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Xander is so patient with her. He always has been, all the way back to when Corrin was a little girl out of her depth and unsure of her place in Nohr, and he was one of the most steadfast presences she could depend on. And now that they're older, and the world has turned upside down for everyone Corrin cares about—now that she's confessed how deep her feelings run, and had them reciprocated, in the midst of a war for both Hoshido and Nohr's future—Xander is the most devoted, supportive knight she could hope for.
Which is why she doesn't dare let herself go. When Xander starts sharing her quarters in the Astral Castle, the first few nights Corrin pulls away as soon as their embraces begin to grow heated. He doesn't press her, because he's trustworthy and wonderful.
But one night when she pulls back, her heart pounding and her breath short, her whole body alight with wanting more so that she doesn't dare continue—Xander takes her hand before she can put distance between them. "Corrin, please. What's the matter?"
"I—" She's almost afraid to say anything. Possibly she wouldn't be able to if it were anyone else, but if ever she's trusted anyone, then Xander is that man. "I'm afraid. I'm a... You've seen me change."
"Of course." He's taken to the field with her in almost every battle since this conflict began.
"Sometimes... it feels like I'm not in control of it." She looks at their joined hands, how much bigger and broader his is, how well suited to the hilt of a greatsword—and yet so capable of gentleness. "Sometimes I'm overwhelmed by emotions in the middle of a battle and it just happens."
Xander pulls her close enough to kiss her forehead. "And you're afraid of it happening here, should your... emotions run too hot."
Corrin kisses the hollow at the base of his throat. "Yes."
He nods, making a hmm noise that she knows means he's considering strategy. After a moment he pulls back and looks her in the eyes. "Then you should turn now. Intentionally."
"Are you serious?" she asks, even though she knows the answer.
"I love all of you," he says, disarmingly honest. "I trust all of you. And I want to help you learn to trust yourself."
Corrin's cheeks go hot. "Thank you, Xander." She lets go of his hand and sits back on her heels, taking him in: lips and cheeks flushed, long limbs bare and relaxed, as unguarded as she's ever seen him despite the suggestion he just made. "All right. We can try."
She steps back off the bed, so her claws won't shred the blankets as she transforms. Then she reaches inside herself for the well of dragon power waiting there, and she pulls.
Her body shifts and strains, muscles pulling at bones that twist and lengthen, her skin prickling with the strangeness of growing scales. Hinoka asked her once if it hurt, because it looked so unsettling, but the truth is it's not bad at all—like a really good stretch, but at the end of the stretch she settles into a new shape.
She looks over at Xander with dragon eyes; it's harder in this form to see the fine details of expressions, but she can still read his posture just fine, and he has no fear. He gets up from the bed to stand in front of her, hand outstretched as though asking permission to touch. She stretches out her neck to get closer and licks his fingers.
Oh. She knows the scent of his skin, the taste of it, but through her dragon senses it's so much more vivid and so much more powerful. As a dragon she breathes him in and her body sings, Mine.
"You're beautiful," Xander murmurs. "My little Corrin, a shining legend." He strokes the line of her jaw and the arch of her neck; she can't speak through this throat but she can lean into his touch, rumbling her pleasure. She licks more of him, tasting the places she's dared to touch with her hands before—his throat, his collarbones, the tight bud of a nipple, and his shiver in response makes his scent thicker on the air. Corrin can feel her body responding to it, her instincts thrumming beneath her skin—urging her not to destroy an enemy but to claim her mate.
Her head snakes lower so she can catch the waistband of his briefs in her teeth and tug. His breath stutters. She does it again.
"You don't mean—"
She nods.
His hands are shaking when he strips out of the last of his clothes, and his cock is thick between his legs, the hair there more like gold than platinum. Corrin leans back down to taste him; it seems most natural in this shape to explore things with her mouth. She breathes in his musk, curls her tongue around his shaft and feels it pulse in response. His hands scrabble for purchase against her shoulders, his breath sharp and fast. Something twinges between her legs—between her hind legs—as he swells against her mouth, and she wonders: can they? Like this?
She releases his cock and gives him a gentle nudge toward the bed. Xander stares at her, and she thinks his expression is a pleased kind of surprise. "You would have me as a dragon?"
Corrin nods again, slowly. She takes a small step back, hoping he'll know what she means: that it isn't a demand, that she only wants him willing.
He cups her head in his hands, bringing it to his own, and kisses her fang-filled maw. "You're amazing," he tells her. "And I'm honored."
He stretches out on their bed, on his back, and Corrin climbs up to settle above him, looking down, watching him take in her strength, her presence. His hands slide underneath her, touching the wide smooth scales of her belly where she's vulnerable. She hisses softly, urging him on, and when his fingertips find an opening between her legs she pushes toward him and his fingers slide in. They feel warm and strange, thrilling, and she curls her claws gently around his shoulders to hold on.
"Do you want—" again that nervous pause, almost as though he doesn't dare—"Would you like to ride me?"
A low trill rises in Corrin's throat and she rocks on Xander's hand, needy. She wants more; she wants him. He belongs there.
He slips his fingers free and a moment later she feels the head of his cock pushing against that tender opening. At first it doesn't work, not the right shape to coax her open, but he uses his fingers to part one broad scale from the next and hold her spread, and she shivers hard and digs her claws in just a little and he moans. When she doesn't stop him, wouldn't dream of stopping him, he presses his cock to that held-open flesh and it sinks in, blunt and hot. It's nothing like what her body expects but he's hers and that's perfect.
She sinks down on her haunches, taking him deeper, filling herself as much as she can. His hands stroke her flanks, urge her on, and he thrusts up to meet her. The dragon's instincts rise in her blood, feelings of desire and pleasure and triumph, and she's hissing and trilling as the heat of his cock touches her so deeply there's nothing to compare.
They complement each other just as well as they always have, once they have the courage to move. Pleasure winds tight through her, building like a coming storm. Xander is speaking, gasping praise between strokes, and Corrin can barely follow the words: her own pleasure is so all-consuming, so demanding—climax overpowers her, takes her breath away as she writhes on his cock. Distantly she's aware of him crying out, his back arching as he drives up into her, but she's still trembling through her own climax and can't really watch.
Afterward, when they've both gone still, she realizes there's a new scent on the air: blood. Her claws have left furrows in his shoulders. She pulls them hurriedly away, dropping out of the dragon's shape as quickly as she can.
"Xander, I'm so sorry," she says.
He blinks at her. "Sorry?" he says, as though he's confused. Then he looks over at one of his shoulders and the row of red scratches there. "What, this? I've had far worse with far less reward. Please don't fret." He slides his hands up her thighs, her hips, around to her back. "I promise, it's all right."
He seems to be telling the truth. The scratches aren't that deep when she looks at them. Corrin lets him coax her down to lie on top of him, and the movement makes her aware that he's still inside her, not yet softening, and he fills her so differently in her own form. "Have I ruined you for human women, do you think?"
"Hmm." He strokes her hair. "You might have ruined me for anyone but you, but I think that happened long ago."
She smiles against his chest. "Such a romantic," she says. She squirms, enjoying how his breath catches. "So if I want to do it as myself next time, and see how it's different?"
"As ever," Xander says, "I'm at your service."