When she woke, the light of dawn was just filtering through the lintel of the door. She had slept more deeply than she had in months, so it took a moment to realize that she rested her head not upon the softness of a feather-stuffed cushion or the cold hardness of a campsite, but the firm, warm chest of a man. She grinned, closing her eyes and chiding herself for ever considering she might be disappointed with her choice.

Tiliw T’ul may not love her.  He may not have dreamed about her for years.  But her new husband could make her body sing like a choir of the rarest songbirds.  She moved slowly, trying her best not to wake the sleeping man whose breath tickled her ear and made her skin shiver in longing.  Staggering to her feet on shaky legs, she winced at the tenderness between her thighs.

Walking carefully toward the eastern doorway, she looked out toward the sunrise on her first day as a wife, and the first day of her reign as the Queen of Saal.  Maxam lay before her, spread out as a maze of plazas and alleys, rooftops and cook fires, homes and shops.  Past that, the fields of corn and beans, chiles and squash, cotton and manioc.  In the far distance, the great forests of the Peten stood sentinel, waiting for their chance to reclaim the city from civilization, the morning fog creeping out from the trees like ghostly fingers stroking the skin of a lover.

Lips on the back of her neck made her jump, but the deep chuckle that followed made her all too conscious of the warm chest against the cool skin of her back, the prodding erection suddenly trapped against the small of her back as an arm came around under her breasts. “Good morning, wife.”

She snorted, secretly a bit pleased at the possessive edge to his tone. “Good morning, husband.”

He rested his head on her shoulder and looked out at the red-orange sky as the sun crested over the distant mountains of Oxwitza.  “You are up early, given the activities of the night.  Perhaps I didn’t tire you out sufficiently.”

Ah, men and their concerns with their prowess.  She’d heard court ladies discussing this and was always intrigued.  She was surprised he needed such reassurances, after the cries he’d rung out of her, her utter loss of control.  It was almost sweet that he would still want praise from her even after the many, many lovers he must have had. The skills he’d learned must have taken time – to treat her body with such a deft hand, like the finest craftsman with a masterpiece.

But, it was probably best to humor him with the truth, “Perhaps I awoke because I wanted you too much to sleep a moment longer.”

He spun her around, pushing her up against the carved stone walls and kissing her with sudden fierceness, easing away into a comfortable sweetness and finally tender gentleness.  As his lips left her swollen ones and he backed away, she opened her eyes to look at him with something close to awe.  She thought that finally having him, knowing what it was to feel the length of his cock inside of her, to feel her body shake with his touch – she thought that now the craving would abate, the need lessen.

But it was so much stronger. She reached out a hand to him, silently begging for him to return, for him to push her up against the rough wall and enter her already slick passage, pounding her into the wall until she woke the city with the ringing of her cries.  But he simply smiled at her and walked away, leaving her frustrated and more than a little angry.  What in Xibalba was he doing?

Walking toward the opposite doorway, T’ul bent at the waist over something only he could see.  Even stewing in pique, she could appreciate the fine view of his naked ass, still covered in the remains of ceremonial paint.  She probably looked horrible, covered in streaks of white and red and black, whereas he couldn’t look anything other than utterly enticing. 

She refused to chase after him though, remaining glued to the wall where he’d left her, watching the play of muscles as he bent over what she could now see as a basin of water.  She was certain that hadn’t been there the night before and she blushed to think that anyone, even a lowly servant, had seen the two of them entwined and sleeping on the pile of cushions in the center of the room.

He rose gracefully, the length of his black hair swinging with ease even after the torrid night, where she was certain hers was a wild tangle of knots.  When he turned, he looked like the strangest and most exotic bird, the swirling colors of his skin unable to hide the proud carriage of the male.  His cock was still half hard, and growing hard as his black eyes seemed to eat her alive, taking in her form from the tips of her bare toes to the crown of her tousled hair.  He held something in each hand, but she could not find the words to ask what.

He held out one hand, offering her a beautifully wrought cup full of cool clean water.  She had not known how thirsty she was until she felt the mineral coolness on her lips, a striking contrast to the fire of her blood as she met his hot eyes. Swallowing thickly, the tension between them was thicker than the forest fog.  She almost flinched when he brought up his other hand, revealing a cloth soaked in that same sweet water.

When the cool cotton stroked across her cheek, the sensation was exquisite.  With the slightest pressure, T’ul wiped away the traces of paint on her skin, leaving nothing but the plain honey-brown of her normal complexion.  She truly felt laid bare.  Her nose, her forehead, her chin, each part of her face was thoroughly cleansed, and he finished with the lightest of kisses upon the newly sensitized skin.

His lips were dry, solemn, and the pressure of those lips against her closed eyelids almost made her cry.  She felt worshipped.  Down the length of her neck the cloth continued as she stood stock still, unable to do anything but try to remember to breathe.  His body was so close to hers, but he would not let any part of his body touch her with the exception of the cool wet cloth and his hot dry lips.  When he had reached the dip where her shoulder met her neck and his teeth scraped her skin, the difference was so profound she almost purred with desire. 

His laugh in response made her angry, made her want to punish him for the control he had over her already, but she couldn’t move a muscle as he picked up her right arm and gently stroked the cloth against her skin.  It was long past the point when the cloth could clean off the paint from her skin – only a thorough wash and scrub in one of the sacred pools could do that, that this ritual cleansing of her skin seemed meant to symbolize something very different.  She just wasn’t sure exactly what – there wasn’t enough blood in her brain to make sense of it, too much was flowing to every inch of skin, to the rock hard tips of her heavy breasts that longed for his touch, to the mound of her sex that was throbbing for him to fill her again.

He lifted her arm to his lips and finally the tip of his tongue came out to play, drawing intricate shapes on her skin to rival the painted designs long faded into nothingness.  When he suckled the inside of her elbow, her knees almost gave way and he had to grab on to her waist with his other hand while she sagged against him.  Apparently the proximity of her breasts was too much of a temptation, and he abandoned her arm, moving the cloth in slow circles over her aching breasts until trapping the tight nipples between teeth and tongue, swirling and scraping until the sweet pleasure flashing like lightning toward her womb was almost painful in its beauty. 

His lips did not leave her nipples, even as the cloth began a descent across her abdomen, swirling around her navel with playfulness that bordered on the edge of tickling.  When she finally began to laugh, he knelt and followed the cloth with his tongue, soothing her skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses that made her want to push him to the floor and mount him with her impatience for fulfillment.