Because there is little-to-no pur and simple Rufus and Alica smut, and gods be dammed if I'll sit back and let that be.
Rated for some language (because swearing makes Rufus a badass) and very naughty business.
This is a serious warning kids - GRAPHIC SEX! Okay?
She is so innocent, so, so fucking innocent and he feels like a bit of an old bastard because he's lived so much longer than her, and the only trick is it that doesn't show. But in this body he's been given it's enough to fool the two of them… sort of. If Princesses (now formerly) possessed by Valkryies and vessels for the gods were ever meant to be in the first place.
But she had started it, walking up to him on those shapely legs and staring at him with those baby-doll eyes and starting the ball rolling from that very point. The snowball of inevitability leading to this. This this…
It is wrong, what there are doing… had been doing, are about to do… it is just wrong: ethically, hieratically, logically…every single bad '-ally' you can think of and it probably applied to them in one way or another.
But he doesn't stop. And she doesn't stop him.
By now he's yanked the heavier parts of her armour off, although he possesses enough grace not to keep going with the rest of her just yet, and not too roughly either.
He doesn't want to violate her. Although he's fucked if there's any other way to do it.
So he sets about bringing her to a point, distracts himself with making her feel like he does (how he has felt for far too long in her presence) because that is the only way he's going to get through this. Kisses, teeth, light tickling caresses followed by sharp pinching ones. He runs his lips all the way up the back of her neck and stretches his fingertips round to her front, creeping up her stomach to the hills and valleys of her chest, these breasts are usually strapped into that unforgiving armour, but now they are held by naught but his hands.
What feels like pure electricity darts between them, earthing in her fluttery, shy breaths as he works her body between his fingers like a smith; drawing one hand up higher and higher until he can catch her hair and draw it away from her virgin skin.
He presses his lips against her neck again and he can't help digging his teeth softly into her, she is like one of those fragile-looking dolls that you've seen dropped time and time again and wonder how in heavens it hasn't broken, but as soon as someone lets you hold her all you can think about is trying to crack the porcelain skin.
Her girlish gasps are not easy to hide, and he only digs his teeth in harder when he hears them, every reaction she gives him is just fuel on the fire, and her hands grasping to hold him wherever he can reach don't exactly help.
The helpless way she leans against him, very probably because of his recent ministrations, makes it an easy feat to gather her up in his arms… need he say it? Bridal style, and carry her though to the bed.
But he takes care in laying her down on the bed, not throwing, because he will not let this degrade completely into something animal. He is going to pore over her, treasure her: because no one else has before… not her friends nor her 'family', if that title is even worthy for them.
Because of them, she was always kept at a distance, and it is tragic because just look at her… look at what they left, the child they dumped screaming in the road on the way on to the next town.
…She is so beautiful and so pure and why isn't she loved?
So now he tells her all the things she should've heard, the things she missed out on with no one bar a power-fixated Valkryie for company.
"You're beautiful…" he murmurs out of a half-closed mouth when she tries to douse the light and he stops her – he wants to see her, in fact what he wants most is for her to see her.
"No, leave it on, I want to see." He explains with a hand wrapped around her wrist, so tiny he wonders how it wields a sword like she does, and holding her back from the oil lamp on the bed stand of this cheap inn they've stolen for the night.
She looks embarrassed (as if the situation wasn't enough) and meekly questions him, "Why?" she asks, as if she couldn't understand why he'd want to see her.
"Because you're beautiful." He states, and she smiles like she doesn't believe him. Only he smirks in return.
"I'm going to keep saying it until you believe me, Alicia." He announces as he begins to unfasten one of the many buckles fixing his armour to his clothing, and runs his fingertips over her hipbone like he was tracing a line on a map. "you'rebeautifulyourbeautifulyourbeautifulbeautiful…" he teases, and this time she smiles back at him honestly and openly. And his insides feel like they're on fire.
He lets the shoulder pads slide off, and they hit the floor with a thud some guests will undoubtedly hear below, but he doesn't really care about them so much anymore… this has already happened.
She sits up on the second-rate bed when he takes longer than expected to remove all the baubles of his clothing, some aspects of it are damn fiddly; and when your blood is pumping at a hundred miles an hour it's hard to concentrate them on a single non-Alicia-related task.
So she tentatively leans towards him, extending a few slim digits to the various clasps and chains and bringing them to life; making them slither one by one off his body with more dexterity than he has every felt in his life and creating more curious sounds on the ceiling below them.
He grins thanks, and as his tunic begins to fall away he lets her inquisitively rub her hands across his shoulders and collarbone – she has never touched a man like this before, perhaps never touched a man, and the feeling of being the only one is a very corrupting thought on his mind.
He suddenly pulls her onto him and covers her mouth with his own, and her hands ball into fists of his tunic out of shock. She shivers or shudders, and he places a palm firmly on either side of her waist – his fingertips almost meeting round the small of her back as he mashes his lips against hers, tongue rushing out into her mouth like an overeager messenger.
Guiding her back onto her back and the bed, he stops himself from following for a moment as he tugs his shirt over his head and flings it aside, seeing her eyes rolling around his bare chest wide with something or the other.
"Take it easy, Princess," he teases when she blushes and begins to pant very faintly– perhaps she is still a little weak and fatigued from losing Silmeria's strength in her body, or perhaps he really is that good-looking.
He knows which one he'd prefer.
She smiles, although innocent she is not stupid, and only reaches forwards to squeeze his arm before stretching herself out on the altar – pale, beautiful and ready for her defiling. He obeys and follows her, repressing the instinct to pounce on her right away and instead taking one hand and tracing it smoothly from her calf to her knee, then curling his fingers around the back of it and pulling her leg up, tickling the skin on the back of her knee.
She giggles and it takes just about everything he's got not to snap.
But he is so, so close to doing so. She only needs to giggle like that again and he's gone.
He leans his weight on the other arm and moves closer to her, two fingers skating slowly up the back of her thigh and raising her leg higher as her eyes flutter closed… she's been waiting for this… but shit, she's got it wrong.
'Crap…' he thinks in the back of his mind, as his eyes become level with hers and he stares down at her thick eyelashes and calm expression, 'what is she expecting?'
He realizes she is just, and still, a princess – one who grew up in isolation and never had a nurse or mother and god only knows what she knows about love and all its decrepit acts.
He doesn't think she realizes… he's going to hurt her.
"Alicia…" he nearly groans as he leans forwards and buries his face in her neck, taking in the smell that is only her, "I'm sorr…"
She cuts him off before he can apologise fully, pushing him back and staring straight up at him with those baby blue eyes and shattering all the words he had ready with a single look.
"Please don't," she berates softly, beginning to trace her fingers down his upper arm gently, "Don't apologise, Rufus, I trust you."
Those words alone are enough to make him desperately need to feel her mouth against his again, and he kisses her hard and pulls her leg around his waist, swearing inwardly as the friction reminds him he is still partially clothed (her lone shift was lost worlds ago). He pulls away and curses as he attempts to yank off his remaining clothes without murdering the mood.
His honest opinion would be that he failed until he feels her butterfly hands on his legs, pinching at the material and silently asking 'can I do it?' It occurs to him that she is still so young, and perhaps all she wants to do is do something herself and take some silly childlike pride in having done it.
He grins with relief, and gestures that she is his guest to do whatever she pleases with him, but cannot help shuddering as she rolls the material across his skin and frees him from the terribly restricting cloth. He groans somewhere in the back of his throat and applauds her inwardly for not pulling a face at the sight of a naked and highly aroused man. He of course doesn't wear underwear.
He twists around quickly to finish removing the pants and bundles them onto the floor, before turning back to her and attempting to have her lie back again. But timid sweet Alicia doesn't oblige him, her babydoll eyes now gravitate towards a certain part of his anatomy and he swears he might even be blushing under that doe-eyed stare.
"Could I…" she whispers quietly, and although rather bowled back by her forthrightness he quickly nods assent, and her lightly calloused palm brushes curiously against the elephant in the room.
His mouth falls open but no words come out, he is quite literally mute as fucking royalty touches him somewhere royal hands have no right to be, and he is breathing so hard the windows might start steaming up in a minute. He knows that if this continues much more he isn't going to last long, and when he can just about bear to stop her he does so, grinning crookedly and guiding her hand away with his, pressing it down against the mattress as he leans over once more and kisses her.
"I promise…I'll be careful," he says softly as she takes in a deep breath, her arms reaching up to link around his neck to make sure he doesn't move too far away from her – right now she simply wants to feel whole again. Silmeria has gone and she feels alone… more alone than she has ever felt in her whole life.
But with Rufus here, so close to her he's almost inside her, she doesn't feel like that. She feels warm, safe and human. They kiss again and she feels his hands against her skin, one over her left breast and the other at her waist, travelling south, its purpose clear to both of them.
He is slow and careful as he presses his fingertips against the part of her legs, and he's inwardly pleased to feel wetness around them, hopefully showing he is managing something right with her.
Her arms are still around his neck and pull him closer as he begins rubbing two of those fingers slowly up and down, remembering where he's touching as she shivers and gasps, and keeping a knuckle against the spot as he reaches the centre he's searching for.
He pauses and takes a few breaths, realizing how utterly fucked he is at this point – he's terrified of hurting her and ruining whatever this is they managed to find, but at the same time he's completely unable to stop himself.
"If you want…I can…" he mumbles apologetically, but she presses her face into his shoulder and runs her fingers through his hair almost soothingly.
"Don't, I want this," she whispers softly, "I… I-I want to make you happy, Rufus." She brings her face back a little and it's enough for them to meet eyes again.
"Alicia." He says with a smile, talking a deep breath and pushing through the swollen barrier with a single finger.
She gasps and takes in a breath that isn't quite pleasure, but nor is it explicitly pain, and he can feel her squeezing around him.
"You're gonna have to relax, Alicia," he says with just a hint of a grin, "or it's never going to fit." He can see her eyes rolling underneath her lids and she appears to nod in response, and as he leans over to place warm, wet kisses all along her neck she gasps and her muscles give. He uses this moment to drive his finger deeper in, and she shudders with just a little more pleasure-to-pain ratio than before, and that alone encourages him.
As he slowly (always slowly, even though he's about to explode) draws the finger back, it picks up ease and slides with much less friction, and after repeating this several times finally elicits a noise of actual pleasure from the throat of the Princess of Dipan. He smiles and kisses her on the lips, then her cheek, then her collarbone, then her breast, and as he draws a roughened lower lip across a sensitive nipple he pumps his finger back and forth with a steady motion.
When he thinks she's just about ready for it, he includes a second finger, gradually testing and stretching her to lessen the pain that's going to come. Even though it's still going to hurt a whole lot, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing that he can do about it.
And he knows he will hate himself for it as well.
Because as slowly and carefully and tenderly as he goes, it will only help so much. So before he makes an embarassment of himself he removes his sticky fingers and moves in for the kill, if that metaphor isn't a little too black for the occasion. He glances down humbly and runs both hands down her toned thighs, both caressing and positioning as he moves the final pieces into place, and with one last apologetic look begins to penetrate her.
He nearly bottles the whole thing when he sees her twisting and wincing, only being able to imagine how he's hurting her right now, but at the same time, he can't stop... because it feels so fucking good.
Her short nails dig into his shoulderbone as he pushes deeper, softly making marks in his tanned elven skin as she bears the discomfort. But when her fingers suddenly roll up on their tips and press urgently against his flesh he knows that's as far as he gets this time, and slowly-slowly-slowly he pulls back out, not quite removing himself but at least easing the worst for now.
"Hey now, that's not too bad, is it?" he tries hopefully, and nearly shatters his heart when he sees her smile weakly back at him with tears in her eyes.
"Alicia..." He groans and falls on top of her, no pushing or fucking or hurting for now, just wrapping his arms around her and holding her bare skin next to his as he whispers his sorrys in her ear. She buries her face in his neck, crystalline eyes trailing tears across his skin, and tells him that she should be the one apologising... for not being a woman for him.
He hugs her even closer and rolls over, so he is no longer crushing her to the flat mattress with his own weight but holding her to his chest, back to the ceiling.
"Shhh," he hushes as she shivers in the cold night air, and runs his hands up and down her back to warm her, "Hey Alicia," he says and she lifts her head to look at him, he holds one finger out and pushes up the corner of her mouth into a half-smile.
"We've been through worse, you and me," he tells her and draws his fingertips across the small of his back with his other hand, "remember?" She nods at him, of course she can remember, ever since Silmeria walked her up to him that day in Solde he's never left her side, not once.
"I do," she breathes, and then feels his hand sliding up to clasp the back of her head and press her mouth against his again, his warm lips and wet tongue pining for her. This happens to give her an idea, and after ending the kiss she puts her hands on his chest to push herself into an upright, sitting position.
"Um... Rufus..." she challenges, trying to ignore his arousal and not think about what to do with it in this exact position, "I think that..."
"What?" he shoots back, nearing hopeful as she scrubs the last tears away from her eyes.
"If.. there was...um..." she blushes, and he just stops himself laughing at the completely naked princess blushing as she straddles him.
"Come'on," he grins, "don't be shy" and starts rubbing his thumbs in little circles on her inner thighs.
"Well..." she stutters, "if it was more... I mean... if there was more... it'd be less..." he winks and shunts a hand straight up her leg to her sex, just pressing against her entrance with his middle finger.
"More...?" he suggests as he circles the fingertip gently around a mix of bodily fluids, "lube?" She goes even redder and he can't conceal a chuckle, removing his hand and pushing her back as he slides himself out from underneath her, getting some interesting reactions from a particular part of his body as he drags it across her underside.
"Ah..." he clips and a shudder runs through him, "I-mean-I...!" correcting himself he starts easing her down and directing his mouth to a destination south of the mouth, when she stops him; catches him by the shoulders and uses the hidden power held in that fragile frame of hers to push him back, onto his back and knocking his head against the headboard in shock.
"I can..." she mumbles bashfully, still embarrassed in words when her deeds are far beyond them, "... do it."
Rufus nearly pinches himself to check this isn't a dream, because he can barely believe it isn't with the way things are going.
She leans over him and long silky hair brushes far too sensitive skin across his hips, and thoughts of just letting himself go then and there cross the archer's mind. But that would be spoiling the best bit, and he screws his eyes shut after feeling her breath ghosting against his erection.
He's about ready to scream when he feels her lips make contact with him, and loses all sense of everything as that sweet little mouth of hers wraps around his cock.
He groans from deep inside his throat and twists his hands in the bedsheets, trying to keep a hold of himself long enough for her to stop doing that thing with her mouth. Eventually, of course, she does stop. After all she has only been trying to make things a little 'smoother' for the two of them, and not, contrary to what his body tells him, trying to make him go completely insane.
They pause for a second as 'what happens next' works itself out, with the situation as it stands currently she's the top. But sweet Princess Alicia is too shy and mumbles "I'd rather if you..." so Rufus obliges, trying not to shudder as chilly air hits warm saliva. He'll be warm soon enough, he reasons, and laying her out again places one hand on her waist and another under her upper back; holding her and cradling her and kissing her as they give this thing another go.
This is far better, he can tell, for both of them, and has no qualms about letting loose a long, low groan as he slowly stretches her open. She hisses in pain, and he swears he could almost feel it himself, if it wasn't for that mind-blowing pleasure somewhat dominating his emotions. He doesn't leave it too long, because after all it's still early days (and he sure as hell doesn't intend this to be the last time they do this), and simply pushes as far as he can go in one movement then pulls back out.
He moves his mouth over her ear, "you alright?" he asks her, and she digs her blunt nails into his arm and nods, though he tries not to fall at her feet at the sight of another slight tear in the corner of her eye.
"Just another second," she says and breathes heavily, then holds herself against him and nods. He goes again, and this time it's just a little less painful if she's anything to go by, but he doesn't let her pause straight away and thrusts again and once more, pushing against that hotspot of nerves inside her and eliciting a delightful gasp.
Exactly how long they spent in that bed was debatable, because Rufus himself reckons it can't have been that long because he really wouldn't have been able to hold it for as long as Alicia though it was – he is only inexperienced half-human after all. Whereas she could wax lyrical about what 'felt like eternity', and 'seemed to stretch out for hours…'
In all likeness it was because she timed from the moment they got into the inn, and he timed it from the moment he saw her topless.
But they made do, and had, before the night was out, reached a situation whereby both of them to got the most pleasure out of each other, and although he was aware that some of that lubricating fluid was probably blood, her moans and gasps were evidence enough for him to carry on losing himself.
They didn't come together, but it wasn't really to be expected first time around, and besides it was her climax that squeezed those already tight muscles around him and drove out a strong and powerful rise, coming just as the last ebbs of her moment died away and filling her with his own.
"Oh…gods I love you…" he groaned during release, and it was only afterwards as they lay together, blissful in their mess, that they realized how awfully ironic and stupid it was that he said that – 'oh gods' indeed.
Ironically some of this writing really is too graphic for my tastes, I swear I'm normally such a moral upholder :P but PWP is PWP and I felt some good hardcore smut was deserved for this pairing, so I wrote past my usual barriers and crafted this M-rated pool of sin.
Reviews are muchly appreciated, though if you want to complain about it being too dirty or something I'll probably only agree with you :P (also don't read M-rated-for-a-very-good-reason fics.)