Gunther felt Hilde's tears make his tunic damp and the way her choked sobs shook her body. A part of him was hungry for her. It stalked at the edge of his mind, testing his will to find away to drink those tears and set her agony to a keen edge that served to bring both of them release. Hilde, for her part, was unaware of the war that Gunther fought within his skin as she tried to muffle her weeping with a fist against her mouth. His hands moved of their own accord from her shoulders down to her hips.
Hilde hiccoughed and wrapped an arm about his shoulders, clinging to him as though she feared she would fall. Gunther gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. In her misery, Hilde wept like she had when her son was murdered, as though she had been broken. Visions of his wife caught between soul rending agony and pure ecstasy rolled through his mind, making him give a harsh sigh. Where his touch had been terribly cold earlier, heat began to replace that cold. That heat and the deep knowledge of what it meant made Hilde tear herself out of Gunther's embrace.
She didn't want to feel that way. Hilde felt as though her body betrayed her and that the slow hunger that pressed back against her misery was a threat. Gunther opened his eyes and looked over at Hilde where she stood trembling between the urge to flee and the urge to stay. In her eyes, Gunther saw terror and something pleading. Unable to help it, he smiled. Hilde's eyes widened and she stepped back. That was when Gunther's control broke.
He took a step towards her and Hilde swallowed, her sobs replaced by trembling, cold fear. Gunther halted for a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. The scent was so faint he would have missed it but the mingled scents of sandalwood and roses hung in the air about his wife. He opened his eyes and looked at her. "What do you fear, Brynhildr?" he asked, unable to keep the seductive purr out of his voice.
Hilde looked away from him as a shiver went through her. "Do you fear me?" he asked, casually pulling the tunic off over his head. Gunther could practically hear her swallow nervously. A smile of pure delight was on the sadist's face. "Do you?" he said running a hand down his chest and across his abdomen to rest on his hip. A thrill of triumph ran through him as he watched Hilde's eyes follow that movement.
"No," she said in a tiny voice. Gunther grinned. He didn't need any sort of magical knightly gifts to tell that she was omitting something huge. He reached up and ran his hands through his hair, deliberately moving so that the moonlight slanting through the skylight highlighted the lines of his body. Hilde stepped back, her hands fluttering at her sides as she struggled with what to do with herself. Gunther watched her anguish and restrained a dark chuckle.
"What do you fear?" he asked, moving towards her. "You are terrified right now," he purred, "so desperately afraid that you are helpless. A Sargent of Avalon, reduced to a trembling, timorous thing. If it's not me that you fear, then what is it?" Hilde looked from side to side, her face pale. "I am your husband," Gunther said in that erotically ominous tone, "If you can not tell me, who can you? Not even the dead can keep your secrets. It was they who told Constantinus you had a fear that would unman you." Gunther smoothly and swiftly moved up to where he was a deep breath away from her.
He brought his right hand up and brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek. Hilde closed her eyes with an expression of exquisite agony and shuddered. "Don't touch me," she said, sounding as though some one was putting her through pure torture, "Just go. Forget it all and go." Gunther cradled her face between his hands as carefully as though he were picking up an egg. As he turned her face towards his, Hilde closed her eyes and bit her lips.
"Oh no," he said looking her tortured expression closely over, "no. I am not going anywhere, Brynhildr. Tell me." Hilde shivered. She tried so hard to put the feelings that Gunther was evoking aside. Hilde tried to go to that mental place of silence where she had left these memories. Gunther, sensing his prey's efforts to escape within herself laughed softly. "Flee," he said, "And I will find you, love. I will wrench the answer from you between screams and I will tear away all your clever tricks. I know you." Hilde's eyes snapped open.
Gunther turned Hilde's head slightly to the left. He pressed his lips to her cheek beside her ear. Quietly, he whispered, "Confess." Hilde gave a strangled sound of pleasure and agony. Gunther tipped his head slightly to the left and caught her earlobe between his teeth. He slowly bit down, stopping when it was just enough pain that Hilde gasped. Gunther knew the tone of that gasp very, very well.
He gently tipped her head back as he lowered his face to press his lips against the column of her throat. Hilde whimpered. "I can't do this," she moaned, "I..." Gunther held her hard against his body, noting where she had been stiffly resisting him, she softened in his arms. "Please," she whimpered, "I shouldn't." Gunther smiled. A breech was in her defenses and Gunther saw something of her fear there.
"Is it pleasure?" he sighed in her ear, "Is that what you're afraid of?" Hilde stiffened and her eyes rolled. Gunther smiled. Tonight, torture was not going to be of rough games, it seemed. "You're afraid of this," he said backing her up against the wall, "all this time, I thought you had surrendered." He chuckled, his rich voice sliding over her senses like silk. "You didn't fear Shaller," he said, sounding even more amused, "You don't fear the Tears of Ana. But..." He took a deep breath and sighed with pleasure.
"You won't scream tonight," he said, "fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." Gunther shook his head as he looked down at the woman who stared up at him with equal parts relief, terror, and lust in her gaze. Gunther realized that his wife hadn't looked more desirable then she did in that moment. The monster he kept so tightly controlled, that he only allowed out when they tasted the darker side of pleasure, lurked in his eyes.
Just when he didn't think Hilde could have looked more delightfully alarmed, she gave a tiny squeak of anxiety and paled. He ran his hands lightly down her sides. Hilde shivered and stared at him, transfixed by what she saw there in his gaze. A part of her went weak with desire, another part of her wanted to weep with relief that he saw truly what she tried so hard to hide. And then there was the irrational terror that falling into his arms and giving into these feelings would make her helpless or that she was somehow giving into something terrible. She realized, in that moment, she had never felt more exposed then she did just then. It brought up another bubble of irrational fear even as deep inside she felt delighted that there were no more walls between them.