Genres/Rating: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort. (M)
Characters: Warin, Shamir.
Summary: It had been five years since she had last seen his face, and to say it had made her erupt with emotions had been quite the understatement. She didn't regret striking him, and he didn't seem as if he thought her wrong to do so, but it had left them with an uneasy sort of tension resting between them now as she did her best to avoid him entirely from then on. It had been with surprise, then, when he had slipped a note under her door, asking to speak to her only a handful of days later... and she had sighed with irritation before crumpling it in one hand. More parchment. It was becoming a bad habit of his. Yet... She couldn't say no. He made that impossible, and she hated that about him.
Guardian Moon
Garreg Mach Halls
Late Night
It hadn't been hard to find him. He hadn't left explicit instruction on where to meet him in that note he had slid underneath her door in the barracks, but she was still surprised he hadn't bothered to go too far. He was sitting just beyond the stables, barely a stone's throw away from the barracks, and he looked up at the sound of the gate closing behind her. It was as if he didn't care who could possibly overhear them, or see them, but she supposed he had grown beyond that since the last time they had spoken. Had it really been five years since they had sat together on a scouting mission, whiling away the time with idle chatter, or hedging bets on foolish things that didn't matter at all to either of them? It felt like that had taken place a whole lifetime ago. The thought made her feel an ache somewhere deep in her chest. A lifetime ago... How many lifetimes had she lived, then, if that was really the case?
Shamir shook away the thoughts, taking care to keep her expression absolutely neutral as she approached the mercenary that had uncharacteristically called her out. It wasn't his way, being so bold and demanding her time, and she wondered idly if that was why she had decided to meet him. He had never once made an assumption that she owed him anything. Rather, he always seemed to be too polite when it concerned her, and he took more consideration of her emotions than she did. It was a constant surprise with him, and not one she had wholly disliked, but... Times had changed since then. Five whole years. And she was just as changed as he was, as she watched the firelight of a nearby lamp illuminate that dark scar she had first noticed crossing his throat when they had seen one another again.
"I didn't think you'd come."
The words brought a wry smile to her face, despite it all. It was cold out, misting his breath when he spoke, and his face had taken on a pink tinge to prove he had been waiting for longer than she probably wanted to know for her appearance. That wasn't exactly comforting knowledge, but she shoved it ruthlessly aside for another time. She hadn't thought she would come, either, and that thought was an annoying one. She was still angry with him, still seething over the way he had been dangling out of her reach for five entire years, and that made her voice sharp as she answered him brusquely, "I didn't think I would come, either. So you best make this worth my time. I could be sleeping right now. I know you're not quite aware, but I'm really beginning to get sick of messages on parchment."
Warin winced, but he knew her criticisms were well-deserved, and he had no plans to defend himself from it. Yet... He didn't quite regret it, which he knew showed on his face all the same. How could he? He had been well aware that most would assume him dead when they'd fail to find his body in the wreckage of the monastery, and he had gone so deep into hiding that there was little chance the knights would ever find him... but he hadn't allowed it to stay that way for long. Not with the memory of her lips on his, her svelte body pressed tightly against his chest as they hid in the alcove, embracing for too short of a moment before it had all gone to hell. No, leaving her to believe he was dead wasn't an option, but reaching out to the knights was not one either... His solution had been a middle-ground, and it made him rub awkwardly at his hair as he forced himself to ask, "How many of my letters did you receive?"
"Twelve. If you wrote more, they never reached me. Twelve letters in five years, and I never had an address to return a reply to." Shamir's answer came coldly, though her heart did ache a little as she thought of those twelve missives, still tucked away neatly, carefully, in her pack. She hadn't had the will to throw them away, or set them aflame like her temper had demanded. Instead, she had poured over them constantly, hating him for his vague writings of his location, his well-being and missions, and yet still feeling glad beyond measure that he wasn't dead after all. That first letter had been a lightning bolt. The rest were water on hot rocks, bringing up steam and muddling her thoughts, distracting her, and she couldn't help but ask him both semi-seriously and rhetorically, "You're a selfish arse, you know that, right?"
"I'm aware. I didn't want you to think me dead, but... I also didn't want to join you or the Knights. I decided going alone was the best way to handle things... but that just sounds like an excuse, or an attempt to justify what I did." Warin agreed with her assessment without hesitation, but he knew that was not enough. He hadn't known how many of his letters she had received, as they had been so damned difficult to send without making his survival apparent or attracting unwanted attention, but he was at least glad she had gotten some, if not all of them. It was a weight off of his shoulders, but not much of one, and he shook his head slowly as he continued with a sigh, "But that's not why I called you out to speak with you. To make excuses, or justifications. I know that I was wrong. I know that I'm a selfish bastard."
It went a little way to easing her temper, hearing him flick away his excuses and admit wholeheartedly that her accusations were true, but she still wasn't entirely sure what to make of him. He didn't look regretful, even if he did look apologetic. She doubted that if he had a chance to change things, that he would have made a different choice. It was too much like him, wanting to shoulder the burden alone and shrugging off helping hands, but she wasn't quite interested in that. She had heard the stories. How could she not? All of the knights had spoken at length about his exploits during the past five years like he was some sort of hero, or a victim... but she didn't believe him to be either as she asked him sharply, "Then what is it you want to say?"
"I want to say that I'm sorry." Warin's answer was simple and sincere, and it made Shamir take pause as she took in his expression carefully. The apology was written all over his face, and it softened those sharp navy eyes of his until they were almost liquid with warmth. He had looked at her that same way five years ago, after he'd pulled back from that surprise kiss, and it made her stomach clench with pleasant memory. He shook his head slowly, running a hand errantly down his throat to squeeze his tunic before he continued quietly, "Call me egotistical if you wish, but... Knowing you worried over me... because of me... It's one of my worst regrets. My second being that I never mustered the courage to say something, and instead just acted, as if that would make things more clear somehow. Writing you kept me sane, in those five years, but I don't imagine it was easy on you, receiving those letters. For that... For all of it... I want to apologize to you."
"You are egotistical. My life didn't, and doesn't revolve around what you do." It wasn't entirely true, and she felt that in her bones as she thought of how her heart leapt every time one of those letters had found its way into her hands. Each and every time she had sworn to burn them, to rid herself of his ghost haunting her dreams and her errant thoughts, a letter would always arrive to summon up memories, and make her hesitate at the most critical of times. It was why she still had every single one she had received, and why she had punched him square in the jaw on first sight... Her life didn't revolve about him, but her thoughts certainly did, and she wasn't sure if she hated him for that, either. "I was glad to know you'd survived, but of course your stubborn arse couldn't think to reach out to anyone for help you sorely needed. And yes, I know I'm one to talk, but five years? Five years of going it alone before finally changing your course back to Garreg Mach because of a promise your sister, who we all believed to be dead, made with her students? You'd believe more in that than in the knights? In me?"
She winced as the last two words escaped her lips without thinking, and she quickly bit her lip at the harsh realization of where her anger had truly been coming from. He was quicker to trust children than he was to trust her, and that had stung, and stung deeply. He knew she wasn't truly a knight. She was mercenary, out for the paycheck and never for the religion, and it wasn't as if Rhea was there any longer to keep her bound. She had paid off her debt long ago. She was free to go wherever she liked, if she so chose. Yet she was still here, bound because of his damned letters, and the thought inflamed her temper before she could think better of it, "Every time I thought I was over it, over you, another one of your missives would get slipped into my hands by some scout you found wherever you'd been lurking, and then it'd start all over again. I couldn't leave and go searching for you, it wasn't as if you gave me nearly enough clues as to where you were, and had you wanted me with you, you'd have asked from the outset. I had no idea what you really wanted, only that you were being frustratingly vague. You're lucky I didn't shoot you on sight for that. I'd have shot anyone else."
"You'd have been in the right to. I didn't want you looking for me, and I didn't want you finding me. You're right on those accounts. But, again, that's justifying my behaviour, and I don't plan to do that. I'm only going to admit it was wrong of me to do." Warin took her lashings without another wince or show of pain, as he knew it was his obligation to do. She was still angry. That shine in her violet eyes proved it, but she was right to be. He hadn't been clear, not even in his letters, and he wondered if perhaps he should have been. Yet, that was well out of his hands now. He was not his sister. He could not rewind time. "I was selfish, and I didn't consider your feelings. I made a choice for you, instead of asking what you would do, which does make me an egotistical brat, on top of everything else. I'd say that ends tonight, but you wouldn't have much cause to believe me if I did, would you?"
"What exactly is that supposed to mean? That from now on you intend to be forthright with me?" Shamir couldn't quite help the venom, but she took no pleasure in the way Warin looked away from her when she spoke, either. He was hurting again. Looking like a kicked puppy in sore need of comfort, but she had a little too much pride to allow for that to overwhelm her. She had been hurting, too. And as nice as his apology and self-reflection was... It wasn't enough. Not just yet. "I had assumed that was what you were doing from the beginning. If you're going to be forthright now, I'm interested in how that means things will change."
Warin was silent at her reply, and she wondered if he even had a response to give her. She was surprised then when his brow furrowed and his hands reached up to his neck to unfasten something. His movements were slow and deliberate, and she blinked in confusion as he revealed a long silver chain from underneath his tunic. She didn't have time to see what it was as his hand flicked out in an easy toss, and just as easily her own reached to catch it. His voice was calm, quiet when he finally spoke, "Here. Perhaps that will help you understand."
Shamir went still as her gloved hand opened to reveal the silver band that the chain had been holding for him. She recognized it at once, though she had only seen it once or twice on the missions she had spent alongside him. She had never asked what it was or why he held it, it wasn't her business to do so, but to have it tossed at her so casually... Her spine stiffened, and her mouth abruptly felt very dry. The gems set inside the band glittered faintly in the firelight, and she felt her heart leaping up into her throat, and she had to fight to speak around it as she questioned him, "What... exactly... is this?"
"It belonged to my mother. My father gave it to me, when she passed away when Raine was born. He told me one day to give it to someone that I cared for as much as he cared for her. That's what I'm doing." Warin's explanation came in that same calm, even tone, and he watched with a carefully neutral expression as Shamir looked down to the ring in her hand and then back up at him with surprise widening her eyes, and red beginning to creep in her face. Whatever she had expected, this clearly was not it, and it made him want to smile despite himself before he continued on with that same careful deliberation, "It's yours now, to do what you please with. You don't need to keep it, if you don't want to. Toss it in the nearest lake if you want to. I don't mind. But I hope it makes things clear to you. What I want... and how I feel."
"You truly wouldn't care if I tossed this right here and now?" Despite her words, Shamir felt her fingers closing protectively over the band to clasp it tightly. He didn't say anything lightly, and even more rarely as a jape. She already knew he meant what he said, which only made her want to grip the ring all the closer. She knew very well just how much he loved his family. How deeply he was pained by his mother's loss. To hear him say so casually that she could throw away something so precious as his last reminder of his mother didn't sit well with her at all, and it forced her to ask again for clarity she wasn't sure she really needed, "You'd let me throw it away, that easily? That simply?"
"It's yours now. You can do whatever you want with it." Warin's answer was simple and clear, and from the look of surprise on her face, he was aware she hadn't thought he would say something like that at all. But to him, it was that easy. His father had given it to him to do with as he pleased, and he had made the decision that it belonged in her hands. Nobody else's would do. The past five years had confirmed that for him. The thought of her had been torture, but it had also kept him sane when he had felt the walls closing in and the desperation and the exhaustion creeping into the corners of his vision. No one else had given him what he needed when he needed it more than her, even if he had never asked for it, or expected it. She deserved that band. Whatever she did with it after was not his concern, even if it did mean her throwing it aside. She didn't need to accept it, or everything that came along with it. That didn't matter at all to him. What was more important was that it was in her hands to do as she pleased with it. "I'll admit, it's not something I'm giving away lightly... but that doesn't mean you've an obligation to accept it. I gave it to the person I was asked to give it to. What you do with it is your choice, not mine."
It made that choking ball of anger and hurt shrink, and she had to bite her cheek to resist the urge to smile as she palmed the ring carefully close to her chest. The band was warm, even through the thin leather of her glove, and she wondered errantly how it would fit on her finger. The thought only made her sigh with the realization that she was fighting a losing battle, and had been for the past several years. He had made mistakes, but so had she. How many days had she spent, wondering what would have been different if she had chased after him rather than remain with the knights? She shook her head slowly, idly rubbing her thumb across the edge of the band before she let out a long breath, feeling the weight of his unspoken words hanging heavily in the air, and knowing all they meant and how she felt in answer.
They'd fought together for so long... The words didn't mean much compared to the actions now. He had said all she needed to hear, and done all he'd needed to do. She knew full well how he felt and what he was trying to get across without him putting it to words. She pulled her gloves off, carefully sliding them into her jacket's pockets before slowly, carefully sliding the ring onto her finger. It was a snug fit, made for a different hand than her own, yet it didn't feel foreign at all. The weight was comforting, and it didn't feel out of place on her hand, and her smile broke free despite herself as she mused slowly, "Throwing it away seems like a waste. And it's a good fit, too... I may as well keep it."
Warin blinked, both a little surprised and unsure as he watched Shamir caress his mother's ring with a soft, intimate glint warming her violet eyes. It wasn't as if he was unhappy that she had accepted his gift, but now that she had, he still felt quite a bit at a loss. He understood that it meant she forgave him, at least on some level, and was both accepting and reciprocating, but it left him shifting his weight awkwardly from foot to foot as he watched her silently. She seemed to notice almost immediately, and her smile turned coy and her eyes playful as she crossed the distance between them with a quick, brisk step.
Unthinkingly, Warin found himself retreating at her unexpected advance until his back hit the smooth stone of the nearby alcove. His pause didn't seem to deter her. If anything, it only made her smile more broadly as she stood toe to toe with him before she reached up and feathered her fingers against his collar. He twitched, surprised at the touch, and then she was pulling at the thick fabric, forcing his head down to her level as she murmured in a musing sort of tone, "If we're going to be forthright... I've thought about that kiss just before the fighting quite a lot these past five years. You owe me interest on that."
He didn't fight her as she pulled him down and caught his lips with hers, though admittedly he wasn't entirely sure what to do when she had him so effectively turned around. The hand on his collar was tight, restraining, stifling, but he allowed for it in return for the warmth of her mouth pressing searchingly on his. She was warm, just as he remembered her being, and as she lifted one arm to curl around his neck to pull him closer... He sighed quietly as he abandoned his tension, and allowed his body to react instinctively to her.
Shamir murmured quietly against his lips as she felt his arms settling across the back of her hips, drawing her closer to his chest as his lips parted for her questing tongue. She felt bold with his ring settled on her finger, and the knowledge made her clutch his tunic all the more firmly while her free hand ran itself lazily, slowly, through those mussed navy curls he had once shared with his sister. It felt surprisingly smooth against her skin, as gentle as the way he was returning her kiss, and she sighed both with longing and pleasure as she curled herself as close as she possibly could manage.
He hadn't given her the time to savour his kiss that first time, and she planned to enjoy every single moment of this now. His grip was solid, and his body strong and lean against hers, and she nipped at his lower lip as she pushed experimentally further into his chest. His quiet little hiss was both a surprise and a thrill, as was the way his hands became strong and gripping on her body rather than clasping. His tongue fought now with hers, eager to search, explore and taste, and she groaned deep in her throat as she leaned all too eagerly into him for more. He was passionate and just as responsive, if a little clumsy, but she didn't mind it as he seized her elbow and turned her about to pin her against the wall.
Still, despite his advantage, Shamir didn't allow him to keep it for long as she broke away from his lips and allowed hers to roam across his cheek and neck. He froze for a moment, startled, and she smirked to herself as those clinging hands of his bit into her hips in a futile attempt to hold her still. She wasn't interested in it, and she sank her fingers into his hair as the others lightly caressed the skin of his collarbone as her lips traced across his scar. She spoke softly, caressing every inch of the ragged mark she could safely reach without tugging too much at his clothes, "You have to have collected a few of these... Are you going to let me look at you properly?"
"L-Look at me properly?" Warin could only echo her words back to her as he struggled to think against her assault on him. She was soft, too soft, and it made focussing incredibly difficult when her lips were caressing every inch of his throat she could reach. She touched him with expertise born of experience, while he had absolutely none to draw on, and it made him both weak and incredibly eager. He fought it all back, however, struggling for some solid grounding, and he glanced down to see her watching him with raised eyebrows and a hint of a playful smile gracing her lips. That only made his knees weaker as he continued with a ragged hitch to his voice as his blood roared in his ears as he asked with a complete lack of grace or thought, "You want me to take off my clothes?"
"In so many words, yes." Shamir was brisk, honest, and amused, but her eyes were keen as she caught the way his hands had yet to pull her back against him again. He was hesitating, though she knew it wasn't a lack of desire that caused him to do so. His panting, that wild look in his eye, as well as the more... honest reaction straining against his trousers was proof enough of that. If he needed a little more incentive, she was more than willing to give it, especially considering that burning in her veins had translated to a painful lack of patience. She wanted him, and badly. Five years of memory and dreams had done enough to erode both her patience and her pride. None of that was a matter to her now. "And I'd prefer to be out of my own, to boot, Warin."
It surprised her then when his hands shot up to grasp her wrists when she reached to pull the sleeves of her jacket down, and the red in his face likewise caught her off guard. He kept eye-contact with her despite how awkward he looked all of a sudden at her blunt honestly, and though he had grabbed her quickly to stop her from revealing more skin, his hand were gentle in their restraints. He shook his head, eyes surprisingly earnest when he explained himself hoarsely but quickly, "Wait a moment... Not... Not here, like this. It should... I mean, we should... It should be somewhere more... intimate."
Shamir blinked, momentarily caught off kilter and unsure of how to respond, but it didn't really matter as she caught the look of embarrassed earnestness written all over his face. It was the first time he had ever looked in such a way, almost boyishly, if she dared to use such a word. The realization of how important this was to him made her quick to discard her own ideas of impatience and demanding him right then and there, and she smirked up at him with a mixture of amusement and affection as she remarked gently, "Somewhere more "intimate", eh? You're a bit of a romantic, aren't you?"
"I wouldn't quite go as far as that..." Warin hesitated as he felt her hands slip from his loosening hold, but he twitched with surprise as her fingers slid down his wrists and then intertwined with his own. It was a gentle hold, comforting, and it made him both warm in the face and deep in his stomach. He swallowed noisily, his fingers tightening thoughtlessly on hers before he replied weakly, "It's just... Things like this... It's meant to be..."
"You are a romantic. That's unexpectedly cute of you." Shamir remarked with a shake of her head, but it was enough to fully cement the change in her mind at his awkward stumbling. If it was so important to him that he'd vocalize it, that only meant she had to pay him the same kindness by giving him what he wanted. How could she deny him? She stood on tiptoe, pressing a gentler kiss to his cheek before she pulled back, eyes glinting with affectionate mischief as she explained briskly, "Two minutes. My quarters. Do not keep me waiting this time."
Warin watched as she turned on her heel and walked away without another word, and that burning in his face now had very little to do with the cold weather. She was bold. Much more bold than he was, and he wondered errantly if that was due to experience, or simple confidence in herself. Either way, it was something he still admired in her, and he had to admit she was growing all the more attractive every time he looked at her. He watched her disappear into the barracks, still looking as confident as ever when she shot him a smile over her shoulder as she went, and for a moment, he hesitated in following after her.
How long had it been, since someone had last touched him kindly? He didn't really remember. It felt like ages. But her touch was addictive, and already his entire body was trembling with the craving of her. It was a new feeling, that burning desire, and he ached all over with it. She was the only person who made him feel like that. Who made him want, with single-minded need both emotionally, and physically. It made the hesitation seem small, and easy enough to toss away as he moved to follow thoughtlessly. It wasn't time to think. He'd had five of years of that. Now was the time to act.
He found his way to her quarters without much work or time, and the door was cracked open for him in invitation. He took it without pausing, and found her sitting on the edge of her cot, counting down idly as she waited for him. Her smile when he slid inside her room was blinding, and she pounced for him the instant the door closed behind him. This time there was no hesitation, or doubt or self-reflection. Just blind desire, impatience, and that desperate need to hold a warm, comforting body against their own.
A hot flurry of movement followed, hands reaching, groping, sliding, and clothes fell to the floor carelessly as they stumbled together back towards the cot. Shamir pulling insistently, and Warin following her lead obediently and eagerly. Neither was quite certain what happened next and in what order, but somehow she ended up finding herself sitting on the edge of the cot, hands buried in his hair as he knelt down between her legs, kissing her thighs as his hands unlaced her boots, with her stockings and smallclothes following in short order. For whatever hesitation he had showed before, now it was replaced with speed and efficiency, and she gasped aloud as he parted her legs effortlessly and his callused fingers slid in deep where she had been aching for him the most for longer than she cared to admit.
"Warin..." Her breathless moan was only proof that he was doing exactly what she wanted from him, and Warin was more then glad to follow both her lead and her signals of pleasure. Her nails pricked at his scalp as she kept a stranglehold on his hair, but he didn't mind the pressure, nor the pain. The way her legs trembled on either side of his head as his tongue swept against the source of her pleasure was enough confirmation that he was performing to her standards... yet it didn't seem enough. He wanted more. More of her taste, her moans, more of everything, and the thought spurred him to further movement without asking for permission.
Shamir bit down onto her knuckles to stop herself from crying out as Warin took a rough hold of her legs and pulled, nearly upending her in the process as he both pulled her closer and tilted her backwards for better access. He all but hooked her legs over his shoulders before returning to attending to her, and she groaned deep in her throat at the sensation of his fingers and tongue assaulting her with merciless precision. He was a quick study, following her every twitch and noise with pinpoint accuracy to improve upon his movements for her, and she arched her back for more as she wondered where he had learned all of this. She had thought him untouched, he certainly acted like he didn't know the first thing about laying with another, yet here he was, making her moan without shame and effort, when it had been quite some time since anyone had ever touched her this way.
Another lifetime, she supposed, but then again, she felt it difficult for that to matter, especially now. His fingers curled, rubbing, stroking, stretching, and she hissed as she arched and twisted in response to his movements. He read her so easily and responded so quickly, just as he always had on and off of the battlefield. It made her gasp and shudder, made her bones melt and her skin burn, and she spoke through her fingers, desperate to keep her voice in check lest she wake her neighbours in the throes of her pleasure, "Are you sure... you've never done this before...? You're too damned... good at this for that...!"
Her words made him smirk despite himself, and he paused for only a brief moment from his work to look up at her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes dazed, and the way her hand pressed against her mouth to stymie her voice only reminded him that she was being forced to do so because of his actions. The thought made his trousers feel even more tight, almost to the point of pain, and he lazily leaned back down to nibble at her thigh as his fingers carefully, slowly, sought to increase her pleasure in a mockery of what was meant to come after, "I've always been a good student... but you're still the only woman I've ever craved like this. Not once have I ever considered sharing a bed with someone before you."
Shamir held her breath in a desperate attempt to stymie another moan as his tongue returned to its play, roughly circling the source of her pleasure as his fingers plunged in deep without regard for her efforts. There wasn't a reply she could make to that, and even if there was, she wasn't in any sort of state to try it. He was right, he was a good student, and she was quickly losing her ability to care about anything but that sweet heat that was building between her thighs. He seemed to sense it, her tension, her breathless expectation for climax, and it only made him rougher, faster, in his drive to bring her there. He was heedless of anything else, doggedly working with single-minded precision, and her ankles locked behind his neck as her fingers scratched at his scalp to spur him on.
Warin felt her tense, heard her breath catch in a long, pained moan that abruptly became a strangled little cry as her legs locked as her orgasm roared over her body with brutal strength. It made her tremble and gasp and buck, and her vision turned white as the sound of her heart racing in her ears blocked out the world entirely from the force of it. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this good, felt so outrageously hot and free and complete, and she nearly doubled over in her desperation to pull him closer, to feel him in her arms as she shook wildly with those lazy white-hot sparks of pleasure in the aftermath.
He turned gentle, fingers moving slowly along with her every twitch and spasm, and his tongue swirled both inside and out, draining her dry as she moaned his name and clutched at him as if he would disappear if she let go for even a moment. Her hands pulled insistently at his hair, jerking him up from his work after a few moments of the torture, and he looked up to see her staring down at him, need and desire clouding her eyes as she pulled again to force him up off of his knees and onto the bed with her. He came willingly, allowing for her weak, trembling hands to guide him on top of her, and her arms wrapped around his neck as she pulled him close, breath catching at the weight of his body resting on top of her own before she whispered huskily into his ear, "I want you... Take me properly this time... I can't wait any longer, Warin."
Warin's reply was swallowed by a groan as her hips lifted off of the bed, grinding against his erect centre with a sniper's precise movement and aim, and he grit his teeth together as he wondered how in the world she managed to do that when she looked so spent already. But she was recovering just as quickly as he had sent her over the edge, and the proof of that was in her coy, alluring smirk, and one leg effortlessly wound itself about his hips as she arched to repeat that frustratingly sweet movement of their cores pressing against each other before she continued in a silken murmur, "That's it... You don't want to wait any longer, either, do you? Did you dream of me these past five years? I did for you, you know. And so far, reality has been so much better. I want to know exactly how good the real you feels against and inside of me. Come on... Don't make me beg."
It was his turn to hold his breath as her fingers brushed lovingly down his chest, her words making his throat tight and the coarse fabric of his trousers even tighter. Her hand slid between their thighs effortlessly, pressing tauntingly against the proof of his arousal, and unbidden his hips jerked forward to grind against her palm in a desperate search for more friction. He felt her smiling against his throat, obviously pleased by his automatic and shameless reaction to her touch, and she took her sweet time experimenting with pressure as her mouth roamed along the rapid beating of his pulse.
"Sh-Shamir... Gods..." Warin hissed as his eyes tightly closed, hips rocking without thought or care as that sly hand of hers slid past the hem of his trousers to touch him directly. The warmth of her skin on his almost undid him then and there, and he froze as he fought the pleasure with desperation. He wouldn't let her have her satisfaction that easily, not when he knew there was still so much more he wanted from her and vice versa, but his body was throbbing with a wild sort of want he didn't know how to properly restrain. He had been honest that she was the first person he'd ever allowed to touch him and touch in return, but that only made him all the more wanting to do it well, and do it right.
"At least your body is honest... That's fine. I'll get my answers out of you soon enough if you won't tell me." Shamir promised with deadly sincerity, and her smile was both coy and dangerous as her free hand sought the hem of his tunic and pulled while the other wrapped about the length of him to stroke him experimentally. His shuddering gasp was reward enough of its own, and she took full advantage of those shaking arms of his to push him off of her and onto his back so she could take control now. He didn't fight her, either too swept up in the pleasure or more than willing to give her what she wanted when she demanded it, and she rewarded him with a long, wicked lick along the length of his scar on his throat in answer.
Warin shuddered, hands grasping at the sheets underneath him as she pulled his shirt up deftly with her free hand while her other stroked and squeezed at him with playful sadism. She was familiarizing herself with him quickly, listening to his noises and watching his body's reactions to her touch to know exactly where and how to touch him to get the best reactions, and he was helpless to stop her as his shirt joined the rest of the clothing that had littered her floor. He felt her pause, and he looked up to take in her suddenly narrowed eyes as they flickered across his chest for the first time.
The scar on his throat extended down underneath the neckline of his shirt, down past his collarbone before it disappeared into a thin line somewhere not too far from his heart. It was a long and wicked wound, likely made with a sword or lance, but it was hardly the only one to mar his tanned skin. His torso was a masterpiece of muscle and scarring, from magical burns that had made their way past his chainmail to small, triangular marks of arrowheads finding their targets in his flesh. It was too much to take in all at once, to put to count as she surveyed him with a seasoned eye of a mercenary, and she felt her heart ache as she reached to caress the nearest scar, a broad axe-wound that had nicked the left side of his stomach, "You really have been fighting for your life these past five years... Look at you... You're an absolute mess."
The pain in her voice made his eyes narrow in return, and he reached for her cheek without thinking as she continued to stare down at him with that piercing, aching look in her eyes. She twitched as his fingers brushed her skin, and it took a moment before she could tear her eyes away from his scarred patchwork of a torso and back to his face, and he pulled at her gently, carefully, to urge her to lay back down against him. She came slowly, hesitantly, but she came all the same for him, and he brushed his fingers tenderly through her dark hair as he muttered against her ear reassuringly, "I'm still alive."
"You go nowhere without me from today on. Absolutely nowhere." Shamir's voice was harsh and cool, demanding and brooking no argument, and Warin wasn't sure whether he even could make a case for himself as she straddled him in one smooth movement. She grasped roughly at his shoulders, jerking him upright before her hands pulled at his trousers, loosening his belt and pulling them roughly down. She grasped his face then, holding his eyes with hers as they spat violet fire, and she pressed her body as close as it could come without taking him inside of herself when she growled, "Do you understand me? No more letters. No more hiding away. No more making decisions on your own. You stay beside me from now on. You love me here, with me, and not from a distance. If you can't swear to that, then this ends here, right now. I won't go losing you to your own pigheadedness. I can't do it twice, damn you."
Warin wasn't sure if her fervency or her anger surprised him more, but he did know that it made him ache in a way none of his scars ever could manage. His arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her closer for a firm, comforting embrace, and he felt her tense only for a moment before she allowed herself to accept it. She nuzzled his neck, burrowing in deeply into his hold until there simply was no way for her to get closer, and he spoke slowly, quietly into her hair as his arms squeezed in answer, "I can promise to never go anywhere without you. I can promise to do my damnedest to get out of this war alive. But I won't do it unless you give me that same promise. Vows, or marriage... I can't give you that, not until all of it's over, but anything else you demand of me, you can have. All of me is already yours anyway. I love you."
Shamir felt herself let out a shaky breath at those huskily whispered words, and her chest tightened until it became hard to breathe. At his core he was a mercenary, just as she was, and they both knew the risks they were taking by daring to become intimate in the most dangerous of times. No tomorrow was ever guaranteed, especially in wartime, and that came double for those who made their livelihoods in battle. He couldn't promise her a future, not in good conscience, and she couldn't accept such a promise even if he was willing to laugh and disregard the odds that were tilted so far against them. He knew better. So did she. But he could give her everything else, and he was happy to do so. She had thought she knew that already, but to hear him say the words... It made her shake her head and wish that such cold pragmatism didn't have to be the code they followed.
Strong, unyielding hands pushed him down suddenly, but Warin didn't object or fight at her decision to put him solidly on his back. He stared up at her wordlessly, forcing his eyes not to linger on her lush curves, or those pert, full breasts his hands were aching to grasp again. He fixed his gaze on her face, taking in the torn emotions and the desire running rampant behind them all, and she braced her hands on his chest, keeping him firmly pinned down and refusing to let him even think about trying to rise. She shook her head when she saw the questioning look rising in his eyes, and she spoke firmly, deliberately as she shifted her hips, reminding him of what they had put unthinkingly on pause, "Enough talk. I want you. Now. You can whisper all the sweet nothings you want afterwards."
"Whatever you say." Warin knew to pick his battles, and he was well aware it was long past time trying to fight with her. He had no desire to anyway. She was still stronger and fiercer than he was, and he doubted that was about to change. She could have whatever she wanted of him. He'd give it to her gladly. She deserved it, and more for all she had already put up with from him. If it went even a tiny ways into helping her forgive him, helping her feel better, than it was all the more reason for him to comply with her wishes, regardless of what they were. "I'm yours, Shamir."
"I'll be damned if you ever belong to anyone else after I'm through with you..." Shamir ground out between gritted teeth as she reached between them again to stroke him, and his immediate response of hissing and arching his back only proved that despite the pause, his body was still all too ready for hers. It made her want to smile despite the initial flare of jealousy and sympathy, and she wondered when she had become the possessive sort. Perhaps his earnestness was the source. Saying so bluntly she was the first and only woman to stir him... It almost, almost made her regret that she could not give him the same, but those years before him had been precious to her in their own ways. She could not return to how she was before him... but everything now, and in the future, were his for the taking. That would have to be enough. And she already knew, as his hips jerked against her palm and her name came hot and husky on his tongue, that he would never be selfish enough to demand more, even if he wanted to.
She was slow and deliberate with him, easing herself down to take him in deep where she ached most for him, and she couldn't suppress a low, satisfied moan from escaping her lips as he fought to stay still underneath her direction. His hands reached instinctively to grasp her hips, holding her steady, and she bit her lower lip as she took a moment to savour the feeling of him inside of her. His hands were trembling from the effort he was putting in to keep himself still, and it made her laugh breathlessly as she moved experimentally, earning a surprised hiss, followed by a low, almost wounded-sounding groan. His eyes were tightly closed, jaw taut and body tense, and she licked her lips before leaning down across his chest to whisper into his ear, "Move with me."
Warin was eager to obey at her demand, sitting up underneath her as his hips surged forwards without his consent. Her responding moan as she grasped at his shoulders to anchor herself to him was all he needed to know his instincts would serve him well from here on out, and he followed their direction without hesitation. She was hot and pliant in his hands, bending with his every movement and seeking more of him like he would disappear should her hands leave him for even a moment. It was an unnecessary worry. He had no plans to leave her again... Especially when they were like this.
Hot, heavy kisses muffled their noises as they moved together with single-minded desperation and want, and Shamir felt her nails rake across his back as he moved hard and fast from below for her. Every movement she made was met with one of his own as he quickly learned how to respond to her desires and wants, and his grip on her waist was almost tight enough to be bruising as he began to move her with him for a chance to go deeper and harder. It made her groan deep in her throat at his aggression, his desire for her, and she felt her nails sinking into his shoulders as she clung to him for some semblance of steadiness. He was too fast on his feet for her to keep up with, but she didn't dislike it. It only made her burn more for him and what he could do to her, and she had no intentions of letting him go for the rest of the night.
His mouth travelled south along her neck, leaving marks she'd have difficulty covering up in the morning, but Shamir found it increasingly difficult to care about such paltry consequences. Those rough, scarred hands of his were roaming her body, familiarizing themselves with her every last inch as his hips continued that sharp, harsh pacing, and her own were not remiss in returning the favour. She wanted to feel all of him, too, to map out every single scar with her fingers and burn the sensation of his body against and inside of hers until it was all she knew in the heat of the moment. Here, in her bed and behind the locked door, no one was there to see or to judge, and the outside world was a thing of fiction. Here, in his arms and in that moment, they were the only two creatures in the entirety of the world.
"Gods... I can't..." Warin's voice came ragged and broken against her ear, his movements more ragged and desperate, and she smiled into his hair as his fingers bit into her waist to pull her harder into his movements. He was frantic, searching for that release that was dangling just beyond his grasp, and she moved eagerly with him to help him find it. That desperate, hoarse note in his voice, made solely because of her suffused her with a rich sort of pride and pleasure, only further proving she had become possessive of him without her knowing. Her name echoed in her room from his panting lips, shameless and pleasured and yet still wanting more as his teeth scored her shoulder when he tried to muffle himself with the last bit of sense he had left.
It was more than enough for both of them as his hips bucked without restraint, and her nails sank in deep enough into his skin to draw blood as she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out from the force of her orgasm. Her body shook wildly in his arms, grinding against his every wild, jagged thrust as he lost himself to those same white-hot sparks of pleasure, and his climax followed her own with a long, drawn-out snarl of her name that reverberated deep into her chest and made her legs lock all the more fiercely about his hips in thoughtless abandon.
It seemed to take forever for the trembling to subside and for their shaking hands to release one another, and Shamir muffled a groan as she rolled weakly off of him and into the sheets of her cot. She lay on her back, shivering and panting for breath as those lazy sparks of pleasure from the aftershocks made her limbs twitch as she heard Warin collapsing beside her with similar satisfied exhaustion. She was content to close her eyes and ride out the waves, to enjoy every moment of the lingering heat and electricity as her hand grasped blindly for his, but the moment didn't last as that rough, ragged breathing next to her didn't subside as she had expected it to as the seconds lazily ticked by into minutes.
Instead, it grew worse. Choking, gasping, and abruptly pulling her out of her dazed, tired state and back to attention as she realized that her satisfaction wasn't being shared whatsoever. She sat up in one smooth movement as her eyes flew open to see Warin on his side, one hand grasping at his chest as if his heart was somehow trying to burst its way past his ribs and he was desperately trying to keep it inside of his body somehow. His face had paled and his eyes were wide with panic, and each breath he took was a desperate, gasping gulp of air as if he was drowning. His body was no longer trembling but shaking, and he gripped blindly at the sheets, his spine stiff and muscles tense and bulging as he fought against the adrenaline and tried in vain to somehow steady himself.
Instinct took over as she recognized the signs of unhinged fear and panic, and Shamir was quick to gather the shaking man into her arms and hold him close as his breathing worsened into choking coughs. She had seen it before on the battlefield, too many a time in all of her years of fighting and war. It wasn't an unnatural sight to her, though she had never expected Warin of all people to devolve into it, especially after sharing something so intimate. Yet, that didn't matter as she curled her arms about his neck to cradle him to her chest, reacting on sheer instinct as she whispered into his hair as she felt his tense body and ragged breath on her skin, "Breathe... It's all right... Just breathe, Warin..."
It seemed to take a lifetime, a painful, cold, tense lifetime as Warin's body slowly began to relax and his lungs found the ability to take in air properly again. He didn't move, didn't lift his head or even dare to let go of the balled wad of sheets in his white-knuckled fist as Shamir's hand ran soothingly, tenderly through his sweat-slicked hair as she continued to hold him close. His heart was hammering wildly in his throat, still reacting to that completely insane surge of terror that had taken a brutal hold of him when he had found himself unable to breathe properly, and he felt the fear fading to be replaced with a cold stone of shame settling hard in his stomach instead.
"Relax." Shamir's voice came quiet and soft somewhere from above him as she felt his tension returning even as his breathing settled, but for the life of him he couldn't force his head up to look at her. He had no idea what had happened. One moment had been nothing but bliss, filling his head with white noise and pleasure as he succumbed to his climax, and then the next had been a blind panic that he couldn't rationalize no matter how hard he tried. It had been hard to breathe, to reign himself back in once the pleasure had ebbed away, and then his body had kicked in the adrenaline, as if he was on the battlefield again and not in her room, in her bed, and in her arms.
His body felt overwhelmingly hot, yet his extremities were frozen, and still Warin's mind spun wildly with both confusion and anger. What had happened? He didn't understand it. He knew full well where he was and what he had been doing, and yet for some brief, insane moment he had seen blood, felt hard steel sliding into skin, and had lost complete track of everything in an instant. It made no sense. He had never felt that before, and it left him both reeling with exhaustion and confusion, as well as an overwhelming sense of shame. Weakly he tried to push himself out of the warm, soft arms cradling him, but they tightened at once at his movement and refused to let him rise. He turned his head away from her, eyes lowered and voice almost hoarse as he tried to speak, "L-Let go... It's fine..."
"You're as bad a liar as your sister is. Stop fighting. Just relax." Shamir's hold tightened warningly as he struggled against her for another moment, but she admitted she felt no satisfaction when he finally gave up and leaned into her embrace tiredly. It was only exhaustion that made him cede to her and not better sense, and she felt her chest aching as she understood exactly what it was he had just experienced, and why. Her hand was gentle as it continued to comb through his hair as she cradled him close, and she shook her head before she sighed and asked in a softer, more intimate voice, "When was the last time you had a proper chance to rest?"
Warin was silent as he felt her question pierce through his defences and leave him weak and exhausted in her arms. She leaned backwards, taking him with her as she went, and he made no effort to fight as he lay on her chest and listened to the sound of her heart beating. It was comforting, her warmth and that gentle, purring reminder of her being alive, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek for a long moment before he could answer her with complete honesty. It made him ache, in more ways than one, but he owed her the truth even if he didn't want to speak it, let alone acknowledge it. He closed his eyes, pressing his face against her shoulder as he answered in a quiet, hoarse mutter, "Not since the day my father died."
Though she had expected the answer, it still surprised the sniper with the sudden lance of hurt that broke her heart as she held Warin just a little tighter in response. It made sense. For almost five years and a handful of moons, he had been fighting without end, worrying constantly for his life or for his sister's, and never once having a chance to breathe. His body was on the verge of collapse, and his mind was faring no better. It made sense that at the first sign of safety, of actual complete calm and contentment, that everything he had been bottling up in order to continue to survive had come flooding out all at once. She fought not to tighten her hold, to not injure his pride any further by looking as if she was coddling him, but it was impossible to not feel protective or demanding as she muttered quietly into his hair, "That changes tonight, along with everything else, then."
"What?"
"You, resting properly. That starts tonight, along with everything else." Shamir repeated herself curtly, and she almost appreciated the confused look in his eyes as he looked at her in bemusement. She almost didn't mind it, as it meant he wasn't about to argue, but she still was aching from the effort of holding her arms still rather than curling up protectively about him. She wondered if he even was aware of what it meant, breaking down only with her there to witness it, after five entire years of holding steady, but she quickly decided it didn't matter if he didn't know. She did, which meant she could take action on it, and she intended to do so immediately. "Move your things here. You can start sleeping in my quarters."
Warin blinked several times, unsure if he had heard her properly, but he knew better than to question her when she spoke so brusquely, even if it was about such a topic. He had been doing little more than blundering after her lead, but she hadn't seemed disappointed with it. If anything, she seemed happy, and she still was wearing his mother's ring on her hand. That alone told him it was foolish to second-guess anything she said, but he couldn't help but smile wryly at the knowledge that her idea of going all in truly meant tossing everything in without a single regard of anything else. He reached idly for her hand as she kept her arms wrapped snugly about his shoulders, and he ran a careful finger over her own to feel the gemstones on the warm band she was sporting before he asked quietly, "You want me to just move in with you, then?"
"I said I intended to collect on the interest you owed me. I may as well start now." Shamir answered with a shrug, and she watched as he offered a small, crooked smile at her in answer. He had hesitated, but it hadn't been for long. He was inexperienced, that much was true, but he was also earnest. He meant everything he said and did. He couldn't promise her marriage, and she would not ask for it, but this much wasn't too much right now. At least, she didn't believe it was, after so long, and after what they'd shared. There was no reason in delaying anything, when their next day was always a gamble. She saw no point in it, if he was agreeable to the idea, at least. "Unless you'd rather move more slowly?"
"No... I've moved slowly enough, I think..." Warin shook his head at her willingness to give him a chance to escape if he wanted it, and he reached to stroke her cheek as she watched him with those sharp, searching eyes that missed nothing every time they looked at him. He appreciated the generosity, but it was unneeded. He had already given her everything he had to give... Ceding to her request to simply share her bed was nothing in comparison. And as weak as he still felt, her arms were gentle and gave him comfort he wouldn't ever ask for, but she was always so willing to give. It made him sigh, and he reached down as best as his still faintly trembling hand could manage to find a hold of the blankets to bring up to drape across their bodies before he continued quietly, "I want to be with you... Just like this, for as long as you'll let me. I've wasted enough time already."
Shamir was quiet as she felt him nuzzle her shoulder, his hand moving gently down her arm as he took in a deep breath and then let it out as his body began to relax again. He moved slightly to take his weight from her without moving from her grasp, careful to cover her with the blankets as he moved, and she bit the inside of her cheek to hide her smile at his mindfulness. Everything he did was automatic despite it being new, his instincts to care and protect showing through despite the years of self-preservation that had made him so guarded and so vulnerable. Five years had gone by, and he was scarred and battered... but he was still the same man who had pushed her into the alcove to steal a kiss, hiding her away from the world at large in case she rejected him and wanted no one to know what he'd done.
Her eyes flickered to her pack that was nestled in the corner of her room, still carrying every single one of the letters she had received from him, and she smiled slightly as she mused over his choice of words as she lay curled up next to him, feeling his arm draped over her middle as he nuzzled her shoulder again gently. It had been a hard five years, but now... Considering it wasted time almost seemed offensive. It was true, she wished it could be changed still, that he hadn't made the choices he had, and she had changed her own, but... It had led them here, all the same. Could she really call that wasted time? She sighed as she pulled at his shoulder, sliding herself closer to nestle into his chest as she ducked her head under his chin before murmuring into his neck, "Calling it a "waste" seems too strong a word."
Warin didn't answer right away as he felt her deliberately snuggle all the closer into his arms until she could not possibly get more snug, and his arms wrapped thoughtlessly about her to hold her tight in place. She slid her legs through his, entwining their bodies all the more underneath the covers, and reminding him just how good it felt to have a warm, soft body pressed against his own. She was safe. She was contentment. And he felt his chest aching with that painful wonder that hadn't stopped plaguing him for the better part of six years since he'd first realized how much he loved her. It was a bittersweet pain, just as his father had always said it would be, and he cherished it as he kissed the top of her head and replied quietly, softly, "If you say so."
AN:
Heheh, I meant it when I said I'd be leaping right for that M rating. I'm pretty bad at that, and I am sorry, but it'd just been bottled up for so long, and I wanted to write it so bad..! And yet, this one took awhile for me to get around to finalizing. Warin was being exceptionally difficult, as he always is, but it was very important to me to make sure I got everything I wanted to written down concerning where he was, both physically and mentally after his five years in self-imposed isolation. That kind of thing does not do good things to your psyche, and it is intentional that Warin is Dimitri's foil in that. Both in their experiences, and how they react with said experiences. That, of course, is not to say that one is better than the other, because that's not how it works. You can't compare pain and suffering on a scale. Everybody feels it differently, and reacts to it differently. But they are meant to represent two sides to grief and pain and isolation, and I hope I managed to convey that well enough despite the difficulties.
There is so much more to follow, and I do apologize for the long break in between works. My fiance came down for a visit, and Christmas is coming, and she brought Pokemon Sword and Shield with her. We spent the entirety of her time playing and learning the new game, and we had a lot of fun (as well as did a lot of cursing and ranting) about it. But here's not the place to talk about Dexit and the majority of things the new games will inevitably bring up. I'm already writing about a contentious game. No need for two fandoms to come after my neck with pitchforks!
Also, just as a notice, there will be more smuts in this collection, and not all of them will be around the two main pairings of Raine/Dimitri and Warin/Shamir. Mind, they likely will not be written out in as much detail and more alluded to or written in a fade-to-black kind of style, but there certainly will be mentions of other couples and their goings-on in the monastery! Because you cannot tell me with a straight face that some of the students are totally in each other's beds after a long five years of war. I won't believe it, even if canon says marriage always took place after everything was said and done. Because sure, marriage happened after, but I'm damn certain they didn't all wait in terms of bedroom activities! XD
Anywhosit, as always, I am so happy to have had your attention this far, and I hope you enjoyed what you read as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please drop me a review should you feel the need, and I hope to see you again in the next chapter! Please have a good one!
Mood: Slightly Tired.
Listening To: "Chandelier" - Sia
~ Sky