Meet The Princess

Finn stayed still, as she wanted, and watched with low lids as she shifted across his legs. It made sense for her to move as she had, to give his injured thigh space and take the weight of herself away from it. Of course it made sense. When she fully settled onto his left thigh, her gasp was mirrored in his eyes as they opened widely. Intense heat flooded the muscles in his thigh, concentrated directly where her body was making contact against his, even through cloth he knew its source. His eyes moved lazily from where they connected to the face of the Princess. Everything was moving so very slowly for him, and yet it felt like he was falling down some path, spinning wildly out of control. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but her anymore, and he was not sure that he really cared about anything else that was being shouted at him from the quiet voice in the back of his head.

Movement of her knee made his body stiffen and freeze. Eyes wide, he was suddenly very aware of his body and very overly aware of where her’s was in relation. Creator, what had he gotten himself into. His body hadn’t betrayed him in such a way since he was at the Discipline. The Master Brother had made sure that Finn learned the lesson of celibacy very clearly and learned it very well. All Brothers had to be able to control their bodies, control the things that people insisted was a natural reaction to things around them. It was nothing more than a distraction, and it could immobilize a Brother if he wasn’t cautious. There Finn sat, fully immobilized, proving the Master Brother’s lesson to the very last part. He had allowed a woman, his own ward, to remove all but two daggers from his person without so much as a protest, undress himself in her full view, and then he even had the lack of judgement to allow her to sit upon him in such an intimate way that caused his own body to betray him. He needed to stand, to remove himself from this destructive position before it got any worse, and he needed to control his own damn body.

All these thoughts flooded his mind, overwhelming the blood loss and the fatigue, that was, until her light touch sent blood rushing from his head. He could feel every line of her skin, the slight touch of her nails as they trailed across his hip, trailing fire. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him, how much every touch sent any and every logical thought out of his brain in a heartbeat? Was she aware of how his body was reacting to the fire her fingers trailed? His eyes moved from where they followed her fingers to her face which was flushed red as his had done too many times in that night. Was that a sign that she was aware of him, of their positioning, of the situation that they had found themselves in. That tiny voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him though his clouded judgement, screaming at him to push her away, to stand up and rearm himself. This wasn’t how a Brother acted, not at all. He was acting like a fool child, yet part of him couldn’t be bothered to care.

She had healed his wound, he knew she had by the reduction and then the complete absence of pain at his hip, yet her hands remained on his skin, threatening to burn a whole right through him. He shifted his weight slightly, trying to sit up just a little more, but as he began to move, his ward pushed away from him to sit at the other end of the couch. He wanted to reach out to her, to pull her back to him, but all that came of those desires was a twitch of his hand. Already he could feel cold air seeping into his flesh where he once had the burning sensation of her body against him. It made him feel...empty? He looked away from her. The loss of heat was uncomfortable.

And very much unlike a Brother.

What was he doing? This was not how a Brother acted. A Brother did not undress in front of anyone, let alone a ward, and a Brother did not let himself become disarmed willingly. Could he even call himself a Brother anymore? A woman had sat upon him while he was in a state of undress, her fingers touching flesh. Healing him. She was just healing him and he was acting and thinking like a fool. This was a mistake he would not repeat again, he could not repeat again.

He stood as she spoke, keeping his back to her, trying desperately to get his body under control as he refastened his pants. Temptation behind the guise of his ward. Would this night never stop testing him? His breath came out in a small sigh. This night was not even over, and yet there was so much left to do. Would he be able to resist the temptation, keep the vow that he made to the Brotherhood years ago? Would he be able to serve if his mind was clouded by the unnatural desires of his fool body? He would serve and resist temptation that would have him do otherwise, he had to.

When his ward finished speaking, he turned towards her. There was no reason to notice the speed at which she spoke, nor the pitch. He had probably just made her uncomfortable with the reactions he body had to her Healing touch. She had just tried to keep him alive, and look how he had repaid her. “One thing at a time, your Highness,” he said quietly, desperately wishing that his voice had his usual tone of chill calamity instead of the hoarse whisper that had replaced it. “I suggest you clean yourself up, Princess, and I will do the same after I bind these three. They could wake at any time.” Still refusing to look at her, he looked around the room. Seeing what looked as it could be a storage cupboard, he moved towards it, away from Noemi. Inside were various things that he expected in a clinic, and from them he took a large roll of gauze-like fabric. It would do. Silent, he began to bind the wrists, ankles, and then the mouths of the three unconscious attackers on the floor. As much as he wished it to be so, his mind was not on his task, but rather still on the memory of the heat he felt at the fingertips of his own ward.

Noemi nodded a few times before words caught up with her.

"Yes. One thing at a time. Absolutely." She replied almost too agreeably, feigning a smile that was more a grimace. She stayed rooted to the spot for a bit, watching him move about the room, calm as could be. As if she hadn't been on his lap just a few seconds ago, practically drooling on him. That celibacy vow must have come with castration - or so she would have believed if she wasn't half-certain she might have felt, maybe....

She practically ran to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. Once in the safety and privacy of the small room, she leaned against the wall and slid down, hands over her face. Noemi was mortified beyond believe, humiliated beyond reason, and confused as any twenty-two year old with only a passing knowledge of sex could be. She still felt uncomfortable down there, and tingly besides. Creator be good, she had even produced lubrication. The adrenaline thing, that seemed the best explanation for all this. She had seen men much more naked than he had been so many times she had lost count. No men so fit though.

She groaned quietly into her hands. Her mother had been right to lock her away. If only she had listened to elders as she had been taught all her life, she wouldn't be in such trouble! Dead men, injured kidnappers, and a wayward attraction to a man more than a few rungs beneath her on the social ladder and vowed to celibacy. The only thing she could hope for now was that her mother would not find out and all her interactions with Finnagan from here on out would be very limited. He didn't need to be near her or speaking to her to protect her. Just...watching her. Through her window. When she dressed, maybe. Stop!

Noemi stood and ran the water, thankful for its low temperature as she splashed her burning face and rinsed the blood from her hands. They had both been covered in blood and all sorts of filth. Nothing about tonight should have been arousing. It would have been best if she requested a different guard, but after what he had done for her this night, she couldn't. It would have been ungrateful and a betrayal to turn away a man who had been so dedicated to keeping her safe he had come close to death himself. If he were to request to be reassigned, however, that would have been fine. It wasn't as if she could speak to him about it or even approach the subject, though. To do so would be to admit to him - and herself - that something had happened; or that she had wished something had happened.

She finished with the water feeling much fresher, but no less awkward as she stepped out of the bathroom. No matter what the result, she would be happy when tonight was over.