⬦ info; pwp, the p is set up for the p?!?!, enemies to lovers speedrun, size kink, hookups, snow storms, dom/sub, associates with benefits?, fucking for warmth, petplay, vaginal sex, topping from the bottom, under-negotiated kink, voyeurism, handjobs.
⬦ wc; 6.8k
The only thing predictable about Jaha's life is its unpredictability, and it is this precise lack of predictability which has placed Jaha in this particular predicament.
Tell Mongrang to say that three times fast.
Everyone shivers as an angry gust of frigid air blows through their squad. That's something about the wind during this time of year, especially this far out, it blows right through you, cold and cruel like icy knives cutting into your very soul. Jaha had missed the snow during summer, but now he's not so sure. It's midday but the sun is already threatening to set, making it even colder. This far into the snow fields, death could come for anyone at any moment.
Jaha had tasked himself with leading a team through the dregs of the country's badlands to retrieve something that should've never gotten this far in the first place. What sort of old coot decided to hide his most treasured sword in such a place was beyond him, and honestly, forming a grudge against him didn't seem too far-fetched at the moment.
To think that the geezer also did it while on his deathbed was absurd to Jaha. If you're going to die, then spend your last moments in comfort and warmth and save future generations the trips to icy wastelands.
But alas, what's done is done.
"Alright, it's official, we're lost," said one of their team members, Bitgaram, when they passed the fourth identical snow drift in a row, shaking snow from his hat. Fractured snowflakes collected on his hair and he futilely attempted to brush them away.
"Bitgaram, do you have anything useful to share or are you interested in losing your tongue today?" A raspy, cruel voice floated from somewhere behind Jaha and — ah, and there's the other thing. He's not the only one going after the treasure.
Usually, Jaha wouldn't mind too much (more carnage), even though he doesn't really get along with most other sword masters. But there is a particular brand of animosity between the two of them that Jaha finds a bit exciting, but also exhausting. They don't get along and neither plan to rectify that any time soon.
[Y/N] has spent their entire 3-day freezing expedition insulting him just to make sure of that fact.
"Apologies, miss [Y/N]," Bitgaram seemed a bit nonplussed, a short stocky kind of man with a wiry moustache, he is one of [Y/N]'s because anyone under anyone else would surely piss themselves. The woman's soldiers held a healthy dose of fear for her, but throughout this outing, Jaha has come to understand that they also have a bit of a suicidal streak. You can only be threatened with bodily harm and mortal peril by your commanding officer so many times before you just stop giving a shit.
The fight itself had been pretty simple, just a group of unlucky swordsmen that'd gotten a little too cocky and refused to hand over the treasure. Jaha had retrieved the sword with some other trinkets from the big box of treasures, and [Y/N] had, well– massacred them.
She'd made quick work of the swordsmen, pushing furious waves of power through the snow.
Their own ranks were fine. Jaha's brothers had taken position above the field, hidden in the tree branches. Jaha's own skills kept him safe and all of [Y/N]'s soldiers were issued rubber soles after an unfortunate mass casualty incident.
The swordsmen, on the other hand, weren't so lucky.
Embarrassingly enough, the woman's shit personality and proclivity for violence was kind of doing it for Jaha, it always has. He supposes that this was a natural progression of his thoughts.
Earlier when they had surveyed the battlefield post-fight, the one [Y/N] had littered with mangled corpses, Jaha would be remiss if he didn't admit that it sparked something hot and heady in the pit of his stomach.
He pushes those thoughts from his mind, letting the icy wind take them away. Well, he makes his best attempt to. He's probably just getting brain damage from the cold. There cannot possibly be another reason that he doesn't want to wring her neck.
To be fair, he's always been a bit intrigued by her, sue him. She'd be right up Jaha's alley if it weren't for the fact they utterly despised each other.
Her tactics on the battlefield were impressive and her bias for extreme violence was just to Jaha's taste. She was also hot, objectively, in a purely work-appropriate observational way.
And then there was, of course, the avalanche.
"Miss [Y/N]!" Officer Occupational Hazard Bitgaram yelled as they trudged through the Northern mountains.
Everyone tensed as the woman swung around to see who exactly had sealed their fate, walking far faster than she should've been through knee-high snow before there was a deep rumbling from somewhere above.
"Take cover!" An angry avalanche set course for them.
Thick sheets of ice and snow threatened to sweep them away and consume them. The team dove to take cover behind trees, hands over their heads to make pockets in the snow in an attempt to save their lives.
Without thinking Jaha had grabbed the person closest to him and dragged them under an outcrop, watching as furious snow passed them by.
A smaller body pressed against him and Jaha subconsciously pulled them closer, burying their face in his chest. Whoever it is is freezing, all hard muscle, and smells good. A fraction of a second later, he realized that they were also tiny, and all of his hair was standing up from static electricity.
Oh shit. He tensed. He's dead.
In an attempt to pull away, his foot slid on a patch of covered ice and a twinge in his ankle made him stumble. Travelling in a group meant less time for his usual morning training.
That was fine, Jaha thought. With a sound that felt a little too much like a yelp, he channelled his qi. Not the full thing, not all the way. It was too abrupt for him to do that. But it was enough to get blood to his muscles better.
Of course, that didn't make travelling within an avalanche any more pleasant. But at least it kept him from dying.
Ha. A mountain blizzard was a staggeringly vicious thing. He hadn't given that old coot enough credit. This was hard. But he supposes that's what the old man was striving for, to leave behind a legacy. To be remembered for generations to come.
To have been something.
It wasn't all bad, to exist for a purpose. A fixed point to move towards, the surroundings happily out of focus. Jaha had always known that.
Or at least he did now.
"You'd have crawled into my lap back there if I'd let you, wouldn't you, Master Jaha?” The sounds of the party had been muted from wherever [Y/N] had pulled them to. Some abandoned corner of the building. It was huge, and there were a lot of those. This one had big curtains and wood that were obviously not installed with drunk sword masters in mind.
There was a hand up his shirt and one down his pants. Jaha swore. They were pressed close. Damp wood against his back. Whatever the woman was doing with her hands was making words form slowly, and even then only in fragments.
Gods, he was sloshed. Seongtae had picked out a deadly slew of liquor for their victory lap.
"Drink a little too much?" [Y/N] asked.
Maybe. "Never."
He tried to coordinate his limbs to do something resembling reciprocity–he wanted to touch her, too–but he only ended up leaning his forehead against the other's hair. His vision swam as he watched his shirt be undone, hands tightening and loosening on black fabric.
"You're so easy."
"Look at how simple it is to make you fall apart," [Y/N] had a giddy sort of sneer on. Jaha should say something.
Was that true? Yeah, probably. A few drinks, a few murders. The music and food weren't half bad, and things were always so dull otherwise. Didn't he deserve this?
"Yes'ma'am," he hissed. He wasn't even sure what he'd chosen in reply, but that surprised laugh he got in response sounded mean and hot, so hot. God.
"Is this all I had to do to make you mind your manners? A drunk handjob?"
Jaha's hips jerked. Maybe. Okay, maybe.
"I prefer you like this," continued the woman, "Stay mindless next to me and maybe I'll keep you."
Jaha didn't want to be kept. That was not anything close to being in the script. This whole thing was just a stepping stone, conquer it and move on– oh, but he was close.
Kept. His dick certainly liked how [Y/N] had phrased it. Maybe he did want that, just a little? His brain was soft and the woman was smiling up at him with eyes that promised something. Like waiting to reward him if he just–
"Uh– fuck," his brain couldn't keep up with his mouth, "Yeah. I'm, agh–"
"Good dog."
He didn't notice he had fallen asleep until something nudged him awake. It had all felt the same: when he opened his eyes he saw white and when he closed them he saw a slightly duller white. The cold was always there. But now it was different. There was someone there, too, against the bleached sky.
"No one could actually be this stupid."
Jaha saw himself move rather than felt it, but he realized dully that [Y/N]'s boot on his chest was the reason, "Get up."
"[Y/N]?" asked Jaha. It hurt to blink, so he kept his eyes shut, "Hi. What're you doing here?"
"Hi yourself," the woman frowned down at him.
"How did you find me?" He had to be a mile or so from where he had left the others.
"The smell," she huffed, "I followed the smell of pure idiocy, and it led me here. Now get up," she repeated.
"Alright, yeah," said Jaha. It wasn't his idea to be hurled away by an avalanche and pass out, but at least it was [Y/N] who found him, and not the rest of the crew. It might be quicker this way, too.
"Did you not hear me?" came a sharp voice, "Jaha," it said sternly.
"What is it?"
"Stand up."
"...Am I not?"
He was not. It seemed he hadn't moved from the first time he had been instructed. Which was strange, because he definitely remembered doing so. But now that he was being hefted up, it struck him that this was completely different.
Jaha looked back over his shoulder, towards the top of the mountain, "What about the others?"
"The others–?" The woman seemed to remember all at once what Jaha was talking about, "Forget about them."
"Huh– why?"
"What do you mean why? Because you're barely conscious," [Y/N] snapped, "There's a cave up ahead. I'm bringing you there."
Jaha scowled. He wanted to argue, to protest, but the words wouldn't form right through the clacking of his teeth.
The maw of the cave was sizable and opened wide onto the white. This must be why there had been a cliff in the first place. The howling immediately stopped as they crossed the threshold. Temperature-wise, there was not much of a difference. Being out of the wind, however, did go a long way. Jaha felt like the boulder resting on his lungs had been downgraded to a large rock.
"Well," began [Y/N] with a sigh. Jaha had been aware in a vague, through-water sort of way that he had graduated from leaning on the other to being dragged by her, "You've really outdone yourself this time."
He was deposited onto the floor. His vision swam between the blinks of his watery eyes. It was as he pondered the ceiling of the cave, slanted and pockmarked, that Jaha came to the conclusion that he must be lying on his back. There was a tickle in his throat that he couldn't dislodge with coughing. Thoughts came slowly. Irritability lingered.
"That's an ugly face you're pulling towards the one who just saved your life," said [Y/N] from somewhere next to him.
The last cough left Jaha's chest like a growl. His head spun as if he were falling. Unable to get his bearings or discern where exactly [Y/N] was to glare at her, he rolled himself sideways and spoke with his cheek pressed to the pebble-laden floor.
This whole situation was too reminiscent of his past life.
"If you hadn't intervened, I would have been just fine," Jaha replied. Now that he was slowly regaining some small awareness of his body, he became aware of an acute pain in his temple. His knee was beginning to ache as well.
"Even for you, this is a new level of insanity," [Y/N] continued in a terse tone as if Jaha hadn't spoken. The ground crunched as she busied herself with something the man couldn't discern, "Be grateful that I deemed having you alive would be less work than dragging your dead body back to your subordinates."
There was a retort ready in Jaha's throat, but as footsteps approached, it became harder and harder to remember it. His field of view was overtaken by two boots, the snow on them melting. Then one disappeared from view, and there was a pressure on his chest as he was rolled over onto his back once more.
Many layers of clothes further numbed the sensations that were barely getting through to his body. Still, when [Y/N] threw a leg over him and sunk down to straddle Jaha's hips, he at least attempted to lift his head up.
There was no need. The back of his skull hit the ground immediately. His jaw was opened by one finger pressing into his canines, but then the other paused.
"You channelled your qi. Poorly, at that."
Jaha couldn't well answer with the way his mouth was being held open.
"You did. There are burst blood vessels in your eyes," [Y/N] sneered as she used her thumb to pull down at the bottom of Jaha's eye. The man wanted to ask why it mattered. Before he could, though, something was poured into his mouth.
"Don't make a scene. Swallow it."
His mouth was held shut. Jaha breathed hard through his nose, clenched his teeth, glared fucking daggers. The woman wore an expression that suggested she might have been reading a particularly uninteresting field report.
"Swallow," she repeated with an upward nod like it was only a matter of time before she got what she wanted. All Jaha's nerves seemed to come back online at once. He whined from behind closed lips.
It burned worse than Eastern alcohol on the way down.
He understood then that his body had been on pause, and now everything was back online all at once.
Feeling spread from his throat to his stomach and into his limbs. Now the threat of not freezing to death had passed, and every other pain sang to life in a horrible chorus.
He became aware that he was shivering– had he been so the entire time? Fatigue swept through him, worse than what he usually felt while training in his past life. His bones and teeth hurt.
Jaha cursed as he sat himself up, coughing. His lungs took in stinging cold air but he couldn't even catch his breath. He watched as the woman walked back over to her knapsack and slipped a small bottle back into one of the many pockets.
"What was that?" He wiped his chin.
"You're overreacting. It was a warming vial."
Jaha's addled mind spun for a bit before he put meaning to the words. The little glass bottles parents gave their kids when playing in the snow. They'd place them in their pockets to keep their hands warm. He never questioned what they were filled with.
"You're not supposed to drink those, last I checked."
'Doesn't matter," [Y/N] shrugged, "You just did."
Being horizontal was suddenly very unappealing. Groaning, the man slid himself over to lean against the wall of the cave, far from the entrance. His mood was sour and just about everything that could hurt in his body did. He didn't typically mind pain much– but miscalculation stung more when he'd had to be rescued as a result.
"What about the others?" asked Jaha, dimly.
"I told them to stay put."
"I hope we don't return to them frozen to death." He shifted his knee up and sucked in a pained breath.
"Oh please," huffed [Y/N] at Jaha's bellyaching, "You aren't dead just yet."
The snow whirled outside without stopping. He felt almost like a stupid kid again. Playing out in the snow too long, getting scolded by his grandfather. The neighbourhood kids that'd stuff rocks into snowballs. Those bruises always took forever to stop aching.
Jaha watched in silence as [Y/N] built up a small fire. She took materials from the knapsack by the wall. It was one of the ones their crew had packed before setting out; she must have grabbed it before she came to find Jaha.
"How do you even know about this place?" The man squinted, rubbing at his ribs.
"It might be your first time out here, but it isn't mine," replied the woman easily.
The fire, now lit, drew him in. Jaha shifted closer to be nearer, ignoring the way [Y/N] stopped to scoff. Even the sound of the wood popping under the heat felt good.
From a rock near the entrance, [Y/N] looked out at the storm, "We'll stay to wait out the worst of this. I doubt it'll last longer than the night," she paused for a moment, "And Master Jaha..."
Jaha groaned in acknowledgement. His eyes were closing.
"The next time you decide to face a natural disaster, be honest about your limits," her voice seemingly softened, but Jaha brushed it off as just him being tired and hearing things.
"I won't know them until I find them," mumbled the man, "And like you said, I'm not dead just yet."
"We don't happen to have some chicken noodle soup stuffed in that pack, do we?" groaned Jaha haplessly. Sometime between falling asleep and the sun setting, lying down had become appealing again. Sometime between lying down becoming appealing again and now, a ratty blanket had been placed underneath him.
"I've got another warming vial if you'd like," said [Y/N].
Jaha pursed his lips, sulking.
"Then stop complaining."
[Y/N] was still sitting where she had been when Jaha slipped out of consciousness, the only difference being now she was whittling something. Her hands moved slowly, but the tiny pile of wood shavings next to her suggested she'd been at it for some time. It was too small for Jaha to see from where he lay.
Next to him, the fire was still going, but growing weak. It left a stark desire for warmth in its embers. The woman had already informed him that there had only been enough materials for one in the pack. Once this was gone, he'd go back to devoting half of his thoughts to craving any sort of warmth.
"So you've been to this place before?" Jaha asked. Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "Did you mean the village near this place?"
[Y/N] hummed, along with a sigh, "Yes. It was part of my training growing up."
Training all the way out here while growing up? Suddenly, her attitude made sense to Jaha. After all, these mountains served as a place for outcasts to gather.
"This is the middle of nowhere," Jaha paused, "Do they have running water?
"I would hope so. There may be some rejects who forgo hygiene but I'd like to believe most are in the habit of bathing."
"A hot bath sounds good. Do you like baths?"
"Occasionally. Not for such juvenile purposes as relying on it to warm myself," she eyed Jaha in mock ridicule.
"Well, once we make it there, we can share one."
The small sound of scraping wood and the ever-present wind was all that could be heard for some time.
"You really don't feel cold?" Jaha said after a moment, turning his head slightly, "Not at all?"
"No," said [Y/N] to the blizzard, "Not at all."
The man blinked. The whirl behind [Y/N]'s silhouette seemed as if they were going to catch on her figure and swallow her. Like between this fluttering closure of his eyelids and the next, Jaha would find himself alone. He wondered why she had come. Responsibility as a teammate was the most sensible answer. But the martial masters didn't really rely on such routine ways of thinking. So why not just leave him to die in the snow?
Nothing [Y/N] did was without some sort of contradiction, Jaha had realized.
"I don't believe you."
At this, the woman turned. They held each other's gaze for a moment. Jaha's chest panged with how much he wished her closer. If the situation were different, he'd say some nonsense and suggest so. That worked about half the time if his math was correct.
[Y/N] did make to move, though not towards Jaha. She placed down what she had in her hands and stood, slowly.
"My subordinates would hardly hold me in their high graces if something like the cold could deter me from my goals."
Jaha wondered, was that a jab at him?
She worked at the neckline of her cloak for a moment. Jaha didn't understand what she was attempting to do until suddenly her cloak dropped to the ground and she stood in clothes unsuited for the temperature.
Jaha's heart jogged in his chest as if on instinct. His head still pounded, but he knew how it felt to touch that body and his palms itched.
"What're you…"
"You're cold, aren't you?" She asked as she bent over to pull off her boots, "The fire's almost died out, after all."
Jaha kept quiet, tracing her movements with his eyes.
His mannerisms made her scoff, "Stop gawking. As if this is something I haven't shown you before."
As if there were anywhere else to look.
Thumbs hooked over the waistband, pulling her pants off. She pushed both it and her underwear down in one motion, before tossing them to the side carelessly. Then she stood there, watching Jaha watch her. All of her. Every piece. There was a mild amusement in her eyes.
Jaha stared directly at that form, but it was like trying to focus on an aftereffect. Everything was reflected through that hue. The hair that ghosted the base of her neck, the dip of her shoulders, her breasts, her tummy, the ever so slight flare of hips, the curve of the back of her legs.
It was true, Jaha had seen her body before. But had always been denied the opportunity to take it in. Always so rough and fast and hard. Frantic. Now, there was quiet. Not calm, but something like a perversion of it. And [Y/N] looked, against the cragged rockface really, truly, exactly like a deity.
"Something you want to say?" [Y/N]'s eyes stayed locked onto Jaha's. At that, he couldn't hold it, and looked away, earning an amused scoff.
"You're a real petty piece of work, you know?" Jaha said tersely, mostly to distract himself from how he could feel his dick stirring. Even looking away, the thoughts flowed into his brain like sewage.
"Hmm?" Her lips quirked up into something that resembled a smirk, "Here I was hoping you'd be grateful."
Jaha scoffed quietly, observing as she approached him.
"I wonder," said Jaha. [Y/N] was kneeling in front of him before moving to straddle him, looking vaguely interested, but not really, "Will the others really be alright?"
"They'll figure something out," [Y/N] replied, "They can huddle for warmth if anything."
Warmth. Pressed up against a solid, beating thing. Images had washed over his mind in that instant. The woman was like a conduit for heat. It always began cold whenever they slept together and slid into something warmer.
He must have been staring because [Y/N] had a strange expression on her face.
"What?" asked she.
"No, it's nothing."
There was a slight pressure on his cheek. He felt soft, malleable. He realized [Y/N] had his face cupped in one hand, "Not getting ideas, are we, Master Jaha?"
He had been until this touch had stopped everything short.
"Not at all."
"Don't lie to me."
The promise of being done with this terrible feeling, even for a moment, was too strong. He knew he was going to lose this fight.
"[Y/N]," he began. The only thing he could hear was his own harsh breathing.
"What?"
There had been words he wanted to say. Something to articulate. But all that he managed was, "M'cold."
"I know," there was a small pleasure in it, "That's why I'm here."
Jaha's eyes looked her up and down.
"What do you need?"
He felt like he was stuck underneath a frozen lake. Losing without putting up a fight. She wouldn't tell anyone, would she?
"You."
The hand holding Jaha's face dropped away, "But I can't keep you warm for long."
He understood what was going on. That he was being baited. But if he did as he was told and laid a hand on the bare body before him now…
…he could slip his hands to lay on either side of [Y/N]'s neck. He might slide them lower then, down her shoulders, to her elbows. Press at her ribcage, and move back up. Jaha may squeeze at that chest.
And yet...
[Y/N] raised her eyebrows. A small tilt of her head, "No? You're getting cold feet now?"
"I can't tell if this is what you want," Jaha managed to reply, his mouth fuzzy, “My head… kind of hurts."
"Then you don't have to think. Isn't that what you've always done, anyway?"
Heedless instances and red flashes and split-second decisions. Impulse and action were what made him up. Yeah, it was what he had always done.
"Go on. Lead with your hands," said she, "Lean towards what you think will warm you up."
Jaha reached out. It felt like it took years for the gap between their bodies to end in a small point of contact. Just the flat of Jaha's hand on the base of [Y/N]'s neck. Thumb at the corner of her jaw.
As if it were the easiest thing in the world, the woman shifted in Jaha's lap. So little work for so much reward. The pressure of her body was proof that sensations other than cold existed. Bare legs on either side of his hips, [Y/N] sat for a spell, watching. That hand was still resting on his neck. She narrowed her eyes and nudged it.
"Is this all you want to touch, Master Jaha?"
His cheeks burned, though he didn't know why. They'd done this before, and every time Jaha was always overeager.
"I've already given you permission," said [Y/N] complacently, "Do whatever you want to me," She grabbed Jaha's hand and brought it to squeeze her breast, "After all, you're a stupid dog. You can't help yourself."
His dick jumped. More bait, he thought dully, but pride was much harder to touch than [Y/N]'s skin. And shame couldn't be all that bad if it set his nerves alight like this. Jaha kissed the last bit of his senses away.
It wasn't all that difficult afterwards to pull her closer. He panted against that tongue and whimpered at the bites on his lips. Hands rested on his shoulders, bunching in the fur of his collar. With nothing of his own to hang on to, Jaha held tight to the skin on the back of [Y/N]'s upper arm, the base of her spine, her hips. His hands felt clumsy, without purchase.
"Tell me what you're thinking."
[Y/N]'s hand in his hair tightened into a fist and settled Jaha's head back against the wall. He was trying to breathe through his nose so that the air wouldn't feel as cold.
"I– I–" Fuck. His mind was slipping into those soft, easy places. He wanted the simple shame badly. Sit. Stay. Roll over.
"I need you to tell me I'm a good boy."
It should be something admitted through clenched teeth, a bitten-off confession wrenched from him by force. But Jaha knew how good it could feel, and he also knew [Y/N]'s bored eyes would grow that much sharper at how ineptly it tumbled from his tongue.
Fingers were at his neck. They rested just below his jawline and sprouted a fire there, like everywhere else that [Y/N] touched. Those hands weren't hot, or even warm, so there must really be something wrong with Jaha's head. A thumb trailed up to press into the hollow beneath his bottom lip while the other fingers curled beneath his chin. Jaha's mouth hung open in small breaths.
"And are you?"
"Yeah."
[Y/N] cupped him through his pants, "You are? You're not a mutt with nothing in his brain but when he can next get his dick wet?"
He winced but managed to hold their eye contact. He wanted to earn this, "No— I'll be your good boy. Really good for you. Please."
"Haha," [Y/N] sat back, "Haha! Is there anything you won't do? Would you splay your stomach for me?"
Jaha nodded until he was sure he'd pulled something in his neck.
"Show me just how good you can be," breathed the woman. She released her hold on Jaha and sat back, "Get yourself off."
If there was still such a thing as shame in this little world they'd trapped themselves in, then maybe Jaha would have hesitated before fumbling out of his pants.
[Y/N] seemed to remember something, and only deigned to move from her position in the man's lap to root through the knapsack again. She threw a small vial at Jaha before sitting right back down.
Regular oil. [Y/N] had used it to wet the tinder for the fire earlier.
He unfastened his pants and slid them down his thighs just enough to free his dick. He then tipped the oil into his palm and started to stroke himself.
It hurt, his hands shook, but the friction felt good. The impulse to shutter his eyes nearly won out–but he wanted to be seen. To perform well and do as he was told bore the risk of reward. If the woman was feeling generous.
There was a chance Jaha would be delegated to finishing in his own hand with nothing so much as another touch from [Y/N]. Just a bored look and a mildly amused, pitying expression; Jaha had seen it before. It didn't matter, not really. There was heat in being the subject of such strict attention.
"Is this how you treat yourself when you think of me?"
"Yes," Jaha was distantly surprised at how desperate his voice sounded.
"Go on, keep talking. You wouldn't want me to lose interest."
"I think of our fights, the way you hit me."
"A dog who likes being disciplined."
"It's so hard to find someone who's able to keep up," Jaha twisted his wrist. He swore he saw real contempt pass over [Y/N]'s features, "You fight me like you really– hah –want to kill me.
"But I also," Jaha swallowed, "I really like when I can throw you off balance. And you give me that look like you're impressed with me."
"How honest."
"Ha… a nice break from all the treachery at Gangho, right?"
"Yes, but a mind as empty as yours can't contain shame. A mindless, pretty, obedient boy."
Jaha's hand stuttered for a moment on the upstroke. He pressed a thumb into the head of his cock to keep from coming right then.
"Maybe I'll reward you," the woman hummed for a moment. Her eyes raked over Jaha's body. He was the one with all his clothes on, but he felt seen through.
His wrist was swatted away as the woman took Jaha's cock into her own hand. And unlike Jaha, she set a much faster pace.
He didn't know how often they'd fucked. There were too many instances of a fight becoming something more, or an ill-advised dare between them, to count it properly. Still, they hadn't been at this all that long. And yet [Y/N] knew exactly what touches shook Jaha out of his mind with pleasure. His brain went white like the storm outside.
"Stay," instructed she. Jaha's hands bunched in the blanket underneath him.
He had to be good. He had to be good because if he wasn't, then [Y/N] would stop, leave him here. No use for a defunct weapon, a disobedient dog. He felt like he could cry. The brief brush of a nail against the underside of his cock, the way the heel of the woman's hand pressed into the head.
"God, [Y/N], Please, please, please–"
The touch vanished. Jaha buckled forward with a strangled sound. His hands flew to [Y/N]'s shoulders, his head rested against her neck. His shaking arms wrapped around her. His chest heaved.
"You can show discipline when you want to," a pitying hand carded through the hair at the nape of his neck, "Or is it only just for me?"
Yes, for you. Jaha wanted to say. No one else has ever been able to do this to me. I'm stuck with you.
"Please," Jaha swallowed, "Please."
"I don't know what you're begging for," said [Y/N], nonchalantly, "Tell me what you want, dog."
"I want to be inside you. Where it's warm."
"I've already given you my whole body. You still want more?"
He didn't know how he'd ever stop wanting more.
"Yes."
"Hm. And you'll be good?"
"Yeah. Promise."
[Y/N] pushed him back. With efficiency, she splayed herself out on the blanket, leaving Jaha to do his best to situate himself. The woman waited as Jaha stumbled out of his pants. Then he shifted until he was on top of her. His cloak covered most of their bodies. It gave the whole thing a bit of modesty, and even though there was no one but them, Jaha didn't want anyone to see how she let herself be touched by him.
He brought a shaking hand down [Y/N]'s stomach, down to between her legs.
"You're wet," Jaha realized happily.
"Yeah," [Y/N]'s eyes lidded, "And I can see your tail wagging."
Jaha had wanted to be asked, to be guided through, but he didn't need to be asked twice. He lifted up [Y/N]'s hips to position himself. He spread her legs apart, and the woman just allowed him to, limp and expectant. Jaha let one leg rest just over his shoulder.
And then he couldn't wait anymore. He pushed himself inside with a sigh. Perfect and tight and warm.
"Not just anyone would do this for you, you know," said [Y/N] from under him.
"I know," Jaha nodded as he began to move. Nothing, not the fire, or the draught or anything had felt as good as this.
He dipped his head and kissed the woman's neck. As he sped up it became sloppier until he was panting open-mouthed against the skin. There was so much sensation after hours of nothing. [Y/N] safe underneath him and Jaha safe in her hands. Everything else seemed small in the light of these facts. Being of service. Doing what he was told.
"How does it feel?" asked [Y/N]. As tight as Jaha was holding her, she didn't cling back. It wasn't uncommon to spot this detached look in her eyes, though Jaha never knew exactly what to do with it.
He settled for being earnest. It pushed its way past what little else was in his mind, "So good, thank you–"
There was a pressure building near the base of his spine, his stomach. Jaha was well aware he was close. But if he finished now, then she would move away again. He'd be without anything to grasp. And then what? Worse, getting himself off first felt selfish. He should take care of [Y/N] first, shouldn't he?
It must have shown on his face because [Y/N] spoke.
"Slow down."
Jaha whined. He wanted to. Only it was impossible, it had to be. But that's what he'd been told. Commanded. Somehow, his hips slowed and stopped.
A hand came to rest at his jaw. [Y/N] looked so composed, and Jaha felt ruined. But the woman's eyes were so pretty. They narrowed in a small laugh.
"Good boy, Jaha."
His heart skipped. His hips moved on their own.
"Sorry–"
"Oh, you do like it. No one calls you that anymore, do they?" He was being teased, but there seemed to be something more behind the words. Like she was happy to have this knowledge. And Jaha knew, somehow, that she'd hold it safe.
"Do you miss it?" A thumb over his cheek, "Does it make you feel whole again?"
"Yes," Everything felt raw and real. His heart was flayed and pumping hot blood. He wanted to move, needed to move.
[Y/N] did so first. She rolled her hips down and before long Jaha was meeting her. They found a rhythm easier than usual. The usual was claws and teeth and grasping onto whatever they could. Here, Jaha had given up the reins. Heat swelled up between them.
It was so soft and so warm. Jaha drove himself over and over and over into that heat, watching the way the skin of the woman's stomach buckled and moved.
He looked up, perhaps meaning to say something, but was distracted by the look he found on [Y/N]'s face. How empty it appeared at that moment. Their eyes met, but the woman only blinked.
Jaha wanted to bury himself inside. Would that draw out a reaction? Not just fucking, or fighting, but to live underneath that skin. There, he'd never be cold again, he was sure. How could he be, with someone to guide him from the storm?
Small hands went to grab the back of Jaha's arm, and that was all the warning he received before [Y/N] tightened around him. The minute movements in her expression, the clenching of her jaw, the too-fast blink of her eyelids. Jaha watched it all. The woman looked, for the first time since she had stripped herself, vulnerable.
He should stop. Jaha knew well how [Y/N] must feel right now, oversensitive and spent. But there it was; the urge to gorge himself on it. [Y/N]'s ankle behind his back pulled him closer. If he didn't stop at this moment, he knew he was not going to be able to.
"I–"
"Go on."
He thought he heard a sob, and then realized it must have been his own voice. A shudder wracked his body as he came–but shuddering from something other than cold felt so good.
It hurt dully when he collapsed to the side. The blanket really was not very thick at all. As if on impulse, he gathered her up in his arms and pressed her bare body close. Jaha worried for a moment that it was going to earn him a smack, but it was only the cloak being pulled over both of them. The sounds of the blizzard filtered back to the forefront. Then there was oblivion inside, as there was outside.
The other team members were fine, only nearly cried when they saw the two of them return safe and sound. Whatever paperwork it would have been for [Y/N] if a few of them died under her watch, it would've probably been leagues worse if she and Jaha had died instead.
The village, when they finally reached it, was more elaborate than Jaha had expected. They had only lost half a day to travel, and with a clear weather report for the next few days, they should be able to make it on time.
That night, Jaha knocked on the door to [Y/N]'s suite. A maid opened it. Her forearms were damp and she had a wood bucket in her hand. She dismissed herself with a bow.
"So," Jaha said, taking a seat on the bed, "About that bath offer."
[Y/N] didn't look up. She was in front of the bathroom sink, undressing. Jaha walked up behind her and untucked her shirt.
"It was you who offered if I recall correctly," [Y/N] said to the mirror.
"Yeah, but your bathroom's bigger. Perks of being a little more renowned than me."
"A little?"
The shirt fell to the tiled floor. [Y/N] turned to face him. Around her neck, she wore a necklace.
"Is this new?" He touched it with one hand, "I've never seen you wear it before."
It was long and wooden. He could see the lines of precise carvings on it.
"Yeah," [Y/N] brought it to her lips, "Want to hear it?"
The sound was faint, high-pitched. It was made to echo off trees and call well-trained pups back home.
⬦ info; written for valentine's day! first time, first kiss, loss of virginity, dares, switch Jaha, Jaha losercore, New Year's inspired because I missed New Year's, slight wounding/blood, oral sex, praise kink, gentle sex (with a touch of roughness)
⬦ wc; 6.7k
Mongrang dared him to do it; that's what Jaha reminds himself. Because that's the only reason he's currently wandering the streets of White Eagle Town like a lost kitten during the Qixi festival.
Now what he'd rather be doing is finding a bottle of something strong to spend his night commiserating with. In fact, there's a handle of Dukang wine back in his room with his name on it, which he is, unfortunately, going to have to forgo, but such is the life of a guy who never backs down from a challenge.
It's not like he's actually going to be able to pull this off, Mongrang's probably just looking for an excuse to embarrass him.
Actually, now that he thinks about it, he's sure the bastard's looking for an excuse to embarrass him, publicly at that because it just so happens that tonight the Jade Flower Palace planned an absolutely grandiose banquet for everyone present. Coincidence? He thinks not.
"Hey, country bumpkin," two hours prior at the banquet table, Mongrang whispers sweet venom into his ear.
His breath smells like dark red wine and rosemary, and his speech is already slurring. Jaha sips his own wine and tries his best to stay cordial. It'd be a shame if he gave into his urge to claw the other's eyes out this early in the night.
"I have a proposition for you," which is an absolutely foul way to phrase things and he knows it.
"Careful, fucker," Jaha smiles; shows teeth, "I haven't forgiven you from the last banquet for switching my wine with tomato juice," he's certain it was him, not because none of the others present would have the gall, but because nobody else chooses to spend their free time tormenting him except the Sex Demon himself.
Furthermore, there is really no reason for them to be sitting next to each other. Most of the time everyone was seated by who was closer to whom, but Geomma was absent, and the Generals were all too social to simply stick to Jaha. So by a horrible series of events, he's doomed to sitting next to Mongrang.
There is one other person who could've been quite tolerable to sit with, but they seem to be absent as well.
"Oh don't be like that, street urchin. I can see you're dying of boredom," he conjures a tiny snowflake on the tip of his finger and twirls it; six fractal arms twinkling in the candlelight. Jaha is, in fact, dying of boredom, but that doesn't mean he's going to give Mongrang the satisfaction of participating in one of his schemes.
"I am too, you know."
With a deadpan expression, Jaha reaches for his wine glass to toss it onto his problem to the right, but Mongrang quickly interjects.
"At least let me finish," the brunette hisses, with the nerve to look offended, "I suggest we wager a little bet, just you and me," he smiles, sickly sweet. Jaha finds it disgusting.
A bet. Jaha doesn't like the sound of that. He doesn't like the sound of that at all. People like Mongrang don't initiate bets, not without being certain that they'll win.
But here's the catch: Jaha is never one to turn down a bet. Mongrang knows this; everyone knows this, and they use it to their advantage all of the time. Sigh. He really needs to work on his self-control. He'll take that to his self-assigned therapist (Moyong didn't have a choice) the next time he sees him.
"What did you have in mind?" He signs his deal with the Devil.
Mongrang leans in close, letting him feel the ghost of his breath on his neck, "last one to get laid tonight loses."
Jaha chokes on his wine. The back of his neck goes bright red as he coughs and sputters, bringing his forearm to his lips, "are you out of your mind, you stupid fu—"
Jaha cuts himself off when he sees Mongrang's self-satisfied expression, and quickly composes himself. It's not often that someone catches him off-gaurd like this. Seems like the Sex Demon is more dangerous than Jaha had initially deemed.
"Why would I ever agree to that?" Jaha furrows his brows in both confusion and disbelief.
"What? Don't you think you can do it?" Mongrang puts on a shit-eating grin, and there it is; the challenge. He's got him and he knows it.
Jaha scoffs, "I never said that"
"Great! It's a deal then," Mongrang crushes the snowflake and pushes his chair back loudly, before striding away from the table, on a mission.
"Pleasure doing business with you, country bumpkin!" He calls over his shoulder. Jaha mentally puts his head in his hands, wondering what in the world he'd just agreed to.
Jaha surveys the party as crystalline snowflakes fall from the sky. The Palace really was incredible, anything they dreamed of, they could make. With the help of Mongrang, they conjured flurries at will, and they always do for such events. The Jade Palace is their own personal snow globe.
And although any other day Jaha might have begrudgingly admitted that the icy ornaments Mongrang so effortlessly made weren't unsightly, today they felt like relentless blows in his face, thus he wished for nothing more than to melt them away.
But Mongrang himself wasn't around, so there was no point in doing that. Another time, Jaha thinks.
The courtyard was still alive with drinking, dancing, and other revelry. In the centre, a massive fir tree stands sentinel, still wrapped in glowing midwinter lights.
Dedicating an entire day to celebrating love had always seemed strange to Jaha. To him, it was almost childish to view the dynamic nature of love as something to be in awe of, rather than a simple fact of life. He supposes though, in theory, love wasn't a given, because in this world nothing is guaranteed. Quickly, though, he pushes that thought from his mind– he doesn't need to be a killjoy tonight. It certainly won't help him in winning this bet.
Now he'd take this to his grave, but he's decidedly inexperienced in this area – sex that is. He's not even sure how to go about winning this bet. He considers just paying a working girl, but he'd never live that down. That would go against all his morals.
He could pick someone up at a bar? Not a chance, too far away and too difficult (for him only, it seems). How about one of his subordinates? No, there's some kind of power dynamic there that he doesn't really want to get into. He rubs at his temples and groans. Mongrang is going to win this, and Jaha's going to be subjected to whatever horrible torment he has in mind for the loser of the bet.
Jaha's own fault, he supposes, for accepting such a bet from the Sex Demon himself.
He exits the courtyard to return to the sheltered walls of the palace, his feet feel sluggish after the realization that his inevitable loss is inching closer by the second.
"Still moping about, little rabbit?" Jaha freezes at the familiarity of the voice and turns to face whoever has just done an excellent job of sneaking up on him. He lays eyes on the one person who could've saved him from this damned bet by simply sitting beside him in place of Mongrang.
Of course, of all the martial masters he knows, she's one of the quietest when she's not running her mouth. Jaha would liken her to a docile cat if he knew no better. The woman is tipsy and has a fifth of wine in her hand.
Jaha's guard immediately flies up, because the woman never starts a conversation with him unless she's done something that needs cleaning up. Jaha's pretty sure she's been sent personally by the Devil himself to ensure that he never gets rest, the others are no exception either, of course. Call him paranoid, but—
"Relax," [Y/N] chuckles, holding her hands up in a placating gesture. "I'm not here to get us into any trouble," her eyes shine with barely repressed laughter. The liquor in the bottle sloshes around and Jaha can't help but look at it longingly.
"So how come you've decided to get out of your hiding place?" The ravenette raises an eyebrow, perturbed. He can feel a grudge forming.
"I asked you a question," the woman almost pouts, slurring her speech a bit. She steps closer and Jaha backs up because out of all of his associates, [Y/N] is the only one who truly scares him.
She's like a walking tornado of chaos, with a knack for stirring up trouble, and oh, Jaha doesn't even wish to think about it. Take, for instance, the time she casually turned half of the Black Rabbit sect's quarters into a blazing inferno - not once, but multiple times. And let's not forget the time she inadvertently invited a horde of spiders into the sect by forgetting to stash away some herbs she was carrying around before leaving. The entire sect spent weeks squashing them out. Jaha still shudders at the memory of finding those eight-legged invaders in his every meal.
And believe him, that's just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to her repertoire. Truly a terrifying woman to be around.
It makes Jaha want to fight her, but it'd be bad form to initiate a spar at a banquet, especially with someone from his own sect.
"I asked if you're still moping about," she continues, "It's been hours since dinner."
"So what?" Jaha glares at her, though it's more like he's sulking, hoping to be left alone in his misery.
"No offence, but you look pathetic, great brother."
"Spit it out, woman," Jaha is losing his patience, because of course the other is here to bother him. He tolerates her, but he thinks he might actually dislike drunk [Y/N].
At this moment in time, at least. Normally, she's quite... fun to be around. He'd never admit that out loud, though. The last thing he wants is to encourage her obnoxiousness.
"Well I was going to offer you a drink, but I can see that I'm not wanted here," the smaller one hums, feigning insult. She stretches big, making sure Jaha can see the completely full bottle of Dukang wine glint in the moonlight.
Now, if Jaha didn't know any better, he'd think the offer was genuine. However, she is definitely up to something. This is [Y/N] after all. She's always doing something for her own personal amusement. Jaha isn't particularly interested in falling for another scheme tonight, but the Dukang wine is a tantalizing offer. Once again his eyes are drawn to the bottle of sweet salvation. A little liquid courage could be all he needs.
And [Y/N], like the cheeky loafer she is, turns to walk away, robes swaying behind her loftily. Jaha thinks on her words. How bad can one drink really be?
"Wait."
Okay so he has a bit more than one drink.
The riverside is perfectly secluded at this hour. They settle on a small bench underneath a high arched alcove. The moonlight was shimmering down upon them.
[Y/N] inaugurates the bottle with a deep swig, tears pricking at her eyes at the burn, because honestly, Dukang wine is borderline undrinkable without a chaser to most people.
"Having some trouble?" Jaha chuckles and reaches for the bottle. He feels a bit fuzzy, which is strange because he's not drunk yet, nor is he ever. Well at least he thinks he isn't.
"Piss off," the woman slurs, but there's a bit of a laugh in it. It sparks something strange in Jaha's chest, something he quickly pushes down because fuck him if he's doing that right now.
Jaha purses his lips awkwardly, before opening them, "So, how was your day?" He makes an attempt to start a cordial conversation.
"Are you really trying to make small talk with me right now?" [Y/N] quirks an eyebrow, and for some reason Jaha's attention is drawn to it. He trails the lines of the woman's face from her soft cheekbones down to her plush lips.
Despite his best efforts, his mind strays to the dare and all of a sudden his ears are burning. [Y/N] might not be a bad choice. Well, she's actually a horrible choice. She'd probably be just as unruly in bed if not more... not that Jaha would mind. Honestly, the man doesn't even know if he's interested in things like that, or if she is interested in any of that, for that matter.
But Jaha is quickly running out of options, and he hates to admit it, but there's something about the other that's kind of doing it for him right now, which rarely happens nowadays. Back when he was the mad demon, it only happened perhaps once or twice when he was young. He takes another pull of the wine, lets it trickle down his throat and warm his stomach.
"Great brother, don't tell me you're drunk already."
"What? Why would you say that?" Jaha scoffs out a laugh, snapped out of his thoughts.
"Your ears, they're flushed," the woman slurs her observation, "I've never them like that before."
Oh. He's been caught. But Jaha really can't help himself, ever since the dare wormed its way into his mind, he's having a hard time looking away from his associate. The woman is objectively beautiful. The men under Jaha's wing tend to fall over themselves for her attention until they realize she's an insufferable incendiary, but even then, they hold out hope for a chance.
"Well—" Jaha starts.
"Pass it," she flexes her fingers and the man's eyes are suddenly drawn to her hands. Every single motion the woman makes is enticing right now. What the actual fuck is going on? Jaha feels like he's a teenager again, but what shit timing.
Okay, he can admit that he has a little crush, has had a little crush since the moment he'd seen the woman for the first time. In all her obnoxiousness she had come into Black Rabbit's quarters out of nowhere, blood-stained and smelling something awful. She strode into one of the sect's meetings like she owned the place and presented the head of a man Jaha had been searching for, kicking it across the floor, before bowing with a flourish, all toothy.
She was full of character from the get go. Ever since that... brazen display of randomness, she ended up revealing her connection to Nachal Dae, and said that she had hunted the man Jaha had been after as a thanks for liberating her friends, the Generals.
Henceforth, she could be found lounging about at the quarters, and soon enough everyone simply got used to her presence.
...
They get drunk. Not terribly so. Jaha still knows up from down and all that. Nothing to write home about. He feels mostly fine. But there's a comfortable warmth in his stomach and a nice buzz that's settled over his mind.
Moonlight seeps into the alcove, illuminating the vast star-speckled sky. Usually, it would draw Jaha's attention, when he was younger, he used to trace the stars with his eyes every night so he could imagine a future for himself among them. But not tonight, tonight he is captivated by someone that, martial arts be damned, burns just as bright.
[Y/N] takes another drink, and Jaha watches her throat work through it, and he can't - for the life of him - fathom why. He wants to attribute it to the glasses of red wine he drank at dinner, but that'd be doing himself a disservice because he knows he can drink most grown men under the table. No, there's something else brewing in his chest, a terrifying, molten feeling that makes the woman impossible to look away from.
In all honesty, [Y/N] is not bad in terms of drinking partners. She's quiet, yes, but that's a given with her mostly introverted personality. She's also nice to look at. Really nice to look at, for a matter of fact.
"I don't get know why the Mong family insists on these things," she gazes down at the courtyard below. Faceless figures in extravagant robes and masks intermingle, becoming one fuzzy blur of humanity.
"Don't you see it's all part of their grand plan to make us miserable?" Jaha grins at her and drinks from the bottle again.
"Is that all there is, though? Misery?" She reaches for the fifth, and Jaha pulls it away.
"I think you've had enough," he laughs and takes another swig for himself.
"Never thought I'd see the day the Great Jaha would get introspective on me," her face is a little flushed, and it must be from the alcohol, has to be from the alcohol.
"'The Great Jaha'," Jaha repeats, a small smirk playing on his lips.
[Y/N] lets out a snort, "That was an insult."
"It's hardly an insult to know what you think of me," the moonlight flits across the woman's face, and Jaha wants.
"It'd be only fair to hear your thoughts too, then."
Jaha feigns studying her for a moment, "Tacky."
"Oh, but you love it," she shamelessly scoots closer.
"I find everything you say tactless and asinine."
"But you're here with me."
Jaha sighs, "Indeed I am," they settle into a comfortable silence, passing the bottle back and forth, though Jaha can't resist muttering under his breath, "for the wine."
The woman keeps her knowing smile.
Another moment of silence passes between them.
"You know, you're not half bad when you want to be," [Y/N] breaks it.
Jaha hums, speaking with humour, "And you're twice as bad no matter how hard you try."
The woman laughs, "I take it back."
She then scooches, just a little bit, closer to the man, who makes no move to draw away, "It's still your turn to say something truly introspective," she whispers.
"Now I'm sure you've had enough," Jaha snatches the bottle from her and finishes it, letting the last of the liquid-fire drip down his throat.
"Aw, but why? Must I always carry the conversations?" She lets out a sound akin to a whine.
"I like listening to you talk," there it is, an embarrassing thing that Jaha's been holding in all night. He's got more embarrassing things to say, but he stops himself.
"Cute," the woman says with that deadpan sarcasm that never lets Jaha know what she's thinking. He's sure [Y/N] meant it as an insult, but his heart leaps anyway, hopes he didn't.
A moment of silence.
"You're pretty when you do," Jaha leans in just a fraction, and the others' eyes widen.
The clock strikes midnight. Chime
There is liquor on their lips but not enough for this. Not enough at all for this. If nothing else, maybe he can allow this lapse in judgment, maybe he can allow this fall. Jaha closes the gap between them, kissing her softly. Time dilates.
Chime
[Y/N] tastes like wine, tea, and starlight. Sweet curiosity turns to burning intensity as they both seek to consume each other. And Jaha finds that there is joyous rapture in the agony of what it is to feel connected to another.
Chime
The kiss is a clumsy affair, mostly Jaha's doing, but it's good, more than good, and Jaha wants to devour it. Faintly, it occurs to the man that this is his first kiss, and he is all of a sudden overwhelmed beyond belief. He pulls away, dazed, shaky, and it all comes crashing down.
Chime
"Sorry," his breath comes in short, anxious puffs, "I shouldn't have done that."
Gods strike him down; he's doomed. He wants to crawl into a hole and die. Yet he also wants to pull her close and seal their lips together once more. Do it again; he wants to. He's beginning to understand the obsession people have with kissing.
Perhaps that is the whole reason this day exists. An excuse to lose yourself within another.
Chime
"Yeah, you shouldn't have," [Y/N] affirms.
Chime
"Now, do it again."
Chime
"Anyone could see us," Jaha points out, for the sake of the other. It is also at this point that it occurs to Jaha that the woman may have been flirting with him this entire time. From the moment she approached him, bottle in hand, stars in her eyes.
"Great brother, when have either of us ever cared what anybody thinks?"
Chime
There is more heat the second time. More heat as the other takes the lead and licks into his mouth. Jaha thinks he hears a wolf whistle from below, but it dissolves quickly into the roaring in his ears. He's lost in a tidal wave of sensation. He wonders if it's really all supposed to feel like this because, in both of his lifetimes, he never imagined that it would feel like this. Everything is upside down, sideways, lengthwise.
Chime
The woman takes him deeper and tangles her tongue with his own, and Jaha feels like he's floating. He returns with fervour, with that clumsy confidence that only comes with your first time. [Y/N] withdraws, and then she's everywhere. Hands under Jaha's shirt, lips on his neck. She finds the sweet spot between Jaha's jaw and collarbone and bites down hard, Jaha throws his head back in a choked gasp.
Chime
The invigorating thrill of battle is there, and it's strange because nothing about this is a fight. There is no resistance here. [Y/N] takes and takes, and Jaha allows it because he's never wanted anything but this. But still, he feels almost exactly how he does when he's deep in a fight. Sweat stuck to his brow, chest heaving with strangled breaths, lip split. He feels overwhelmed. He feels alive, and it's brilliant.
Chime
The woman latches onto his neck, sucking mottled bruises that will surely be there in the morning. There's far too much happening and somehow not enough. She is all-consuming, and faintly in the back of his mind, Jaha feels like he's forgetting something. Something important, but by the Gods, Jaha doesn't want this to end. Whatever this is, he wants to drown in it, then her hands drift to his waistband, and it's like the man has been dumped into a cold lake because he remembers–
Chime
"[Y/N], wait—" the other bites down on his neck again, "[Y/N]—" Jaha gasps, "Wait."
The woman pulls off of him, and she looks just as wrecked as Jaha feels. Her pupils are blown wide, and there is everything and nothing but stardust in them. Jaha is breathless, chest heaving with exertion. He takes a deep breath and wipes the spit from his mouth, trying to compose himself.
"Is something the matter?" Jaha hears a speck of concern in the other's usually cheery voice, remembers the dare, and all of a sudden he feels like a Grade-A Asshole.
"There's something you should know," he swallows thickly, his heart beating fast. How does he even go about admitting it? Now that he thinks about it, this is actually really fucked. When he took that bet, never in his wildest dreams did he imagine anything like this.
[Y/N] hums like she doesn't particularly care what Jaha has to say, instead busying herself with running her hands over Jaha's abs.
What does he do? Pry the other's hands from his body and stop her long enough to choke out: Hey, Mongrang actually dared me to fuck someone tonight, but I promise that this has nothing to do with it, well, in the beginning, it did, but now it doesn't, and I feel like a fucking dickhead, also I'm really enjoying this, Mongrang be damned, so can we please proceed?
Yeah, that is not going to work, Jaha might as well condemn himself to the guillotine.
He'd never had time for this really: to want. Wanting was a distraction, distraction was weakness, and there was no place for weakness for the Mad Demon. It was almost a cruel twist of fate to think that this was only half real, but fate always had been immeasurably cruel to him. He feels guilty.
"I don't know how to say this–"
"What? That this is a dare, and now that this is actually happening you're getting cold feet?" The woman is close again, so close that she outright purrs into his ear, and Jaha freezes up.
"How did you..." Jaha furrows his brows in confusion, overwhelmed with the abject horror of this situation. The woman knew from the very beginning, and she still—
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, great brother, that man can't whisper even when he's sober," she licks at the shell of his ear and Jaha stifles a gasp. [Y/N]'s hands creep below his waistband and leave little electric sparks in their wake, "And word tends to spread fast."
"So you're okay with this?"
"Clearly," she trails her lips downward, letting her teeth tug at the skin underneath Jaha's ear until it's black and blue, bloody; gingerly licking at the wound she left, the smooth lap of her tongue sending shivers down the man's spine, "I initially came to make fun of you, but I suppose this is a tolerable change in events."
"Besides, I thought perhaps I'd help you out a bit. Trust me when I say I know what it's like to lose a bet to..." Her face contorted into a disgusted expression as she paused, "Mongrang."
"Who knew you were so generous?" Jaha rhetorically asks, breathless between kisses.
"Oh, but I'm not. Now you'll owe me," she smiles, sinister, and it should really unnerve Jaha, reminding him that he is, in fact, dealing with [Y/N], but instead, it sparks heat in his stomach.
Jaha considers the pros and cons of owing the woman anything. In reality, there are no pros at all, he's playing a dangerous game with a very dangerous woman, yet he can't find it in himself to care.
He's always had a bit of a thing for the melodramatic. Call him crazy, but everything about the woman intrigues him. How she conjures death from delicate fingers. The quirk of her lip as she decimates a battlefield, the spark of mischief whenever she gazes upon him.
There's another wolf whistle from below, and this time, the man pulls back long enough to shoot a death glare at whatever piss-drunk party-goers are in the courtyard right now.
[Y/N] can't help but snicker, "Wanna get out of here?"
The woman's room is similar to Jaha's own, save for the amount of personal effects she has brought with her to this hotel. She always has to leave an impression wherever she goes, Jaha concludes.
"Finished gawking?" Her voice is playful, but there's a sultry undercurrent there that is novel to Jaha. He's sure he likes it.
Hands pull at clothes. The man fumbles with the woman's clothes. He's nervous, honestly, he has been since Mongrang made him agree to this asinine dare, but this is different. He's inexperienced to a level he hasn't been since he was dropped head-first into the world of martial arts at such a tender age.
"So you really know everything?" He asks awkwardly– half-asks because he already knows the answer– trying to distract from the fact that he physically cannot get the other's clothes off. He's never had to touch women's clothes before, after all.
"Of course, I did! Do I really need to go over this with you again?" [Y/N] pulls his hands off of her, and expertly undoes her robes, before shucking it off to reveal her undergarments. Jaha doesn't usually see women show this much skin, and the observation is tantalizing Mostly due to the fact that it's her. He finds himself wanting to run his tongue over the smooth unblemished flesh; wants to sink his teeth into her.
"And you still want to..." Jaha starts to deflate. Why is he so nervous now? He wants this; wants it really bad, but it's like there's a mental block. Something is keeping him from relaxing.
"I'm here, aren't I?" The woman sighs and takes a step back, a very slight pout on her lips, "Is something the matter?"
"No, not at all," Yes. "I just don't…"
"I'm not going anywhere, Jaha."
Oh.
Some minutes later, the man settles his teeth in the skin near the other's jugular. Litters the woman's skin with love bites and mottled bruises. They're both half-naked on the bed by the time Jaha admits it:
"I've got another confession to make."
"What now?" [Y/N] withdraws from the bruise she'd been methodically sucking into Jaha's collarbone, clearly annoyed at the interruption.
Jaha purses his lips, "I've never–"
"Done this before?" She finishes for him, bangs lying flat on her face, "I know. You're kind of obvious."
Jaha feels his ears go hot, and murmurs a soft, "Sorry."
"Sorry for what? Being a virgin? Don't be an idiot," [Y/N] kisses him again, softer this time, her voice light. And it must be the alcohol because there's no other excuse for the way Jaha leans into the kiss, eyes falling shut, trying his hardest to be eaten alive.
"I was planning to take the lead anyway," the woman breathes across his lips, soft, and playful, and Jaha melts. He's so incredibly into this, and every breath and movement feels absolutely electric.
"Just tell me what to do," he says, words falling from his lips like a plea. His neck is beyond hot, he's sure of it, there's far too much going on. Jaha is so far gone, and they haven't done anything but kiss and mark each other up.
This is everything and nothing like what he had imagined.
When he'd met the woman, never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd have the privilege of seeing her like this. He feels unbridled, filled with lust and something else he can't quite place. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd have the chance to see, feel, touch.
The man rakes his nails down her thighs, settling them at the base of [Y/N]'s ass, and plants butterfly kisses over the soft skin of her neck. His fingers leave little crescent moons in their wake. The woman slaps his hands away and pushes Jaha back on the bed lightly.
"Enough of that," she moves to pull the man's underwear down, hooking her fingers in the waistband with a sultry look. She frees his cock and then leans down to be level with it.
"[Y/N], what are you—"
[Y/N] simply smirks and presses a kiss to the head of Jaha's cock. It jumps at the sensation, and Jaha feels a jolt of pleasure throughout his entire body. He barely ever indulges himself in these things, and now that she's the one indulging him, he feels like he's not going to last long at all.
"This is a one-time thing," the woman whispers against his head, and it's like she doesn't even believe it herself because there's gold in her voice and stars in her eyes.
Jaha nods.
[Y/N] takes him in her mouth, and it's not fair. Jaha's head tips back, mouth falling open in a silent moan. There's a hazy, perfect precision in which she works him with her lips and tongue, and Jaha thinks he might die.
The woman is criminally good with her mouth.
And as much as he's thankful for [Y/N]'s surprising amount of skill, he's also a bit jealous because she has to have done all of this to other people. She couldn't have learned everything or become this talented all by herself.
Jaha frowns at the thought.
People have been in his position before. They've been held by [Y/N], been touched by [Y/N]—they’ve held [Y/N], touched [Y/N].
That makes Jaha want to step up. If he wants to have any chance of doing this again with her, he has to step up. And so, albeit uncertain, he gently runs his fingers through the woman's hair before finding a steady grip and tugging her closer.
The moan she lets out around his cock reassures him, and soon he finds a steady grip, tugging her closer.
Jaha tries to ignore the claustrophobic feeling of having his cock in such a tight space and instead focuses on the quite overwhelming feeling of hitting the back of the woman's throat. It's foreign, but not unwelcome.
Jaha's sure that if the woman could have it her way, she would make him reach even further, be even rougher. But Jaha's unsure if he could handle all that this time around.
He knows she's not made of glass. And he does wonder what she'd look like borderline gagging on his cock. He wonders what she'd sound like, how she'd cope with it all.
Jaha subconsciously tightens his hold on the woman's locks and yanks her head back, forcing [Y/N] to look him in the eye. She's silent, waiting to hear whatever Jaha has to say.
And, you know what? Fuck it, Jaha thinks.
It's his first time. He might as well push the limits.
"Let me be selfish for a bit, won't you?"
[Y/N] frowns, not sure what Jaha is really implying, but Jaha doesn't let her wander too far into confusion. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing himself in as far as the woman will allow him to go, and her eyes widen. Her fingers dig into Jaha's hip, drawing a pained hiss from the ravenette, but she can't pull away because Jaha's hand keeps her in place.
The woman has to fight the urge to gag. She's held down for maybe five seconds, maybe eight; she can't really keep count. She's too focused on trying to breathe through her nose. When Jaha finally pulls her off, the woman is spluttering and trying to catch her breath. Tears have collected on her lashes, but they haven't fallen just yet. She tries to blink them away, but Jaha grabs her jaw with his other hand and forces her mouth open again before shoving her down onto his cock.
This time the woman is expecting it and thus, she's a little more relaxed, but each time Jaha rolls his hips, her throat tightens around the man's cock. [Y/N] moans, nails scraping down his thighs, and that must've been the right move to play because the desperate groans that cascade down from Jaha's lips are all she ever wants to hear.
[Y/N] feels the drag of his cock as he shoves himself in and out of her throat repeatedly, setting a fast and brutal pace that has the other whimpering. It feels good, so good, for both of them. Jaha thinks this is better than anything he’s ever experienced before, including anything he’s ever imagined. And it definitely is.
Taking this risk was rewarded.
A low wanton sound escapes his lips and it's like the floodgates don't ever wish to close because Jaha is suddenly unabashedly loud. Panting and groaning. It's so vastly different than when he's by himself, not at all like when he used to steal away to his room and fuck his fist until he's shaking. No. This is so much better.
The woman's cheeks are hollow and stretched around him, caressing him with every motion, war-torn hands that should be hardened, but are soft– so soft, rubbing circles into his thighs.
"Shit," Jaha loses himself in it. There's too much, far too much of this feeling that threatens to overtake him. He gasps, shudders, bucks his hips one, two times, and he's done; finishing breathlessly into the other's mouth.
[Y/N] pulls back to sit on her heels. Taking a moment to breathe and reign her emotions back in. She then hums and sticks out her tongue so Jaha can see his work, then closes her mouth and swallows, and for the second time tonight, Jaha finds himself drawn to the motion of her throat. It occurs to him that he's never come that fast in his life, but everything about this is so hot that it quickly overrides any kind of shame Jaha might have at the thought.
[Y/N] wipes her mouth and rises from her knees to crawl back over Jaha. She then straddles him.
"You did well," she praises, and Jaha feels another jolt of pleasure go through him. Oh. That's new. She seems to notice it too given the way her smirk widens.
"Do you like when I do that?" She grins and moves in to kiss him again, "Praise you?”
Jaha can taste himself on her lips and that shouldn't be as hot as it is.
[Y/N] pulls away for a moment, "You look beautiful like this."
Jaha's entire body flushes hot; he moans, and the other swallows it, lips back on him with a fury usually reserved for fighting. The moment is carnal but undeniably romantic.
She chuckles, "I’ll make note of that."
Jaha heaves out a breath, "How are we—"
"Lay back, you're going to fuck me now," she says, so matter of fact, yet playful, that Jaha can feel himself getting hard again. The woman settles herself on Jaha's hips who shudders under her.
"Relax, great brother, you're shaking," she says with a soft laugh.
He is? Oh, he is. Whether it's due to anticipation or the orgasm he experienced moments ago, he's uncertain.
"Don't worry about your performance. It's just you and me. I won't tease you for something like this," but that's the problem, "Or is something else the matter?"
Jaha looks away.
"Oh?" [Y/N] rolls her hips and locks eyes with the man, "It's me, isn't it?" She smirks, ever the troublemaker.
"Usually, you'd do this, but I'll cut you some slack tonight," she reaches forward to the bedside table, still perched on top of Jaha. She takes out a small bottle of... something. Jaha wouldn't know. She then begins applying whatever was in the bottle on his cock, and Jaha's breath hitches. It's cold, but combined with the hotness of her hands, it's pleasurable.
The sight of her only adds to the moment. Settled on top of him, moonlight haloing her hair, making her look inhuman, making her look more than.
"Beautiful," the words fall from Jaha's lips before he can stop them, a divine truth being pulled from his very being. Because the woman is beautiful, devastatingly so, and it would be a great disservice not to tell her.
"Stop talking," she murmurs, a blush coating her cheeks. And then she slips Jaha inside of her.
It's awkward at first: fucking. Getting used to the movement, the feeling, everything. It's too much and not enough at all. A beautiful contradiction. [Y/N] rolls her hips, and Jaha gasps, twitching inside of her. They pick up a steady rhythm, and the man clamps a hand over his mouth, resisting the urge to wail. She, however, pries the hand from his mouth and interlaces their fingers.
She is hot and soft inside, the tantalizing slide of skin on skin aided by the slick oil she'd used earlier. Jaha wonders if she carries that around all the time, or if tonight was just a special case. Before he can stop it, the thought of being special, of being something greater than ordinary sends a hot spike of pleasure through his stomach.
Fucking is like fighting, he decides. A dance of passion between two souls. He can't get enough of it.
To be honest, initially, Mongrang's dare terrified him. But he thinks he might be okay with this. [Y/N] is firm but gentle. She takes the lead, and Jaha is happy to follow. He lets himself slip away into bliss, genuine tears pricking at his eyes. It's so much, too much, and too good for him to think at all. It's too much for him to do anything but feel. He grips her hips tighter and squeezes his eyes shut in the pure madness of it all.
He's completely caught up in the moment, the sky could fall, and he doesn't think he'd notice.
"Shit dog," he doesn't see him again until lunch the next day. He's clearly avoiding him, sitting at a table all by himself.
"Oh, country bumpkin, about that bet, I realized that—" Jaha cuts him off by throwing a heavy metal pin on the table.
"Holy shit," Mongrang breathes.
"You actually pulled it off," he picks up [Y/N]'s pin, and scrutinizes it like he's trying to see if it's fake, "And with her of all people?"
Jaha smirks, plopping down on the chair opposite Mongrang, "So what do I win?"
romaincrisis
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
andulkaphoto
theartofmadeline
annaxmalina
baratheonpilled
