Meme: Rain
Rain: I’ll write a fluffy drabble of our characters kissing in the rain.
The black clouds overhead taunted her, threatening to chase them back inside at any undisclosed moment — but Narcissa wasn’t ready to leave just yet. It was true what they said about the things Xavier Mulciber’s silver tongue could accomplish; he’d managed to convince her to join him in the courtyard, despite the dark shadows cast by the threat of rain. She’d had one condition, of course — that, should the clouds choose to empty themselves upon them, she’d require him to shed his cloak for her, like any gentleman would.
He’d told her that the chill of the spring air would revive her, that the thrill of not knowing if or when nature would choose to interrupt their moment together would awaken her — and though she wouldn’t let such admittance slip through her lips for the sake of her pride, he’d almost been right. Every nerve in her body was on the highest of alerts, tingling, vibrating beneath her porcelain skin — and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d felt so irrefutably alive.
The first drop fell against her cheek, causing her posture to straighten and her head to glance upwards; then a p a u s e, a few heartbeats in length, and the second droplet landed on her forehead, trickling down the bridge of her nose. And then the clouds collapsed upon themselves, raindrops showering down upon them quickly now, their echo against the stone beneath her feet drowning out the sounds of the elevated heartbeat she’d been using to gauge their pace.
"Your cloak, Xavier!" Narcissa cried with a half laugh and a smile she tried to hide. "I need your cloak!” Her robes would be soaked through, her hair would be a nightmare, and if she walked away from this with a cold she’d pin the blame entirely on him. Narcissa Black didn’t have room in her life for the unexpected, for getting caught in showers she easily could’ve prepared herself for. This was not her design, this was purely his doing — but part of her, the hidden part that allowed her smile to creep across the corners of her lips as he slipped his cloak off of his shoulders and draped it over her, didn’t mind.
( Perhaps that same part of her had even said a small prayer to Salazar, asking him to empty the clouds upon them, just to see how it would feel to allow herself to be so immersed in spontaneity for o n c e in her sixteen years. )
“Hurry,” she urged, taking his hand and pulling towards the doors, towards shelter. “Come back inside, before we freeze to death!”
But as she tugged at him, he remained planted where he was — and Merlin knew her fragile frame could never move him from a place he so badly wanted to be. Instead, Xavier only took a tighter grip on her hand, pulling her back in towards him.
”Not just yet,” he whispered, biting back a smirk.
"Oh, really?" she challenged with a laugh, brows arched — though, this time, she didn’t try to pull away. "And what out here is so important that you’re willing to risk hypothermia?”
He didn’t say a word. A hand snaked around her waist, gently pulling her body closer to his — slowly, giving her the chance to slip away if she so chose. But she didn’t. Instead, she let out a faint gasp as she felt the warmth of his chest press against her, looking up to catch his eyes. When his head tilted downwards towards her she drew a deep breath, her body tightening as his lips brushed against hers — not a flinch but a jump, one of both nervousness and strange excitement. Narcissa stood up onto her toes, arms wrapping around his neck as she pulled him in towards her. The storm still crashed around them, on them, but the only droplets of any concern to her were the ones that had made their way to his lips, the ones she tasted as she poured herself into his kiss.
She knew the things that were said about him. She knew the things he’d done, the things Bellatrix would say to her if she ever knew that she’d given her first kiss away to one of the slipperiest of their house’s snakes ( no matter how reputable of a family he came from ) . But he was not all cruel — at least, when Narcissa drank in the deliciously smooth words he chose for her, that was what she wholeheartedly believed.
They said his lips were t o x i c ? If Xavier Mulciber’s lips were laced with poison, then oh, how s w e e t that poison tasted.
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