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The day’s work lay heavy of the shoulders of the Duke of Atreides.
At dinner, he watches, as if from a far distance, as his concubine feeds his son. Jessica is teaching Paul their house signs. Once his chubby toddler fingers make a mostly legible gesture, she gives him a piece of whatever food he requested. A gentle game that has Paul chortling; a skill that might be a matter of life or death one day.
Once they finish eating, Jessica carries a sleepy Paul to the nursery, his cheeks round and curls dark when he looks at his father over Jessica’s shoulders.
Leto slowly drinks his wine, his own meal long gone cold. He stares at the bull’s head mounted on the opposite wall, the horns black with Atreides blood.
After a time, he rises, and goes to his concubine’s quarters.
The hallways are dark with shadows, the hour late. He knows the number of his people housed in this palace; could estimate those still awake. Yet the illusion that he is the only person not yet asleep in his home is as tangible as a touch. And layered on that, the awareness of his planet, all the people he knows and doesn’t know, some his family, some strangers, yet all his responsibility to protect and guide and lead. A responsibility heavy enough to crush even the strongest.
Jessica opens the door in a deep green robe, tied loosely enough that a deep V of creamy skin is visible, the inside slopes of her breasts, a scattering of freckles like stars that Leto is never tired of kissing.
“May I enter?” he asks.
“Of course,” Jessica says, opening the door wider. The low light burnishes her with gold, turns her russet hair to pure copper.
She steps close, cups his face in her hands.
He closes his eyes, presses into her touch.
“How can I help?” she asks. “Shall I caress your weary brow? Ease your way into sleep?” Her voice is solicitous but when he opens his eyes, there is a coy slant to her mouth.
Leto shakes his head follows her deeper into her rooms, Jessica stepping lightly backwards, toward her bed.
“Oh? Then what are your wishes?” she asks.
“Command me, my lady,” Leto asks, voice low.
Jessica’s green eyes are sharp, bright in the low light.
“Kneel,” she says.
He folds like a dropped ribbon, on his hands and knees before her between one thought and the next.
He sways forwards, kisses the top of her delicate foot. There is nothing in his mind but her voice, ringing through him like a bell. He wants to lift his head, to kiss other places on her, run his hands along the silky-smooth skin of her legs, but she only asked him for one action; he cannot go further.
Jessica waits, her breathing slow and easy, for a minute? An hour?
“Continue,” she finally says, voice sweet.
He kisses his way up her shin, curling his hands around her delicate ankles. He slides his hands upwards, parting her robe like a curtain, to pepper kisses across the tops of her thighs.
She gives a pleased sigh and then takes a firm grip of his hair.
“Eat me,” says Jessica.
He shoulders one of her legs up, one hand cupping her ass, one hand gripping her thigh hard enough to leave bruises. He nuzzles roughly at the hair between her legs, licks her open with furious swipes of his tongue, desperate for the heat and slickness of her inner labia. He lashes his tongue across her clit, drunk on her cries, the pain of her grip, how his scalp stings as she gets closer to her climax.
She shudders against his mouth, twists her fingers harder, pulling his head back, his mouth and chin dripping with her arousal.
“Fuck me,” she orders and he has her on her back in her bed in the blink of an eye.
He unfastens the tie of her robe with a snap of his wrist, revealing the entire line of her naked body, and then yanks her legs up. He hurriedly opens his trousers, lines himself up, and enters her in one long thrust. Jessica arches her back with a cry.
In his right mind, he would never take her so heedlessly, so selfishly.
He ruts into her vigorously, his hands hard on her thighs, keeping her in place. Without his grip, his actions would have her sliding up the bed.
Jessica’s legs tremble where they lay against his chest, her ankles by his ears, her toes curling. She writhes under him, gasps, cunt fluttering, her fingers tangled in her own hair. The room is filled with the sounds of their joining, the slap of his testicals against her, the wet, welcoming sounds of her quim.
Her breath quickens, her breasts glistening with sweat. She goes silent as her orgasm takes her, biting down on her bottom lip. Leto fucks her through it, her cunt clenching desperately around him, his own pleasure pumping through him like the very blood in his veins.
Jessica moans, low.
“Come for me,” she orders. Leto leans forward, pushing her legs closer to the mattress, almost folding her in half, and does. He spurts into her, his orgasm feeling endless, his hips grinding against hers, forcing his spunk deep, giving her every single drop.
As his mind and body return to him, he felt as unsteady as a new foal. He carefully leans back, slipping from Jessica’s body, easing her legs down. Her cunt was pink and puffy, his come dripping from her. He can't resist cupping her, feeling the heat of her sex. She shivers at his touch, her eyes closed, an expression of satisfaction on her face.
Leto presses a kiss to her mons pubis and then withdraws to the bathing chamber.
He returns with a wet, warm cloth. He cleans her with long, gentle strokes and then pulls the sheets and blankets up around her, slipping into the bed. She rolls into him, her eyes still closed. She fits perfectly against him, her head tucked under his chin, her arm around his waist, her soft breasts pressing against the muscles of his chest. He breathes in, inhales the scent of her hair oil, the scent of sex.
The weight of Jessica in his arms is blissful and everything else in the universe feels very, very distant.
“Thank you,” he says.
"Of course," she replies but her voice is full of affection. He softly kisses the top of her head and holds her while sleep comes for them both.