but she never asked. Her actions spoke for themselves.

Mephala kissed her palm. "I love you," she murmured.

Boethiah gave her a ghost of a smile. "I love you, too. Now, this has all been very touching, but I'd like to watch these idiots die now. You are very distracting."

Mephala nodded, finding this as more proof to her theory. "So an hour?"

Boethiah snorted, but she was fixated on the Arena now. "Yes. Behave for an hour, and I'll reward you."

"And if I don't?"

Boethiah shot her a glare.

Mephala shivered and made up her mind, then and there, to be as awful as possible.

She waited a few moments for Boethiah to be focused on the match. The mortals were dropping rather quickly, and it was a little fascinating to watch, but Mephala had much more important things in mind.

While Boethiah was distracted, she brought her hand to her thigh again. Boethiah didn't seem to notice, or perhaps she simply didn't mind. Mephala slowly wandered her hand beneath her skirt, up her parted legs until she finally met the warmth between them.

Boethiah side-eyed her. "What the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

"Exploring," Mephala replied. Boethiah, quite disappointingly, had undergarments, so there was still fabric dividing them. Still, Mephala traced her slit slowly through the fabric, marveling at how wet she was without the direct contact.

"You aren't even trying to behave," Boethiah complained, but she spread her legs marginally further.

"Do you want me to stop?" Mephala asked, circling her swollen clit through the fabric.

" No ," Boethiah hissed. After a shaky breath, she said, "You will regret this, though."

Mephala slipped her hand beneath the waistband, her fingers meeting soaked curls. "I'm sure whatever punishment you have for me will be well worth it."

Boethiah glared at her, though her eyes had a sex-fueled haze in them that muted her irritation. It made Mephala throb. She wondered what Boethiah had planned for her. Perhaps she would take her against the railing after all, or edge her until she cried, or whip her until she begged. All were quite enticing.

Boethiah was making a valiant effort to focus on the match, but she remained silent as more of the mortals dwindled. Mephala laughed to herself as she rubbed Boethiah's clit--gently at first, then a little rougher as she began to breathe heavier. She didn't need vocal feedback. The twitches of her thighs and the creamy wetness coating her fingers were indication enough. She swirled her fingers around and over her clit, watching her jerk differently depending on how she moved. Boethiah's lips parted in a silent gasp.

Boethiah gripped onto Mephala's shoulder, painfully digging her nails in. She began to tremble a bit more violently, and Mephala knew she was close.

She leaned onto her shoulder and nibbled her ear, then whispered, "Are you gonna come for me in front of your potential Champions?"

And Boethiah immediately came undone, clenching her jaw, closing her eyes, and raking her nails down Mephala's arm. She was silent, and Mephala was thoroughly impressed that she was able to maintain composure so well.

"You," Boethiah said finally, "are an asshole."

"You told me not to stop."

"Of course I did. You're..." She seemed to struggle to find the words. "Phenomenal at that. But I also told you to behave."

"Sorry," Mephala lied. She brought her hand to her lips and licked off the juices, reveling in their heady, musky flavor. She wished she could bury her face between Boethiah's thighs and taste even more.

Boethiah made a face. "Stop doing that."

"Would you rather I leave it on my hands?"

"No. I'd rather you leave."

If Mephala had a mortal heart, it would've sunk, but she felt the same experience regardless of the form she assumed. "What?"

Boethiah turned. "I'm opening a portal for you to my home. Be good and wait for me."

"I can't watch anymore?"

"You're distracting me, and I'm about to bring out my Champion. I must be a gracious host. But when I'm finished..." Her eyes sparkled. "I'll just let you speculate on what's coming."

"Hopefully, me," Mephala replied.

Boethiah laughed and shook her head, then with a wave of her hand, opened the portal. "Behave."

"No promises." Blowing Boethiah a kiss, she stepped through.

She walked directly into what appeared to be a kitchen. She had been in Boethiah's home before, but it was a rare occasion. It was also very messy, with various relics, papers, articles of clothing, and other supplies strewn about haphazardly. No wonder Boethiah didn't ordinarily host. She could probably just wave away the mess, but Mephala knew this was her version of organization.

She turned to the kitchen itself. Daedra didn't need to eat, and Mephala was no exception, but much like other activities Daedra didn't need, like sex or sleeping, Mephala enjoyed it anyway. But before she could discover what food Boethiah had, if any, she saw a boy sitting on the counter.

"Oh, hello, Fa-Nuit-Hen," Mephala said. Didn't the boy have his own realm? She knew he was many millennia old and assumed the form of a grown man, but he would always be a child to Mephala, a little warrior who never grew up. Despite her feelings about Fa-Nuit-Hen's mortal mother, she did quite like the child.

The Demiprince shouted, then somehow tripped over the counter he was sitting on. Mephala wasn't sure how that worked.

"Lady Mephala!" he said as he caught his breath. "I didn't see you come in! Or hear you. I literally had no idea you were here. How do you do that? It's very weird."

Mephala shrugged. "I'm very quiet. What are you doing here?"

This made Fa-Nuit-Hen pause. "I...don't know, actually. I know I came here for a reason, but whenever I step in here, I forget what I was doing! So then I leave, and I pace around for a bit, and I'm like, 'Aha! That was the thing!' but when I come back, I've forgotten again! So I'm eating this pie." He lifted a mostly-empty pie tin.

"Did you make that?" Mephala asked. It had apples and cinnamon, a combination she was quite fond of, so she reached over and stole a piece.

"I have no idea! Probably. Or maybe my mother did before she left. Sometimes she makes things in here. She says it reminds her of someone, but I don't know what that means. Do you know what that means?"

Mephala wondered if it was because of her, because she liked having treats. "I'm not sure," she half-lied, not wanting to get into it with her partner's child.

"Why are you here, anyway? I don't remember seeing you here...I think ever! Or do I just remember remembering that? Hmm..."

"Don't hurt yourself thinking too hard about it," Mephala teased.

For a moment, she wondered if she offended him, with how long he paused. But thankfully, he laughed. "I won't! But I do want to know why you're here."

"I'm here to fuck your mother."

Fa-Nuit-Hen's eyes widened. It appeared as though he went through all five stages of grief at once. Then he cleared his throat and said, "Oh!"

"What did you expect me to say?"

"Not that! Though I'm not sure why. She does talk about you. Sometimes. Often, actually. At least, I think so."

Mephala didn't quite expect that. Boethiah rarely talked about her own life and focused her energy on what she viewed as bigger, more important things. Mephala wondered if she was one of those things. "What does she say about me?"

"I don't remember! But I think they're nice things." He stares at the empty pie tin. "Everything about her changes in some way. It's hard to explain."

"Like a softness?" Mephala asked. It was rather reassuring that someone else noticed.

"Yes, that's it! She gets all soft if you come up at all. But she gets mad if I mention it, so I try not to." He scrapes his fork along the pie tin to get the lingering cinnamon at the bottom. "I suppose that makes you my other mother, in a way."

Mephala felt rather fluttery, a welcome replacement to the nausea whenever she considered how Fa-Nuit-Hen was created. "Does it?"

He tapped his fork to his lower lip. "I think so! I haven't ever known you two to be apart. At least, I don't remember...anyway, my point is you two've been a sort of constant in my life. I can take care of myself, but it's always been nice to have you two around. Is that weird? It's not weird for mortals, I don't think."

Mephala had been referred to as a mother before. It was what the spider daedra, the creatures that crawled out of her realm outside of her own consciousness, called her, along with their mortal spider-kin. It was how she was prayed to by the Morag Tong, and indirectly by the Dark Brotherhood. But being a mother to a Demiprince was an entirely different matter.

She didn't have to address it, for Boethiah entered then, saying, "You two are having quite the interesting conversation."

Mephala waved, noticing her hands were shaking. Was it anticipation? She wasn't entirely sure.

"Hello, mother!" Fa-Nuit-Hen said, cheerful as ever.

She nodded to him, then removed her chest armor, revealing the red clothing underneath, and went into the kitchen. "Hey, did you eat my entire pie?"

"Maybe," said Fa-Nuit-Hen.

Boethiah took a deep breath, then exhaled. "I can't be mad at you because you have a shit memory, so I'll let it slide. But you..." Boethiah's gaze flickered to Mephala, and a slow grin spread on her face. "I can be angry with you."

"Oh, no," said Fa-Nuit-Hen.

Boethiah ignored him and stepped toward Mephala, slowly at first, then, before Mephala could figure out what was going on, pinned her against the wall with a hand to her throat and a knee between her legs.

Mephala whimpered and licked her lips. This was exactly what she was hoping for.

" You!" Boethiah hissed, "You little shit ! You nearly compromised my entire reputation because you can't keep your damn hands to yourself . You infuriating, beautiful piece of work."

"Thank you," Mephala said softly.

"Oh, gross!" Fa-Nuit-Hen complained. "Is this a sex thing? This is a sex thing. I'm leaving."

Boethiah sighed. "Way to kill the moment, asshole."

"I don't really want to see my parents fuck!"

"Then perhaps you should've thought of that when you saw that Mephala was here!"

"I, uh...that's a fair point, actually. She did say she was going to--"

"Get. Out."

"Yes, ma'am," he said before teleporting himself out of the building.

"Finally," Boethiah groaned. Then she turned back to Mephala and tightened her grip on her neck with a menacing grin. "You are going to walk to my bedroom. And you are going to keep your hands where I can see them. All of them, Mephala. And you are going to do what I say. Am I clear?"

"Very clear," Mephala said. Part of her wished Boethiah would just take her against the wall, but with Boethiah being this dominant, she was ecstatic to see what was to come.

Boethiah released her, and Mephala held up all her hands, just as Boethiah had requested. Boethiah steered her down the hall, up some stairs, and into Boethiah's private quarters, which were just as messy as the rest of her living space.

"Undress, then lay on the bed," Boethiah ordered.

"Face down or up?"

"Up. I want to watch you writhe."

Mephala wondered if she could come just from the things Boethiah said. She felt herself spilling between her legs as she stripped, and had to steady herself against the bedframe for a moment before laying down.

"Good girl," Boethiah purred. She circled the bed for a moment before attaching something to one of Mephala's many wrists.

"What are you doing?" Mephala asked, feeling a little lightheaded.

"I'm making sure you keep your hands to yourself." Something clicked around her wrist, and Boethiah moved onto the next one.

"You're chaining me to the bed?" Mephala asked. She was practically salivating at this point. The two of them were no stranger to the darker aspects of sexuality, but it was so thrilling whenever it came up.

"Indeed. You shouldn't be able to get out of them. Or, at least, it should be very challenging. They're enchanted to suppress your energy, so while you are here, you are mine ." Boethiah locked another around an ankle.

Mephala shivered. "Who made them?" The thought of a flustered Boethiah ordering someone to make bondage was hilarious. She even giggled a little, earning a glare punctuated by a lock.

"I did," said Boethiah, circling around and restraining her other wrists. "Just for you." She locked the last one, then lingered at the foot of the bed. "And now, your misery begins."

"What are you gonna do to me?" Mephala asked. Having her legs chained and spread apart wasn't necessarily humiliating--such matters didn't bother her--but with the pulse between her legs, it was frustrating. If Boethiah wasn't going to touch her, she wanted to at least take the edge off.

"Whatever I want." Boethiah paused. "If that is okay, of course."

"Please," Mephala replied. She didn't care what Boethiah did or with what. She just needed something .

"And you will behave. You will stay quiet and you will not come until I tell you to."

Mephala half-expected this. She had done it to Boethiah numerous times, and it was about time the tables were turned. That, and she had been craving something like this for ages.

"Alright," Mephala replied. "Just touch me already."

Boethiah did not touch her. Slowly, she stripped, not making a show of it, but not hurrying, either. A soft moan escaped Mephala's lips as Boethiah stood exposed before her. She was flawless, at least in Mephala's eyes, with criss-cross scars decorating her grey skin, and her muscles rippling as she crawled onto the bed.

"Stay quiet," Boethiah reminded her.

Mephala nodded, though she was quickly discovering that this would be a much more difficult feat than she initially thought. It was near impossible to not vocalize as Boethiah's hands wandered to her breasts and her teeth to her neck. Mephala tried to cover her mouth, but remembered her hands were bound.

It was torture, and Boethiah hadn't even really touched her yet.

Boethiah left a trail of kisses down her body before landing between her legs. Making eye contact, she licked slowly up the center, then paused on her clit. Mephala trembled and bit her lip but swallowed her vocalizations.

Boethiah made a smirk of approval and dove in.

There were many things Mephala loved about Boethiah. She could go on about her for eternity if no one stopped her. But one of her favorite things was what an enthusiastic lover she was. Boethiah was ordinarily an aloof, cold person, keeping her emotions locked in a box somewhere, but when it was opened, it was as though an entirely different Boethiah stepped out. Earning Boethiah's love, which was rare indeed, was an honorable privilege, and Mephala was convinced that no one loved as hard or as much as Boethiah did. And when it came to physical love, this was only amplified.

When they had first started sleeping together, Boethiah took her time learning and memorizing everything Mephala liked, perfecting it to make Mephala as pleased and happy as possible. Every sexual act she performed was done with her full focus, all of her passion and energy channeled into simply pleasing Mephala.

It made keeping her mouth shut impossible.

Mephala knew she wasn't a quiet lover; she was very enthusiastic about sex and liked her partner to know just how much she was enjoying things. But with that ability taken away, she felt almost as though she was being ripped in half. The way Boethiah's tongue swirled inside of her was a beautiful torture, as Boethiah knew exactly what would make her squirm and scream.

Mephala was close; she was trembling, and tears were heading up in the corners of her eyes. Boethiah was so damn good at this that she almost wanted to kill her for putting her in this situation, but instead, she made a mistake and moaned.

And Boethiah immediately stopped and lifted her head.

"No!" Mephala complained, squirming under her restraints. "Please, Boethiah, I--"

"I said you had to be quiet. That was very loud. I'm sure an entire other realm could hear you."

Mephala felt like she was about to cry. She struggled against the restraints, wanting nothing more than to shove Boethiah's head or hands or anything where she needed.

"I can't!" Mephala finally admitted. "I can't stay quiet with you!"

Boethiah considered this for a moment, then let her fingers wander between Mephala's legs. She kneeled between them for better leverage, bracing herself on her arm to one side as she slipped inside Mephala.

"Fine. I'll take out that requirement. Scream as much as you like. But you still can't come."

Boethiah was evil , but Mephala was just grateful she could finally scream. She always did with Boethiah. As Boethiah curled her fingers deliciously and pounded into her, Mephala sobbed, rolling her hips to meet her halfway. She couldn't see clearly anymore, blinded by tears and her own pleasure. When Boethiah lowered her mouth to her clit once more, Mephala nearly came undone.

But Boethiah knew. She slowed her fingers and laughed against her clit.

"You are awful !" Mephala complained. "Please, love--"

Boethiah stopped completely. "Love?" she asked.

Mephala felt dizzy and confused. "Yes?"

For a moment, nothing happened. Boethiah simply stared into her soul, looking lost in thought. Then she gave her a gentle smile and plunged her fingers back in. Mephala cried in relief.

Boethiah, still fingering her, climbed up her body so their lips were nearly touching. She was saying something, but Mephala couldn't understand her. She was too far gone in the hell Boethiah created with now three of her fingers. Even if Boethiah ordered her not to, Mephala couldn't help it.

With a strangled scream, she came, clenching hard against Boethiah's delightful fingers. Boethiah joined their lips, eating her moans as they escaped her. Her tongue slipped into her mouth as their kisses deepened and Mephala began to wind down.

When the kiss broke, Mephala asked, "You let me?"

"Yeah. You seemed upset. And I realized something." Boethiah slid off the bed and began unfastening the restraints.

"What did you realize?"

"What sex is to you," she replied. "Your domain is...complicated, to say the least, and seems to mostly encompass the art of murder and seemingly nonviolent weapons to execute it. But there's a lot to you and what you encompass. If sex was merely a tool, why would you want to have sex with me? If you're the Prince of Lies, why can we speak honestly with one another? I think about this often. But when you called me love, I realized that sex can be a lot of things to you, and for you, it's how you express yourself." She pauses to unlock her ankles. "You want to fuck me because you love me. That is how you show me that you care."

"Have I not called you 'love' before in bed?" Mephala asks.

"I'm sure you have," Boethiah replied, unfastening the last of the restraints, "but this time, it made me think. I thought of why you were being like that in the Arena, and now, I realize I should've been complimented."

"Were you actually mad?"

"No," Boethiah replied, "but I didn't understand why you wanted to aside from the usual, 'It's just Mephala, she does weird shit.' But if sex can be an expression of love for you, and you wanted to have sex with me where I am my most powerful...it means you really love me." She returned to the bed, lounging on her side next to Mephala.

"I do," Mephala said, voice feather light.

"I understand seduction as a weapon, but outside of that, I had thought of sex as just...some thing that feels nice that you like and makes you happy. So." She moistened her lips in thought. "I'd like to try something."

Mephala's makeshift pulse quickened. "Oh?"

"I'd like to make love to you."

Mephala nodded enthusiastically. "Fuck, by all means, please."

There was that gentle smile again. Then she laid down and held out her arms.

Mephala rested on her shoulder, letting Boethiah hold her close. Boethiah kissed her gently, then ran her tongue along her lower lip, a silent question of permission. Mephala answered by parting her lips. As their kiss deepened, Mephala felt her hand glide down her abdomen to between her legs and slip inside her with no resistance. Mephala mirrored her with one of her own hands, stroking along her slit while her other hands gripped onto her back and shoulders. She wasn't sure how long she could focus on pleasuring Boethiah, but she wanted her more than anything.

Boethiah pulled away from the kiss as Mephala's fingers met her clit. She emitted a subtle, quiet groan, and added another finger inside Mephala. Mephala tried not to moan, but failed. She loved being full like this, loved how Boethiah hit all her favorite spots inside her. She did hate a little that she was already on the brink of an orgasm; Boethiah really knew her well, and the way she was curling her fingers made it incredibly hard to focus. She lifted her leg and rested it on Boethiah's hip to give her better access.

Boethiah kissed her again, muffling both of their moans. She fucked her slowly but deeply, hard thrusts contrasting from the rapid swirling of Mephala's fingers. Mephala dug her fingers into Boethiah's back as she tried to hold her release, but Boethiah knew.

Against her lips, she said, "Are you gonna come for me already?"

Mephala didn't have a coherent response. All that came out was a long whine and a shudder as her orgasm washed over her. She had momentarily paused her ministrations on Boethiah's clit, but once she was able to breathe again, she went at it with full force, laughing breathlessly as Boethiah moaned and buried her face in the crook of her shoulder.

Boethiah was holding her so close it was difficult to move, but she didn't last long; she felt the telltale mess drip from her followed by a low sigh against her neck. For a moment, the realm around them flickered, suddenly unstable, and Mephala almost jumped up to remove herself from the collapse. All around them were the fires of Oblivion, and they were suspended in nothing and everything, paused in time. But it was over immediately, and the bedroom settled as it had looked before as Boethiah relaxed.

Mephala laughed. "That good?"

"Shut up," Boethiah responded, lifting her head to look at Mephala's face. But though she laughed, too, and had the post-coital flush on her cheeks, her eyes looked pensive.

"What's wrong?" Mephala asked.

Boethiah swallowed. "Earlier, when we talked about our relationship...I guess I hadn't realized you would be jealous before."

"Why not?"

"Sex is your domain. I figured I wasn't the only one for you. You probably had thousands of mortal women you saw on the daily."

Mephala raised her eyebrows. "Thousands?"

"I don't know! But...are you seeing anyone else?"

"Darling." Mephala let one of her dry hands caress her face. "No, I'm not. Having sex be in my sphere has nothing to do with how many partners I have. I inspire those who follow me to be proud of their sexualities and to use them to their advantages. But my own sexual interests are only with you."

"Wow," Boethiah sighed, relaxing against the mattress. "I mean, I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but..."

"It's a common misconception." She stroked her ivory hair. "I love you, and I want you all to myself."

"Then you can have me." Boethiah kissed the tip of her nose. "Do you mind if we just...lay here for a moment?"

"I'd like that," Mephala replied, snuggling into her partner's arms. "And you can tell me about how the match went."

"Oh! Yes! I should!" Boethiah's eyes sparkled. "So when there were three left..."

Mephala watched as she excitedly recounted the end of the match and how her current Champion managed to be undefeated yet again, and she felt a sense of contentment and satisfaction. This was where she wanted to be, and who she wanted to be with, as long as they were able to exist.