The slam of the steel door rustled the paintings decorating the walls that Haley had ordered via the watch before their battle. The workers of the Hotel must have hung them when they were away in the Dome. Clothes and undergarments were quickly discarded to lie haphazardly on the carpeted floor.
They did it, they freckin did it! Nothing had gone awry, and that message was made clear with their raised hands, clasped tightly in achievement. A joint effort, despite how reliant Haley was on Diarmuid, falsifying the majority of his struggles through Loki's tricks. Merlin's additional magic enforcing her elaborative illusions—icing on the cake. Or however she thought that saying went.
This victory was now responsible for their heated tangling of tongues, her lover's rough palm roaming the rounds of her chest, the other using the pads of his fingertips to tantalize the ardour thrumming between her thighs. Her own hands tangled in his ruffled tresses, combing through each strand until they rested at the back of his head.
As their lips finally parted for breath, Diarmuid inclined so he could seductively whisper against the curve of her neck, "You are so wet for me…" Her answering whine further compelled his heated libido.
Haley balanced her bare back on the stone-cold wall and fluttered her lashes. "Oi, my Knight, your language has gotten fouler in the bedroom," she chirped, his deviousness increasing when his palms smoothed underneath her leg and lifted it around his waist.
"Forgive my indecency," Diarmuid roused, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her jaw. "Though I suppose it is essential to inform you of my reputation."
"Mmm, and what..." the tip of Haley's tongue dampened her lips, her head arching back from the teasing expedition of her most sensitive areas. She marveled at his uncanny aptitude in always finding the most erogenous spots to spend his talents, attentive to places on her body she'd not expect to spur such erotic sounds from her own lips. "...exactly is your reputation, again?"
Her Knight paused, pulling back to naughtily grin at her, resulting in an alluring nibble at her lower lip. The woman knew what the Irish Knight was famous for across Ireland, but why not tease him a little about it? Evidently he caught on, shaking his head side-to-side with a chuckle that made the butterflies in her belly intensify. Forthwith his mouth slanted onto hers, his index finger grazing unhurriedly down her hips, thigh, and up again in a continuous, frustrating fashion.
Haley crooned fussily, restlessly pressing the front of her body against his rigid form—needing any sort of physical contact to douse the euphoric fire threatening to burn her alive if he did not do something else besides tease her.
Of course, Diarmuid was no stranger to the response he'd been coaxing out of the sweet lady, but he would be damned if he'd halt his slow stimulation of her shy eagerness. To him, it was enticing to watch his charismatic woman's cheeks deepen in color as she ventured further in a heated moment of desire with more forthrightness. However, her hand then cupped his member and stroked his stiffening length in just the way he liked, and well… he couldn't let her suffer.
At least, not too much longer.
As a result, he slipped his digits through her glazed folds, index and middle fingers drawing out her gratifyingly labored huffs of breaths, expressed as light moans. What he found greatly amusing was how his satisfied smile refused to leave his countenance; he had to distract his face with other things… Like the silken sheet of skin on her shoulder under his lips and the hardened peaks of her breasts that he rhythmically caressed in his left hand, maintaining the same tempo as her intimate fondling.
Desperation—that was the emotion Haley struggled to comprehend. A rasping breath caught in her chest, causing her to release her near death grip on his manhood as the warrior journeyed from her collarbone to suckle on her nipple.
"Such reactions, how lovely," Diarmuid's voice was a sensuous timbre, catching her bud at the edge of his teeth.
"I can't help it, it's so weird, but so… good , and yet so frustrating."
His ensuing laugh was so rich and genuine, that Haley could forgive him for reducing her to putty. Happy… she somehow made this man happy . That realization unraveled her more than the limbs stroking her innermost places, and the tactful care he placed on her chest with his mouth alone.
Although for Diarmuid, this couldn't continue indefinitely. Celebrations were in order and he was determined to properly display his appreciation for her. The Irishman decided he had to be inside her in the best of ways. Her answering grumble of dissatisfaction to his retracting fingers influenced his bold decision to hoist her off the floor. Unfortunately, she'd practically kicked him in the worst place a man would want a foot to square off with him; but he managed to use the wall's leverage to balance her shoulders against it, and hook his arms in the creases behind her knees.
Her fingers settled on his shoulders, Haley's kiss demanding more. He angled his hips and used his hand to guide himself into her. She sighed contentedly into their locked mouths, Diarmuid's hips hastily snapping into motion.
If he didn't take care, he'd grind the woman into the wall—which he couldn't imagine being pleasurable. The thought had him wondering if he should be laughing out loud, or worried beyond belief; but she didn't seem to mind. Nails dug into his steely shoulders, salacious cries echoing in the room. Her inner muscles clamped on to him with every thrust, as though never wanting to let go.
"Harder, faster," she commanded hoarsely—Diarmuid certainly wished to obey that particular order.
He effectively drilled her core, pleasure spreading through every nerve his borrowed body contained. Keeping quiet was unachievable, his moans clashing with those of the woman he loved.
"We did it," Haley barely managed to say through the undulation between her legs, "We did it! Proved, we proved, Diarmuid... " she kissed him—rough and lovingly—before speaking through jagged breaths, her visage a fraction from brushing against him, "…That they can'tbreak us."
Diarmuid returned her smooches, dotingly pecking them to her cheek and neck, coming back to her mouth with just as much fervor, "Yes, yes, my love, yes ." No more hurt, no more strangling them with their love, he agreed with every fiber of his being… With every plunge deep inside her.
Haley felt the sting in her eyes, but didn't care. She was drowning in satisfaction from the glory of their easy win, the ache that was being sated by her beloved's intense lovemaking. She permitted herself to sink in the depths of their ebullience. And she thought Diarmuid felt it, too. The intensity between them, in the way he continuously sank in and out of her.
Her sweetheart edged off the cliff of control, unrelenting in his torrid pounding. His hands slipped from her thighs, grasping desperately onto her rear as she locked her legs around his middle. His fingers dug into her skin, and she relished the sparks that charged her lack of self management.
She needed release, needed to taste his wintry skin as his pace increased. Haley let her faith in the Knight's grip keep her tucked against his well-built body so her palms could smooth over his pectorals, gently caressing the scar from Gae Dearg. Her touch roamed as her back was pressed harder against the wall from the slight adjustment Diarmuid indeed made.
So close, Haley knew it—each thrust was wilder, taking her lust to places she didn't know were reachable. She planted a hard kiss on his throat, licked up to his Adam's apple and slanted her mouth against it to suck what she could. The Knight's receptive gasp encouraged her to repeat the action.
"Ah, that, Haley ," Diarmuid buckled, completely at the mercy of his climax, panting as his release filled her. She snaked her arms around his back and tugged him closer, resting her forehead on his shoulder, just as breathless as he was. "Where… did you learn that ?"
The spent woman huffed. "An erotica book," she squeaked, peeking at him with one eye, a tint of pink to her cheeks. "Was it good?"
Knees trembling, Diarmuid raised her slightly upward, slipping out of her. "Indeed," he answered, his grasp still firm on her plump rump. He headed to the bed and sat at the end of the mattress, his Lady settling on his lap. "It is a wonder what else you might have learned from this erotica book."
Giggling, Haley flicked her gaze to the rumpled sheets. "I dunno, maybe something about how to please… men with, you know… other things…"
Diarmuid's brows raised, "Oh?" He pecked her forehead, and elongated his response. "Like?"
"You know, other, other things. Like, instead of my lady parts." Her shoulders rose, as she sported an innocent, girlish smile.
"Ah, well," her Knight purred, sliding his middle finger down her curves, eliciting a giggle that warmed his soul, "I suppose you'll show me what you've learned another time."
Nodding, Haley slid off his person, and stretched her arms above her head. Still coming off that steady, appeased throbbing in her center, there was yet the matter of another pressing issue. Walking over to the phone hanging from the wall, she nabbed the receiver, dialing an extension to the cafeteria. After a heavy Tournament match and excesses of magical energy being spent, food sounded amazing.
And as she turned to Diarmuid—who gathered their clothes and donned his own—she smiled slowly. There was an ache in her chest that she embraced. She loved that Spirit, so much that it hurt, and while she ordered some refreshments for them to have a quiet, romantic evening on their balcony, she couldn't help but wonder one thing.
Why was she able to harness that love, and give it with her entire body, mind, and soul… but was unable to actually say the words?
—
He studied and picked at his nails. It amused him no end how livid the person was on the other side of the barrier by his feigned indifference. In truth, he truly was not interested in what the Counter Guardian had to say or offer. Oh, the knowledge was useful, but did not play into the schemes surrounding the Tournament.
Sucking his teeth, his ruby orbs narrowed to the tan-skinned, white-haired future rendition of the boy: the only acknowledgement he deemed that bastard deserved. The exasperation was evident in the twitching eyebrows that matched his hair in color, and the firm line that settled just above his chin, furthering his own ire.
"Speak what it is you wish to say, and leave," he demanded, settling his arms crossed upon his chest.
Sighing with emphasis, Emiya rested his fist upon his waist. "It's spreading, far and wide. Hades firmly believes there is no reason to interfere, and Loki thinks this precarious situation is mere entertainment. Medea possesses whatever promises she's made with Athena, and Merlin is more aloof than one could imagine—"
"Get to the point, I grow bored of this elaboration of useless knowledge." The half roll of his eyes was equally as much an effort as listening.
Emiya glared in his direction, though it was clearly missed. "The Throne has almost regenerated properly, and when it does—things will be corrected as they should be. It is required that you unleash your strength."
"Ha, that is a jest that I will allow it to go unheeded. One does not command a King to do anything—best be warned, the next time you or anyone else insults me will be the last breath you take, Counter Guardian or no. There are ways to silence even a Spirit, as it has become quite apparent how easy it is from what I've observed here." He raised his hand to silence whatever retort was about to empty from the impertinent mouth. "I will do what I came here to do. Whether it benefits you or does not, does not concern me."
Emiya watched as the proud Hero disappeared to return to the Castle in the Sacred Market. He grunted, not knowing what to think. The yowling of lost souls meandering in the darkest realms of the Underworld made him question all the changes that transpired over the century. It was such an elaborate, and tedious amount of effort that the Gods put in to rework the laws that were already known.
That Evil in the Grail added such a dilemma by contaminating the Throne of Heroes with its link to it, and this Tournament the Heroic Spirits involved them with was a headache just as obnoxious as that Demi-God's ego. He was important—one they had to control—because as of right now, everyone would be called back (besides that one particular cursed Hero) to right what was wrong.
Alongside that, there would be another reconstruction that followed the laws in which the Magi believed the world initially had after a certain time. The Gods agreed to it, all but one. Somehow, he was obtaining substantial amounts of power—so much so that the damned unruly King was needed. If only he would offer him any sort of information on what was happening beyond the bounded field that even kept him out.
There was something grander happening, and it was so damn difficult to pinpoint just who entirely was involved—besides the obvious one who crafted it all.
And Emiya definitely did not believe that whatever was currently going on in the Underworld had nothing to do with it.
—
Sun setting in the blend of violets and a sea of auburn colors, it took the warmth of day with it and formed into a brisker night. Medea slid the last few fastenings of her orchid cardigan in the buttonholes. She raised her curled hand to her chin, lost in the beauty of the lake's glistening waters.
"Medea," Kuzuki began, stepping next to her side, "What is it that is troubling you?"
Yes, something was bothersome. The air shouldn't feel like a dog nipping at the bare skin of her ankles. Who was in charge of the magical thermostat that made up the environment surrounding the Arena? A joint effort, she presumed. Well, with so many different opinions on what she thought a perfectly good temperature that matched the mildest of summers would cause a rift.
"No, it is just cold, Souichirou-sama," she said softly, nuzzling into his side like a cat would its companion. "Definitely not what I imagined in our little outing."
Stiffly standing tall, Kuzuki extended his arm around the elegant woman's shoulders. He fixed his stare past the wood railing, the final particles of night overtaking the sky. He thought of the days long gone when the true sun and moon rose and fell… When the students filled the classroom and listened to his teachings. Days when his heart felt full of worth.
He wondered about his actions, never quite fully accepting the regret for his past as a trained assassin. It wasn't until he met Medea, and found a purpose that truly made him consider what to do with his life, only to be quickly made a corpse. Maybe if he settled his thoughts, he could have done better.
He could have provided the future Caster desperately wanted, of returning home.
As if sensing his disorganized thoughts (despite showing no outwards signs he was even the least bit troubled), Medea snapped her gloved fingers. Her arm tucked underneath his, as she parted from him in a slight bow. Her free hand lifted the end of her gown.
"My love," she said softly, the strings of violins whispering in the caressing breeze.
A wink of emotion only the Greek would catch glistened in Kuzuki's onyx eyes, as his hand delicately stroked the elegant skin of her cheek. He leaned forward, his intense gaze never leaving the lustrous pools of periwinkle that radiated in the warm glow of the magical specks of light she'd summoned.
Medea took careful steps in their dance, ensuring her heels drifted elegantly across the grass. The music intensated, her heart singing to the chorus. Despite himself, Kuzuki looked exquisite as always, a perfect gentleman of sorts with his usual dark suit. Yet tonight, what usually was a profound black in color was actually an charcoal grey, complimenting her love of purple.
And although she loved her arrangement of gorgeous outfit ideas, what was most befitting was the feeling of bliss encasing her sweet beloved. Underneath that mask of neutrality lay the man who was beaming with joy, and must have been practicing his steps. The twirl and dip was befitting a prince, and he certainly handled her like a princess.
When the instrumentals were over, the Heroic Spirit laughed. "That was wonderful," she wrinkled her nose, her cheeks stinging from smiling so damn much.
Kuzuki nodded, while his hands raked through the Caster's velvety locks, undoing the special effort she'd made to twirl her hair together and over her shoulder. She scoffed, tilting her head in the way that exposed her pointed ears, the tempting manner that made his face itch to vacate his emotionless exterior.
"It was. Now, instead of another dance," he stated flatly, as an almost childish pout overtook Medea's features, "I lead you to a surprise."
Instantly her mood flipped like a coin, pure glee replacing her disgruntled expression as she clasped her hands together. "Oh, Souichirou-sama, what is it?"
He merely took her hand in his and strolled them down the sidewalk around the curve of the territory, releasing her as she slowly kept moving forward, mouth agape.
"It is not Greece, and this will never be home, but a glimpse of it is worthwhile."
Medea was beside herself in awe, not understanding just who her darling had to bribe, (her suspicions were on Merlin, she would well nigh guarantee it) to accomplish such a feat. For before her were five pillars taking the place of where trees once had been—which appeared supplanted straight out of Greece—in an L-shaped pattern over a stone platform. They were surrounded by hills of green, precisely planted blocks of art, and pine trees. Rose petals decorated the columns, and while this wretched place was not home, this beautiful display before her… had tears building in her eyes.
Twirling, Medea flung herself into the Kuzuki's welcoming arms, thanking him profusely for the wonderful gift. After he'd escorted her to the center of the Temple, the music began again, a new tune that played the keys of the piano. The Magus ensured that under the speckles that bejeweled the sky, the array of colors that danced alongside their prance shone as bright as her Spirit.
She was floating in the clouds, thinking of what the rest of their night entailed. Dinner carefully selected to finish the occasion, and then the organization of the objects they'd arrange to send to the Mortal realms at the end of the tournament.
Then came the misfortune of setting their final plans for tomorrow's match against that twit Haley and the former Heroic Spirit, Diarmuid. Athena mentioned something of which to defeat them so she would not lose her gamble with the other Panel members. Told her all their secrets, but really, what did any of that matter to her?
Medea of course would complete her due diligence. Taking down the other love-dovey souls would be of no issue to her. She almost felt bad for them, as there really was no chance that she'd ever allow herself to lose Kuzuki for a second time.
The witch of Colchis let those thoughts drift to the back of her mind. Her dance with the man who could have nothing—yet was still the most valuable thing in the world—was the only thing that would have her full attention.
oooooooooooo
Well, this was fun to write. Dia and Haley enjoying each other, yet some questions arise. The Throne is piecing itself back together and once that happens, well, all Heroic Spirits need to go back... all but one. Hmm. And Medea, shes so happy! But O: A match against Haley and DIarmuid? Just WHAT SHALL HAPPEN?! Find out next chappptter!
All that being said, were officially done with the middle arc annnnnnd—next chapter starts the final arc! Were in the last 18ish chapters of the story, (maybe a little less depending on how I write the chapters) Buut im so excited! Now be warned, it is going to be nothing but action scenes and angst with like, two whole chapters of fluff from what I can tell left in between. The roller coaster ride is at its last peek and down its dropping into the finale.
And since its going to be nothing but combat scenes and the final twists and turns with answers final coming our way; be warned the chapters might take a little bit longer to produce. I concentrate heavily on my action sequences to make sure they flow and what im imaging comes across nicely in the text. That, and It takes my forever to come up with ideas sometimes on just what is exactly happening. I know what the fights premises are, but the powers, and trials and such take a lot more effort so they stay in character.
So, saying all that, I hope you enjoy the falling action to the end of the story. Let me know how you predict this is all going to tie itself up! I left plenty of hints what'll come to be! And ask any questions now just in case its already been resolved etc I'd love your feedback!
See you next chapter!