OVERWHELMINGLY the consensus seemed to be POST THE SMUT!!! So come what may, here we are >:3
I’m not giving this a snippet number because I’m not sure whether or not this scene will be canon yet. When I wrote Lucanis asking Naimy to stay the night, it devolved into this scene, but I’m not 100% certain where any of these things are going to fall in the timeline just yet — I’m still tinkering — and I do NOT want to spoil the painfully slow burn or mess up any of the scenes I’ve already written, so I have this in a seperate note currently. Keep that in mind as you read, as there are some inconsistencies between the “stay” snippet and this because if this is canon it will be LATER, and I’m unsure if it will be attached to that snippet or not.
[yada yada fluff Naimy wants a goodnight kiss Davrin plays a stupid game and gets a stupid prize, Lucanis asks Naimy to stay the night but has “no ulterior motives” (he didn’t. Honest. But Naimy is… Naimy. And Lucanis is bewitched, body and soul).]
CW/TW: SMUT! Fair warning I have not written “the main event.” You shall see what I mean. That is a bit of a struggle for me I’m afraid.
ALSO! Note. In the fluff I posted the timeline is set after Naimy recovers from the Fangscorcher mission, but it’s before Murder of Crows/The Scene they cut/Lucaimy first fight. When I first wrote it, though, I wrote it as though this happened AFTER all of that (which I feel like would make more sense for them to have sex the first time… but probably not for it to be the first time they spent the night together on purpose). So I may still use this in canon but not with the first spending the night but attached. Anyway. I’ll stop rambling and let you read.
You have no idea what to do with a woman, Illario’s scathing remark rang in his ears. But Rook sighed contentedly, nestled herself into his side, rested her chin on his chest and threw one leg across his stomach, and Lucanis found he had quite a few ideas what could be done with a woman.
He himself had taken those things off the table. He swallowed thickly. Perhaps this had been a bad idea.
“You should get some sleep,” Rook told him with a soft smile as she gazed at him in that way she had that made his entire being warm. “I’ll make sure Spite lets you rest.”
She glanced pointedly down at her leg, then lazily circled his torso with one of her arms as well. It was pleasant. It would not stop the demon from getting him up and moving around if he chose. Lucanis blew out a small snort of laughter.
“Why would I want to sleep when I finally…” he hesitated at the word finally. But that wasn’t really a secret, was it? “I finally have you here,” he finished, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
“Because I’m not going anywhere, and when else are you going to get a restful night’s sleep?” She asked, squirming even closer to him, though he hadn’t thought it possible.
“I would rather make some coffee and ensure you actually rest,” he told her honestly, beginning to stir.
“Nope!” In an instant, she was on top of him, sitting triumphantly on his stomach with her hands on his shoulders. Lucanis felt his heartrate quicken. What a view. “You are not to leave this cot until morning or you’ve gotten some rest, whichever comes first.”
Her tone was playful — clearly, Rook had no idea the effect she had on him. He swallowed thickly and adopted a teasing tone as well.
“You are a strong woman, Rook, but do you truly think it wise to come between the Demon of Vyrantium and his coffee?”
She stifled a giggle and leaned in, making him groan internally. “Perhaps it’s not my strength I plan to rely on, but the master assassin’s reticence to hurt harmless little old me.”
She batted her eyelashes at him with feigned innocence.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You, Rook, are anything but harmless.”
She started to giggle in delight, but it dissolved into a gasp as he grabbed her hip and shoulder, reversing their positions in one smooth movement. If he’d though the view looking up at her was something, the view looking down was breathtaking. Spite cackled, and Lucanis had to remind himself to breathe. She flushed, one hand still resting loosely on his shoulder, the other on his forearm. Involuntarily, his fingers flexed at her hip. Soft.
Their fight flooded his mind for a moment, the driving rain. The feel of her skin beneath his palms again. The urge to keep going, to push past the nerves and the fact that they were on a public rooftop in Minrathos of all places, to give her everything rushed back into his veins. He’d told her he just wanted her to stay.
He’d told her he didn’t have ulterior motives.
Naimeryn’a hand floated from his shoulder to his face for the briefest of moments, then her fingers slid through his hair and to the back of his head. She pulled him down and herself up simultaneously, and he met her halfway with lips and teeth and tongue. A fire bloomed between them, a heat Lucanis did not know how to quench, or if he even could.
He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.
Naimeryn’s other arm wrapped around his neck, and he squeezed her ass as he more firmly hooked her knee over his hip and pressed her between himself and the cot, resting the majority of his weight on his other elbow, by her head. She rewarded him by wrapping her other leg around his midsection as well, squeezing him between her thighs. He moaned into her mouth, his free hand sliding up her side to cup her breast. She arched her back into his touch, and he could feel the heat radiating from the fork of her legs against his.
“La Mia fiamma,” he murmured into her mouth, and her hands slid back to cup his face. He could not remember a time this had made him uncomfortable. The coolness of her palms against his cheeks, the thread of her fingers through his beard, the gentle caress of her thumbs across each scar as she came upon it, were all things he craved now. As she gave him each of them now, he captured her tongue in devotion and sucked gently, simultaneously squeezing her breast before sliding his own thumb firmly across the nipple pebbling beneath her shirt. She moaned and ground her hips against him, not flinching away from his hardening length. He pressed against her experimentally, and she gasped, hands sliding down to fist into the collar of his shirt.
“Do you still — want… coffee?” She fumbled out between kisses.
He slipped his hand beneath her shirt to continue to fondle her, and she squeezed her thighs again. He worried her nipple between his finger and thumb, capturing each sound she made in response with kisses of his own.
“Which do you think… I would prefer?” He managed to get out around gasps for breath. She giggled softly. Then she stroked his face to pull his attention fully to hers. He froze, worried he’d done something wrong.
“Are you okay with this?” She asked softly. “I know you said you didn’t have any intentions when you asked me to stay and now… I just want to make sure I’m not moving too fast.”
A small tremor of nerves passed through Lucanis’s core. “We have been closer before than we are now. Do you wish to stop?”
She bit her lower lip and shook her head, her eyes hooded and her cheeks flushed. Awkwardly, she stuttered, “I know, I… I just… I don’t know what you… want? And I don’t want to overstep a boundary you’ve set and I feel like I… may? Have?”
“Would you be more comfortable if I promise to tell you the moment you have?” He smirked at her. His chest ached. Even when she was the one arguably in the more compromising position, her first thought was always of him.
“Don’t grin at me like that,” she chided, “yes, of course I want you to tell me if I do something to make you uncomfortable.”
“As you wish,” he only smirked harder, feeling himself twitch at the little gasp the phrase elicited from her. “But you must promise me the same.”
Her flush was so intense he thought he could feel its heat rolling off of her in waves. “I don’t think you could make me uncomfortable if you tried,” she mumbled.
“Nor shall I endeavor to,” he told her seriously, sliding his hand out of her shirt and to its clasps. “May I see you?”
Her blush was several shades more intense than usual, but she nodded, her fingers playing with his collar chain. “And you?”
“I am yours,” he told her, leaning back in to recapture her mouth as he popped her shirt clasps one after another with one finger. Once it fell open, he slid his hand beneath one side, relishing in the feel of every inch of her skin beneath his palm as he pushed it over her shoulder, letting her wriggle the rest of the way out while his fingertips traced the line of her bicep and forearm, capturing her hand and intertwining their fingers. He pressed her hand into the cot above their heads, never breaking their lip lock as he adjusted his weight to use his other hand to help her the rest of the way out of her shirt. He had pressed her other hand into the mattress before Spite helpfully reminded him that she had wanted to take his shirt off as well. Mierda.
But Naimeryn squirmed her hips against his and squeezed his hands, making no effort to free herself. She bit her lower lip and gazed up at him, her pupil blown and her lids half down. She really was a beautiful creature, all pale skin and dark hair and small, soft curves. Lucanis felt himself lick his lips, shuffling his grip so he had both of her hands in one of his, drawing the other in a slow caress down the side of her face, along the column of her neck, down across her breast, allowing his fingertips to brush each scar that marred her flesh on the way down. Her breath hitched as he touched those on her torso — the ones she never wanted to talk about, or told a different story about each time. She would tell him about them when she was ready, or she wouldn’t, he decided. It made no difference to him.
Lucanis was overcome with a desire to taste, and so he ducked back down to her. He squeezed her hands, his free hand returning to fondling while his mouth exploded freely. He kissed and licked and nibbled along her throat, pulling soft gasps and sighs from her the whole way. He allowed a gentle bite at her collarbone which earned him a buck of her hips and then he kissed his way lower.
The sounds he pulled from Rook as he licked and suckled her sent aching pangs of need down the length of his cock. She arched into his mouth, forcing him to abandon her other breast to support the small of her back with his hand. She whimpered his name and strained against his grip, rutting against the thigh he held pressed against the crux of her legs. He flattened his tongue and lapped against her until her legs were trembling against either side of his.
Without releasing her hands, he came away, kissing once more to the side of her neck before sitting partially up, pulling at his buttons one-handed. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly, her tongue slid across her lower lip. Fuck. He shrugged out of his shirt halfway, then finally released her hands to pull it the rest of the way off. They were on him in an instant, fingertips and nails and palms exploring every contour of his arms, his back, his abs. She squirmed up into his lap, forcing him to sit back on his heels as she once more wrapped her legs around his waist and her lips around his. He burned beneath her attentions, straining against the constraints of his pants.
He’d wanted her at the river.
He’d wanted her in that damned armor Teia had sent.
He’d wanted her on the rooftop.
None of those instances compared to how badly he wanted her now.
“Naimy,” he groaned. He’d called her it on impulse, without having really decided to, but it earned him another buck of her hips and her half-naked body pressed flush to his. His hands slid up her bare back, to the back of her head, to her ears. Her whole body jolted and she nipped his lips as he pressed his thumbs into them and slid up along their length.
“W-wait, don’t —!” She moaned. “I’ll —“
Her thighs squeezed and her head tilted back with a sob of his name. He knew instantly he had teased her too far, but it was satisfaction and not disappointment that settled into his gut.
The man who didn’t know what to do with a woman could make his woman come without even getting so much as his hand into her pants.
Naimeryn’s face was on fire with embarrassment and her eyes brimmed with tears, which stirred momentary panic.
“I’m so sorry,” she covered her face with her hands. “I’ve ruined —“
“Naimy,” he caught her wrists, and she peeked at him between her fingers.
“You have not ruined anything,” he told her firmly. When she widened the gap between her digits, he gave her a smirk. “Except perhaps your underthings.”
“Lucanis,” she groaned, and he grinned, kissing her in the space between her hands until she finally removed them in favor of holding his again. Against his mouth, she murmured, “can we still…?”
Maker’s Breath, this woman.
“That is entirely up to you,” he told her, though he hoped against hope the answer was yes.
“No,” she insisted, pulling back slightly. “It’s up to you, too.”
Lucanis found himself smiling at her, shaking his head, just a little. “What did I do to deserve you?”
She rolled her eyes playfully at him. “You keep asking me that like the answer is going to change.”
She leaned back in and began to pepper his face, every scar, every mark, every inch with soft, gentle kisses. “You. Just. Do.” She punctuated each word with a more firm kiss than the others, and to his mouth. He chased her lips with his when she moved away, all the while his fingers working her belt and the laces of her trousers.
“This would have been easier had you changed into your wrap,” he teased gently as she scooted herself back on his lap to allow him easier access.
“In my defense,” she teased back, sliding her hands down his torso with tantalizing slowness, “I may have been told a certain someone had no intentions for the evening.”
Impatient, Lucanis cupped her ass with one hand and the back of her head with the other, leaning her back on the cot before beginning to slide her pants off. He wanted her naked now, now, now, but he forced himself to slow down. He did not want to seem overeager.
Lucanis kissed as he undressed. She had scars on her legs, too. It seemed no part of her body was stranger to claws and knives and whips, and while part of him wished she’d never known a moment of hurt in her life, he found he could only admire her more with each new mark he uncovered. He made a point to kiss them specifically. Never again would she feel less than because of a scar she bore so long as he had a say in it. He discarded her trousers and kissed her foot, curling his hand around the other. How was it possible for them to be so cold?
Rook giggled. “Ticklish,” she murmured, giving him a gentle nudge against his face as her way of asking him to stop. He ran his hands back up her legs, gripping her hips and pulling her down so he could reach her lips again. It had been too long since he’d kissed her there, after all. As her tongue tentatively danced with his, he felt her fingers working at his waistband. Relief flooded him as his cock sprang free, and then.
The first gentle brush of her fingers along his length sent a violent shiver through his whole body.
“I’m sorry,” she began against his mouth, pulling her hand back quickly. He shook his head but refused to break the kiss. He needed her too badly.
“No,” he murmured across her lips. “Good.”
Encouraged, her hand returned to his body. She was cautious, perhaps overly gentle in her experimental caresses, but every stroke threatened to topple him over the edge himself.
“Mierda, Mia fiamma,” he groaned, his breath coming in little gasps as he finally conceded defeat and kissed over to her neck. She let him, stroking him a bit more purposely and sending his whole body trembling.
“Tell me what you like?” She whispered breathlessly in his ear, and the request coupled with the feel of her fingers wrapped around his dick and the way she rubbed her palm against the head was nearly enough to make him come undone. Not trusting himself to speak, he covered her hand with his, kissing and sucking and nipping at her neck as he guided her to squeeze a bit more firmly, to move a bit more quickly. Her little sighs and moans in his ear, the way she squirmed a bit beneath him, the way she smelled and tasted and felt all drove him mad.
Three words he dared not say bubbled up in his chest, and he quickly recovered her mouth with his as he spilled between her fingers and onto her stomach. She kissed him back earnestly, her free hand fisting in his hair while the other continued to languidly stroke him through his climax. Lucanis groaned inwardly. Surely this had not been what she’d had in mind?
