Author's Note: Written for the second annual Snowbarry Spot Discord Server's April Minibang event! Themes used: freedom, elements of nature.
Warning: Depictions of violence and sexual content incoming.
Caitlin sighed, staring out at the valley before her.
In the morning quiet with the smell of rain still lingering in the air from last night's showers, the world felt peaceful. Safe.
Behind her, the sun was rising on the horizon, its rays warming her skin and flooding her garden with golden light. In the light of day, she could see the morning dew glistening on the herbs in her herb garden.
She could smell honeysuckle and jasmine, rosemary and lavender. She could see the mint and basil that nestled amongst the sage and thyme, each one threatening to spill from their pots. Stepping out into the sunlight, her bare feet sinking into the soft earth, she followed the worn path further out into the garden.
Past the fountain, where she communed with her fellow gods and goddesses, she could see the wild, colorful growths of her flower garden: calendula flowers, roses, carnations and poppies. Morning glories, begonias, daffodils, hyacinths and marigolds.
Their leaves and stems wove up and around trellises, raising buds and flowers towards the sky. In the distance, she could see the grove, trees resplendent and full of mouth-watering fruits: figs, olives, blood oranges and pomegranates.
She had poured so many years, so much love into this garden. Tending to it, day in and day out. It pained her to think, after tomorrow, she would not step foot in it for another 6 months.
In her absence, it would wither and die. The frost she'd kept at bay would set in.
But that would take time… More time than she had.
Because tomorrow, Caitlin would marry.
A bride for the God of Speed.
Over the past few centuries, she had heard many rumors about the God of Speed, many of them painting a rather grim portrait of the god who hadn't been seen in ages.
The first glimpse she sees of him, her future husband, is when she arrives at the ceremony shrine. He is suited in full armor, a thing of beauty and awe with its gleaming metals and onyx facade, bright blue light underlying the gaps in the armor.
When he turns to look at her, his gaze is piercing, two burning balls of light sunken deep into the armor, assessing. Lifting her chin, she bows, refusing to show her fear. Behind her, the shrine maidens who dressed her titter nervously.
She had been dressed in black and blue, adorned in the finest of jewels, her hair curled and piled high into a cascading up-do. Her dress was made of rich soft fabric, a deep dark blue dotted with glittering diamonds at the skirt, lace lining the top.
She wonders, face impassive as they turn to the front of the room, if he finds her beautiful.
Caitlin had been to enough weddings throughout the centuries to know that the other gods and goddesses loved any excuse to gather, drink and dance. Create mischief for the mortals. They should have been here today, spectating, judgemental faces lining the upper chambers of the shrine.
Instead, the shrine's balconies lie empty. It is a private ceremony, at the request of the groom.
The ceremony is a blur of rituals and chanting, and then Caitlin's hand is being placed into Savitar's. The armor is cold to the touch beneath her skin and though her face gives nothing away, something within her withers at the thought that this will be what their marriage is like. Cold. Unyielding. Hand in unlovable hand.
It's only when they begin to recite the vows that Savitar's helmet comes off. Caitlin watches, curiously, heart hammering in her chest.
Oh, she thinks once she's gotten a full look at his face.
Soft brown hair and pale skin, dark eyes that regard her carefully, warily, as if expecting to find fear or dismay or even disgust. The scarring on the right side of his face is prominent, twisting his face into a permanent scowl. It doesn't detract from how handsome he is though.
When he speaks, his voice is low and rough with disuse.
Their eyes don't stray from one another, even as the officiant declares them husband and wife.
The procession back to the palace from the shrine is a quiet one, Savitar riding in a separate carriage. It's colder here beyond the Oceanus, in this place Savitar calls home. It makes her think of her garden back home, waiting to be swept with frost now that she's gone.
What could she possibly grow here, in this land of fog and mist?
Her ruminations come to an end as they arrive at the palace, where a feast has been laid out in celebration of their union. Still, Caitlin dines alone in the grand dining room, the servants explaining that their lord would come fetch her once she'd finished her meal.
She can barely taste the food, her mind divorced from her surroundings as she thought about what came next. Caitlin was no maiden goddess; she'd taken lovers before, human and god alike. But would her new husband be gentle, patient with her? Would he care about her pleasure as much as he did his own?
When the time comes, she rises from her seat, finding Savitar waiting outside the dining room's wide double doors. He's discarded his armor, changed into a stiff, jewel-encrusted two piece that seems almost more defensive in nature than his armor had been.
When she glances up, his face is impassive, eyes fixed steadily on her. Swallowing, she falls into step beside him as they make their way towards the wedding chamber.
A flock of servants descend upon them when they enter, helping Caitlin remove her dress, sliding ornaments out of her hair, washing away make-up. Across the room, Savitar is given a similar treatment, leaving him in a loose pair of pants and Caitlin in a thin slip of a shift.
The servants withdraw, leaving them alone in the silence of the room, save for the officiant hidden behind the screen in a corner of the room. Necessary in ensuring the marriage was consummated (an archaic practice in Caitlin's opinion).
Caitlin's attention shifts and she lets out a shuddering breath as Savitar draws near, stopping close enough she can feel the heat on his skin.
For a moment, they stand there, orbiting one another, breathing in each other's air. And then, Savitar speaks, his voice low.
"You aren't afraid of me."
It isn't a question but an observation, a conclusion that surprises him as much as it does her. "I'm not."
She pauses, cocking her head. "Should I be?"
A strange expression crosses Savitar's face, too fleeting for Caitlin to name it before it melts back into that mask of impassivity. He doesn't respond to her. Instead, he lifts a hand to her hair, curling a finger around the honey-brown curls.
Caitlin's eyes fall shut as his hand slips through the curls and continues on its path, caressing gently over her shoulders and down her arms. He's warm, she thinks, blinking up at him.
Savitar's hand finds its way onto the small of her back, trailing up her spine in a way that makes her shiver and arch into him.
Hesitantly, slowly, she lifts a hand, giving him just enough warning before she places it gently on his unscarred cheek. Then, just as hesitant and just as slow, she lifts her other hand. Savitar's eyes are wary as she reaches for his other cheek but he doesn't move, doesn't even flinch.
Instead, his eyes flutter shut as hers had earlier, leaning into her touch as if he were starved for touch. For affection. Kindness.
His face is warm, the scarred side hot to the touch.
Savitar is silent as she traces her fingers over his face, following the arch of his eyebrow, trailing down the bridge of his nose, over the softness of his lips. She stops there, pressing her thumb into the plush pink.
Feeling something stir in the pit of her stomach, she leans in to capture his lips.
Savitar doesn't hesitate in kissing back, gathering her in his arms. He kisses her hungrily, greedily, fingers digging into her skin. Caitlin's fingers creep up into Savitar's hair, grabbing fistfuls of the soft strands.
He shifts away, far too soon, and steps back towards the bed, beckoning her to him. When they reach the edge of the downy coverings, Savitar urges her on. As she settles onto the plush cushions, he watches her, a myriad of expressions seemingly fighting for dominance.
She offers her hand.
Catching her gaze, Savitar reaches out and takes her hand, allowing himself to be pulled into her orbit. His hands are soft as they caress her, stroking her thighs, her belly, the side of her breasts. Pressing kisses onto her jaw, he lifts the hem of her shift, helping her out of it.
Caitlin shivers, both from the cool air in the room and the heat of Savitar's gaze.
She draws him close again, fitting their mouths together to escape the intensity of those eyes. His lips are soft and hot and Caitlin wants to spend the rest of her life exploring them.
She could, she remembers.
The thought sends her hands wandering, tracing over his biceps, the jut of his shoulder blades, down the front of his chest. She wants to sink her nails into his skin, leave him with stinging welts to remember her by but she shies from it, still unsure of what to expect.
His pants come off next, leaving them both fully naked at last. For a moment, they gaze at one another, both vulnerable in different ways.
He's gentle, attentive, eyes watching her reaction carefully as he stills inside her. Quick fingers rush to soothe the tension from her muscles. When she finally nods, he rocks slowly against her. Caitlin gasps, hips twitching as his fingers reach down between them and find that bundle of nerves that sends sparks and tremors through her body.
Caitlin's eyes slide shut, stars painting the back of her eyelids as she grips onto Savitar's shoulders and meets his thrusts with her own filthy grinds.
It isn't long before she comes undone, Savitar following closely behind her as she clenches down on him. He collapses onto her, panting into her neck.
She doesn't mind, the heavy weight bringing her back to earth as the tremors leave her body. Above her, Savitar goes stiff. He slides off her and hurriedly pulls his pants back on, keeping his face turned away from her.
He was still hiding from her, holding back.
Her first few weeks at the palace are spent mostly alone. The servants are kind to her but keep out of her way for the most part and Savitar… well, she only sees him on days when he deigns to join her for breakfast or dinner. She's not entirely sure where he goes during the day.
She spends most of her days in the palace garden. She'd stumbled upon it on her third day of wandering aimlessly around the palace, in search of something to do.
It didn't resemble her own garden from back home, full of lush greens and warm-weather plants; a riot of flowers and herbs. Buds and blooms of every color and hue under the rainbow.
Here, the plants seemed to thrive in the cold, a landscape full of white, purple, pink and red amidst green. Winterberries, blue spruce, lilies of the valley, catmint, and pansies. Snowdrops and hellbore, camellias and cyclamen. The morning dew glinted like diamonds off the plants, their frosty exteriors seeming to grow in her presence.
It was beautiful but it was different and it made her ache for her own plants, her own garden.
One day, as she's tending to the weeds amidst the catmint, Savitar finds her. At first, she isn't aware of her audience, too concentrated on the task before her to pay attention to her surroundings.
After digging out a particularly difficult weed, she sits back to inspect her work, fingers running reverently over the purple-blue flowers. They are cold to the touch and for a moment, she allows her powers to spring forth, weaving snowflakes like gems onto the petals.
"Why do you fear your power?"
Caitlin stands and whirls, ice daggers forming in her hands.
Savitar is standing before her, head cocked inquisitively as he examines the plants behind her.
"You're a goddess of frost and yet you hold it at bay. Why?"
Images flash before her eyes, memories from long ago: warm brown eyes. A kind smile. Blue skin and frost-bitten fingers.
It takes every shred of control Caitlin has in her to not bare her teeth and hurl the daggers. Who did he think was to demand anything of her, he was never around. He was her husband in name alone.
"Leave," she hisses.
Savitar is unimpressed, stepping closer to where she stands. "Technically, this is my garden."
"And now it is mine too. Leave - or I will show you what a goddess of frost can do."
Savitar smirks, seemingly amused by this turn of events.
"You would challenge me? The god of speed?"
Caitlin steps closer, the dagger in her left hand melting away as the one in her right grows, sharpens. The tip of it comes to rest above his heart.
"You have no worshippers, no followers. What are you really god of?"
The taunt strikes true and Savitar's face falls, twisting into something dark and ugly. Caitlin feels a vicious part of her cheer at the sight.
They stand there for what seems like forever, neither one of them backing away or breaking eye contact. It's the stand-off she's been expecting since the moment she saw him in his armor.
It is only the soft footfalls of a servant, coming to deliver news, that separates them.
He leaves without so much as a backward glance. Caitlin takes a shuddering breath once they've rounded the corner out of sight. She lets the dagger at her side fall to the floor, watching as it shatters at her feet.
On wobbling legs, she makes it to the bench a few steps away and collapses into it. The cold of her hands soothes her a bit when she buries her face in them, cooling the angry flush of her cheeks.
The thing is, Savitar hadn't been wrong when he'd noted she was afraid of her powers.
Still, he had no right to ask her why. After all, she hadn't asked anything of him. Hadn't pried or tried to make sense of all the rumors she'd heard. She hadn't expected him to take an interest in her.
Caitlin sighed.
They have a guest.
Caitlin almost falls out of her seat in shock when one of the servants comes into the dining room to deliver the news, interrupting their breakfast.
She glances at Savitar's face, finding him just as perplexed as she feels. She hadn't been expecting anyone and neither had he, by the looks of it.
They abandon their breakfast, curiosity pulling them out the room and down the long hall leading towards the parlor.
The guard that opens the door announces them to the room but the words barely register because standing inside is Cisco. The squeal that falls out of her mouth is uncharacteristic but it's joyful, bright and true.
Cisco's arms are tight around her when she embraces him.
Her best friend, her brother… the person who knew her best in the world.
"What are you doing here?" she whispers.
"What do you mean what am I doing here? My best friend got married and I wasn't even invited to the wedding. Of course, I was going to come visit you."
Caitlin laughs, releasing him. "I'm glad you're here."
Cisco nods, brown eyes flickering over her shoulder. "Me too."
Caitlin turns, finding Savitar looking somewhat uncomfortable where he stood.
"Cisco, Savitar. Savitar, Cisco."
"God of Speed," Cisco acknowledges with a tilt of his head, wariness in his eyes as he scrutinizes Savitar.
"Cisco, God of Dimensions," Savitar responds in kind, voice and face neutral.
The room falls silent, the tension thick in the air as the two hold one another's gaze. Suddenly, Savitar's gaze flicks to her and some of the tension drains.
Nodding, he excuses himself, citing business to attend to.
When the door clicks shut behind him, Cisco turns, lowering his voice.
"Be honest. Do I have to fling him into another dimension? I swear, there are plenty of dead worlds that will get the job done."
Swatting his arm gently, Caitlin makes herself comfortable on the loveseat. Cisco follows.
"You don't have to do that, Cisco. Savitar is… difficult but he isn't cruel. I actually think he's rather lonely," Caitlin muses.
Cisco pauses a long moment. "Do you know how he got that scar on his face?"
Caitlin nodded. Of course, she knew. Everyone knew. It was the one truth in the sea of rumors and fictitious lies that surrounded her husband.
Savitar, once a young demi-god named Barry, had challenged Zoom. A battle to the death against a Primordial god. It should have been a death sentence but somehow, he'd beaten him. Forever scarred but a full-fledged god after absorbing Zoom's powers.
It was sacrilege, the other gods had whispered.
It was vengeance, Caitlin thought, thinking of the part of the story others so often forgot and dismissed. Zoom had killed Barry's mother. Mortal she may have been but his mother nonetheless.
"He's broken, Caitlin, and you can't fix him."
"I'm not trying to," she snaps, a half-truth that scrapes her insides.
In her mind's eye, there is a boy lying in the ice and snow. Pale blue skin and unseeing eyes.
Dead by her hand. A stray shard of ice gone straight through his throat as she'd fought to defend him, defend herself.
Maybe I'm broken too, she thinks.
The deep freeze that has formed between them since that day in the garden thaws her third month at the palace, shortly after Cisco's visit.
It's gotten colder since she first arrived, the morning mists accompanied by soft flurries at first and then heavier snowfall.
It makes working on the garden more difficult, the roots she pulls up hard with frost but the cold itself doesn't phase her. She actually enjoys it, the flurries kissing her skin in a familiar greeting. She feels guilty at first, enjoying the element that feels so natural to her but slowly, the shame dissipates.
For the first time in a long time, she allows herself to revel in the beauty of the snow, the ice. Lets the power course through her veins until she stops, just shy of becoming her. Khione. Killer Frost.
Caitlin shakes her head, unwilling to follow that line of thinking.
She's sitting on the bench, enjoying a cup of tea when Savitar joins her. He doesn't greet her, seemingly pre-occupied with his thoughts but he hums his approval when she offers him some tea.
They sit quietly, a comfortable silence falling between them.
Caitlin can feel Savitar studying her, weighing whether to verbalize his thoughts. She tenses in anticipation, fingers gripping onto the porcelain tightly.
"You can leave, you know. You're not a prisoner here," he says finally, voice quiet and disarming. Caitlin blinks, surprised, the tension draining from her muscles.
"What?"
Savitar sighs, looking frustrated as he elaborates. "You haven't left the palace since you arrived. I wanted you to know you're free to come and go as you please."
There's something else he isn't saying. Caitlin waits. When he doesn't contribute anything further, she prods. "And if it pleases me to never return, what then?" It's a purely hypothetical question, meant more to test the sincerity of his words than reveal any secret desire on her part but Savitar looks miserable at the prospect.
"Then we'll be husband and wife in name alone."
Warmth blooms in Caitlin's chest and she marvels at the sincerity in his voice, the vulnerability underlying the gesture. She finds herself wanting to ease the sting of rejection. "It doesn't. Please me, I mean."
She hesitates. "I - I like it here. I feel like I can be myself."
His eyes are sharp when they find hers, narrowed. She tilts her head, acknowledging his unspoken question. "I haven't used my powers in a very long time."
They lapse into silence once again, Savitar giving her the time she needs to gather her thoughts.
"I had a lover once upon a time - mortal. His name was Ronnie…" Caitlin's voice falls to a hush. She swallows, forcing herself to continue. "I loved him very much and I - I had to watch him die. He died because of me. I killed him. I couldn't control my powers and he paid the price."
She can see it in her mind's eye, the memory seared into her. Caitlin, curling in on herself, gathering power between her hands, a curtain of ice shards swirling around her, keeping her enemies at bay. She could still feel the bitter cold wind stinging her eyes, nipping at her skin and making it hard to breathe, whipping her hair into a frenzy.
The very sight of her had struck fear into the hearts of her enemies. She'd seen it in their eyes, had seen her own reflection on the surface of their shields. Hair as white as snow, eyes of molten silver. A true goddess of frost.
The monster they'd believed her to be.
When she finally let go, letting icy rage explode across the field without discrimination, without mercy, there'd been a part of her that reveled in the chaos, in the power she could wield. They'd come after her, she reasoned. She'd only acted to defend herself and her own.
She believed it too, that is until she saw Ronnie…
The immediate area surrounding her was a jagged icy landscape, giant spikes of ice protruding from the ground at an angle and away from her in tight circles, every succeeding circle wider than the last. The men closest to her stand frozen, bodies encased in ice. Beyond them, others lay still on the ground, bodies ripped to shreds from the shards, their blood turning snow and ice a crimson red.
She pays them no mind, looking instead for Ronnie. She finds him at the outskirts of the blast radius, clutching at his throat where blood is gurgling over and between his fingers. One of her ice shards lies at his side, the tip of it glistening with red. "Ronnie!"
No. No no no.
His eyes struggle to find hers when she flings herself onto the ground beside him, hands fluttering about over his. He shouldn't have pulled it out.
"Ca - Cait," he tries, choking as more blood bubbles up and over his lips.
"No, stop. Stop talking. I can fix this," Caitlin promises, the uncertainty in her voice clear even to her. She repeats herself, this time with more conviction. "I can fix this."
Ronnie coughs, shaking his head. "It… it's okay. I know you didn't - didn't mean to."
Caitlin's breath hitches. This is her fault. Oh gods, this was her fault.
Ronnie's hand trembles as he reaches up to touch her hair, her cheek. "I have to go now."
Tears spring to her eyes and her vision blurs. "Don't leave me. Don't…. Please. Ronnie..."
His hand slips from her face, fingers smearing blood over her lips, and Caitlin forces herself to watch as the light leaves his eyes. She did this. She killed him.
She'd promised herself that day, as she wept over Ronnie's cooling body, she'd never use her powers again. It was her punishment, her penance. Over time, she'd become afraid of that side of herself. Khione.
So instead of a goddess of frost, she'd become a harvest goddess. Keeping the snow and ice and frost at bay instead of welcoming it. She'd learned which herbs worked best for healing, how to nurture plants that were wont to otherwise die in her presence. It was safer, easier. It was peaceful.
Besides, mortals had little need for a goddess of frost. They needed bountiful harvests. She tells Savitar all of this and isn't surprised when he opens his mouth to argue.
"You can't let your past hold you back. We're gods, you and I. We are free from the pain and suffering of man. We don't need their favor or their approval."
Savitar's words are fervent, impassioned and she can see how much he believes them. How he needs to believe them. It's easy to disregard the opinions of others when all they've ever done is dismiss you and your own struggles.
She wonders how long it took for his heart to harden after his mother's death, after Zoom.
As if sensing her thoughts, Savitar adds, "I assume you know the story of how I became a god…" Caitlin nods. "After my mother died, I was broken and alone. A worthless disposable hero in the eyes of the gods. I wanted the pain to end."
"I went after Zoom so I could become a God. So the pain would end."
"Did it?" she asks. She knows the answer, as does he. But it isn't one he likes so he doesn't answer.
He is solemn when he speaks again, eyes holding hers steadily. "I have plans, Caitlin, and I can give you the freedom you desire. We can be equals, partners. But you need to let go of the past. Forgive yourself for the people you weren't able to save."
Caitlin doesn't know how to respond to that, can't look away from the fire in his eyes.
He stands, breaking their gaze.
"I'll give you time to think it over."
Caitlin does think about it. Constantly.
She doesn't give him an answer that afternoon. Or the next. Instead, days trickle into weeks as Caitlin considers his offer.
He doesn't bring it up again; he's patient, biding his time, seemingly confident that Caitlin will fold and accept his proposal. It'd be infuriating if it weren't for the fact that she wants it too.
With every passing day, Caitlin lets herself slip further, embracing the ice goddess within. She uses her powers more often, letting a chill overtake her skin until she's pale as snow, her lips tinged a blackish-blue.
Her hair whitens overnight, still soft to the touch and silken.
The first time Savitar catches sight of her like that, he appraises her carefully, letting his eyes linger. After what seems like an eternity, he nods approvingly, eyes locking onto hers. Caitlin burns underneath his gaze.
It's nearing a month since their discussion in the garden when things shift once again.
She's pacing back and forth in Savitar's quarters, waiting for him to return. She's made her decision and though she is clear-minded and resolute, there's a churn of anxiety in the pit of stomach that almost makes her second-guess herself.
As night begins to fall outside, the shadows in the room lengthening, Savitar enters. He's wearing his armor again and the sight of it sets Caitlin's heart racing as she thinks back to the first time she'd seen him in it. The day of their wedding.
Back then, she'd been resigned to the thought of a cold and lonely marriage. There'd been no assurances of a marriage of equals, never mind a love match. But now...
We can be equals, partners.
That's what Savitar had said in the garden. What he'd proposed. Caitlin wants it so fiercely her bones ache. She'd been alone for so long, hidden a vital part of herself and Savitar, he was willing to accept her. To set her free.
With him, she wouldn't need to be alone any longer.
Catching sight of her, Savitar pauses mid-stride, blue unearthly gaze finding hers. Caitlin stares, heart caught in her throat. As she watches, the suit whirs open at the back, Savitar stepping out of its protective embrace and into the warmth of the room.
He comes to a stop before her, gaze curious and open. The words she'd rehearsed in the quiet of her own chambers fail her now, slipping from her mind as easy as sand slipping between your fingers. Her head tips back, eyes meeting his, a frisson of anticipation bolting up her spine.
They collapse into each other wordlessly, all biting kisses and wandering hands.
Swaying under the force of their kiss, Caitlin slips her hands under Savitar's shirt, pushing the rich fabric up, up, over his head. She flings it away to some corner of the room, shivering when Savitar's hands begin to unbutton the front of her dress, his lips finding the pulse point under her jaw.
The bed is too far away, Caitlin thinks, her senses overwhelmed by his proximity. She steers them instead to the ornate desk Savitar keeps in his quarters, hands swiping correspondence and other belongings aside. Savitar pauses briefly in undressing her, lifting her onto the desk, hissing when Caitlin winds rough hands into his hair and pulls him up to capture his lips once again.
It's nothing like their first time, the careful hesitancy of strangers left behind, leaving only burning desire and a heightened awareness of one another.
Savitar kisses her open-mouthed and needy, no finesse to it but Caitlin doesn't mind. In fact, she prefers it, knowing she can make him lose control, break through his carefully crafted composure.
The last button on her dress comes undone, the high-collared material falling away under Savitar's grip, leaving her in a thin, white shift. Her breathing stutters as Savitar's lips leave hers, peppering down her neck and licking hotly across her collarbone.
She whimpers when his fingers brush the twin peaks of her nipples, in sharp relief against the thin material. His gaze is a searing brand wherever it lands on her skin and Caitlin loves the way it makes her feel: powerful, alluring, desirable.
"Why did you come here?" he asks, voice low and rough with lust, eyes flicking up to meet hers. In his left hand, he rolls a nipple between his forefinger and thumb.
Caitlin arches forward, nails digging into his skin. "You know why."
Savitar hums thoughtfully, switching his attention to her other breast, teasing. "I want to hear you say it."
Caitlin narrows her eyes. Two could play that game. Quick as a whip, Caitlin curls a leg around Savitar's hip, pulling him forward, her hand slipping down the front of his trousers and wrapping around his length. She grins when Savitar jolts against her, inhaling sharply.
Leaning in, she whispers into his ear. "I want it. All of it. With you."
She drives home the point with a sucking kiss to the sensitive skin underneath his lobe, tracing the jut of his jaw as she gives an experimental pump of her hand. Savitar swears lowly, hand coming up to grip her wrist. He doesn't push her hand away though, instead thumbing carefully over the pulse point at her wrist.
In her chest, her heart jackhammers, pumping endorphins through her system until she feels bright with euphoria. When Savitar kisses her again, long and slow and deep, Caitlin feels herself go pliant with a soft sigh.
Rising gracefully to his feet, he gathers her in his arms, eliciting a little oh of surprise from her as he carries her across the chamber. He eases her gently onto the plush covers, following her down, unwilling to break their kiss even for a second.
When they do part, panting for air, their lips swollen and kiss-bitten red, Caitlin feels confident enough to take the next step. Shimmying out of her shift, she nestles back into the welcoming softness of his bed.
Savitar's gaze, as he takes her in, is one of reverence, adoration. He stares at her as if she were something holy, ethereal. Precious.
When he touches her, fingers skimming down her arms and over her thighs, it's a soft careful touch. Almost as if he were afraid to taint her. But it's a short-lived moment of insecurity that disappears as Savitar bends, slipping between her legs.
His breath is cool on her folds and the intimacy of it sends blood rushing to Caitlin's cheeks.
His skin is hot when he finally touches her, fingers tracing along the gleaming folds. Caitlin whimpers. It's too much, she thinks, mewling when his thumb finds that bundle of nerves that sets her skin ablaze with pinpricks of electricity.
She isn't complaining though when his mouth follows, licking and sucking and lavishing attention upon her with fervor.
The pleasure is immediate and intense, pulling moans and cries from Caitlin. Her body is a livewire, sparking with desire; a drawn bowstring, vibrating with want and waiting for release. She almost doesn't notice when he shifts, throwing her leg over his shoulder except the angle changes, rewarding her with slower, deeper strokes.
He meets her eyes then, dark irises full of fire, and the thought of what she must look like, wrecked and come undone beneath him, does it. Her orgasm crashes into her in waves, her hands finding purchase in his dark hair as she shakes and shivers, too overwhelmed and mindless with sensation.
Savitar is pleased when he sits back on his heels, lips shiny with her pleasure.
Wanting to return the favor, she rises on her knees, legs still shaky and weak, and urges him onto his back. His eyes are dark and attentive as she straddles him, nails dragging down the planes of his chest and abdomen.
When she leans forward to steal a kiss, white hair falling in a curtain around her face, she can't help but seek a little affirmation. "It's you and me now."
Savitar nods, hands gentle on her hips, thumbs rubbing circles onto her skin.
"We'll make a hell of a team," he assures her, dark eyes vulnerable and sincere.
Pressing another kiss to his lips, Caitlin lets her forehead rest against his as she reaches down between them. Positioning him just so, she sinks down onto him, the two of them sharing a stuttered gasp.
Straightening, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and rocks experimentally. He meets her every thrust, the two falling into a steady pace as she balances with her hands on his chest. Caitlin loses herself in the sweet, slow pressure.
When Savitar's hands tighten on her hips, she pins his hands down to the mattress, lacing their fingers together. When he comes, he is quiet, reserved where she'd been loud and unrestrained, eyes slipping shut and brows creasing as he rides out his own orgasm.
Caitlin is almost disappointed.
She had time though, she had all the time in the world to discover all the ways in which she could make him lose control.
When she settles beside him, he pulls her towards him, draping an arm around her waist, his hand settling on the soft skin of her belly.
The silence is pleasant, companionable. Caitlin feels content.
The palace is teeming with guests today, a rare sight for Caitlin but perhaps one she should get more used to.
As she winds her way through the crowd, she can hear the whispers, the thinly veiled snides, the muttered comments. They don't phase her. She presses forward, head held high, chin raised. The crown on her head is a reassuring weight.
This day isn't for them. It's for her. It's for Savitar. Their future together.
She comes to a stop before the raised dais at the front of the room, the place of honor for tonight's celebration. A hand reaches out to help her up and a hush falls over the room as one by one, heads begin to turn in their direction.
When they turn, hand in hand, a unified front for all the realms to see, Caitlin grins a wolfish grin. In her leather suit -a fitted black coat with silver lining and buckle, a truncated front, a wool collar and wool patterning down the sleeves- and boots, with her shining white hair and silver bright eyes, she makes an imposing figure. Perhaps not as imposing as Savitar's armor in all its gleaming glory but Caitlin knows she is formidable, powerful in her own right and in this moment, she exudes power.
Their guests can see it too, judging by the awe, the tentative fear in their faces. She sees the names poised on their lips: Killer Frost, Khione, Ice Queen. She welcomes them. No longer would she shy from who she was.
Power thrums through her veins now, frost poised at her fingertips, waiting to be loosed. Beside her, Savitar's suit hums with electricity.
They settle in their respective thrones, gods at the dawn of a new era.