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moonshine-nightlight · 2 years

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Finally Woken: Part Seven

Working for the family business of traveling trade caravans, means you‘ve always accepted having to put up with a lot from your family, especially your dad. He finally goes to far when he tries to sell your prized possessions to make up for his own business failings. You’re proud of yourself for making a stand, but he’s not wrong when he says you don’t have any real connections outside the family–but he’s not completely right either.

Your closest friend happens to live in the city you’re stopped at so you decide to see if you can stay at his place until you can figure out what you’re going to. You’ve never come by the city this early, but he’s probably fully woken up from the naga’s traditional bout of hibernation by now, right?

Fantasy, friends to lovers, naga, male monster x female reader, M/F, Part 7 of 8

Story Status: Complete

AO3: Finally Woken Chapter 7

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] Part Seven [Part Eight - NSFW]

When you get home from a day that at least ended early, if rather disappointingly, you realize one thing right away: Heshi’s already awake.

Not only is he awake, he’s moving around and talking to someone. You can hear his voice from the foyer. Last night he’d said he was gonna see if he could wake up early enough for a full sunning on the roof to provide the final jolt out of hibernation—and the weather had certainly cooperated.

Instead of being excited he seems to be fully out of hibernation, tension shoots up your spine. The air in the apartment doesn’t feel fearful or angry, but it does feel feverish in some way, almost anticipatory. There’s a panic in his voice and movements, like he’s pacing, which makes it impossible for you not to feel nervous.

You can’t make out any of the words he’s saying, but you decide to drop your bag in the hall just in case you suddenly have your hands full with worried naga again. Some instinct of yours seems to be urging caution and it's any easy enough thing to do to appease it. Hesitantly, you walk over to the archway and peer further inside.

You spot Heshi in the kitchen but you notice right away that there’s no one else here. He seems to be talking to himself, gesturing emphatically along with his own words, but speaking fast enough you still can’t really follow what has him so agitated. Because he definitely is, agitated that is.

His hair is completely undone, flowing around his face and down his back in wild tendrils, all semblance of a braid long gone. He’s moving back and forth, changing height depending on how much of his tail he’s putting into the motion—something he rarely does as he likes to keep to a steady height. The difference is down to the way the bulk of his tail stays where it is, the tip flicking in time with his pacing. He’s also not wearing a shirt, which you knew he didn’t wear when he sunbathed, but is still rather unusual since he’s inside now.

You tell yourself your focus on his chest is just to see if he’s shivering—which he doesn’t appear to be. In fact, you blink in surprise: he almost looks flushed. The skirt he has on is loose and comfortable, but also hastily thrown on. Combined with the way his claws are unsheathed—a sure sign he’s expecting a threat–it’s more than enough to unsettle you further. Despite all this agitation, he still hasn’t even noticed your presence yet. You doubt it will take long though and you don’t want to scare him, especially not in this state.

You take a deep breath and step forward. “Heshi?”

His head whips around with lightning speed, pupils slit thin before blowing wide when he identifies who made the sound. He gasps out your name, looking at you with such shock that you instinctively freeze. He starts toward you before stopping himself, placing his hands on one of the tall kitchen tables as if to hold himself with it between you and him, despite him being several feet away on the other side of the room as it is.

“Uh, Heshi…?”

He seems to notice your confusion and visibly straightens, clearly trying to coach his rather wild facial expressions back to normal. It might have worked better if you hadn’t, you know, literally watched him do so.

“Hey,” his voice is breathy, but less desperate or shocked than when he had called your name. He clears his throat before continuing in an alright approximation of his usual voice, “how was your day?”

“Okay…” you reply slowly. It's clear he doesn’t want you to notice, or at least not to comment on, whatever is bothering him. You’re willing to play along, for now. You don’t want to spook him. “I guess.” While you talk, you try to see if you can spot a physical source of what might be bothering him. He doesn’t look visibly injured or sunburned—can naga get sunburned? “The shop had already sold my flute though.”

He sobers at your words, distracted enough by your news that he forgets to try so hard to be normal. He frowns and says sympathetically, “I’m sorry, that’s really too bad.” He makes an aborted motion towards you, like he’s going to come over to give you a hug but then he stops himself. You suddenly realize this is the longest it’s been since you woke him up from hibernation for him to be awake and aware of you and yet not touching you.

A pang of hurt goes through you at the thought that he might truly be done with hibernation and the long embraces will stop. You knew this would happen, you told yourself not to get used to it. You still feel an aching sense of loss that you try to shove to the side. You’ll deal with it when you’re inevitably sleeping alone again.

“If you’d like,” Heshi’s voice pulls you back to the present. He’s clearly trying to be upbeat, trying to cheer you up, but there’s a manic undertone to his voice that still worries you. “I could try to make you one? A flute, I mean. It’d be glass and not silver, but I’m sure it will sound just as pretty.”

He looks adorably earnest, but it's so obvious something is conspicuously off with him. “That, that would be really lovely,” you say truthfully, because it is a really sweet offer, and yet you can’t ignore this any longer. “But Heshi, what’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” he repeats anxiously. “Nothing’s wrong.” He winces when his voice pitches too high. He deliberately coughs before continuing, “In fact, my hibernation is officially over. So everything’s back to normal.”

You eye his very nervous smile at that proclamation and say, “Um, it’s really not.” You take a step closer, studying him as you continue in vain to try to figure it out yourself. “What’s wrong, Heshi?” You’re starting to really think he might be sick. Is this because you messed with his hibernation? You take another step closer, trying to peer around the table—a naga’s tail normally will give them away if there’s something wrong with their body and you can’t quite see it from where you’re at.

“Stop!” He holds out his hand, palm facing you. “Stay over there.” You immediately freeze, too surprised by his reaction to even say anything.

“Why?” you breathe, unsure of what you’ve done to make him more upset. You try to hide the illogical bit of hurt you feel at his words, but given how his face falls, you don’t manage it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking wretched and wringing his fingers, “but you really need to stay away.”

“Should I leave?” you offer, not sure what else to say. You want to understand, but you want him to feel better more so if you need to leave without an explanation, you will even if you know you’ll end up at wit’s end with worry.

“No!” he reaches out again, this time as if to pull you close. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his fingers to his forehead. “I mean, yes, probably. You shouldn’t be here while I’m like this. I’m so sorry.”

Any hurt or fear melts away in the face of his distress. “But what is this? Are you sick? Is it contagious? Should I find a healer?”

“No, well, sort of,” he pulls his fingers through his hair violently enough it almost looks like he’s pulling on it. He deflates, pressing one palm to the table and leaning on it. “Maybe you should.”

Before you can even think of how to respond, he continues talking, “I just don’t understand! This shouldn’t be happening.” He glares at the table top as if the pressed glass pattern he designed might hold all the answers.

Hesitantly, you say, “Are you sick or not? How can I help?” You swallow before venturing, “Is this because your hibernation got interrupted?”

He barely seems to hear you, talking to himself and keeping his eyes down as if purposely not looking at you. “Not sick, exactly. No illness. Hibernation, yes, yes. My sunsleep! That’s where it all starts but why? How?” He looks up and you can see his eyes are wildly dilated, now that yours have adjusted to the lower amount of light in here. “None of this makes any sense. It shouldn’t be possible.”

“What shouldn’t be possible?”

“I’m in heat!” The words burst out of his mouth without his permission and his grip on the table edge goes white-knuckled. He looks embarrassed as your mouth falls open, but he doesn’t take the declaration back even as he snaps his mouth shut tight.

“I’m sorry, you’re what?” you ask, mind spinning, even as you catalog his symptoms in a new light. He is flushed, you hadn’t realized ‘heat’ is quite so literal, but it clearly is. His breathing is too fast, but it's deep too, drawing your attention to his bare chest. The tension in his frame, the dilation of his eyes, your eyes nearly try to track down his body before the table and your own awareness of the situation stops you in your tracks.

You frantically try to remember everything you’ve heard about a naga’s heat. Heshi himself has only mentioned, in passing, that it happens after hibernation between mates, but that’s really all he’s said. Everything else you know, you picked up just, listening around. You haven’t been to help but wonder, what with having a naga friend. An attractive naga friend. An attractive naga friend you had a crush on.

Still, you’d never outright asked anyone—you’d never be able to get the words out—but you know it lasted more than a day, that there is a special significance placed on the first heat after marriage, and that the reason so many naga are born around the same time as a species is because the majority of them are the result of heated matings. Because obviously the other part is that anyone in heat wants to have sex—like, a lot. However, like Heshi himself had always seemed to suggest, you thought it only happened when they already have a partner and possibly only if that other partner was a naga.

“I mean,” your face feels warm and so does the rest of you at just the thought that Heshi might be…riled up—and he so clearly looks it too, now that you’re looking for that. “I thought, you needed, you know, a partner,” you manage to squeak out, “for that to, um, start.” How are you standing here talking about this with him? Is some god upset that your moving out went so well that they’ve thrown this in your path?

You almost feel like, now that you’re not worried he’s hurt or sick, that it's affecting you too. Could humans sense, smell, naga pheromones? Is it actually warmer in here?

“Sort of,” he says, a bit miserably, finger tracing along the table, drawing your eyes to the slender digit. “That’s what doesn’t make sense. I’m not with anyone or courting or anything so it shouldn’t be possible. You don’t need someone officially, but you do need someone with potential as a nestmate.”

A shiver of heat and jealousy goes down your spine at the word ‘nestmate’. You think he just means someone else who’d hibernated with him in the same nest—not an actual mate—but the only person even close to that description is you, if only for the last week, which sends a tendril of heat through you. The jealously is at even the thought of someone else, wrapped up in his arms, in his nest, waiting for him to awaken and… “Right,” you say quickly.

“There needs to be complementary pheromones in the air,” he continues explaining as if trying to prove to you why it shouldn’t be possible. “Someone interested in mating with you being close enough, often enough, during hibernation to trigger heat.”

“Oh,” you nod, again trying not to picture this hypothetical other naga that would make your Heshi all... “And you haven’t seen any other naga, right?”

“Well,” he hedges, “it wouldn’t have to be a naga actually.” He shrugs and you try so hard to keep your expression steady at that little admission. Before your mind can run with it, he continues, “but you’re missing the key: receptive. I would have to be around someone who wanted to mate with me.” He presses a hand to his chest before shrugging again. “And I’ve only seen you and Nell, so I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I…” You swallow, sure your whole face must be turning red because if that’s what brought this on… “You’re sure that’s what’s happening?” If all that’s needed is someone interested in him, sharing his nest then…

He rubs the back of his neck, “I’ve gone into heat once before—years ago.” He gives a sharp nod. “I’m sure.”

Oh gods. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. If the ground swallowed you up, would that make his stupid heat stop and prevent you from having the most embarrassing conversation of you life? After a second of nothing happening, you burst out with, “Then this is all my fault. I’m so sorry, Heshi.” You squeeze your eyes shut, cursing your stupid feelings for making things ha-difficult for your friend. “How do I make it stop?”

“Your fault?” Heshi’s face screws up in absolute bewilderment. “How in the world could this be your fault?”

“Because what you said earlier was wrong,” you say, trying to force the words out of your mouth, but they’re as jumbled as your thoughts are. “You… I… I didn’t know… I didn’t mean…”

He says your name, sounding calmer than he has all night, clearly trying to ground you, but it's not working because you have to tell him. There’s no getting around it.

“Darling, what are you—”

“I am, is the problem,” you blurt out, knowing it probably still sounds like nonsense. You hate putting yourself out there, but you have to say it. “Interested or receptive or…” You flap your hand uselessly in his general direction, unable to even look him in the eye.

“You…” The clear disbelief in his voice, lacking in recrimination as it is, does little to make you feel better.

“I swear I had no idea this would happen.” You finally look at him again, needing him to understand this wasn’t some horrible plan on your part, but he’s still just staring at you in shock. “I tried to sleep in my own bed. And there was only that one dream! Why didn’t you warn me that's what causes your, you know, heat?”

Heshi actually moves out from behind the table, his gaze intent, his expression surprisingly unreadable. You unthinkingly take a step back.Your stupid feelings did this to him, clouding his mind, overwriting his desires.

He tilts his head to the side. “Are you saying you find me attractive or that you have feelings for me?”

His voice doesn’t give away anything that he’s thinking. You shrug helplessly. “I mean, yeah. Both?”

You barely have time to blink, barely able to see something ripple across his expression before he’s across the room, in front of you. His strong fingers take hold of your chin, tilting you face up towards his. He slants his mouth over yours for a kiss before you can comprehend anything beyond how much heat he seems to be giving, so different than his usual temperature.

Then there’s nothing on your mind except the feeling of him pressed so close, the softness of his lips, how solid he is against you. Your hand wraps around his wrist, keeping him where he is and his arm slides around your waist—as it has so many times in the last few days—and yet everything is different this time as he pulls you against him. Your other hand curls over his shoulder as you return the kiss instinctively. He pulls away briefly, only to press another kiss to your lips, giving a light pull to first your top lip, then your bottom lip. He flicks his tongue against the seam of yours after that and you let out a gasp at the sensation.

He takes advantage of the opening, pressing even closer, his slender, adroit tongue slipping in. You slide your own against his, causing him to moan. That sound combined with the feeling of his fangs against your lips send a ripple of heat through your veins.

You tighten your grip on him as he kisses you. You never want him to let you go ever again, you think deliriously as his large hand strokes up and back down your back, encouraging you to arch into him. This is everything you ever wanted with him.

Everything you wanted.

The thought sends a shard of ice down your spine and abruptly, you find the strength to use your hold on him to push him away.

You part with pop and stare up at him panting. His eyes are half-lidded and dark, fixed on your lips, and it's not until you try to maintain the distance between you that he seems to notice something is wrong.

“We’re not doing this just because you’re all hormone crazy,” you sputter, trying to push him even further away. “I can’t! Please.”

“Oh, darling.” It’s unfair how liquid and low his voice is. He leans down to catch your eyes with his own. “It still takes two.”

“What?” You can’t take any chance that he might mean—

His smile is warm and encouraging as he says, “You can’t go into heat for someone you don’t want back.” When you just stare at him with surprise, faintly shaking your head, he ducks his head a little before his eyes meet yours again. “Is that so hard to believe? I’ve had a crush on you for ages now.”

Your eyes grow even wider as you try to make sense of his words. “You have?” There’s that shy hope you were trying to avoid, but it's so hard with him continuing to say all the right things, still holding you, still looking well kissed by you.

“For years,” he admits, a little sheepish. “I just didn’t say anything because, well, I lived here and you lived everywhere.” He pushes against your hold again and this time you let him close once more, his breath fanning across your face as you stare, entranced. He nuzzles against you, before pulling back the barest inch to continue, “I thought it was a dream, you saying you were going to stay here, that you wanted to live with me. I felt so guilty for how happy I was that your family finally crossed the line, but I am.”

He looks like he expects you to judge him for that but you’re just waiting to hear what other, wonderful, impossible thing he might say next. He presses his forehead against yours and murmurs, “Because you’re finally here, with me. In my nest, in my arms.”

“Oh,” you breathe, unable to find a single coherent thought to voice in response.

He pulls back again, just slightly, and goes on to say, “I was going to wait until you were more settled, see how you liked living here, living with me—when you were dealing with fewer changes--to see if you might consider…” he looks at you through ridiculously pretty lashes you’ve somehow never noticed until right this second, “consider being with me.”

“Yeah?” your voice is a little teary in the face of his sincerity, his consideration. Heshi. Heshi had a plan to ask you out. Heshi likes you. Heshi wants you. Your mind is spinning and you’re holding back tears and you’ve never felt so many overwhelming good feelings in your life.

He nods with a smile. “Yeah.”

“Yes,” you say, nodding rather vehemently. “I don’t need time and yeah, life is crazy now, but it always is. I want to be with you.” And this time, you pull him down and press your lips to his. The kiss starts sweet, but he lets out something like a whine against your lips in the split second you pull back to breathe. Heat radiates from him and you begin to feel feverish with it too, the desperate need to be closer, even closer.

Ever since you nudged him from hibernation, you’ve been trying so hard to hold yourself back, to accept his hugs and embraces, but not reach for him. Your arm hooks around his neck as you let yourself pull him to you. He capitulates easily, wrapping arms around you, his tongue along yours as the kiss grows hungrier. You feel something smooth and strong against your legs and moan when you realize his tail is spiraling around you.

At some point you have to breathe and he wastes no time in lunging for the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, his favorite spot to nuzzle, only this time… This time, you gasp out his name as his fangs lightly drag along the spot and he nips. The shiver his mouth inspires only grows when he sets about sucking a mark into your skin.

You groan as he skims his mouth and fangs back up your neck only to pant desperately in your ear, “Want you. So much.” You nod thoughtlessly in his hold.

“Now, please,” he demands, breathy with need.

“Yes.”

[Part Eight - NSFW]

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