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“Come to bed, Usul.”
Paul was hunched over some correspondence or another.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Then we won’t sleep,” Chani responded simply. Paul stiffened a little at this, sat up a little straighter. Chani smiled, small and quiet and to herself. He was a man, after all. Sometimes she wondered.
She reached out, to touch him, and he shrank away from her.
“The water….” He trailed off. She locked eyes with Paul, blue in blue now, just as hers were.
“We can spare this time.”
Some things were controllable. Tears could be held. But the way her very body wanted to weep for Paul-- she could not always hold back. And whether he came to her bed or not, it would still weep. She felt it was best not to waste what was freely given.
When Paul made no move to lift himself from the work of Muad’Dib, Chani rested herself from his presence and faded away to the dark. But she could feel his eyes linger.
Good.
----
When Paul came skulking, Chani was ready. She had undressed, and beckoned him to the bedding. He took her hand, and kneeled in front of her. They kissed, slow and sensuous. Chani was wet between her legs, and she welcomed the water.
She pushed Paul back, then, and her eyes were bright with mischief.
“I knew you would come to me,” she said, and he looked askance, had the good sense to look at least a little ashamed of how quick he’d left his work for her. But Chani wanted it. She did not want Muad’Dib tonight in her bed. Muad’Dib who fucked like an animal, angry and full of power. She knew this man already. Tonight she wanted to meet the young man who lived underneath.
When he went to sit up, she pushed him back down, hands on his shoulders. She straddled his hips and studied him. His breathing was even as always. He was tense beneath her.
“This will not do,” Chani said, mostly to herself, and caressed Paul’s cheek. She swiveled her hips against his, and he grunted. Paul grabbed her hips hard, and Chani swatted his hands away.
“No.”
He looked confused. His eyes seemed to ask her an unspoken question-- what was Chani’s plan?
She smiled at him, full of promise.
“I would like to see you, underneath me….get on your hands and knees,” Chani said. She was looking for something, Paul realized, as he hesitantly did as she said. He was facing away from her, and could not see Chani. Her voice was different, not far away, but not as close as it had been earlier. He heard a few clicks, and when Chani draped herself over him again, there was something hard prodding at his thighs.
“Do you know what this is?”
She was teasing him, Paul thought. Teasing him when he knew full well-- it made him smile. She knew he was not blind to her actions. But this was an invitation, he realized. He could be someone else. Not Muad’Dib. Maybe not even Usul. Maybe, he went so far to think, maybe not even Paul. Something just belonging to Chani. Something without its own name. He let his breathing go, stopped holding onto himself as tightly as he had.
“No,” he lied. He saw it without looking. Even when he wasn’t looking, he was seeing.
“Liar,” she hissed, and slapped him hard across his backside. He whined, bucked into the bedding.
“Not even a good one,” she continued, and spanked him again, once on each cheek. Paul bit back a groan. She slipped a hand between Paul’s ass cheeks, circling the tight hole she found there. She did not press into him.
Paul did not feel shame with Chani. But he did feel… something that made his cheeks red, his eyes look everywhere but her. Especially when she was in a mood like this, his wild desert woman. He tried to push against her, tried to get her to touch him more, and she took her hands away.
Of course, Paul thought, he could just as easily control it. He could keep his composure. But there was something about giving it up for Chani. It was difficult, sometimes, for Paul to show her how much she meant to him. But in the moments between their plans and goals, he could be something else for her. Only her.
“Chani--” He gasped, and she stopped to consider him. A hand ran over his reddened flesh, gentle and loving. She pinched his thigh, playful as young lovers were.
“Will you be good for me, dear Usul?” Chani’s hand played in Paul’s dark hair. Her nails scratched against his scalp and he shivered.
“No tricks, no techniques. Just let go. Can you do that for me?” She purred into his back.
“Yes, my love.” Paul thought about how his voice wavered-- it was desperate, keening, and it took all he had not to hold it back. Chani caressed Paul for a moment, just feeling their warmth together, and then she brought her fingers to his lips.
“Suck,” she instructed, and Paul obliged. She moaned as his tongue swept across the rough pads of her fingers. Finally, he thought, she comes a little undone for me now. But when she pulled her fingers out of his mouth, it was back to business. She pushed the first finger of hers against his entrance, and though Paul had explored his own body many times, there was a fire inside him as Chani pressed into him. She pressed a second finger inside, and Paul was mortified to hear himself whimper. But Chani smiled, brushed her palm over the head of his cock, and whispered affirmations in his ear.
“What a good boy,” she assured him, as he clutched the bedding, “You are so good for me, Usul. You take it well.”
She fucked him with her fingers for a moment, in and out with no pretense, and Paul bit his lip hard, trying his best to keep quiet. Chani stilled.
“Are you holding back?” She asked, and frowned. She reached around to pinch his nipple hard, making him cry out sharply. It was embarrassing, he thought, how easily she rattled him this way.
“Better.”
When Chani removed her fingers, Paul felt his thighs tremble. He ran a hand through his hair, and found it damp. This whole thing, Paul thought, was such a waste. A decadence he felt he could not afford. He was not meant to have this, he thought, and as the doubt began to climb, he felt Chani position herself at his entrance. The piece between her legs was a hard, dark stone, polished smooth, and covered in some kind of oil. It smelled faintly of spice, although what was a new smell of spice, and what was simply the smell of the air around them was difficult to discern. He took a deep, shaky breath, pushed his doubts from his mind, and balled his hands into fists underneath him. Chani, he considered, was doing what she thought best for him. And maybe he did need it.
Chani did not warn him-- she simply pushed. Paul’s eyes widened, and he felt himself stretch in a way that was not quite known to him. He’d explored with his fingers in the general area, but nothing more. This was larger, and it made him whine low in his throat as she pushed further inside him.
“Oh, how does it feel? Can you tell me?” She caressed Paul’s bare back, petted him softly in the dark, and Paul opened his mouth to tell her it was so much-- but all that came out was a soft gasp.
“Very well, little mouse,” she cooed, and began to move, hips pulling and pushing against Paul. Her pace was slow, but deep. Every time she hit the hilt it made him exhale in a choked groan. He could hear in her voice she was smiling, and wished so badly she would touch his cock. His hips began to buck a little into the thrusts.
The piece inside him was curved slightly, and it pressed against him so deviously, making him leak precum against his stomach. Chani swept her hand against the tip of Paul’s cock, and brought the wet fingers to his lips. He obliged her, licking them clean, and she giggled.
“You make a good whore, my love. Look how you act.” Chani punctuated her sentence with a hard thrust into Paul with a quickness he hadn’t been expecting, and he moaned against her hand. He was embarrassed again, and turned his head away from her fingers.
“No, no, no,” Chani said, grabbing his hair with her other hand and pulling his head back to expose his neck and keep him from turning away. Paul was nearly sobbing now, as Chani fucked him desperately. Her other hand snuck beneath him, to stroke his weeping cock, and it took what Paul would remember as a shamefully short number of strokes before he was spilling against her hand, hips jerking desperately into her touch. Chani fucked him through his orgasm, making him cry out like a bitch in heat.
“Oh, Usul, you are beautiful like this,” she told him softly, pulling out as he went limp against her. He was panting, spent and looking far away. Chani undid the straps at her hips, and stood to stow it away. She returned shortly, cleaned Paul with only the slightest hesitation-- it was truly a luxury amongst her people, to spill seed like this, and they both knew it-- and lay beside him.
She curled him up, wrapped her arms around Paul’s midsection. Chani tucked her chin against his shoulder, and she kissed his ear.
“Chani….” Paul whispered to the night, reverent.
“Yes, Usul?” Her body was alight with lightning in her nerves, and every brush of his skin against hers made her ache. But she would ask nothing of him.
“It would be a waste,” he began, turning to face her, “if I did not….drink.”
She smiled, and ran a hand through his hair as he kissed her breasts, making his way downward.
“Then drink, my love.” And as Chani spread her legs for Paul, she knew he would waste nothing.