ruinations | adsom: reunions

adsom: reunions

Too much. It was too much.

Neria had slipped into the dark with incredible ease, buried herself in it so she could escape from her trial and from everything else. She jumped through the layers of the world - the dark, the fissures of other realms, a deeper dark she had no name for - and as she went, the world seemed to simply shimmer away. Neria fell through the layers of the realms and Cassian screamed for her. Rather than fight, she simply allowed herself to fall away from the world.

And as she came back out, she stepped from the shadows of an alley, breathless, leaning against the stone. Her eyes adjusted to the gloom as if she'd gone from dusk to twilight and she waited there a moment, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes until she saw dancing spots. Her chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

Cassian whispered to her, cajoling, and she finally came back to herself.

And she was not in Emorr.

The street was unfamiliar. As she stretched her senses through the shadows, she realized that...nothing was familiar here. She'd come out elsewhere in her fit and Neria moved from the alley to quickly begin exploring, keeping to the shadows cautiously.

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Months ago, he had kissed her hand as they shared a private moment at the fire, and she had not known rightfully what to do. She would not have denied the attraction or the connection she felt but there was Archer, still, and her heart was with him.

Only now, his heart also belonged to someone else.

She felt selfish for craving someone to simply want her, to accept her. For her to be enough for someone. And while she knew it wasn't true of Kell either, she knew him as she knew no other, and in the tangled layers of their mess, she knew he accepted her for what she was and what was becoming. And for now, that was all she wanted.

Kell's fingers tangled in her hair and tugged her close, til there was nearly no space between them any longer. She could feel the warmth radiating from him and she could not - would not - pull away. The hand at his cheek remained, but her other hand reached up to thread into the back of his hair, keeping him there with her. Neria kissed him soundly, taking what he offered, as she might never have this moment again.

It was tempting to let it all go. To lose himself, to lose both of them in that kiss, to forget the world and what was coming. Time was a luxury, finite, and they had so little.

The objective part of his mind told him to pull back, to pull away, that this wasn't going to be worth the pain of it later -- but really, who could tell? Did regrets weigh more, hurt more than things lived? Kell thought of the things he and Rhy had avoided saying, doing, and honestly could not have answered his own question.

And then Neria's hand worked into his hair, and she pulled him close, and the question was off the table.

He pressed against her, fingers tight on her clothes before he released, gripped her hips, and pulled them flushed together.

It was a tangled rush, but he paused there, lips still on hers, his teeth grazing her bottom lip, holding for her response.

Neria felt him shift beneath her hand, suddenly closer. His grip tightened, released, and then she felt his hands on her hips. He tugged her in tighter, pressed in until their hips met. It coaxed a gasp from her lungs, her lips hovering against his, her eyes wide. Her thoughts caught up with her body, realized the sharpness and uncertainty that slammed into her like a blow to the head.

Her fingers stilled. Her heart thundered painfully in her chest for just those spare seconds.

It hadn't been so long since the dungeons. And it had taken effort to feel...anything about her body. To feel she was a person once more and not some kind of animal. Archer had helped, but even he had shied away, treated her like something fragile. Something that could break.

She was tired of feeling afraid. She looked into Kell's eyes and found she wasn't terrified at all, even knowing the consequences.

Neria took a breath. Breathed him in, the smell of lilies, and the smell of Kell - magic and rain and fresh air - and she closed her eyes again. Kissed him, harder this time, and pressed into him. Her hand fell from his face to slip beneath his coat so she could touch his shirt, grip it tightly, feel the warmth of his skin beneath. She made a sound against his lips, lost in his mouth.

It had been a risk; it was so soon after she'd been hurt, and there would be a chance she wasn't ready. That it would rake painfully over scars still healing and catch on the shards left behind.

But they were not what had happened to them and Neria was not something broken. He kept his hands on her hips, short of breath and waiting for her answer to that unspoken question. As she slid closer, worked her hands beneath his coat and found the soft, thin cloth covering his skin, he groaned softly into her mouth. Relief and want, tangled with something far closer to home. Far more vulnerable.

Kell's fingers slid to the backs of Neria's thighs, and then he was lifting her up, encouraging her legs to wrap around his waist so he could hold her close, lift her into the air, and move.

It might have been soon to move them to the bed, but it was the only place he wanted to go. He spilled her down against the midnight cloth and followed, his coat gaping open in the front. His tokens spilled out of his shirt on their chain- her small blue glass bead still among them.

It felt like the right decision. And more than that, more than the trepidation, she wanted him. Had wanted and loved Kell for so long that this felt...like a natural conclusion, even if it might have been a poor decision in the long-term. They only had this moment; when the next moment came, they only had that time too. She wanted to use this time to enjoy him and to let herself feel more than she would allow. Here, she was safe. In his arms, she knew she would be cared for.

The sound he made shot through her, jangled her nerves. She touched him for just a fleeting second until he suddenly lifted her, coaxed her to hold on, and then she was gripping him about the shoulders again. It gave her every excuse to thread her fingers in his hair once more, to feel its silkiness against her skin, until he took them to the bed and rested her there, climbing up. Neria reached for him, kissed him until she was nearly breathless again, her fingers reluctantly sliding down to find the catches of his coat--

And it was here that she felt something cool, metallic. She opened her eyes, nuzzling him, trying to look at what was between them. Paused at the familiar sight of a blue, glass bead.

The world tipped on its axis again as she reached up to touch it, her thumb running over its smooth sides. She looked, too, for the pendant she had given him, but her eyes were already searching his face. "Kell," she whispered, but had no words for the errant emotion she felt. She had spent so long wondering if, when he left, if he hated her, if he hated her decisions...that he felt so much guilt that he might have thrown away the things she had let him keep, as he tried to give them back before they went their separate ways. And Neria remembered, even before that day in the mountains, that their parting words to each other had not been kind. She had killed herself with his information, had told others how to do the same - and the doubts had piled in her heart for so long, cultivated there by the poisonous words Kaevir had given her.

But he kept them. He kept these pieces of Neria that were buried, of a woman who died on the mountainside, whose corpse was shackled and brutalized for weeks. And that woman was someone he still cared for.

Neria leaned up and kissed him again, that he might not see the glassiness in her eyes, but he would feel the furious pounding of her pulse, and she worked harder now to pull his coat from his shoulders, that she might seek warm skin beneath.

As Neria lifted her hands to touch the bead, her fingertips skimmed over another chain, still tucked inside his shirt. It shifted, the faint magic and droplets of old blood reacting to her presence.

He still wore the pendant. After all, she told him that he might return it. Someday, but not yet.

Not yet.

As Neria whispered his name Kell closed the distance between them, putting them forehead to forehead and warm with racing hearts, the sharp edges of shared memories. He lifted one hand from the bedclothes to cup the side of her neck, fingertips settling into her hair.

"Neria," he whispered back, like an answer to an unspoken question. He rubbed his thumb over her pulse, then parted his lips to let her in. Arched his shoulders to get the coat off, to loosen his tunic and let her slide her hands under it. As she touched skin he shivered, then pressed into it like a man starving.

His lips found the edge of hers, and then her throat. A sharp breath inward, followed by a hint of teeth. Not quite enough to leave marks, but enough to communicate just how clearly he wanted to.

Kell's kisses kept moving downward.

There it was. Her fingers brushed over the carved surface of it, feeling the symbol engraved in the silver. She felt it respond to her, like calling to like, the thrum of dark blood in her veins still. She sighed quietly, some strange feeling of homecoming singing in her veins. But she knew this, she realized. Knew she would feel this way with him.

Her eyes met Kell's, forehead to forehead, his fingers in her hair. She leaned into his touch, hungry for his affection. A shiver worked through her, the way he said her name - as if he said 'of course, of course I kept it' - and tipped her head back to meet his mouth once more, again and again. His lips fell from hers as he trailed down her throat, the promise of teeth skirting down her skin. She made a low sound, her fingers sliding over warm skin. "Please," she whispered, half-formed thoughts pressed to his own, wanting him to bite, wanting him to mark. Something terribly delighted settled in her chest that someone might see what he'd done and know--

So long as she was here, she was his and no one else's.

Her fingers worked over his body. Fire magic only whispered across his flesh, for he was warm without anything else she might offer, and she tugged at his tunic until she could coax it from him. And as his mouth traveled down, as he looked to expose her skin, she half-heartedly worked to help - to undo the beautiful blue outer coat she'd been given and the soft tunic beneath, exposing mostly unmarked skin. The scars that once lingered on both sides - from the werewolf Kell had saved her from and Immund's mechanical beast - were practically gone, save for very faint lines in her flesh that could have been from anything. All that remained, as he slowly unwrapped her from her clothes, were the scars on her back...and the brand on her shoulder, a furious outline of red around healed skin, and hints of silver in the mark, the same moonlit color Neria's eyes had been for but a moment the night prior.

It did not seem to trouble her in the moment. Or she was, perhaps, too distracted to care. As Kell paid homage to her throat, she worshiped the line of his body, the tone of his muscles, his soft skin. Her fingers glided down his spine with but a hint of nails, an offer, if he wanted friction.

Kell lost his breath against Neria's skin, her pulse, the soft whisper of her voice as he moved underneath him, pressing up into him. With a soft moan he found the warm skin next to her collarbone as her clothes came away from her body, chased by the touch of his hands.

He bit down, a hiss of breath between his teeth. Not sharp, but deep and bruising, claiming, holding on as if he expected her to twist and move beneath him, and he wanted to anchor her down.

Kell's coat and then his tunic came away easily, when he shrugged them off his skin was all but devoid of scars -- at least in the places people naturally looked for them. He pressed into her touch like someone starving, all the more at the hint of nails, encouraging her to rake him open. He tasted of desperation, like some part of him chased the pain.

"Go on," he whispered, his already low voice deeper, catching. He drew his fingers down the front of her tunic, parting it with a twitch of magic, just ahead of his touch. She'd drawn fire magic into her hands, licked it over his nerves.

Now, he did the same, as if to prove that he could.

"You're not going to break me."

It stung, the pain blossoming through her throat and chest, and she writhed beneath Kell's weight. Her breath caught and her heart stammered, her fingers closing down tightly over Kell. Yes, yes-- It slipped out before she could stop it, and when he released his grip over her skin, she pressed her face against his hair, against the side of his head, and nuzzled him.

Kell pressed against her hands and moved towards her, urging for more. And she gave it to him, that stoked flame at her fingers, nails dragging over his shoulders.

Neria caught his gaze and held it as his fingers roamed down her body, parting her tunic with terrible ease. Touched her with his magic in a way no one had before, and she practically sank back into his cushions, her body pressing up into his hand with a faint sound that was between groan and whine.

And to that little quip, that Neria could not break Kell--

Her fingers latched into his shoulders. Dragged nails down his back, enough to raise angry red lines. She leaned up to kiss him silent for a moment, just a moment - after all, she wanted to hear him again, wanted to remember the way he moaned like that - before she whispered against his mouth, "You won't break me either."

And even if you did, she secreted, I wouldn't be afraid.

Kell had never thought of Neria as stoic, but he'd never seen her fray at the edges quite like this. He'd never thought of her as repressed, but she'd never been so aggressive about what she wanted.

It sang through him, her eagerness and hunger, a feeling and intimacy that loved but wasn't soft, and found that it was exactly what he needed. Something in Kell rose fiercely to match it, stunned and bristling in his eyes as he caught his breath.

She tore at him with her nails, edged into burning, and Kell bared his teeth in a gasp caught between adrenaline and pleasure. It felt like scratching an itch. Deep. Soul-deep. Like she'd reached down and raked her fingers across something tingling and agitated and begging to be touched. A startled low sound spilled out, and he eagerly drowned it in her mouth.

Forgot himself, pressed down and against her body, pushing and arching and grinding between Neria's thighs, chest to chest and skin on skin, hair falling past his face.

She was softer, hotter than he would have thought possible, the friction between them unbearable, clothing quickly restrictive, then damp.

Kell was hot, wanting. Alive. Many people criticized Neria for feeling too much but Kell, in this moment, felt so much the same - intense in his hunger, in his raw emotion, even if he only showed it physically. And perhaps she'd always known that, for she'd glimpsed into Kell's thoughts and into his heart and felt the times his emotions bubbled over and when he fought to rein them in. When his actions had to be muted and when they could run free. They were alike in that sense, at times.

And now, there was nothing holding either of them back.

His groan reverberated through her, had her echoing his moan to his mouth. Her fingers unintentionally hooked into his back as he suddenly pushed down against her, nearly pinning her, his hair tickling her face. Neria gasped against his lips, surprised, and was dizzy with the sudden rush of friction. Want. Need, desperate and cloying.

Her trousers needed to be off five minutes ago.

Her fingers threaded once through his hair; the other hand clawed down his side just a little stronger this time, not quite enough to raise welts. She pressed back, angling her hips up to rub against him, to entice the both of them. Her kiss grew hungrier, and she tilted her head so she could nip at his lower lip between heady presses of her mouth to his own.

It was far from the only time Kell had rubbed off against someone through their clothes, but this time it was far from enough. He could feel the heat of her, the promise of how slick and wet, and he flinched under the sting of her nails. The kind that had him pressing insistently, desperately into more of that aching touch.

Kell reached between them and pulled open the top button of Neria's trousers. The second, the third, and slid his hand inside to cup her, pressing his palm over hot, soft skin, curving his fingers down and between her legs, trapped between cloth and her wet heat.

Kell hooked a finger, drew the tip of it down and over the hood of her clit, not quite touching her directly -- but he rubbed past it to press that fingertip against her slit, tracing down it to stroke her open.

Heels pressed into the mattress, she wriggled beneath him to try to help, nudging her hips up and against him as he sought to work on her trousers. Torn on where to put her hands - to keep touching him, to drag them through his hair, to aid him - her thoughts seemed to spin out as he slipped his fingers against her.

Over her clit. Further.

Rational thought emptied away for a moment. Neria was caught on feeling, on the physical, and knew nothing else for that time. Her hips arched up, inviting him further, even as her thighs trembled at the warmth of his touch.

Everything else caught up eventually. Decision made for her, her hands slipped down to help him with his own trousers, and Neria kissed him again. Hard.

Kell smiled fiercely against her lips as Neria worked on his clothes, sliding his tongue into her mouth to taste her, as if he could be inside her that way too.

Planting his hand firmly on her, he slicked his fingers thoroughly, just barely dipping inside before he drew them up to trace ever-so-softly over her clit- he went slow, circling her slickly but not directly touching, drinking in every reaction she gave him.

Learning her, committing every bit of this to memory.

Kell breathed out as his trousers slid down, and he shifted to get free of them. It left him hard, aching, but more focused than desperate.

For him, the world had narrowed down to only her.

He slid his fingers over her, woefully indirect, spreading slick but not giving her what she wanted. Kell's tongue was in her mouth and she twined it with her own almost helplessly, lost to the sensations of her body as it came alive beneath him. She was too focused on his fingers than on his mouth, as he swiped around her. Neria arched her hips, tried to direct him. He barely dipped himself inside of her; Neria gasped, shifting, and his fingers fled. He was being deliberate in meting out her pleasure. Stoked her now, teased her, giving her something but not enough.

A brief whine left her, pressed against his mouth and his tongue, and her hands settled briefly over his bared hips. Fingers dragged there, just a little, before she found she tired of scratching him. Her fingers drifted over the backs of his thighs, over sensitive skin. Then she gave him the flat of her palm to rub against, just enough for him to chase but not moving to stroke him. Not yet.

Two could play this game.

She turned her head to kiss him again, again, drawing his lower lip between her own so she could nip, then suck, then released so she could have his tongue too. She wanted all of him, everything that was Kell.

Kell moaned, low in his throat, pressing against the palm of her hand in a slow grind of his hips, leaving her fingers slightly damp. He breathed through the kiss, lingering on it before he finally pulled back, removed his hand and moved downward.

Regretfully, he moved Kell away from Neria's grip -- but she could still reach his head, his shoulders.

Pressing his warm palms to her hips, Kell pushed down, holding her against the softness of the featherbed as he knelt between Neria's legs. The heat of his breath puffed over her, and he leaned in, pressing his soft lips against her clit, a warm and pliant kiss.

He did it again, again, parting his lips to run his tongue lightly down the center of her folds, where she was wettest.

She leaned forward as he began to retreat, chasing his lips, chasing his body. But Kell began to move, and he pressed her down firmly against the bed with his hands. Heat rose through her, a full-bodied flush at the indiscriminate way he looked at her as he moved downward. At the attentiveness to which he paid her body, her hips, the apex of her thighs.

Neria shuddered beneath the warmth of his breath only moments before his lips touched that bud. She flinched - not with pain but with surprise - with wide, startled eyes as he paid tenderness to her clit, as he kissed that intimate part of her. As he did it again and again, and traveled further with the roughness of his tongue. She gasped softly, a faint sound in her throat that seemed tangled up in want and embarrassment at how much she desired, how wet she was from craving him.

A hand reached down, sweeping over his shoulders. Found its place in his hair, with the tips of fingernails tracing his scalp, tangling in red strands. "Maker's breath," she whispered softly against her hand. "Kell."

Kell held her through her shuddering, leaning his weight down against her thighs, grounding her against the soft bed. He knew from experience that the feeling could flip easily from security to something less than good, and he smoothed both hands up the outsides of her thighs, stroking with his thumbs.

Opening his eyes, he looked up at her from between her thighs as she whispered, his lips parted against her, braced for her to use that grip to drag him closer. It wouldn't have been unwelcome -- but he found that the soft bite of her nails and the secure hold did just as much for him, if not more.

This felt like an act of worship, in a way. Delving his tongue inside of her, working it in and out in long, slow slides, building that heat as if they had all the time in the world, and he wanted to devote each and every second he could to doing this.

Kell's measured weight upon her body brought her no discomfort or pain. If anything, the press of his warmth alone kept her satiated. She was so hungry for him, for this physicality, as if she'd been starved of it - when really, she'd been terrified. Hadn't wanted to be touched.

Her body sang for him, arched for his touch. Tipped one way so his tongue could spear her better. He lapped at her folds until she felt delirious with want. That brief moment where their eyes met made her muscles tighten. Neria's head fell back against the soft blankets and cushions while he gave tribute to her body, coaxing her to a warmer inferno from within, beckoning her to open for him.

Her fingers tightened in his hair while his tongue slid into her, breath coming uneven in faint whimpers. She shifted, moved her legs so she could encircle him just enough...just enough to keep him close.

Slowly, her grip loosened, just enough to stroke through his hair. Keep going.

Kell's arms encircled her thighs from beneath, letting him smooth his palms over her skin, inviting her thighs to brush against his ears, hold him closer. For all that he was touching her, pleasuring her, she was ultimately the one who held the power here.

Kell drew in a breath as she brought him closer, a tightness all down his body, wrought with heat and want, and he moaned low in his throat, arching his hips to press against the mattress, a shiver of breath as the movements of his tongue turned long and slow, ending with heavy flicks against her clit.

Coaxing.

It was lewd, and it sent shivers up and down her spine as he tasted her, licked her folds. Paid attention to her clit until she was trembling, her thighs coaxed near the sides of his head. Her fingers tangled in his hair, stroking against his scalp, alternating between sharper slides of nails.

Much of it was simply unconscious, as Kell pleasured her until she was close to mindless already. She bit down on her lip and tried to watch him, her eyes wide, her face flushed, as she took in the sight of him tasting her. Her fingers slid tenderly over the nape of his neck, urging him on, wanting to see him rub himself into the mattress and come to satiation with her.

If she could hold out that long. His tongue flicked against her and she gasped, pressing back against the mattress, her hips stuttering upwards of their own accord. Neria tried vainly to keep herself from pressing too eagerly against his greedy mouth.

Kell could feel her holding back, trying to keep herself leashed and controlled, trying not to let herself give over to the feeling. Her fingers were warm and familiar against the back of his neck, the bite of her nails an icy-hot scrape of pleasure that left him tingling.

He worked one finger into her.

She was tight, wet, a silken slide that made his breath catch against her clit, his tongue curl as he shut his eyes, unable to keep his mind from racing ahead, from imagining what it would be like inside of her.

Kell gasped for air he didn't need, curled his finger upward and dragged gently but firmly back out, a come-hither pressure as he flicked over her clit. Sealed his lips over her and drew her into his mouth as deeply as he could.

Neria broke on that alone.

The curl of his finger, the deliberate stroke as he pulled out. The clasp of his lips around her clit as he sucked on her. It was too much. With a full-bodied shudder, she came, her muscles clamping down on his finger as he withdrew. Her legs curled around him instinctively; her fingers tightened on his hair. Neria's body bent itself as she whimpered out a sob, breath leaving her.

"O-Oh, oh fuck," she whispered, whined. "Kell."

Every nerve stood on edge now, the little bits of magic still in her fingers vanishing while she tried to catch her breath, rein her heart in from running off.

Kell helped her ride through the moment drawing his finger entirely out, then gliding back in to hold her, to let her rub back against him, to see out every bit of friction and heat and sensation that would draw the orgasm from a momentary high to something that would leave her legs weak and shaking.

There was something about doing this that made it almost more satisfying than an orgasm of his own. Watching Neria come undone was worth more than direct touch and friction, but Kell still chased it, breathing out against the soft skin of her inner thigh, lips still wet as he reached down to touch himself.

Fuck, she wasn't the only one wet. Precome liberally smeared his fingers as he drew the head of his cock through his hand, pressing another kiss to the inside of Neria's thigh.

They both needed a moment.

He held her there and let her ride out her orgasm, along the knife's edge that brought her hips and legs to tremble uncontrollably as she rubbed herself helplessly against him, wanting that fire to sweep through her until there was nothing left. Neria's voice was pitched just slightly higher in tone, though quiet still; even if she'd unraveled, she still held herself in check in some ways, and she cared too much for Kell's privacy to be so loud.

(Not that she'd realized, yet, that it mattered little.)

She gasped softly, the sound of her voice faint. Soft moans carried with every breath as she tried to breathe normally once more, and she reached for him again, smoothing over his hair, his neck, the tops of his shoulders. Realized, then, that he was stroking himself. Neria tipped her head to look down at him, to watch, wide-eyed and flushed and still wanting. He kissed her and she bent upward with some effort - too much effort, enough for her legs to quiver - until she could reach him again. Neria kissed his head, his brow, and tugged him up and over her once more. Her hands reached for his arms, for his chest, his sides, which she touched tenderly. She tipped her head to kiss his cheek, his jaw.

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