The Wish of a Broken Heart

Changes Are Coming

Dagdh’a’vaní 8th
Kala’maílaō
08:00

~Cara~

I slept so long and luxuriously! Oh, this bed feels fantastic! They use a mix similar to buckwheat, cattail fluff, and some pine/juniper type needle bits that are antibacterial and microbial. It keeps bugs away. The blankets were thin, warm, and weighted. The pillows shifted to our positions.

My only complaint? Morning came too soon.

I roll over and straddle Tavi before sprawling against his chest. As comfortable as the bed is, he is always better. I trace the patterns, patches, and muscle ridges. I can tell when he starts to wake up. He has a very large tell. Thankfully, our door is locked, and I can work on giving him a proper wake-up. I carefully slide down onto him. Flexing the muscles in my belly and V always makes him groan and writhe.

“Mmm, Ti’kúe. What are you up to?”

“Trouble of course.” I kiss his jaw and rake my nails down his chest. It’s not enough to cut his skin, and he likes it. His groan of pleasure urges me on. I love pleasing him.

“I like this kind of trouble. You had better be careful, little one. You may insight the abhvo.” He growls. I laugh and pull his tusk before growling back.

“My abhvo. My monster. My hay…” He cuts me off with a growling kiss. I can’t stop giggling. He keeps tickling me! “Thi... This is not how it’s… it’s done!”

“What? You mean I have to do it like,” He tickles behind my knee, “this?” I laugh and wiggle.

“Noooo!” I try to fake pout through the laughter.

“Oh, so like,” he thrusts into me, “this?”

“Yes!” I gasp in pleasure. Why does it feel so good?

“Humm.” He stills. “Apologies, Ti’kúe. I am afraid you’re in the clutches of a vicious, cannịbalistic, reveníre abhvo.”

“Wait. What?” I look at him curiously. What is he up to?

“I’m a terrifying abhvo. One of the worst kinds.” I feel his playfulness, even if he looks like he’s trying to be scary.

“Oh, no! Whatever will I do?” I say dramatically and pretend to faint like the women in silent films.

“Nothing you can do. You must suffer my tọrture Ti’kúe.”

“Tọrture?” I pretend to be frightened and try escaping his clutches.

“The worst kind. It’s,” he leans in close, pinning me down, “tickling.” He starts tickling me again. I screech and laugh.

We spend two hours laughing, playing, and making love before someone knocks on the door. We both groan. The rooms are soundproofed, so one of us has to go to the door. He puts on a robe, covers me, kisses our babies, and then closes the curtains. I love this bed! It’s a canopy with curtains a mountain troll couple would envy.

“Apologies, you missed the morning meal, and a bunch of people are asking for you both at the inn. I thought you could use something in your stomachs. Especially the young Queen.” A smoky woman’s voice says. It’s warm and comforting. “I’ll check the Princess when you two are ready. If you like, I can check your Queen as well.”

“We would appreciate it. I will get her fed and bathed. Is Tira up yet?”

“She is. I brought my daughters over to play with the girls, oh, sorry, vaní. Their Papa scares most people, so they don’t make many friends. I hope you don’t mind.”