Noble Thief
Hope you enjoy 💓💋 Warning: NSFW at the end. If that can be considered a warning ;P Have a lovely weekend, everybody!
Chapter 14: Help You Remember
Loony's weird—weirder than usual. She always wears a far away look the moment her attention is not sought after by someone; Sera doesn't say anything when Luce's hand tremors as she hooks on her scarf—her bloodstained scarf—and tugs it to loosen it's choking hold on her neck.
"Hey." Sera walks a little faster to stay by the noblewoman's side, but keeps her gaze fixed on the stable ahead. Her lips press thin when all she gets is a quiet grunt as a response; she wants to ask what in the world Loony was thinking, allying with mages without any terms, but Sera doesn't think she'll like the answer. Not with that haunted look clouding Luce's distant eyes. Griffon nudges against her thigh, and she sighs as she idly scratches the mabari between the ears. So needy.
But at least it drags an answer out of the noblewoman.
"He wasn't there," Lucia mumbles, looking dead straight in Sera's eyes. It hurts to see what little green is left—what little life is left—be sucked away, and not know what to say or do to reignite the spark that was there a couple hours ago. Just what the hell—specifically—happened to Luce in the 'future', or whatever? That tevinter mage spouted utter nonsense that just can't be real. Even crazy mages wouldn't want that nightmare to be real.
Which leads Sera to know she won't like the answer.
"Wasn't where?" She carefully brushes her knuckles against the noblewoman's, disappointed when there's no reaction or move to claim her hand.
Lucia finally slows to a stop, earning several worried glances from those traveling a few paces ahead of them. She's staring at the ground, looking now as if she's lost in ruins, brow furrowing in concentration as she whispers. "Griffon. He wasn't there in the future. Why?"
"Prolly chasing free belly rubs," Sera quips quickly, hoping to take a bite out of this gloomy cloud hanging over Loony's head. It barely cracks the tiniest smile—but it's a smile; it's progress. She approaches the noblewoman, warring with impatience, wanting Lucia to cheer up already. Nothing works. It hurts.
Watching this just plain hurts. She needs Loony to be loony again, to say silly things and do daft dramatic stunts, like flailing and whinging like a baby. It was lively. It was the most ridiculous thing—but the thing was it preoccupied their thoughts, making them all groan or laugh at how ridiculous it all was, leaving no room for fear or doubt in their hearts.
"Celestia." The deep voice seems to rattle Lucia, but Sera notices how much more tense the woman gets when her brother comes towards her. Then she takes step back and starts to raise her hand, and the brother stops, cocking his head in confusion. He offers his and waits calmly, saying nothing more.
Weirdo.
Why the hell does he use her middle name anyways? If it's the one that's actually smack dab in the middle of her snooze-worthy long name.
Griffon whines and saunters over, curling behind Lucia, pressing his side against her and using his weight to move the noblewoman. When panic flashes by her eyes, Sera takes over and steps in front of Lucia—blocking her from her weird brother—as she weaves their fingers together. Sera doesn't need to know her to know the look of fear and distrust; but why doesn't she trust the weirdo? Well, Sera wouldn't—and doesn't—either, but they're not the ones that are family.
"I see," he sighs heavily, and Sera keeps her gaze fixated on the noblewoman, blinking exaggeratedly to keep her attention.
Lucia's holding on to her hand like her dear life depends on it.
"What do you see?" Lucia's voice quivers almost as much as the way her hand shook earlier, and her fingers tighten to the point it makes Sera fight off a grimace. When the brother moves to the corner of her eyes, she doesn't bother hiding her glare and turns—still holding Loony's hand—to shield her from his deceivingly calm gaze.
"Tell me." He draws his blade, and Griffon growls as his ears flatten to his head, curling around their legs. "Did I actually do it, or were you only warned?"
"Warned of what?" Cassandra demands as she rushes up behind him, unsheathing her sword and aiming it at him. His smirk unnerves Sera; she knows there's no use making a move for her arrows, because the weirdo will just turn into a bird and disappear. She glances over at Lucia, biting back ow's and leggo's when the grip grows crushingly painful.
"I was only warned," Lucia confesses—though what she's confessing, Sera still has no clue and enough is enough.
"For fuck's sake, what the fuck is going on?" She tries to turn fully to face him, but Lucia won't let her. Sera sighs and relents, but uses her free hand to rub the one clutching and breaking her fucking fingers. The brother puts his dagger away with a sigh.
"Celestia, I can explain."
"Yes, you can, and I'd love an explanation, Graven. Explain the part about you not truly intending to assassinate me an—"
"What?!" Cassandra barks, snarling as she approaches him. He raises his hand in surrender and Lucia brushes past Sera to stop the Seeker.
"Wait! He... He won't." The noblewoman narrows her eyes as they fall on him. "And? What say you? Tell me it's all rubbish or tell me the truth."
"Another lie would do you an injustice. As I have told your Spymaster, if I truly did want to, then you would not be alive right now. The Chantry contracted me—"
"I already know this! Now I know this, because Leliana warned me in the future. But nobody thought to warn me now!" Lucia marches up to her brother and Sera takes out her bow, arrow nocked just in case. The mabari stays close to Lucia, who's righteous anger burns hotter with every word as she stomps up and jabs a finger in his chest. "When did you plan to tell me?! When you will hold your blade to my throat again, just like the Hinterlands?"
What the fuck? Lucia never said anything about this, and Sera didn't hear anything like that when she eavesdropped outside their tent.
"I did not plan to tell you because I did not plan to do it at all!" He seethes back, and whatever 'timidity' he ever had completely disappears—he may as well have been replaced by a totally different man. Sera and Cassandra exchange looks, both unsure, tension thickening between the siblings as they glare at each other in silence.
"Put your weapons down," Lucia orders icily, her eyes never leaving her brother's. When Sera and Cassandra hesitate, she barks. "Stand down, now!"
"But Herald..."
"He will not harm me. At least, I don't think he will." She puffs out her chest, resting her hands on her hips. If she's trying to look tough she's... Well. It depends on perspective. Sera smirks, naughty thoughts circulating when all she can think of is taking this woman somewhere private—or private enough—and kiss her until she sheds her veneer of bravado. Loony needs to be pissed off more often if she gets this hot; and it's finally a clean break from the dazed lost look.
"Sera, put your bow down, please."
Oh. Right.
Naughty thoughts later, then.
Reluctantly, Sera eases on her bowstring and puts her arrow away, but only shortly after Cassandra puts her sword back in it's scabbard. She panics when Lucia gestures towards the stables. "Leave us. See if you can secure a wagon to Haven." She looks over at Sera, silencing the protest before it bursts out. "I'll be fine, if Griffon doesn't mind staying with me for a few minutes?" She taps her hip, and the mabari trots over to her side, ears still flattened—ready at a moment's notice.
Graven chuckles wryly. "You think a dog can—"
"I don't know what to think. I certainly never thought someone who shares my blood would even consider spilling that very blood." Lucia snaps venomously, and Sera smirks when he cringes at her chilling tone. Serves him right. The time to leave comes too soon, and the Seeker comes over to Sera when she makes no move to move. Her stomach coils nervously when an armored hand gently falls on her shoulder. Cassandra doesn't do gentle. She doesn't like this either.
"We just have to trust her," Cassandra murmurs. "She's going to be fine. Let them talk this out."
"They can talk, sure." Sera raises her voice to still be heard as she turns and walks away, thumbing her bowstring as a hint. "Griffon! If he makes one wrong move, don't pretend-bite him." She grins when the mabari barks, and hopes with all her heart that he truly understands what she really means.
And ignore whatever Lucia commands the moment her brother draws his blade again.
-—-—-—-—-—-
Stars stretch as far as the eye can see, and Sera struggles to find a comfortable position on the wagon. Fortunately, she's not the only one. She grins when Lucia groans.
"Kill me now," the noblewoman squeaks pathetically, hugging the floor of the wagon as if her life depends on it. It apparently does. "End my misery."
This is more like it. Sera missed this so much, and the tension that hung like a cloud over Loony's head has completely disappeared—probably temporarily, but it's better than nothing. The elf decides to have her share of fun and toes off her shoe, then plants her foot on the small of Lucia's back and rocks her back and forth.
"Oh god," Lucia rasps as her cheeks puff out. Cassandra sighs, and Sera laughs when the poor woman fights off the sickness as valiantly as a lazy nug basking in the sun. Every rocky bump goads a groan of pure anguish, and the woman consistently thuds her forehead against the wagon floor. Is she trying to kill herself? "Have mercy... I can't take this anymore, just kill me already..." Yup. She's trying, and she can't even manage that.
"I'm sure it could be arranged—has been arranged, at one point." Cassandra mutters.
Sera scans the darkness, the shadowed trees, the night sky; there's no crow flying among them. What did Loony tell her brother? Why isn't he traveling with them? Is he ever coming back? She keeps her bow on her lap just to be safe, rocking the noblewoman with her foot to renew her cheek's effort to grin whenever worry threatens to take it away. There are too many unknowns.
She still doesn't know what happened in this daft 'future' Loony supposedly experienced.
"Maker~ have mercy..." Lucia drawls in a weak sing-song lilt. "Andraste~ save me..."
"Cut it out y'daft tit," Sera giggles, rocking harder. It stops the singing for but a second, and Lucia presses her mouth into the wagon floor as she blows a raspberry. The woman is clearly suffering, and Sera sees only one way to help her finally feel better if motion sickness and rocking won't. "Gross... Y'know we were steppin' in horse shite before we boarded, yeah?"
Lucia barely makes it in time to puke overboard.
-—-—-—-—-—-
Wings beat furiously and Leliana turns to look at the post and see which crow has visited her—definitely no ordinary messenger bird. She sucks in a breath, apprehensive with what information this crow has for her that the scouts could not have gathered themselves. She holds out her hand. "Come. We will go to the war room."
The ashen crow doesn't waste another second and takes flight, settling on her forearm. She heads straight for the Chantry, avoiding eyes with all but Josephine, shaking her head subtly—knowing she's being watched and seen anyways—when the Ambassador appears to want to approach her.
Leliana can feel many a strange gaze follow after her and the crow, but no one else may know of Graven's secret—not when it's proved to be a valuable asset in ferreting out other traitors hiding within their ranks. The moment they're in the privacy of the war room, the crow takes flight and shifts back into human form.
...But Graven keeps his back to her.
"Danger" whispers in her blood, but her instincts are always on guard—she will probably never trust him. Not fully. "What news do you bring? Do we still have the mages?"
"Yes," he sighs, raking his hands along the shaved sides of his head. His shoulders fall as he turns, and Leliana studies the weary eyes—eyes that seem to be cut off from this world. "I have seen the bulk of the force march, and I estimate half a week's travel before they arrive. The Herald and her companions have lent their horses—"
"To my scouts in order to deliver the news; yes, I know." Leliana approaches cautiously, ensuring her hand remains close to her blade at all times. "There must be something else if the Herald sent you forward. Is she okay?"
"...No." He finally lifts his eyes to meet hers. "Because she knows about me."
"You told her?"
"No, of course not. I would never." He averts his gaze to the floor. "Which is precisely the source of one of many issues she has with me, currently."
Fantastic. So it's not important news for her to use, but the emotions of a distraught brother. "There are many other Sisters in Haven if—"
"You know very well I cannot pick just any Sister and tell them the Chantry contracted me to assassinate our beloved Herald."
"Our?" Leliana's brow arches, intrigued. "I did not take you for a believer."
"After what I have heard, the things my sister has experienced..." Graven meanders to the war table, his eyes growing distant on Redcliffe. "You will not like what she has to say about what the future brings."
"The future?" Her patience is cut short the more he stalls, and she approaches him with purpose. "What do you mean?"
"It means I tried to kill her. You stopped me—killed me—before I could." He clutches the edge, brow furrowing, and whatever poise discipline he housed before is stripped bare before her eyes. "She experienced a future of what the world would look like if she died. It was in literal ruin, everyone dead or dying. I was dying." He cards his hand through his spiked hair, shoulders falling dejectedly. "And I fought to help her return to here, but in the end..."
"You tried to kill her."
"I tried to kill her," he repeats, almost as if he doesn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. "After seeing the world burn because she 'died'... I tried to kill her."
"In my experience, anger and grief makes many people do rash things and behave foolishly. Does this truly come as a surprise to you?"
"It does to me." Graven runs his hand along the map. "Because I have never acted with or on emotion before."
"Perhaps that was the first. Who's to say what else was running through your mind at the time?"
"Lucia said I was driven mad by some sort of 'song' due to red lyrium, but..." He gropes for words, coming up empty handed. He sighs again. "I don't know."
Our Herald. Lucia. He's stopped wedging distance between himself and her. She's starting to be seen as something more than just a contract, to him—and it seems to be invoking things he's not used to thinking, feeling, managing. Leliana bites the flesh of her cheek to try and stifle the smile that threatens to break on her face. "You're used to watching from far away. I'm not surprised you're conflicted after being confronted face-to-face."
"I knew you'd mock me," he frowns, meeting her eyes. "I can't see it, but I can hear it."
"Oh? And just what do you hear?"
Graven stares blankly. He turns towards her, reaching, and she takes a step back before his hand connects with her shoulder. He smiles—smiles—sadly, and the sorrow in his eyes makes her uncomfortable. It doesn't seem to be for himself, and the sympathy that emerges as he murmurs. "I was not supposed to push my issues on your shoulders, and I apologize for that. Celestia wished me to come warn you about something else entirely—something personal."
Celestia. Distance. It doesn't mix well with 'something personal'. Leliana braces herself and crosses her arms. "Personal for who?"
"For you." Graven shifts uncomfortably. "She said that your... Er..." He rubs his nape, and the Spymaster can't determine if all these signs are fake or genuine. It would make sense that he isn't boding well with anything emotional, but he could be orchestrating this vulnerability for... For what? He has nothing to gain right now. He never will.
"Go on," she urges, trying not to. But she doesn't like the look in his eyes.
"She wanted me to tell you—warn you, rather—that you were forced to kill your lover in the future."
Ice rushes through Leliana and her hand shoots out to the war table to stabilize herself when the strength nearly leaves her legs. "Did she say why?"
"Because the taint was turning her." He reaches again, and she shakes her head sternly. His mournful smile grows. "It's what has shaken me."
That's... No. That doesn't make sense. How is an assassin unhinged by death?
"Why?" Leliana narrows her eyes in suspicion, observing his every move when he walks around the table, heading for the door.
"Because in the future, you have lost everything—and still you sacrificed yourself to save a world you knew you weren't going to be a part of. You were the one who had every right and motive; you were the ideal candidate for anger and grief to make you do rash things and behave foolishly." He lingers, looking over his shoulder at her. "In the future, my contract came back and freed me from a rotten death I would have had in a cell. I witnessed the world crumble around me because my sister 'died'. And when she returned, I tried to kill her." He quietly leaves, his last words hanging in the air, the pieces of the puzzle slotting together in Leliana's mind.
"The one who had no right or motive, who doesn't act with or on emotion, who felt death was better if it was delivered by your hand and not honorable sacrifice."
Whatever he feels may have been the reason in the future, she must learn more about this 'song' the red lyrium sings. For her peace of mind, and Graven's too. Now she knows she cannot trust him with Lucia though. But first things first: Leliana has an important letter to write. Wherever Cousland is, she could not have been far if she returned in the future.
...Nor successful in her mission to cure the Calling.
-—-—-—-—-—-
Snow. Sweet, blissful, frostbite-inducing snow. It feels nice against her cheek—feels doubly nice against her navel too. And then the shock of the cold overwhelms the torture of motion sickness, and Lucia shoots straight up on her feet, yelping as shivers lay siege to her entire body all at once. Sera's laughter rings in the air, and Cassandra's groan hits home.
Lucia missed these sounds so much. She didn't have it in the future—but she has it now.
She owns the future. She didn't know what she was truly worth until she witnessed what it would all look like if she was worth nothing. The future now rests in her hands; she's seen the cost of losing, of what will happen to the world if they lose her fancy glowing hand. All the more reason to continue training, however insane or painful.
...But maybe tomorrow.
"C'mon, y'daft tit." Sera hooks her arm around the noblewoman's shoulders, beaming a bright grin. "Let's go get some drinks. Wash that puke out yer mouth."
"Don't you want to kiss me before I do?" Lucia puckers her lips exaggeratedly and goes in for the kiss, laughing when she kisses Sera's palm instead. The noblewoman smirks devilishly as she looks at Griffon when the mabari comes up on her other side. "How about you, big boy? I bet you'd love a kiss from me."
Griffon promptly takes Sera's side instead.
"Tough crowd," Lucia chuckles tiredly before a yawn sweeps over. She cards a hand through her hair as she turns to Cassandra, smiling apologetically to her companions. "I'd like to turn in for the night, if that's okay, Seeker?"
"Of course, I'll pass on whatever information Leliana's scouts may not have had for her. I'm sure there is still plenty of preparation the Ambassador and Commander will need to do before we attempt to seal the breach—"
The breach. Lucia almost forgot about it. Another weight shoved on her mind, promising to keep her up tonight.
"—take all the time that you need, Herald. We won't go anywhere without you."
Literally. The cost is too high. The world rests on her shoulders alone.
Every word coming out of Cassandra's mouth fades away, tuned out by the static growing stronger and buzzing louder in Lucia's ears. Fatigue sways her, and she absent-mindlessly walks to her cabin, mumbling an apology for wherever she's cut the stalwart Seeker off. She can't risk drinking with Sera—even if drinking herself to sleep seems appealing right now, because sleep is what she needs and she knows she won't get it.
"Buckles?" Sera calls out, reminding Lucia of one of far too many nicknames she holds. She wishes she had just one—just 'Lucia', or Luce, or Lia, or Lucy, or... Just anything that empowers her to be her and not anybody else. The series of crunches in the snow tailing behind her proves she's not going to be alone.
She's scared of asking for it. Scared of being alone, even if she wants it. Will she ever make up her mind on anything?
"Hey, y'hear me or not?" An arm cuts in front of her and keeps the cabin door closed when she reaches for the knob. Sera lets go of the door and gently shakes the noblewoman by the shoulder. "Luce, you sleepwalkin' or summin?"
"Sleep would be heavenly," Lucia sighs, breathing her thanks when the elf takes charge and opens the door for her. Griffon happily squeezes between them to rush inside, and they chuckle when he jumps on the bed. "Nuh uh, my bed. No sharing tonight."
"'Cause she's sharing with me," Sera adds, and Lucia looks over at her in surprise. "What? Too bad if y'don't wanna share. Coming anyways." Sera grabs her hand, stripping her things with the other. The scarf is pulled over her head, and the buckles of her blades are snapped off with ease, hitting the floor with resounding thuds. Before Lucia knows it, she's freed of her cuirass and vest-mail, watching the laces of her bodice sashay to the ground.
Griffon makes no move to move.
"Oi, off! You dunno how to share and this bed's gonna break again with all our arses on it." Sera narrows her eyes when the mabari whimpers, and Lucia chuckles. She pulls away from the elf and cleans up at the washbasin, relaxing when she scrubs her face with a cloth. She stiffens when a calloused hand sneaks under her bodice, caressing her back. The cloth is taken away and fingers cup her chin, turning her head. Her eyes flutter shut the moment lips claim hers—almost with uncertainty, as if Sera doesn't know if this is okay.
Of course it's okay. It's more than okay. Lucia probably hasn't been doing a good job communicating that, or being as fine as she postured back in Redcliffe. Hands glide over her hips, turning her, and she tries to focus on the feeling and warmth and sounds and tastes and—
All she sees are red eyes.
"I-I can't," she sputters frailly, "I'm sorry..." She breaks the kiss, holding Sera away by the shoulders. She gropes for words when she sees hurt flash by the stormy eyes, but she can't find it in her to confess how she felt in the future and how that makes her feel now. What Sera did in the future... She can't be punished for it now. She's as innocent as Alexius.
...But Lucia can't force herself to forget, no matter how much she wants to.
"I just need to sleep right now. I haven't since we left Haven to begin with and I just... I need..."
Sera. She needs Sera.
So why in the bloody hell is she pushing Sera away?
"You actually gonna sleep?" There's an abrasiveness that rubs the wrong way, the doubt—the kind of doubt as if Lucia's being accused of something.
"I'd like to at least try," she blurts, backpedaling when Sera frowns. "Look, a lot happened. I can tell you have questions, but I don't know if I can tell you the answers. Not until I try to sort it out in my own head and figure out just what in the world happened—otherwise we're both going to be confused and neither of us will sleep tonight."
"Then we ain't gonna sleep tonight." Sera pushes the noblewoman's hands off and steps closer, guiding Lucia to the wall. She shudders when warm lips pave a path on her neck, teeth grazing countless sensitive spots—all the hickeys her scarf covered. "You tellin' me you wanna stop this so you can not sleep anyways? That's just daft."
"But—"
"I dunno how else to help, Luce." There's a flicker, a crack in the words, in her tone. Sera buries her face in Lucia's neck, but doesn't kiss. "You've been dead in the eyes since y'came back from wherever the fuck you even were. That's scary. And it's even more scary that you wanna be alone with it."
"Because..." Because why? It is scary. And she is scared. And she's scared to be alone right now, scared of what she'll see all over again if she falls asleep, scared of waking up, feeling more alone than ever even with a warm body by her side. The horrors she's witnessed... She is alone. The feelings she felt, the things she saw—she's already alone with all of those things, and she wouldn't ever wish those horrors on anybody else's shoulders.
Are any of these things the same as what Sera felt in the future? Maybe that's why she was so distant, because she chose to be and not because she was broken.
"Because nothing. I'm not leavin' you whether you like it or not, Luce."
Lucia tries to turn her head to look, but Sera stays right where she is, never budging. The noblewoman closes her eyes, seeing a fleeting memory of the elf's frail back, dejected and defeated and cackling maniacally all the same. Was she not scared? She laughed at nothing. Why? To make it all less scary?
Questions on top of questions on top of questions cram in Lucia's mind; in a bid of desperation, she tugs insistently and fails to choke back a cry that slams her at full force. Sera's head snaps back when it tears out of Lucia's throat, and she loses her breath the moment a mouth crashes over her, pinning her to the wall again. Her hands work with minds of their own, undoing the safety mechanism of her belt and pulling it off in one fell swoop.
"Help me," she rasps through tears, broken and still breaking, kicking herself in her head for appearing so weak when this is the woman she's spent years fantasizing of being strong and bold for. But she can't hold the dam back anymore. Too much loss reaped upon the soul—her soul, and she holds on to Sera for dear life. "Help me forget, at least for tonight. Make me believe you'll never leave me ever again."
"But I didn't...?" Sera searches her eyes for answers, answers she still can't give.
Whatever Sera finds is enough—for now—to continue, and she possesses Lucia's lips with overbearing force, forcing the noblewoman to think only about how to be a worthy contender or a mischievous rival. Her legs nearly give out when teeth bite down on the crook of her neck, and her mouth falls open in a silent scream when sharp pain pierces muscle. She groans, and Sera takes advantage of it all as she comes up and slips her tongue inside Lucia's mouth, nipping the tip of hers.
All she can still see are the red eyes floating about within her mind.
"Please," Lucia whispers, finding one of Sera's hands to guide it to the waistband of her pants. "I need to forget." No other hint need to be given, and she gasps when deft fingers slip inside—slipping inside of her, raw and unready.
Every touch and kiss grows rougher, making it harder and harder to keep up—or think. She can be neither the contender nor the rival.
Sera peers dead in her eyes, pumping aggressively, resting their foreheads together. Lucia moans in defeat when the fingers slip out of her, only for her pants to be tugged down to her thighs. Pain laces pleasure as pressure pushes inside of her, stretching, thrusting, making beads of sweat collect on her skin. The moment dies when she makes the mistake of looking to the side, where Griffon sleeps on the bed.
"Fuck, the do—"
"Fuckin' you," Sera interrupts gruffly, "fuck the dog."
"I'd rather not."
Everything stops. Sera's fingers still remain inside of her, and the two just stare at each other blankly—then burst out laughing. Griffon whines, burrowing his snout underneath the blankets to shield his eyes.
"Poor guy," Lucia jests breathlessly, "super ears and nose and all. He can smell and hear every little detail."
"Fuck, Luce, why y'always gotta make it weird?" Sera shakes her head, sniggering; then she grins devilishly. "I must be doin' a shite job if yer still talking."
"What? No—oh..." Heat pools rapidly when the fingers inside curl, pressing deliciously, almost making her come undone. She shivers when hot breaths hit her ear.
"I'm gonna help you forget." Sera slowly slips her fingers out one by one, drawing another defeated moan from the tortured woman; and then she thrusts up to her knuckles, curling and raking her fingertips down, drawing a scream instead. Lucia tries to keep it quiet, keep her lips sealed, but they part in a gasp when razor sharp teeth nip the meaty flesh of her shoulder. She rides the waves, fucked through her orgasm, holding on to Sera for dear life—again, in the way they both prefer it most—as every thrust brings her ever closer to the next high. Lucia wraps her arms around the elf's shoulders and pulls in close, muffling her moans by biting down on Sera's black neckerchief.
Exhaustion lingers close behind, and a fierce fire beats beneath the noblewoman's cheeks when there's no hint of Sera ever stopping or slowing down. Another hand sneaks under Lucia's bodice, raking nails down her back. The burn fuels the ache below, and every orgasm comes too far in between, ending too soon, leaving her hungry for more. She whimpers when Sera abruptly pulls out, whispering against her ear. "Get on the floor, luv. On the pelt."
"But—?"
"Trust me," Sera leans back with a grin, and trips Lucia—catching and guiding her down—whether she wants it or not. "You'll love it."
"The fireplace—"
"I know how to start one."
Yeah. Will Lucia ever get to finish one though? Sentences, that is.
Logs are thrown in and several matches are struck, thrown in haphazardly. If this is Sera knowing how to start one, she certainly knows how to start more wild fires. Lucia doesn't have the opportunity to fret as her bodice is pulled over her head, the breast band undone within seconds. Her pants roll down, only to be stuck at the boots. Sera rolls her eyes as she props Lucia's leg up on her lap, working off laces and straps on each sodding boot one at a time.
"Why'd you hafta wear these ones? Takes forever to take off with how many bloody buckles there are."
"In my defense, I didn't think this would happen."
"Well start thinking this will always happen then." A devilish glint sparks in the stormy eyes, and Sera grins when she pulls the boots off. She crawls over Lucia and kisses her, pushing her down through their mouths. The sheer strength hiding in the lean body hovering above her is nothing to sneer at. A teasing hand kneads her thigh, thumb pushing in whenever knots are found, coaxing every sore spot away.
Kisses trail down her torso, paying loving attention to each breast, forcing her to wait for what she needs most. She grits her teeth, determined to last, only to break when Sera nips beside her navel. "Sera, please..."
"Please, what, luv?"
Oh, she knows very well what. Devil.
"Please..." Lucia chews her lip. "Help me forget."
"C'mon, luv. Y'know what I want and I know you can say it. You write it, plenty. 'Bout me, anyways."
"Exactly." Warmth flushes her face, and she squirms sheepishly when Sera laughs—torturing her even more when every bit of laughter skirts across her lower belly.
"All this, and still a blushin' bride? Say it. Just once. For me?"
"Maker's breath," Lucia takes in a deep breath, screaming the words within her mind in hopes she'll just blurt it. It's no use. She turns her head to try and bury her face in the pelt, mumbling the quietest apology when Sera sighs and kisses the new mark she's left beside the noblewoman's navel. Her back arches and she barely chokes out a moan when fingers suddenly push inside of her, only to leave. "Fuck," she hisses, anger surging through her for being toyed with. She lifts her head, narrowing her eyes at the woman who just smirks smugly. "Fuck me."
"There we go. Was that so hard to say?" Sera cuts her protest off as Lucia's legs are slung over the elf's shoulders, and her breath hitches in her throat when Sera positions herself, her gaze never leaving the noblewoman's. "I'll help you forget, alright. Forget yesterday, or 'tomorrow', or whatever."
Everything becomes a blur the moment a single lick fogs up Lucia's mind. Her fingers ache, seeking purchase in the pelt, unable to writhe when Sera locks her arms around Lucia's thighs, hands pinning her hips down. "Sera" is the only thing that slips past her lips, squirming as the skilled tongue has it's way with her, leaving a messy promise behind.
"And I'm gonna help you remember this fuckin' night forever."