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For all my friends and online lovers on Tapestries MUCK.

Reikian sat in the indoor garden in the lotus position, his furred eyelids fluttering on his closed eyes. The benevolent sun shone through the artfully-placed glass skylights and windows, heedless of his turmoil as it blessed the array of exotic plants and the tiger-demon equitably. The slanting afternoon rays brought out the tawny warmth of his facial fur and the broad contours of his cheeks; those same sunbeams traced the stripes drawn tight by his expressive facial muscles.

His youthful chest, slender but starting to fill out, heaved with his frustration as he fought to quiet his breathing. His back was straight as a pillar and taut with tension. Supporting his vertical spine with practiced balance, his legs mimicked the butterflies overhead, terminating in supple foot-paws curling up to touch his dangling hand-paws. Those hand-paws were perhaps the most unmistakable mark of his heritage, inverted so the palms faced forward as if they had been stitched backward by some careless mad scientist.

The rakshasa was some fifteen years old in this incarnation, but his atman with its millennia of experience watched quietly over him from deep inside. The guardian spirit remained quiescent as the princeling dealt with the latest struggle of his adolescence. Despite his efforts at meditation, the placid pool he sought to visualize kept dissolving into a turbulent maelstrom, then into images of what had driven him here.

Those enticing and disturbing recollections fell to pieces like a dropped jigsaw puzzle as he heard a branch snap. His triangular ears were sharp in more ways than one. As they swiveled toward the unexpected sound, he held his breath in controlled silence endowed in him by his predatory heritage and refined in the crucible of his discipline. And, yes--subtle, stalking footsteps faintly reached him beneath the ambiance of birdsong.

He had left the guard at the entrance with very explicit instructions to allow nobody to visit him. His father could countermand the orders, of course, but the King--for all their conflicts--at least respected this one sanctum. Though his human and demonic aspects called to him to charge forward and challenge the interloper boldly, his feline side impelled him to stealth.

Unfolding his legs with painstaking patience, he lowered himself onto all fours. He considered his cloak for a moment, confident it would let him move freely, but wondering if he should shed the garment for greater concealment. After pondering, he decided the royal purple mantle with its fringe of gold, umber, and lavender would blend well enough with the panoply of flowers--while preserving his dignity if the intrusion was warranted.

Lowering his lean belly until it nearly touched the ground, he stepped off the artfully-curving path of stepping stones to move through the garden proper. He moved with coiled, dangerous grace, placing each broad, velvet paw pad with unstinting focus as he stalked. Flowers and grasses yielded instantly, helpless beneath his touches. His eyes gleamed with a deep burgundy flecked with black, promising equally swift and uncontested defeat to any assassin who thought to catch the tiger-demon unawares.

The steps drew unerringly closer to the clearing he had chosen as a place of meditation. Instinctively, he slunk deeper into the shadows of the lush, verdant foliage and particolored flowers. Dappled by filtered light, his striped body and fringed cloak blended with the natural surroundings. The rakshasa's whiskers twitched, feeling the slightest brush of air filtering into the garden from an open window. Moving with decisive instinct, he circled the clearing to place himself downwind from the interloper.

Reikian strained his eyes for any hint of motion. And, yes! There, down the winding path, delicate white jasmine flowers were darkened momentarily as someone--or something--occluded the sunlight that had been brightening them. The rakshasa lowered himself almost to his belly, his tail swaying for balance and timing--but carefully not brushing any plants.

As the footsteps approached, Reikian considered what he could learn of the trespasser despite the trees blocking his view. The steps were muted, suggesting a barefoot approach, and bespoke the stealth and balance of a trained assassin. The even spacing between each step hinted at a bipedal walker. Yet, the shadow had not reached high or far on the jasmine, hinting at a slight-framed intruder--which helped explain the quietness of the steps as well. The lazy summer breeze offer no olfactory aid; only the perfumed smell of flowers wafted toward him.

Breathing shallowly to avoid revealing his hiding place, he coiled himself even tighter, ready to leap and prove he was no easy prey. And, there! The sun proved his ally once more, casting a long shadow from around the curve of the path. Brazen as the King himself, though far smaller, the interloper rounded the arc of the path. With a fierce yowl of bestial defiance, Reikian launched himself in a soaring pounce, the claws of his forepaws extended with deadly intent.

Time seemed to slow down and every detail came into sharp relief for Reikian. Distantly, he recalled the lessons of his tutors. This hyperawareness was no magic power of his people, but a natural surge of chakra that came to many creatures in times of need.

The figure looked up, becoming clearly visible to the rakshasa even as he flew toward her. "Reikian!" she exclaimed--and he recognized her in that moment as Hemavati, a rakshasi and his longtime playmate.

She leaned backward and raised her arms, at once trying to duck and to guard herself against the leap. The motion made her sari rustle around her, a sky blue that contrasted delicately with her golden fur and midnight stripes. Her palms faced outward, reversed like his; despite the threat, her claws remained sheathed. Surprise showed plainly on her mobile features--her eyes huge as a cub's and her muzzle parted even after she spoke.

Reikian's eyes widened in response, the rakshasa shocked by her presence here and suddenly terrified by the power behind his predatory leap. Unable to sheathe his claws in time, he turned his hands aside to miss the mark and lifted his arms to strike a glancing blow instead of a direct one. Hemavati recovered with the feline reflexes of their people and braced herself with a dancer's sense of balance, her right foot sliding behind her left foot and angling gently to the side. Gracefully, her arms parted to spread the impact over a wider area.

Even poised for the impact, the rakshasi fell backward into the scented grass, letting out a mewling cry that cut off as her friend knocked the wind out of her. His momentum carried Reikian with her, bearing her down inexorably. In a last effort to avert harm, he flung his arms and legs outward to find purchase in the moist soil, spearing it with his claws and landing in a crouch over her.

They remained in that frozen tableau then, breathing heavily to recover. Reikian thought about the image of Hemavati that the intensity of this meeting had just burned into his mind. He remembered how her first reaction had been to soften the blow, not to strike back, even as he seemed to threaten her. And, more disquietingly, he could not help but recall how her natural reaction had thrust her breasts forward, pressing them tight against the silken fabric of her wrap.

With that image at the forefront of his mind, the young male found it difficult to calm his breathing or the insistent pounding of his heart. Hemavati's budding breasts seemed a symbol of what had driven to the garden again today. Their blossoming heightened the differences between the tiger-demons in ways that made him toss and turn through restless nights and approach their encounters with a dizzying mix of enthusiasm and fear.

And yet--as they aged, the difference in their status drove them apart. Where his choice of playmates was tolerantly indulged as a cub, his father and tutors lectured him with increasing stridency on the duties of manhood for a future ruler. His innocent play with his shapely friend was frowned upon, for her family was already loyal to the throne and not so high in the nobility as to warrant a bond with the princeling.

The rakshasi stared up at him, sprawled upon the soft grass as he crouched over her. Sunbeams drew golden stripes across her obsidian ones, making a living chess board of her skin. Like his breathing, hers stayed rapid and shallow, making him worry she was upset by the experience. Her arms alleviated that concern, though, staying in place around him and expertly kneading the tension from his shoulders. He chuffed and starting to relax, sinking an inch closer to the morphic tigress.

"Hemavati," he rumbled quietly, belatedly answered her greeting and cloaking his forbidden desire behind a façade of formality. "Forgive me for striking at you, thinking you an unwelcome intruder. But, how did you pass the guard? If he was shirking his duty, the captain of the guard will hear of it; you could as easily have been an assassin!"

She continued peering up at him through orbs of sky blue, the color of peace and clarity--and a perfect match to her dress, he noticed. Hemavati paused, the corners of her muzzle twitching upward in a subtle, enticing smile. That smile broadened to a grin as she giggled gaily at the question, her eyes and voice alight with deviltry. Her warm reaction broke through the awkwardness of the moment like the sun parting the clouds after a storm, making the tension melt from him more surely than her caress upon his back.

"Why, Reikian! Knowing the meanings of names can be most useful, especially to one who would lead others," she answered him mysteriously.

Oddly, whereas his tutors' lectures left his bristling with folded ears and an angrily-lashing tail, her soft admonishment made him lean closer--intent on her every word. She smelled of grass and jasmine--not a surprise, considering their recent activity--and a perfume that blended too many other floral scents to pick apart. Beneath that were a clean, fresh scent that he recognized as uniquely hers and something more--something tantalizing and maddeningly elusive that made him squirm and swish his tail.

"This guard is named 'Madhukar,'" she continued, seemingly oblivious to his distraction. "That name means 'honeybee,' you see," she added with silvery laughter threaded through her voice, broken by a rough chuff as he leaned closer. "So, I put on my best smile, told him I knew what his name meant, and sent him to fetch me a pot of royal honey."

Reikian gaped at her, his damp breath washing hotly over her cheek. The rakshasa blinked, wondering when his muzzle had come to within inches of her face. "But why would he abandon his post to fetch for you, just because he is called 'honeybee?'" he asked. In dual violation of feline convention, his tone admitted frank curiosity even as his question admitted ignorance.

Hemavati wriggled beneath him with self-satisfaction, her legs brushing up against his as softly as a passing breeze. "You see," she drawled, drawing out her moment of triumph and teasing him with the secret. "Honey has many uses and my smiles can be convincing--and 'Madhukar' also means 'lover.'"

The prince swallowed hard, his Adam's apple rising and falling. His throat was suddenly dry as his longtime friend spoke that word in dulcet tones as sweet as the treat she had sent the guard to fetch.

"A clever gambit," he rumbled to buy time, an unfamiliar quiver in his voice. "But why come seeking me at all, knowing I had forbidden visitors?" Despite his efforts to be stern and regal, his inflection betrayed interest once again.

Beneath him, Hemavati giggled gaily. Her eyes shifted in hue to emerald orbs that sparkled with motes of immanent light. "When you said you didn't want anyone to disturb you, I assumed you meant anyone else. What kind of rakshasi would I be if I let rules get in my way?" She paused, then softened her tone and added "Besides, I saw how you left the court, Reikian."

With that, his eyes flashed with anger and he stared downward, not seeing his companion for the moment. "My father thinks it high time I started my harem," he growled, "and thinks me unmanly and weak for protesting. He may be the king, but he is a fool to think I protest out of bloodless lack of passion or a virgin's anxiety. When I defy him on principle, I mean exactly what I say!"

Hemavati grew still upon the ground and gaped up at him. Belatedly, he considered that such words could be construed as treason--even, or perhaps especially, coming from the heir to the throne. Before he could think to retract the words or abjure her to silence, though, she raised a hand-paw and stroked his cheek with her fingertips. "Share with me, then, without fear of doubt," she murmured soothingly.

It took little incitement for him to continue. Indeed, having started to unburden himself, he was not sure if he could have stopped. "A harem is gilded, but still a place of confinement. Who am I to enslave innocents--to pluck the foremost beauties and charmers of the land from bright futures and make their lives slip away while awaiting my call? And how could I ever call myself a man, knowing no female could ever come to my bed of her free will?!" His voice rose at the end, strident and cracking; his claws extended to rip heedlessly at the grass.

He thought Hemavati would offer sympathy, but she surprised him once more. "Poor you," she shot back, her oculi shading to orange as his words woke something in her. "At least you will have your pick of partners and the freedom to explore in the bedroom as you please. You may disdain the prerogatives of royalty, but this is one duty most males would embrace." Incongruously, despite the heat in her rumbling speech, her fingers lingered upon his cheek, tracing his stripes in a caress.

Reikian opened his muzzle to defend himself, but she lifted her free hand-paw to forestall him. "Myself, I will be married off for political gain--probably to some male I have never met. Though his eyes may rove without blame, I will be expected to keep myself pure for him. I may never know the touch of my own kind. If his people's blood is too unlike our own, I may even be consigned to a life of sterility!"

She stared boldly back at him, as if to say she could make elevated speeches too. His blood sang with admiration for her spirit and poise and his body agreed, making his cloak extend beneath him. The prince avoided looking down at his groin, but he suspected his condition was all too obvious given his proximity to Hemavati and her keen feline senses. Still, her touches soothed the angry beast within him and he was loth to move away.

"Hemavati," he mrowled firmly, "We spoke before of names. Your own means 'golden goddess Parvati.' Let that be an omen of hope to guide and sustain you. Perhaps you will catch some noble rakshasa's eye and make a good, fertile marriage for yourself. Besides, I hardly think any lover of yours would stray!"

His friend relaxed beneath him and smiled dazzlingly up at him. He noticed how the slanting afternoon sun made her sleek facial fur gleam, as if in benediction. With a little laugh, Hemavati brought her free hand to his other cheek, cupping his head between her palms. The caress was like a lover's--or a Madhukar's, he reflected ironically.

"Don't forget the meaning of your name, Reikian," she countered. "It means, 'one who practices Reiki.' If that's an omen as well, it means you will be full of energy and able to heal the spirit with your touch. There's a simple way to appease your father without compromising your principles--seek volunteers for your harem. There surely is no shortage of comely females who would compete for the honor of gracing your bed and the luxury and comforts of your harem!"

The prince's paws relaxed on the ground, releasing the torn tufts of grass and splaying out flat. Hemavati's hands on his cheeks compelled him with their gentleness and the sky in her eyes set his spirit to soaring. His pulse thumped, as rapid and insistent as the pounding of galloping hoofbeats. He could no longer deny the yearning desires they carefully cloaked in flowery words and soothing caresses. Leaning forward, he brought his muzzle closer to hers until his breath bedewed her lips.

Hemavati reacted in harmony to him. His longtime friend exhaled softly, her sweet breath misting his muzzle in turn. Her lips parted in a soft circle that coupled coy surprise with warm invitation. Taking the initiative, she lifted her head, pressing her furry mouth to his. Greedily, her fingers tightened on his cheeks, tugging him close to her.

The joining was briefly awkward as wet feline noses bumped against one another. Both of them paused in synchrony, the tigress letting out a nervous, breathy giggle. "I suppose I should let you turn your head, Reikian," she whispered, trailing suddenly-trembling paws back to his shoulders.

Having watched the harem exhibitions often enough, Reikian knew well what his childhood friend meant. He gave her--and himself--no more time for doubts and second-guessing. The young male canted his head at a slight angle to hers, taking a deep breath that carried her scent deep into his lungs, and dipped his head once more.

This time, his lips melded to hers, forming a tight, warm seal around her welcoming mouth. His nose pressed to her cheek warmly as he drank in the smell and feel and taste of the golden lady all at once. He feasted upon kisses, ravenous for his friend, spurred onward by the avidity with which she responded. The heat of the joining seemed to spread through him like the ki energy of his name, setting his whole body afire with life. He was deeply aware of the throbbing of his lingam, but far removed from the shame of the court.

She arched against him, pressing silks to silks and fur to fur, her tail swishing seductively back and forth through the grass. Her lips welcomed him with yielding passion, caught and held within the circle of his mouth. With a stifled mrowl, her mouth parted slightly, pushing his own lips apart. His beloved rakshasi moaned ardently and mingled breath to breath before breaking the kiss with a playful nip.

He drew his head back to stare down at her, afire with an intoxicating mix of wanton hunger and reverence. Her eyes were lambent, silver pools of moonlight kindled to life by his touch. He gasped for air after the flurry of kisses and was spurred onward by the aroma that wafted from her with increasing strength. Instinctively, he thrust his hips downward toward the dreamt-of valley of her yoni. Silk strained against silk--his cloak bulging outward while her legs parted in invitation.

The joining he sought was doubly forbidden by his family's strictures and hers, but that distant caution was subsumed in the urgent intimacy of the moment. If anything, the taboos that would stand between the young friends only heightened the excitement. The thrill of defiance sang in his mind and fired his blood as surely as Hemavati's sweet scent and firm young body.

"Reikian," she rumbled in a slurred, thick voice--though her eyes were wide with alertness and sparkled with life. "We were discussing names." His eye-fur crinkled in confusion and he hesitated in his movements, wondering why she had returned to conversation.

"Remember my own," she continued with a sly little smile that drew the stripes inward on her face, framing her lovely features. "If you've been studying, tell me how my namesake's usually drawn, when away from Shiva." Her paw slid to her shoulder, catching the loose end of her sari and starting to unfold it.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He struggled to recall religious lessons and find coherent speech of his own instead of simply ogling his undressing friend. "W-well," he panted at length, "she's usually shown astride a great cat. But what does that have to do...."

The prince cut off with a startled 'oh' as Hemavati surged up against him, pushing on his chest firmly with both paws and growling fiercely. He fell back beneath her, as helpless to resist her as a cub. She rose over him, flowing effortlessly from four feet to two and back to four, ending with her paws surrounding him in a reversal of their previous pose.

As she moved, her unbound sari fluttered to the ground beside them like a landing bird of paradise, the fluttering movement compelling an instinctive gaze from the male predator. When he looked back to his golden tigress, he saw she had worn nothing beneath the wrap and stood naked over him. Another sort of instinct drew his eyes to her sex, which glistened in primal testimony to her need--need that made his heavy sac swell and his shaft grow even tighter beneath his cloak.

Her textured tongue slid from her muzzle, tracing its contours in a slow and sensuous dance. That muscle spiraled sinuously inward, drinking in lingering droplets of his saliva. Hemavati's lower lips, too, were active--squeezing and relaxing rhythmically against themselves and trickling moisture in counterpoint to her mouth. Enraptured, he stared with huge eyes at the show, panting out in needy chuffs and then sucking in hasty breaths--ever more tinged with the twining yin-yang of his arousal and hers.

Her pants and chuffs answered his own, meeting him in two-part harmony more ancient than any composition. His tigress broke off with a plaintive mew, her paws coming down to fumble at the fastening of his cloak, robbed of dexterity by her animal urgency. As ardent as her, he placed his hands over hers, tugging until the silver clasp gave way with a discordant, tinny twang.

In a moment, he was out of his garment, slipping his arms free and shedding it like a snake sloughing off its old skin. No longer was his taut young body concealed from Hemavati's bright, eager gaze. Her right paw followed her roving stare, exploring down his developing chest until her velvety fingers found and cupped his black-furred orbs. Wild with craving, he seized her left paw and brought it to his muzzle, nipping and licking and suckling at the striped digits.

She mrowled fiercely, making him shiver with anticipation, and crouched over him. Her moist folds kissed the flared tip of his penis, adding her dew to his and easing his passage. With a fierce, proud cry, he surged upward, driving the barbed, conical length beneath that mushroom-shaped head up into her cleft.

She was shockingly wet and tight, her heated valley and her whole frame tensing at that entry. He slowed when he met resistance, fighting a losing battle with his body, but she had no such caution for her fragile maidenhead. In a moment, the membrane bowed inward. Stretched beyond its breaking point, her hymen sundered, admitting him fully inside her sex.

Hemavati sank down fully, making him cry with wild exultation--not only at the compelling sensations coursing through him, but at the sight of her hips pressed so closely to him that his swollen sac kissed her rump. Reikian looked up and saw her eyes shimmering with unshed tears that diffracted their native light kaleidoscopically, painting her cheeks with rainbows. Curling his muzzle upward, he kissed away her salty tears, savoring their taste as he savored all of her.

He hugged her fiercely, hungry to thrust and spend within her, yet reluctant to cause her further discomfort. Her muzzle curled in a sweet smile, welcoming the pain of her passage to womanhood, though her strained breathing belied her bravery. And then, her yoni squeezed and relaxed rhythmically, kneading away the last of his resistance as readily as his shaft had swept away the physical barrier within her.

No longer afraid or uncertain, the prince reached up to cup her breasts, pushing his golden tigress upward as he drew back against the welcoming soil. It was pure bliss to feel her walls clinging to his barbs, reluctant to relinquish his hardness for even a moment. Once he raised her so that just his tip remained inside, he released her, driving back up into her cleft as she fell upon him with an undignified squeal. Her female scent tickled his nose, compelling his member to twitch within her and further slicken their joining.

She reciprocated his actions. Spreading her fingers against his chest with a playful hint of claws, his rakshasi pinned him and lifted herself. An instant later, she thrust her liquescent vulva upon his lingam with a wanton moan, milking at his erect maleness greedily. Her sweat and juices coated his flared shaft, embracing him as surely as her folds.

They explored each other with breathless urgency, twining and bouncing as they sought to attune their motions to a mutual pace. That tantric synchrony eluded them, as tantalizing as a vision of nirvana, but what they found that afternoon was still wonderful.

Their movements grew more frantic until an explosive feeling flooded through him, subsuming his conscious thought beneath a deluge of pure sensation. Instinctively, he curled his head around her neck and parted his jaws, taking her scruff loosely between his teeth despite the awkwardness of the angle. With a shudder, he spasmed again and again within her, his fuzzy orbs surging as they churned out copious amounts of his fertile seed. The orgasm was a culmination, a timeless moment of transcendent joy as he completed his journey to manhood.

Reikian's cries and chuffs were muffled by his hold upon Hemavati's scruff, but his lover had no such restriction. She mewed and moaned and shrieked with lusty, animal approval, welcoming his spend into her womb in no uncertain terms. Her sodden walls clenched him even more strongly each time he slipped downward, striving toward a peak to match his own.

Overwhelmed with the joy and significance of his climax--and not yet knowledgeable in the ways of pleasing females--Reikian subsided beneath her, languidly letting her ride his shrinking lingam with a distant smile on his face. Glancing away, he laughed gaily as he saw the sun had hardly moved--the whole coupling having taken far less time then it seemed.

Each distracted in their own ways, they were shamefully off guard as a third figure drew near. If Reikian's fears of assassins had been warranted, he and his beloved friend would have been in dire danger. It was only when the interloper let out a startled cry that the prince belatedly looked up and saw Madhukar--who threw his own paws up in evident shock and dropped what had been carefully carrying.

The bottle of honey rotated once in midair before shattering upon the dirt with a dull thud. As the forbidden lovers scrambled too late for their clothing, the broken bottle glistened ominously in the fading sunlight, royal sweetness pierced by shards of broken glass like a premonition.

To be continued....