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True story.

NOTEWORTHY

He's distracted, so his aim is off, and they both cling to each other as they drop a half metre onto dusty stone floors. They're in the cells they shared as children. Erza can see scratch marks inflicted by Simon, counting the days they'd gone without food. It makes her sad. She hugs Jellal close, like she used to so long ago, when it was cold and she was scared and he seemed so big and strong and fearless, wise beyond his years. He's trying to get his breath back after using such abrupt teleportation magic - without preparation and under the influence. He's softer than he was before.

But he doesn't let go. He can't.

They're twined together, and since he knows, since he sees, since he and her belong in the place they're in with no secrets and no shame and nobody but each other she magics away her clothes to somewhere else and clings to him tightly, still aching for him to move. She feels like she's losing, that the coil inside her is unwinding now that the silence descends and he's so still. She kisses the bottom of his jaw questioningly, raises her arms from around, under his arms to around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss that is indescribable in any other way but right, no matter their technique and inexperience and intoxication levels. She says his name into his lips when they pause, feels him shudder, feels the fingers threading through her hair. His own is wet and smells like the sea, cold, but she touches it, sweeps it back off his forehead and plants a kiss there, humming as he kisses her throat, everything extra tender, extra tingly, extra pleasurable when it's him held flush against her.

Their position is a half-sitting one, leaned against a wall. It juts into her left side and it's uncomfortable, but she doesn't want to move – refuses to let him go, now that she has him here and he's given up on denial and just accepted that they're meant to be together in every way-

And then-

"Erza." The tone of his voice makes her want to hit him. He tries to detach himself, to break away from the hold she has on him. When will he learn that that's never going to happen? "Erza, I don't... I shouldn't -"

She shuts him up by letting her hand wander. "Do you love me?" she asks, letting it travel down towards his belt, purring in his ear and keeping him trapped with the one arm still around his neck.

"OfcourseIloveyou," he stutters out, all in one big cluster of words. He sounds desperate for her to believe him. "I love you more than – anything. Anyone. Always have. It's always been you. From the moment we met. I was completely... I've always been..." He breathes in, shuddering. "... yours."

She encourages him to continue as she unbuckles him, reaching and finding exactly what she's looking for. He hisses into her collar as she glides one hand along the length of him. She's never done this before – never touched one – though she's seen her fair share during the usual guild shenanigans. She isn't ready for how hot it is, how it pulses, hard, and she doesn't understand how much it affects him as she massages it, rubs it, dedicated. "Will you run away if I let you go?" she asks, because she's cruel and she wants this, and just feeling it – him – what he has – makes the space between her legs run white hot again. Jellal's only response is a shaky sway of his head into her shoulder and a kiss upon her clavicle that is everything from affection to gratitude to I'll never run away again, she knows. Her left hand joins her at the task.

She knows when it's getting good because he bites and he growls, and her breathless laugh makes him hum deep in his throat, pressing himself more eagerly into her hands. When she teases him about it he nips her, cheeky and grins. "Stop," he whispers, and pushes her away. "Too close." He kisses her fiercely, single-mindedly, dedicatedly on her bruised, wet mouth, and slips his long fingers inside her.

They're larger than hers, wider across, and longer. They work at her heat like master musicians, producing sounds and shudders and whimpers she hadn't known she could make. He starts with two and adds a third, stretching her, widening her, loving her as he kisses her mouth deep and slow and heavy, his breath warm on her cheek, her hands on his shoulders. She tries to accommodate him, rising on her knees a little off the ground, but she ends up writhing and buckling. He breaks his kiss to lay her on her back.

It's cold and hard but she's soft and burning, white hot heat searing every inch of flesh he touches, leaving her trembling. Every movement of his fingers forces breathy moans into his mouth, and he pulls away to hear them better, whispering sweet nothings – everythings – into her ear. Every sound excites him, motivates him to do more until he adds a fourth finger, rubbing with his thumb, and she tears into his arms with her nails, crying out, the loudest sound yet, which echoes all around them through the old moonlit cells. The feeling inside her is so tight now, and she loves his hands, his fingers, and what they can do but she wants him, now. Wants him like she's wanted him for years. She summons blades to cut away the rest of his clothes and then they're both there, unhidden and uninhibited, together now at last.

"Now," she tells him, pushing reluctantly at his hands. "Now."

Too far gone, his days of sadism long over, he doesn't make her beg. He recalls his digits one by one and gives her one last kiss before it happens, excited and loving and intoxicating. For a second or two she feels his tip linger at the lips, and then he slides himself in, burying himself inside her. Tears spring from her eyes but she's been hurt worse. She's wet and prepared, and soon adjusts, savouring the feeling of their joining together, such a long time in the making. She's full, gasping, but not yet satisfied. Jellal kisses her again and she's almost more excited than he is, wrapping her leg around his hip and raising her arms above her head. She kisses any part of his face and neck she can reach, and then she whispers, "Go."

And he does.

Three shallow, one deep stroke and she's moaning, smiling, too, because she's happy – so happy – that it's come to this, and it's good, and it's how she'd hoped it would feel. He's strong, smooth and fluid, and the smell of the salt water and sweat drives her wild as he hangs over her, stifling the voice that rises from his throat as he goes in and out, once, twice, and then thrice, plunging himself to the hilt.

And it's getting there, the finale. Not much longer and something bursts – that coil, that tension inside her releases in a blinding wave of magical energy and pleasure, tearing a blissful cry from her throat that reverberates hauntingly around the empty cells. She contracts and spasms around him, squeezing everything he has, to the point where even if he'd wanted to he couldn't have stopped his own release. He buries his face in her hair and lets out his breath, and she kisses him, on the mouth, on the cheek, on the temple, and holds him close as she rides out the lingering waves of the gift he gave her.

The activity has sobered her, but she's far from one hundred per cent. Erza pulls Jellal down and summons a quilt for the ground for them to rest on, tugs him down beside her without letting him pull out. She rests his head on his arm while he brushes the hair back off her face, lids heavy, watching through long, dark lashes, a contended smile lingering quietly on bruised lips. When she presses closer, he welcomes it, gathering her up to his chest where he can feel her heartbeat alongside his, pulsing loud but settling.

Erza Scarlet kisses the skin in front of her, his collar, and his jaw above, sleepy and exhausted. She yawns, and he feels the breath against his skin.

He's drifting off, but she speaks with the softest voice. "We should do that again. Often."

He hums in reply, sleep approaching, and tells her he loves her, even though she already knows beyond a doubt. She snuggles in closer, makes herself more comfortable and kisses him again. "Goodnight," she whispers.

But he's already asleep.

NOTEWORTHY

THERE IS LIKE AN EPILOGUE CHAPTER AFTERWARDS.

AND YOU'RE RIGHT MILADY ASHEN HIS CONSENT WAS PRETTY DUBIOUS.