Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm just playing around in Canavan's world for a bit.

Authors Note: This is a experiment. Excuse the lame-ass title and summary. I've never written anything like this before and I'd really, really like some feedback on it. The reason for this is because I feel like crying every time I look at Devotion. I so want to rewrite it(AGAIN!) but I don't want to do that to those who have been following it/enjoying it. I'm just not happy with it and I'm thinking of taking it down and redoing it, only publishing it when I'm happy and certain of it. But I suppose that all depends on how this little ONESHOT goes.

I hope you like it. I hope I did alright with it. *sighs* I tried not to over complicate it as I tend to do.


Summary: Sonea wants him to live and Akkarin lets her destroy him. Simple. A take on the 'Waterfall' scene in THL. (T)

Akkarin's hands were surprising soft for those of a man who had spent the past few weeks crawling through a desert wasteland.

But Sonea wasn't complaining. Their roughness added a certain pleasurable edge to his caress as it snaked it's way up her thigh, leaving a trail of goose-bumps in it's wake. His other was preoccupied with her neck and hair, curling it's way through her wet tangles and teasingly tracing the sensitive skin of her scalp. He was destroying her. With each touch and tug she felt a part of herself fall away into chaos, into the maddening heat of his hands and body hovering above her own.

The world had slipped away until only he remained. She could still hear the thunderous fall of water encaging them and she could feel the chilled, damp rock she was being pressed into and yet…none of it mattered, it could not with her mind in such a state; it was surrounded in fog, a hot and hazy mist she did not wish to escape. The world beyond and all it's troubles were nothing.

Hot, wet and clammy. Steam…steam…she was burning up. He was stealing her very breath.

Panting softly she responded to his touches, twisting and curling as his fingers explored her exposed flesh, her rough clothing had been long disguarded and forgotten on the stone next to them. Her mind, however, was not yet too far veered for her to notice that he remained fully clothed. But he was doing a pretty fine job at distracting her.

His lips were pressed against her own, demanding and persistent in their actions, heavy and yet oh-so light in their touches. She responded zealously, copying his own movements; telling him without words that this is what she wanted, for him to not stop, to keeping going, keep doing whatever maddening thing it was that he was doing. His tongue, warm and sleek, dipped out to trace her bottom lip, adding pressure as it ran it's course and she sighed in contentment as she gave him permission to enter. Hesitantly his tongue found her own and strangely Sonea realised that she had never been kissed as such before. Never as deeply so as it took her breath away, never as tentatively so she almost whimpered seeking more, never as passionately so as she felt her heart pound frantically against her ribcage.

Panting, gasping and sighing into his caresses, she burnt and flared from within. Above her she could feel Akkarin's own heat and hardness and could hear his breath hitch when she moved her hips to meet his own. The water had washed away whatever dirt and grime that had stuck to him before and left behind a scent that was purely and heavily male and Akkarin that she found all her senses overcome by him.

This man was destroying her.

However Sonea was never one to go down without a fight and with this thought in mind it added a newfound zeal to her confidence. Sonea smirked against his lips and he noticed. However Akkarin only had time to open his eyes before she had pounced on him. Her hands, slim and warm, were on his chest, pulling and tugging restlessly at the thick and heavy material there. Pleasantly surprised, he gave her an endeared smirk before grabbing her hands and holding them tight against his chest.

"Eager, are we?" he intoned, his voice slightly more husky than usual, giving away just how unsettled he truly was. His uneven breathing didn't help either.

Ignoring him, Sonea persisted and wiggled her hands free from his grasp. In one quick, sharp movement, he was shirtless and she triumphant. It joint her own soaked clothing in the gathering pile. His smirk fell, hers rose.

Encircling his board shoulders with her arms, taking care to whisper her fingertips sensually against the skin there, she wrapped her legs loosely around his waist and pulled them together once more, inhaling pleasantly at the newfound sensation of his bare torso touching her own.

Foreheads touching, she met his dark gaze and brushed her lips against his in a light kiss and in the same breath whispered,

"Shut up."

He chuckled deeply before capturing her lips, his chest brushing her breasts, causing pleasant shivers to crawl down her spine to her groin. His hands found their place once more at the base of her neck and there they danced, soft, hard, soft, massaging her tight muscles and drawing weak moans from her throat.

Gods, why were his hands so…good at this…

Focusing she drew her own across his back, digging her fingers into his board shoulders and back, enjoying the way he hissed against her lips as her nails found his skin. Beneath her thighs, his legs were warm and restless. His hands left her neck and resumed a course down, circling and outlining all that they touched, mapping an unwritten atlas and dragging the breath from her lungs.

She let him. How could she not. Her own hands traced the contours and hardness of his chest as he caressed her breasts. Through the fog and pleasure she felt the roughness of his chest hair and amongst it, the velvet softness of scars, crisscrossing his flesh, some deep and old, some new and fleeting. They should not have been there.

This man had been destroyed.

She wanted to see him live. Wanted him to know and understand that he was alive and here with her; burning with life and breath and lo…


Grabbing the back of his neck she deepened their kiss and lowered them to the damp stone floor, his heavy heat atop her own, the gritty rock beneath her back, marking her flesh as the scars marked his chest.

Sonea wrapped her thighs around his waist, pulling him tight to her. He panted as his hardness was rubbed against the rough texture of his trousers when their hips met. He removed his lips from hers and opened his eyes to find her staring curiously at him, her swollen lips parted and cheeked flushed.

"Akkarin," she whispered and those lips rose slightly, just enough to brush his own gently, "Please."

Who was he to deny this woman anything. Whatever resolve and doubts he had built up over the months that he had longed for her merely melted away with those two words and that dark, wanting gaze.

This woman had once held the power to destroy him, had once almost destroyed him and yet in a ironic twist of fate, here she was, recreating him, giving him life and making him burn in ways in had forgotten he could.

Without a word he reclaimed her lips, silencing her but for her moans and whimpers. His lips found her neck, her hands found his trousers and he captured the sensitive skin of her ear with his tongue as she pulled them loose. Both bare and free, skin on skin, heat on heat; it was bliss. His world became a landscape of her curves and moist skin, the relentless movement of her hips as they met his own, her scent penetrated his nose and her whispers across his skin sent shockwaves straight to his groin. She was so responsive to his touches, arching and sighing with each flick of his tongue, each nip and tug of his fingers. Her uneven breathing in his ear sent his heartbeat racing, his groin throbbing.

This woman was destroying him.

How wonderful.

He let her.

With a shifting and thrust of their hips, they met as one and Sonea gasped as she gripped his neck, her muscles tightening around him as he withdrew slowly only to thrust back once more.

There was no world beyond. Only their shared breath as they moved as one. Shared heat, shared warmth. Steam. They burnt up, gave the other all that they had. It was surreal to be doing this with him, he was Akkarin, High Lord, and he was within her, pushing her closer to that edge and near them, the waterfall thundered on, drowning out the world beyond. She was drowning…couldn't breathe, she'd given it all to him….she didn't need it…he could keep it…he could…he…Akk-

With a whimper she clutched to his shoulders as her muscles tightened around him, pulling him in deeper, her world shook and she found the breath forced from her lungs as waves of pleasure crashed down upon her, drowning out her thoughts and still he thrust on, drawing out her bliss as he reached his own. Gasping, he caught himself on raw elbows and kept his full weight off her yet he could not control his hips as they bucked in his release. Groaning in delight, he could feel Sonea's soft breath against his cheek, cooling the perspiration there. Enjoying the last, weak waves washing through him, he smiled and opened his eyes. Sonea lay still beneath him, her eyes closed and breathing deep. He would have been worried if not for the content, dreamlike curl to her lips.

Slowly the world grew back into focus. She could hear the waterfall outside and could feel the cool damp stone beneath her; her back was raw and scratched. She could feel a thin trail of sweat along her breasts and above her, Akkarin radiated heat and energy.

"Sonea," he whispered softly, his lips lowered to brush her flustered cheek.

Her eyes snapped open and he was greeted with shinning dark orbs. Her smile grew. He returned it and balancing his weight, he lowered onto his side and withdrew from her. Noticing at once the absence of his heat, she drew closer and wrapped her arms around his form. He returned her embrace and tucked his arms around her, surrounding her as she did him. Slowly, their breathing grew even and lassitude settled in. Sleepy and satisfied, her thoughts began to return and Sonea found herself smirking against his chest. She nudged him with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Hmm?" A grunt more than anything. Half asleep already, how impolite.

"Tell me," she murmured, her voice rough and low yet it did nothing to hide her mirth, "Am I worth the trouble?"

Cheeky woman.

She was going to destroy him.

Chuckling, he could only sigh in content, deciding the cold stone floor a best place as any for a short sleep,

"Perhaps," he answered with devious disinterest, "Such a delicate matter needs further investigation."

His chest hair was pinched in reply and he rose only to reach over to pull their damp clothing over their entwined forms.

"Sleep, Sonea. The world can do without us but for a few more moments."

His hand once again found it's place entangled in his dark locks, holding her to him and her own rested upon his chest.

Encaged in his arms, Sonea took a moment to consider his words and decided that he was wrong. Secure and hidden behind a waterfall, in an oasis of a wasteland, nothing else mattered but the steady heartbeat beneath her fingertips.

As his breathing deepened into a rhythm of sleep, she smiled sleepy and pressed her lips against a scar running along his chest.

"No," she whispered softly, giving herself over to sleep, "You are far too important to us."'d I do? Well...well?