ruinations | adsom: reunions

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.

Neria trembled as she reached for him, and he slid one arm around her waist, pushing up with his other hand so he could lock that arm around her, draw her close and lean into her touches, her kisses. He was still catching his breath.

"Are you trying to be quiet?" he asked softly, running his tongue along his lower lip to catch the last of her taste. His thumb pressed against the small of her back, rubbing into the warm curve, the indent of her spine.

Kell leaned his face into the curve of her neck, breathing her in. It wasn't steady.

"You don't have to."

Her face pressed briefly into his hair, nuzzling him as he pulled himself up almost to her eye level. Where he lingered, he would feel the thundering of her pulse, her heartbeat impossibly loud. Neria's arms wrapped around him and she leaned into his grip, into the tender stroke of his thumb.

"I'm...I'm not going to-- Kell, you're important here, I don't want to make things worse for you." The guards were one thing. Being reprimanded by the king and queen and possibly being separated from him was another. He might not be the crowned prince but he was still something.

Neria hooked one of her legs up over his hip, wanting to be as physically close to him as possible. She buried her face in his hair, drowning herself in the smell of Kell and the lingering scent of his magic.

"Have you met Rhy?" Kell asked, with a breath of exasperation mixed in with fondness, a touch of heat. "These hallways have heard much worse."

And then Neria pressed against him, cuddling and holding close, and Kell flattened his hand, easing himself more fully into her touch. Into the press of her body against his, her warmth.

Worlds away they'd held hands whenever they spoke to each other, her body heat a welcome burn of life against his skin. This was familiar, but so much more.

Despite his words, the way she held him forestalled any thoughts of pushing them further, at least for the moment. Kell answered her touch and followed her back down to the sheets, clasping her close.

To that, she only laughed, a breathless sound pressed against his fine hair. "Oh, Rhy," she whispered, fond, incredulous. Her heart ached at the memory of him in the snow, her hand on his arm. When their eyes met only once in the halls of Aallotar. Her arms seemed to tighten around Kell in response, drowning herself in the physical intimacy that she might forget how much some parts of her simply hurt.

If Kell worried she wasn't going to press for more, he needn't; Neria kept her hold on him in every way, including pressing herself close enough that her body still rested against his own, soaking in his warmth.

Neria turned her head just enough so she could look into his face. "If you're hoping I'll be loud, then," she murmured. "You're going to need to push me over the edge." Make her mindless, force everything to fall away. "Until there's nothing else but you." She smiled, slow. Sharp. "If you think you can make me scream, Kell, you're welcome to try."

"He'll have missed you," Kell said, because Kell could poorly time anything. He made a soft, breathless noise as Neria tightened her arms around him, drew him closer until he couldn't help but slide against her, all her soft skin and iron muscle and slick heat.

Kell had already been breathless; Neria had gone once, enough to take the edge off, but her words halted further rational thought. Reduced him to baser things, reminded him of how difficult patience could be.

Drawing his hand up her side, Kell brushed his hand over the swell of her breast, flicking his thumb slowly over a nipple, worked his knee between her thighs -- and was immediately seized with the mental image of her riding it. Swallowing his groan, Kell forced his eyes back up to hers.

"I want to know what you like," he said frankly, his blue eye locked on her face, the edge of a smile on his lips. "We've never talked about it."

"I've missed him too," she whispered into Kell's hair, and shifted as he did, allowing him close. He pressed tightly to her and she shivered, turning her head to press her face into Kell's throat for a moment, the muscles of her thighs and hips tightening. He slipped his knee between her legs and she pulled back to watch him, her body moving to press back against him. Like a woman starved, she craved every scrap of physical affection he gave her, and there was no shortage of that.

When he spoke again, Neria tipped her head to look at him better, and she reached for his face. She brushed a few strands back that had fallen forward near his eyes, and swiped her thumb over his cheek. "No, we never did. Why would we have? I--" She never told him how she felt. Had shied away. Foolish, too. There were so many things she never said. "I don't know what you like either," she pointed out softly. "But what I like..."

It was strange. Her thoughts caught again on the last time and she struggled to pull them from the mire. And when she did, her thoughts did not go to Archer, oddly enough. They went to someone else. "I like rough things," she admitted. "I don't think that's any surprise to you. I've...wanted harder things, things that push me over the edge, because I want to feel alive again." Kell would understand now, she felt. "Slow and steady, pulling me apart. Making me beg for one more release, so I can stop thinking." And stop remembering the pain and the anger and the loss she always seemed to carry, the static and white noise that always lingered in the back of her mind. Her gaze seemed distant as she tried to remember the things that made her happy, the few times she'd had anything before it all became duty again.

"I... This is difficult. I didn't think it would be," she said, and finally smiled, focusing on him once more, her fingers kneading at the back of his neck where her hand had settled unconsciously. "I have a great deal of stamina, so whatever it is, it has to be...rigorous and thorough. Very few people manage it." She leaned closer so she could kiss him again, even knowing she would taste herself. "I like your magic on me," she whispered against his lips. "I like your mouth. I like your hands and I like how strong you are. That you keep me from moving, because you know I'll try to unwind you first. And I will, if you let me." Her hands were already straying down his chest again, a hint of heat, but then she drifted two fingers down his sternum, and the magic that was on her fingers was alive and vibrant and raw.

What she liked.

Kell drank it with slightly wide eyes, overlaying the words and shatter-edged images in his mind, over what he knew of her. I want to feel alive again.

His heart gave a leap inside his ribcage, knocking against things inside, a buzz of power that lit up his nerves like turning up the gas on a flame.

Instinctively he reached up and took her wrist, curling his fingers around it and bringing it to his mouth, where he could kiss that delicate skin, graze it with his teeth as if he wanted to bite down and taste her.

"I like," he began, "that you are so forthright with what you want." He pressed with his teeth, heavier down, blunt and claiming pressure as he sucked a soft, deep mark into her skin.

It was cold enough that it would be covered with clothes easily enough, but it was so near to showing.

It was there in the back of his mind -- she'd been hurt, but Kell knew from experience that being treated as something fragile rarely helped as much as anyone thought it would.

"I've seen how you come alive in battle," he murmured, his lips warm against her palm.

"I wasn't always. I still..." With so many things, she was quieter. But her feelings always felt tangled and in the open for people to stare at, especially after the Black Wolf. But Kell knew more about her than almost everyone else - and in some ways, he knew her better than all of the others, Archer included.

He drew hardened pressure against her wrist and her eyes widened, watching, entranced for the moment by the flash of white teeth, as if she anticipated he'd tear into her flesh and she'd see pearl blood. The mark only briefly stung...but she liked it that way. "I think-- I think I'm broken, sometimes. That I've been broken for so long that I don't know how else to be." That she'd died once before on a broken tower, covered in blood, in the shadow of a dragon and no longer knew how to be a person any longer. Neria's countenance was thoughtful, strangely, and not dismayed. Her other hand slid through his hair, marveling at its softness. She turned her gaze towards his.

"My heart runs away with me on the battlefield. Anything could happen. The world narrows. I stop thinking about...about tomorrow, about the next conversation. I'm right there in the battle, all of me - my soul, my heart, my thoughts - and nothing is more important than survival. Than taking care of what's mine." She smiled lopsidedly. "All of me feels awake. The rest of the time, I feel as if some part of me is cold and heavy and...dead."

She shifts just a little bit, enough so she can gently rub the pads of her fingers over his scalp - not scratching so much as offering slow friction, as she might towards a cat. "What about you, Kell? What do you like?"

What she said made sense in the way that the first conjured flame had, when he'd rolled it over his fingers. Like something had been yearning to be given shape, and finally he could see it for what it was, touch it, feel the heat against his skin instead of only in his heart.

He leaned into her touches, hungry for them, starving for them, soaking them up like rain on dry ground.

"I like roughness," he confessed. "The feeling of holding and holding down, both teasing and ruthless, long and slow and intense, or abrupt and desperate." He ran his tongue over his lower lip, wetting it- "but I also like being made use of. I like using my mouth, my fingers, being pushed down and ridden. I like the play of power, and-"

Kell shut his mouth, slowly opened again. "-the trust, that comes with it."

He sighed deeply.

"... tell me what you don't like."

adsom: reunions

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