here’s a large chunk of a WIP I may or may not ever get around to finishing, but this part was passable
but this was the pt 2 of the Renathal/You fic :’)
"Maw Walker," Renathal says softly, low enough that your collection of allies aren't whipping their heads around at the moniker. They're distracted anyways, half of them arguing over the spoils left from the Council of Blood and the other half arguing over who messed up and made the fight harder for everyone.
You spin to face him, your feet light and on edge after being dragged through several life or death dances, recitals that were just as dangerous, but you're also giddy. The adrenaline still pumps through your veins and seeing him makes you feel a thrill.
"A moment?" He asks, composed as always, gesturing off to the side. Away from everyone.
You follow him without a word, without a second thought. It must be important. The others won't notice, they already agreed to a well-deserved break and anyone not part of the arguments are too focused on checking their gear for damage or taking stock of their supplies to notice.
“What is it?” You ask when you reach the side of the ballroom where the loyalists had been lounging and dining while watching you struggle and dance for your life. You’re still within eye shot of your group, so it’s not exactly as private as you secretly want it to be, but you’ll take what you can get.
He doesn’t say anything, instead walking up to the wall and fiddling with one of the sconces until- click. Stone grinds against stone, blissfully quiet so it doesn’t draw the others attention, until a passageway appears.
Oh, after the passage from the anima coffers to the entryway you’re only dully surprised at the existence of another secret passageway. Of course Renathal would know them. You wonder how many there are and what they might lead to. This one looks to lead to a long empty corridor.
He turns back to you, a small, almost proud smile as he gestures into the revealed corridor.
You follow him through, the stone slides back into place behind you leaving you both in the dim lighting. And alone.
The need to touch him surges through you like a physical ache, like a need that’s been denied for too long, and the adrenaline from victory makes you bold.
“Do not worry, there’s a switch on this side to get us back-”
You grab his hand, relishing the warmth it gives off as it effortlessly engulfs your much smaller one, and you tug. Your other hand claws up to his chest- the hard leather of his armor doesn’t give so you can’t get a handful like you want, but he gets the idea and leans down.
He chuckles as you scrabble to grab his face and kiss him. As always the height difference makes this difficult- it’s not quite the surprise passionate thing you wanted it to be, but with Renathal it’s still just as good if not better. Especially when you feel him smile into the kiss, free hand cradling your head gently, your heart soring.
He scoops you up into his arms so you’re level with him to make it a little bit easier to keep kissing without straining each other. You’re not sure you’ll ever get used to it- the sheer strength he has to lift you so casually makes your head spin every time, a heady sensation that has you hooked so entirely.
Maybe it’s all the time spent in the Shadowlands, or being part of the Venthyr, but you can feel the anima coursing through Renathal, the warmth of him that feels very much alive and you chase it into the heat of his mouth. Clamoring to pull him closer to feel more of it. It’s comforting almost, after all the harshness you’ve faced in Nathria from friend and foe alike, flirting with death at every corner. The familiarity of it- of him- wraps around you like a warm blanket.
