Author's Note: Ahem, well, I wrote this out of curiosity, because I wanted to try writing a sex/love story...You know these things are HARD. And I think I did a rather bad job of it, but anyway. I decided to do it about Nynaeve and Lan because they're my favorite characters, and it probably has lots of mistakes in it because I wrote it from memory while on a trip away from my books, and since it's an experiment I didn't bother making sure everything was totally right with the series. Anyway, Lan and Nynaeve, the night after they're married. Be forewarned, it's not very good.

Perfect
by Terrin Arian

Nynaeve curled up against her husband's side, her back nestled in the curve of his body and her head tucked into the hollow of his shoulder. Her long, tangled hair (he had unbraided it, last night) tumbled everywhere; Lan stroked it gently, carefully seperating the twisted strands and smoothing them. She didn't really mind fighting to brush it out, if he would hold her like this every time. It had been...perfect.

Nynaeve started for her room after reaching the palace, but Lan beat her to the door, checking everything before he let her in. Neither of them said anything. She was exhausted, but not tired. She was shaking. Light, she had never been this nervous, not even before the test for Accepted. She sank into a chair and watched him. Was he angry, that she had tricked him into marrying her? Did he truly want to marry her? Of course he did; he had said he did, before going on to say again why he couldn't. And he had said the vows, without being forced. Then hadn't spoken since leaving the ship, long after dark. Dear Creator, she was not afraid...was she? She looked up for Lan, and found him looking at her deeply, as he would do. Light...

Lan studied Nynaeve. His wife. Moonlight filtered through the screen of the balcony onto her face. Did she know that everything she thought was printed on her face? But he knew her, her looks. Mashiara. But she was not lost; she was here, with him, his wife. She was afraid; he could see her hands shaking. She was about to drop from weariness. He had nothing to give her...'I only have a sword, and a war I can not win but can never stop fighting'...Nothing. Except himself. She looked up, met his eyes; she looked so lost, the firmness of that afternoon gone. Mashiara. She needed him. He reached down and gathered up her hands; they were trembling badly. He drew her to her feet, turned her, and began to carefully undo her dress. She stood quiet and let him. He pushed it down her hips, running his hands down her sides. He felt her shudder.

Nynaeve was trembling even more now, but not from nervousness. He was touching her so gently. His hands were warm and strong, drawing heat from the depths of her in response. She closed her eyes; she was standing in her shift now, and he stopped undressing her for a moment, rubbing the back of her neck and shoulders. Her shaking had eased; she relaxed back and he put his arms around her. He stroked her cheek.
"Are you afraid?"
"No." She was shaking again, though, and he could feel it.
"Don't be afraid. Don't ever be afraid when I'm near." And suddenly she wasn't.

She was so small in his arms, small and trembling. Slowly he slid the sleeves of her shift down her arms to the floor. Oh light she suddenly felt so fragile. He ran his hand lightly down her back, stroking the soft skin. She turned in his arms, looking up into his face. Dark tendrils whisped around her face and he smoothed them back. She smiled up at him tremulously, and he gathered her up to kiss her. He hadn't kissed her often enough before. Her lips were soft, trembling under his. The kiss grew deeper; she sighed against his mouth. Oh light, she was soft. He pressed her closer against him. Her soft soft breasts crushed against his chest, her palms flat on his shoulders.

Nynaeve leaned against Lan's strength, her head tilted back. Slowly he slid her down his body until her feet touched the ground. She kept her eyes closed as he stroked her skin, strong gentle hands running down her sides, over her breasts. Suddenly he took them away, and her eyes flew open, searching for him. "Close your eyes," murmured deeply against her ear. She closed them, trembling with apprehension. She started as she felt his hands in her hair, unbraiding it, combing it with his fingers. Her eyelids fluttered. "Keep them closed." His lips were barely against the sensitive skin of her nape, and she shuddered. Her eyes closed tightly.

Her hair was soft silk; he ran his hands through it, caressing. She wasn't afraid, not now; she sighed softly as he touched her, gently, learning every curve of her body. Lan gathered her up in his arms and cradled her against his chest; dark hair spread across his should as he carried her to the bed. He laid her down carefully, and stood looking down at her. Her hair partially veiled her skin. Light, she was beautiful. She was his. His. "Keep you eyes closed." He stripped off the last of his clothes and knelt beside her on the cover. She had begun to shake again and he stroked her cheek, her breast, her hip, murmuring tenderly against her skin, kissing her everywhere. Her nipples were hard; he kissed them gently, slowly.

Nynaeve gasped and arched her back, soaking in his touch, his presence, his love. She squeezed her eyes closed, shaking. "Lan." He sucked lightly on her breast and she cried out, twisting against the pillow. He caught her wrists in one hand, pinning them over her head, holding her still as he chuckled against her skin, kissing her everywhere, hard and soft and enough to make her feel as if she would die without fulfillment, the heat in her burning outwards to sear her skin. She writhed under his touch. "Oh light..."

Light...he needed her, now. He gave her a minute and she lay there panting. Light, he needed her. She began to tremble again when he stroked his hands down her thighs, spreading them. "Nynaeve..." He slid an arm under her shoulders, cradling her. He kissed her forehead. "Open your eyes, my heart." Her dark eyes met his; she was afraid, but the love in her eyes was stronger than her fear. He saw her eyes trace his chest and shoulders, down his body; he felt her shudder as she looked at him. She smoothed a hand over the muscles, following the path of her eyes. She touched him, lightly stroking with just the tips of her fingers, and he groaned. She looked back up into his eyes. "Lan, I need..." "I know," he whispered. "I know." Her arms slid around his neck and he bent to kiss her. He slid his hands to her hips, lifting them. He deepened the kiss, and thrust.

Nynaeve screamed against Lan's mouth, her nails digging into the back of his shoulders. She lay trembling in his arms while he cradled her, murmuring against her hair. Then slowly he began to move again, gently. The pain was gone, and the pleasure...oh light. "Lan!" She gasped for breath, arching her back and raising her hips, forcing him to move faster, harder, deeper. She kissed his chest, his shoulder, running her hands over the muscles in his back, stroking, touching feeling, and then his mouth found hers again. "Lan!" Her hips bucked; she screamed as excruciating pleasure rolled over her...

He savored the feel of her body, her softness trembling around him. Then he felt her shudder, climax; it brought on his own and he pressed his face against her hair, telling her he loved her, how much he loved her...deep peace spread over him, and he relaxed, gathering Nynaeve against him, holding her tightly. She snuggled against him, hiding her face in his shoulder. She felt precious against him, so precious....she was...

Perfect.