Page 84 of The Last Hunt

“I love it here,” Maeve says. “But I don’t think I can stay here forever. Not when there are people out there who need my help.” She shrugs as she meets Aethon’s eyes which glint in the low light. "Is that crazy? That I think I can do something to help Tellamar? I mean, it’s a whole planet run by gangs -”

“We can help,” Aethon interrupts. “We already did something to help. Makes sense we could at least do that again. We could transport more refugees. And maybe we could do more - with the right resources. We could contact Sylar again.”

Maeve is unable to look away from his striking profile as he watches the ocean. “We?” His own inclusion doesn’t escape her notice. She doesn’t want to ask him to give up this place or his family. But the thought of having him with her makes her feel relieved and happy.

“You’re stuck with me, Bladesy,” he replies, looking over at her and raising a brow.

Maeve nods. "I suppose I'll learn to put up with you.”

He smiles, then narrows his brows playfully. “And we’ll need to get the Menace at some point. Remember how you left it in the fucking Narrows?”

Maeve groans. “I thought we weren’t keeping track of things like that anymore? Forgive and forget, love.”

“Right,” Aethon chuckles. He stands and holds his hand out to her. “Come on, chrissah.”

She stands and takes his hand, letting him lead her into the house and into their room. They’d adjusted it to suit both their needs over the last few months. The bed is large and extra soft, the comforter and pillows a light shade of blue. There’s a tall dresser, a mirror on one wall, and two wingback chairs in front of a large window that looks out over the beach. One of Freehail’s three moons is rising over the water, casting a glow on the waves.

Aethon closes the bedroom door and tugs her over to the attached bathroom. There’s a generously sized shower in there with a rainfall shower head.

“Shower with me?” he asks. They’d both spent the day on the beach, and Aethon’s hair sticks up in the back from how he let it dry. Maeve smiles and nods, starting to remove her clothes.

Aethon reaches back and turns the water on, but keeps his gaze on her. “You’re beautiful, Bladesy,” he says, his voice low. He pulls off his clothes quickly. His eyes are dark as he drinks her in, and Maeve scans him. He’s tanner now from all the time in the sun. His broad chest and flat stomach are freckled, and sparse, dark hair curls on his pecs and down his stomach. He’s gorgeous and powerful. Maeve can’t help but touch him, running her hands up the black tattoos curling up his body. His cock is heavy against his thigh and Maeve knows exactly how to push him over the edge of desire.

She steps closer to him, her breasts pressing against his chest, and Aethon makes a low sound deep in his throat. He reaches up and pulls the tie out of her messy bun, threading his hand through her long hair. They’re so close in height that Maeve only has to just tilt her chin up, and their lips meet. She kisses him slowly, relishing the now familiar feel of him. She slides her hands up his muscular arms, and squeezes his biceps. She can feel his cock beginning to harden against her hip. She knows she’ll never stop wanting him.

Aethon slides his hands down her back, caressing her ass, and then pulls her with him into the shower. The warm water rains down on them both and Aethon ducks his head down to press a wet kiss behind Maeve’s ear.

“Wash first, chrissah,” he says. “Then play.”

“Not sure when you started thinking you get to tell me what to do,” Maeve murmurs, smirking at him. Her hand strays to his half-hard cock, fisting his delicious length and making him groan.

“I seem to remember one specific incident when I fucked you against the wall on the Archer,” Aethon replies. He twists his hips and his velvet hard cock away from Maeve’s hand and she lets out a small sound of disappointment. “You didn’t mind me telling you what to do then.”

“True,” she murmurs, her stomach coiling at the memory.

Aethon grabs a shampoo bar from the rack behind Maeve and lathers up his hands. He scrubs his hands through hair, his muscles flexing. His back is to her now, and the strong lines of his shoulders and the divots over his perfect ass are hardly less enticing than his cock. Maeve slides her hands gently down the scar on his back and takes the shampoo bar that he hands to her over his shoulder.

Aethon turns while she’s lathering up her hair and his his eyes smolder as he takes in the view. She straightens, pushing her breasts towards him teasingly. He groans and cups them, pinching her nipples.

“Not fair,” Maeve gasps. But she continues scrunching her fingers through her long hair as Aethon teases her breasts.

They shower quickly, but neither are very good at leaving the other alone. Maeve finds Aethon’s body entirely too tempting - what with all those muscles and tattoos - and ends up on her knees in front of him, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to his stomach and hips, before licking up his length.

“Fuck, Maeve -” he groans. He fists a hand in her hair and Maeve takes him deeper, delighting in the fact that she can make him come undone like this.

After a minute, she stands and Aethon claims her mouth with his. He turns off the water and they stumble out of the shower. He tosses her a towel and Maeve scrubs it through her hair before sliding it over her body in a cursory swipe.

Aethon does an equally shoddy job of drying himself off before he picks Maeve up and carries her into the bedroom, tossing her playfully onto the soft bed. Maeve shrieks with laughter and opens her arms for him. He falls on top of her with a grin, catching himself just before he crushes her.

“You oaf,” Maeve snorts, pressing his cheeks between her hands.

“God, I love you,” Aethon says. He looks down at her, his whisky eyes full of tenderness.

“Mmm,” Maeve agrees. “I love you too, artrenn.” It was hard for her to say the words for a while, but now they fall from her tongue easily.

She starts to pull him down into the cradle of her hips, but Aethon pulls back, his face turned toward the dark window.

“Maeve,” he says. His voice sounds a little choked. “Look.” He sits up and points out the window.

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