A/N OK be warned, the mature rating on this story is on here for a reason. For some reason people in this section of the site like to slap on M warnings because someone cursed once, or the word sex was uttered. I repeat, this is not that story. I welcome reviews and feedback, and I hope you enjoy the story, but know what you're going to be reading ahead of time. Fanfiction puts the age guideline for membership at 13, and honestly, I'd avoid this story if you're under that. Hell, even if you are 13, proceed carefully. It depends on the kind of books you read (story doesn't get that dark, but still, I don't want to scar anyone), just be warned this earns its rating. I don't know if this will remain a one shot or continue, kinda depends on my free time (ha, ha, ha) and motivation (double ha). That said, enjoy! It's kinda au-y, and figure it's set a bit forward in time, ages 17ish.
The wall of the cell is digging into her back, hard enough to bruise. She can smell the wine on his breath as he pins her there, sneering while she thrashes against his grip. He's stronger than she is, so much stronger after the weeks of imprisonment, of blades and burns that have left new scars on her. She struggles harder, desperately reaching for any of her abilities, fighting her own mind through a haze of drugs, pain and fatigue. He's ripped her shirt, his fingers digging into her ribcage with a grip like steel as that cruel grin leers at her. Her friends . . . her family, someone has to come for her. She can't, she won't let him do this, not after she's fought through so much.
"They're not coming little moonlark, you failed them. No one's going to save you this time." His sing-songy tone is enough to set her teeth on edge. "Maybe when we find them, Fintan will let me play with them once he's done. See how loud lover-boy and the Vacker brats can scream." His knee is pinning her legs apart as he fumbles at the band of her leggings. "See how loud you can scream." His hoarse laugh sends another cloud of alcohol drenched breath at her. Her eyes search desperately for the door, seeking any hint of a rescue . . . they have to come, they-
Suddenly his breath is far too hot, his touch burning her as everblaze traces over his hands. She finally gathers the strength to shove him, adrenaline filling her at the fire. He laughs, yellow flame dancing in his eyes now and she stumbles back, back into the dark of the corner of the cell. It's like stepping into ice water, worse than the fire as a thousand icy needles stab at her, cutting off her senses. Waves of darkness wash over her, choking air from her lungs. She can't breathe, can't move, can't-
Sophie jerks awake, soaked and shivering in cold sweat, shaking harder with every pounding beat of her heart. She stumbles from her bed, fleeing to the bathroom as bile rises in her throat, her legs refusing to cooperate. She makes it to the toilet before her stomach heaves, emptying everything she'd eaten that day. Again and again, her body still feeling like that darkness is roiling through it.
A hand brushes her hair off of her shoulders, then gently presses her back. He's rubbing circles over her shoulder blades, trying to stop the heaving shudders that continue long after her nausea has faded.
"Breathe Foster, you're safe" He's whispering, murmuring gently to her as she leans into him. Keefe's eyes are still clouded with sleep, but his voice is clear as he comforts her. It's been a month since she came back. Since the day he blasted that cell door open and sent Ruy flying into the wall, barely a minute from being too late. He'd carried her out of the Neverseen hold, wrapped in his cloak as he repeated that same sentence. Breathe. She didn't remember most of the time she'd spent in the healing center, as Elwin covered her in various salves and ointments to heal the burns and bruises, to treat and fade the angry marks from Vespera's knives and the shamkniv. The nightmares have been a constant ever since she returned, dragging her from sleep every night. Most nights, she ends up in Keefe's room after the initial episode. It doesn't work all the time, but that same bond that lets him pull her out of inflicting hazes helps keep the nightmares at bay. She leans back further, letting the warmth of his bare chest assuage her shivering.
"Sorry," she murmurs when she can muster the ability to speak again. He keeps stroking her hair, her forehead resting against his cheek.
"Sorry for what, Foster?" She shifts, slowly rising back to her feet. The convulsive shuddering has stopped, but her legs still shake.
"Waking you up. Both of us don't have lose our sleep every night." The hazy, half-asleep look has faded from his eyes, and that ice blue now focuses on her as he stands.
"You're right, I'll sleep great knowing the girl I love is convulsing from a panic attack in the bathroom." His expression softens as he steps closer, gripping her wrists. He's studying her, making sure she's stopped shaking, that she won't collapse again when he steps back out. "You good?" Sophie nods in response, managing a half smile as he kisses her forehead and slips back out to his room. She knows he'll wait while she showers until the sour smell of vomit is gone, while she scrubs her hair dry with a towel, too tired to use whatever the elven hair dryer is called and dons another oversized t-shirt to sleep in. She's right, when she steps into his room he's sitting cross legged in a pair of too-short pajama pants, frowning at his sketchbook.
He started staying with them a while ago, maybe two years. He'd tried with Lord Cassius, but, well . . . She still remembers him showing up in the dark that night, Edaline taking one look at the bruise under his eye and saying yes before Grady could even open his mouth. Her dad had thrown a fit the next morning, when they'd fallen asleep together on the couch. He'd been less than happy when it turned out the only extra space the gnomes could use for a room for him was directly next to Sophie's, but had managed to only spend two days grumbling about it.
"Can I see?" His head jerks up and she gestures at the sketchbook.
"When it's done." He grins, tossing the book in the general direction of his desk (and missing). She joins him on the oversized chair, not ready to risk closing her eyes again. He shifts so she has room, pulling her against him with one arm. Sophie rests her head on his shoulder, humming contentedly as he brushes her hair.
"You worry me Foster, I know you don't want to talk to Alden or Forkle about it, but isn't there anyone?" She tilts her head so she can see him. "It's been a month, they're not going away."
"I know, I just . . ." She trails off. Sophie doesn't actually have a reason, apart from just not wanting to deal with it all. Keefe hadn't told anyone what had happened in that cell, had said it was her decision, and she had kept any detail about her captivity she could to herself.
"You could talk to Elwin maybe, he might have something you could take. Or Edaline, or-"
"Don't even say Grady, if I breathe a word of it to him he'll go off on a one-man mission to kill Ruy and Vespera."
"I'll join him." His voice has hardened, and when she looks up again his expression is colder, more distant. She never asked him what state he found her in, what the wounds Elwin healed looked like before all the elixirs and ointments. She knows he stayed with her through it, knows not because she remembers but because he loves her. Maybe too much, he has his own scars to prove it.
"Hey" His voice is soft again as he gently catches her hand. She'd started tracing one of the pale, faded lines still visible on his back. He tilts her head until they're eye to eye. "They're not your fault Sophie, it was my choice." No, not her fault, but still because of her. Because he had taken that whip when Brant captured them two years ago, taken that suffering over giving up her secrets. A minute Elwin had said, a minute later with that escape and he would have died from the blood loss. He's still watching her with concern.
"I'm fine, sorry, just thinking." His eyes narrow at her.
"What is it now, five years? And you're still trying to lie to an Empath." She laughs as he shakes his head in mock exasperation. "See? Happy thoughts Foster, happy thoughts. Not even that hard, your incredibly sexy boyfriend is shirtless and cuddling with you, what's there to be sad about anyway?" He grins at her when she knocks him on the shoulder, any trace of his earlier distant, cold expression gone from his eyes. She smiles, stretching up to kiss him. She'll do anything to keep that grin on his face after so long with a brittle, distant smile covering the hurt and confusion inside him.
His lips taste vaguely of peppermint, from whatever rinse he uses at night, and he pulls her further into his lap as her arms wrap over his shoulders. His chest is warm through the thin fabric of her shirt, and he's murmuring he loves her as he trails kisses over her jaw and neck. He always does that, refuses to remain kissing her lips, as if he's afraid of it. She teased him about it once, and he said it was just because he wanted to "love every inch of her" in a voice that made her toes curl before she pushed him against the wall and didn't let go until she couldn't remember her own name.
Keefe's hands slide over her hips, hiking her shirt up with them, as his lips reach her collarbones. Her back arches as he brushes a spot on her neck, and she tugs him back to her lips by his hair. His hands circle higher, until his knuckles are lightly tracing circles over the underside of her breasts. Gently, she pulls back enough to disentangle the top half of her body from his. Instantly, his hands are gone, and she can see the worry in his eyes that he's pushed too far, or hurt her in some way. Sophie presses a finger to his lips, already half open in an apology, before reaching down to the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. He's seen her chest bare before, once or twice, but it's rare they go this far. Even now, his eyes are locked on hers, making sure she knows what she's doing, but she's done caring what they do. She trusts him, loves him, and she needs the reminder that this kind of touch is supposed to be love and not pain. And so, her response to his questioning raised eyebrow is just to re-tangle her hands in his hair and pull him close to kiss him again. They're chest to chest now, her breasts stiff from the night air even with his body heat.
She's barely touched his lips when he pulls her legs around his waist, never ceasing contact as he carries her over to his bed, falling into the ridiculous amount of pillows at the head of it. He's above her now, one leg braced between hers to keep from crushing her. Keefe's pulled back, propping himself up further with his arm as his eyes rake up from her legs back to her face.
"Shit." He's out of breath as leans back down, his eyes glazed slightly.
"Mmmhm?" She tilts her chin up in question, eyebrows raised. His grin is back as he presses his lips to hers once more, his arms snaking back around her.
"I always forget how beautiful you are." His face is inches from hers, propped on the hand next to her head.
"So all I have to do for compliments is strip down to my underwear?" She stretches up to close the distance between them, twining her fingers through the mess of blonde hair on his head.
"I wouldn't- mmmPH" he grits his teeth as she presses kisses over his jaw, nipping at his ear as she drifts lower, her fingers tracing the grooves of his muscled stomach and the vee of his hips, "object." Keefe barely manages to get the last word out, groaning against her lips as she arches her back to reach him, pushing her breasts against his chest.
"Damnit Sophie!" He's panting as he pins her hands above her head with one arm, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. "You're not . . . making it easy . . . to stop . . . tonight." She knows. She can feel as much anytime he leans down too far and the evidence of that pushes against her leg. And it's her turn to grin like feral animal as she braces a hand on his chest and meets his eyes.
"Then don't." It takes a moment, but she sees his eyes widen as he realizes what she's just said.
"Are- are you- you mean-" She cuts him off as she tugs him down, flush against her, to kiss him.
"I love you Keefe Sencen, for whatever that's worth in this screwed up world." He smiles, arms on either side of her head as he kisses her nose.
"Craziest thing you've said all night Foster, but you're avoiding my question." She takes a shaky breath, realizing what she's about to say, then, meeting Keefe's eyes again, does her best imitation of his infamous smirk.
"You said you wanted to love every inch of me." He cocks his head at her, a silent question over her meaning. "So prove it. Love me." She cups his face in her hands as she kisses him this time, letting her Enhancer ability give him a read on exactly what her emotions are. Sophie feels him stiffen as it sinks in, then press flush against her once more. His hands slide back to her hips as he searches her eyes, confirming she's serious about this. She manages to nod, even as his lips trail over her neck, sucking gently on that spot just below her ear.
"Say the word Foster, and I stop. No matter what, even if I have to spend the rest of the night in a bucket of ice, I'll stop." He's murmuring into her skin between kisses, sinking ever lower. Shoulder. Collar bone. His lips brush the top of her breast as one hand climbs back to her ribcage, the other continuing those slow circles over the curve of her hip. Her breasts are heavy and aching by now, from a combination of the December night air and his touch. His lips gently trace between them, every touch leaving a trail of fire behind it. Every brush of his hand against the underside of one feels like an electric shock to her brain, dragging her out until she's gasping at each. Finally, finally, he palms one, thumb brushing her nipple in an effort to further torment her. She's about to curse him for the teasing when his mouth seals over the other, alternatively nipping at its edge and sucking to offset the pain. Her hips jerk, grinding against his at the sudden contact. After his slow, torturous movements, she takes no small satisfaction as he responds by burying his face in her shoulder, groaning.
"Argh . . . shit. If . . . if you keep that up Sophie, we're not getting very far." She runs her fingers through his hair as she kisses the side of his jaw.
"Then quit teasing you ass- AH" His tongue flicks over her nipple, teeth nipping just below.
"But my name on your lips has such a nice ring to it." He's switched breasts, his left hand taking his mouth's place. Shit. If his bracing leg inches any higher, he's going to find out exactly what he's doing to her. As if he's read her mind, his right hand dips dangerously low, tracing over the top hem of her underwear. The world fades out as every ounce of focus in her body lasers straight to that hand, now brushing up her inner thigh from knee.
"Kee-eefe . . . please" He glances up at her, a faux innocent look plastered on his face.
"Hmmm?" His irrepressible smirk breaks through as she's forced to bite her lip when that hand traces ever higher on her leg.
"Just stop tea-" Bastard. Rotten bastard. If he hadn't clamped his lips over hers, she would have screamed when his thumb brushed straight over her center, the thin material of her panties so soaked at this point it might as well as have not been there. He remains covering her mouth, making shushing noises into her lips as his thumb traces a circle right over that bundle of nerves. She spreads her legs wider, trying in vain to force his hand down by less than a centimeter.
"Keefe . . Keefe pleassssee" She can barely form words as she whispers against him, his leg blocking her from thrusting her hips against his hand.
"Patience love" Wicked is the only term she can think of to describe his smirk at that moment. She glares, or tries, at him.
"You're enjoying this." That smirk is still there as he leans down, lips tracing downwards from her throat once more.
"The sight of my girlfriend naked and moaning my name under me?" One finger hooks under the edge of her underwear.
"Yes," he pulls the first edge to the center "I" a second finger pulls the other edge in "am" he hooks that finger all the way through and sharply tugs her panties down to her ankles, releasing the pressure on her hips to allow her to lift them.
His lips have reached the edge of her stomach, and she feels him rise, moving backwards until his face is even with her sex. He braces one hand on her hips, holding them even with the bed. She whines in protest, and he arches an eyebrow.
"Planning on breaking my nose Foster?" She swears at him as he drags his finger through her center once more, stopping just short of where she so desperately needs him. He continues tracing over her hips and thighs with his mouth, leaving trails of kisses she's sure are on fire for all his touch burns. Finally, he stops, barely an inch from where she aches. Her begging isn't even coherent speech, just a series of moans followed by his name. She can feel his breath on her, tickling her even as his hands still, firmly holding her hips to the bed.
"Want something Foster? I can't make out what you're saying." Bastard. Absolute bastard for that. Sophie tries to steady her breathing, managing to open her previously screwed shut eyes. She glances down, nearly coming undone at the sight of him smirking from between her legs. She's just opened her mouth to plead once more when his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves and it's all she can do to keep from screaming loud enough for everyone in the elven world to hear. She can't see, can't hear, can't feel anything other than his tongue slowly stroking over her. She loses track of time, until she feels him shift slightly to move his hand. A finger brushes at her entrance as he continues to suck at that pearl at the apex of her thighs. He pauses, glancing at her before pushing any farther.
"Don't . . . stop. Don't . . .ever stop. Please" She doesn't care if it will hurt, doesn't care about anything but sating the burning ache between her legs. He's gentle as he slips that first finger in, lets her adjust around it before slowly moving in and out. Her hands are fisted in his sheets, doing everything in her power to keep from making any noise that would wake up the rest of the house. Then he carefully, slowly, pushes a second finger inside of her. She feelings the beginnings of pain at the stretch, but they're buried under whatever the hell he's doing with his mouth. And from there, it's a kind of slow torture as those fingers move so slowly and his tongue flicks faster and faster over that nerve, then stops the moment he feels her approach release. She's begging as loudly as she dares before he finally crooks those fingers, brushing that spot within her and her vision swims. He rides her through that first one, gently licking over her center as she convulses.
The next thing she's consciously aware of is Keefe kissing the sweat off her brow, his hands slowly stroking her hips.
"Shh Foster, shh. You're OK, shh" There's slight worry in his eyes as he looks at her. She blinks in confusion, opening her mouth to start the question. He snorts. "You blacked out on me for a minute." The fading heat in her cheeks rushes back at that, and he laughs at her reaction before gently kissing her. He caresses her face, brushing her now messy hair back behind her ears.
"I love you Sophie, more than anyone else in the world." His hands keep stroking those circles over her hips, not to excite, but comfort. He laughs as he says "You don't have to respond to that by the way, you've reassured me you love me eighteen times in the past minute." She pushes herself into a sitting position, winding her arms around his back as she kisses him once more, deepening it as his own hands press her, drawing her closer. When they pull apart, she can see his eyes are shining, and he's doing his fair share of shaking. It's a stark reminder to her that, even after what he's just done, this is new to him as well. He grins, shoving his own stray hair strands out of his eyes as his hands settle on her hips.
"Well?" She echoes his grin with one of her own before pulling him back down into the pillows, letting him settle over her. Even with barely five minutes passed, she can feel that ache growing once more as his hands glide over her.
"Keefe," she says, smirking, "is there a reason you're still wearing pants?" His eyes widen in surprise for the second time that night.
"You're sure? Even after th-" She takes his distraction to snake her arm past his and palm him through his pajamas, an action that causes him to drop onto her like a stone, biting into her shoulder hard enough to draw blood as he barks a muffled curse against her.
"Fuck, Sophie. Do you want Grady to kick down the door?" She smiles, hooking her fingers into his waistband.
"All you did to me and I managed to keep quiet, but one pants covered brush and you turn into a vampire?" She arches her eyebrows teasingly at him. He re-gathers his breath and gently traces his hands up around her shoulder blades, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. She knows the surprise is genuine, that he was truly willing to curl up next to her and fall asleep, no matter his own desires.
"If you're sure you want to do this Foster, I'm all yours." Sophie gently pushes him off her enough that she can reach his waist once more, hesitating for a moment. For all he's seen of her, she's never seen him in any state of undress past this. Hell, besides a few scattered memories from her human life or the random collection of images Biana found somewhere, she's never seen any boy past this. Still, she forces her hands to stop shaking as she pulls his pajamas to his knees, then shifts so he can move to kick them off. Keefe rolls back over her, gently kissing her as he repositions himself between her legs.
It's her turn to drag her gaze down his body, over the chest muscled from sparring with Sandor to the powerful thighs and aching length of him. She wraps her hand around him, gently brushing her thumb over his head. It isn't until he groans that she looks up and sees his eyes screwed closed and jaw locked, breath coming out in pants.
"Play. later. Please." She laughs, but releases him, shifting to let him settle fully between her legs. He tangles his free hand in her hair and watches her closely as he guides himself to her entrance. She feels the first stretch as he sinks in an inch, the tight pain as he parts her. He's bigger than those fingers, than anything she's ever done, and it hurts. He must see the pain on her face, or feel it through his abilities, because he freezes, gently stroking her hair.
"You're in charge Foster, just tell me." It hurts, yes, but if she has to take it inch by inch, it will be agony. Sophie wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
"Just do it Keefe." She feels him tense in surprise, meeting her eyes once more to make sure he heard her right.
"You're sure?" She can feel him aching to move, to give in to every instinct telling him to take her as hard as he can, but she knows he won't move even a hair if she says no.
"Do it." She grits her teeth as he grips her hips and thrusts in, seating himself in her in one smooth motion. She feels the sharp tearing sensation, then the duller pain from the stretch.
"Sophie?" She opens her eyes to meet Keefe's, wide with concern.
"I'm fine, just . . don't move." The pain is fading slowly, and she can feel his hands returning to those wide circles over her hips. She feels him nudge her gently, a questioning look in his eyes as he braces himself above her. Sophie takes a deep breath, then retwines her hands over his shoulders. "You're good." He begins to move, slowly at first, until the pain cedes to pleasure and she's urging him faster and faster. She doesn't know when it happens, but at some point she forgets where she ends and he begins. Their bond, that lets them find each other, that lets him calm her inflicting, whatever it is, snaps between them, strong as iron. She can feel him, not just the physical sensation of him that makes her feel like she's burning up on the spot, but his mind, his emotions, everything that makes him Keefe, as she buries her head in his shoulder and begs him to go faster, to create more of that delicious friction. She forgets her own name, where she is, as he lifts her around his waist and they press fully against the headboard.
She can feel the heat rising between them, the energy building in her core with every motion; welcomes it because it burns the memory of Ruy, of a dark cell and a cold, steel table from her body, replaces it with the warmth of Keefe's touch, with the feeling of his training-calloused hands running up her back to pull her closer. His lips find hers once more as that energy hits its peak, and they stay like that, tangled together in a mountain of pillows as the high slowly fades. Keefe slowly raises his head from where he's buried it in her shoulder, strands of his towheaded mop of hair brushing down across his forehead.
"Whoa" He grins weakly at her. She snorts at his response, at how completely like him it is.
"Guess we've got a new cure for getting rid of nightmares". She regrets her words the second that smirk cuts across his face.
"I don't know Foster, might have to test it a few more times before we know definitively" Keefe's teeth brush that spot on her neck and she playfully shoves him back.
"Oh no, Mr. One Track Mind, I actually want to sleep tonight". He waggles his eyebrows at her, then pulls himself higher on the bed so he can rest his head on hers.
"Tomorrow then." She rolls her eyes, failing to hide her smile.
"Incorrigible" she mutters, hiding her laughter by nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. His hands are tracing over her, sliding over the scars and marks the war has left on her. She'd made Elwin leave them, wanting the reminder of what she'd survived, that the Neverseen hadn't broken her, letting him remove only the brands and burn marks from her skin. Sophie suspected Keefe had made the same request, though born of his need to feel he had atoned for any and every past crime. Of all the wounds Lord Cassius's abuse and neglect had left, it was that lack of worthiness that made her blood boil. That because of him, the beautiful, kind, wonderful person currently looking at her like she was the only one in the world that mattered believed he would never be good enough, never deserve anything he had. That because of him, Keefe's serious when he tells her he loves her more than anyone else he's known.
"Foster? You OK?" Sophie's pulled from her thoughts to see those ice blue eyes looking at her quizzically.
"Yeah, just . . ." She considers not finishing the sentence, but the moment the thought passes through her mind, he's already opening his mouth, 'you can't lie to an empath' on the tip of his tongue. Sophie sighs. "I really hate your dad". Keefe blinks at her, confused.
"Dad's a strong word Foster, but trust me, the feeling's mutual." His voice is bitter, the previous warmth draining from it, and she curses herself for causing that. It must have shown in her expression, because he manages a half smile, brushing a thumb over her cheek.
"Don't worry about me Sophie, I've got all I need" She smiles, leaning into his hand.
"Are you sure you're not the telepath in this relationship?"
"Fairly." His hands are tracing over her shoulders, and it's not until he brushes over the edge between her left one and her neck that she flinches.
"Oh shit, I didn't realize . . ." He trails off as he pushes her hair back, the bite mark from earlier visible there. He hadn't cut deep, but it was clear some sort of treatment was going to be necessary. He smirks at her. "Good luck explaining that one to Elwin." She winces internally at even the thought of that conversation.
"No, Biana's taking me to Mysterium to go shopping tomorrow anyway, we'll just stop at Kesler's and grab a salve or something." Sophie's never been so grateful for Biana's shopping addiction. Keefe's lips twist at her comment, a sheepish look falling over his face.
"You should probably stop there anyway, I mean," he trails off, his hand tracing circles on her hip. She arches an eyebrow at him. "I didn't-" he clears his throat, glancing to the side. It takes her second to realize what he means, the distraction of Keefe Sencen actually blushing occupying her mind.
"Oh." The reminder of what, exactly, they'd spent the night doing hit her. "Shit" Sophie groans into her hand, falling back onto the pillow. Keefe runs a hand through his hair, his face still the color of a strawberry.
"Sorry, I- I should've-"
"No, it's not that, just," she bites her lip as she rolls to face him again, "I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to buy whatever from Kesler of all people, and if he tells Grady, and I'm going to have to explain to Biana somehow- Oh god." A worse possibility hits her. "What if Dex is running the counter tomorrow, how am I supposed to even look at him buying that, aghhhh" Her mood isn't helped by the fact that Keefe is back to grinning at her when she re-opens her eyes. She smacks him with a pillow. "You're enjoying this." He grabs the second pillow from her before she can hit him again, lips twitching.
"Maybe." He wraps his arm around her again when she glares at him. "Hey, worst case scenario, Grady makes me sleep in the barn-" She arches an eyebrow in disbelief.
"Worst case scenario, Grady feeds you to the T-Rex Keefe." He shrugs
"Pft, Verdi loves me. Now, enough making up nightmares to worry yourself to death with Foster, you've got all of tomorrow to do that". She wriggles enough to lightly jab his side with her elbow at that comment, the five million ways she's going to die of embarrassment tomorrow still running through her head. "Come on Foster, you're not even trying to enjoy our situation here." Keefe shifts in a way that reminds her of exactly how close and exactly how naked they still are.
"You're still incorrigible" she mutters, but lets him pull her back flush against his side, head resting on his shoulder.
"I don't know what that word means, so I'm taking it as a compliment" She rolls her eyes, both sure that Keefe knows exactly what it means and that he's still taking it as a compliment. Distantly, she feels the blanket drop over both of them, pulled from the edge of the bed by his telekinesis. She's happy to let the thrum of his heartbeat lull her to sleep, earlier nightmares far faded from memory.
The next thing Sophie's aware of is the sunlight streaming through the window of Keefe's room, and Keefe struggling to sit up as he glares sleepily at the door. A moment later, she realizes why as a sharp pounding echoes through the house, followed by Biana's exasperated voice.
"I swear, if you two aren't out here in the next five minutes, I'M TELLING GRADY I FOUND YOU NAKED IN BED TOGETHER!" The last part of the threat is shouted so loudly Sophie's pretty sure Grady heard it anyway. Keefe glances down at the both of them, then at the clothes thrown haphazardly around the room from the previous night, and bursts out laughing. Sophie vaguely hears Biana's scream of irritation from the other room, along with the distant sound of running feet from two floors below, presumably Grady sprinting up the stairs. She arches an eyebrow at her still guffawing boyfriend.
"I'd either find our clothes at the speed of light, or hope Verdi really likes you."
A/N Whew . . . ten pages, but it's finally done *15 page research paper due in two days growls from corner* Shh you. So, cuz I have to say this, kids, don't do what Sophie and Keefe did, they're elves and I'm assuming they have a functioning system that dispenses higher quality birth control. Even if you're on the pill or have an IUD, or if your partner is/does, still use protection, STDs aint a joke. OK PSA over, thanks for reading, please review, etc.
Also, if anyone feels this needs a better trigger warning as far as potentially upsetting content, please let me know either in review or pm, I don't want to hurt anyone or bring back past experiences.