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~O~
Cold, rather distinct given he hadn't fallen asleep that way. Barely stirring, Lucanis' gaze scanned the darkness of their room, reaching out quietly for the warmth that was missing beside him. He blinked away the remaining grogginess, letting his eyes adjust to the moonlight's silver glow, spilling into the room with an ethereal quality that felt romantic.
Rook would make fun of him for that—romanticizing almost everything he touched, be it with his gaze or his hands.
And as he turned onto his side, there she stood by the window. Silent, still, her silhouette outlined in the moon's hazy, midnight radiance; it kissed her long black hair, the softened edges of her undercut making him smirk—he knew she'd be grumbling soon, ready to trim it again.
Curious, though, he thought—they had both gone to bed as bare as the day they were born, yet…
"Are you wearing my shirt?" Lucanis propped himself up on an elbow, narrowing his eyes in playful accusation.
When she turned to him, her expression betrayed the barest hint of surprise before that stoic little mask of hers slipped into place. His Little Warden. So serious, until she wasn't—writhing and purring beneath his touch, snickering under the tease of his beard across her bare flesh.
Nothing was all she answered with, an eyebrow arching with a poise he loved about her, the question clear in her gaze; and what if I am?
His stomach flipped, that same sink and flutter every time he looked at her for too long, any time she was too far away to run his fingers along her skin.
"Come back to bed, cariño."
He could see when the heat of his voice reached her, when it curled around her neck and silked up into her ears. He saw it in the way her chest rose slowly, the slight flare of her nostrils as she strode over. And he did his best—not really—to hide the smug smirk sitting on his lips, as she slipped under the covers without saying a thing.
She was like this sometimes, usually after her nightmares. He didn't know if it was the calling, or perhaps the simple dark stain of being so well acquainted with death; with being the harbinger of someone's final breath. He knew it all too well, after all.
People like them—all they knew was death.
But also life, in the spirit of her touch and kiss, and that's what he wanted to give her right now. To dispel whatever ill omen was lingering over her thoughts, clouding her freedom from war, from the blight. They were free now, weren't they? Old gods dead and banished, the blight only a stubborn blemish on the whole of Thedas.
Lucanis watched her for a moment, allowing him the chance to enjoy the planes of her face, staring at him so openly in return. The heat in her gaze was just as wanton as the warmth pooling in his loins, simmering as he reached across the small space between them, drawing himself closer to her.
Languidly, he trailed the tips of his fingers up the side of her thigh, watching the subtle tilt of her head, leaning into the pillow the higher he climbed.
When he reached the hem of his co-opted shirt, he leaned in closer, his face only a few inches away from hers.
"You know, traviesa…" His voice was hoarser than he expected, giving away his growing lascivious need unfurling in his chest. "If you were cold, you should have woken me up."
Rook smirked, and he felt lighter at the sight of it. "I wasn't cold."
He tsked, clicking his tongue against his teeth as he slowly pulled the covers off her legs. She wouldn't need them.
"So, what were you doing, standing there in my shirt like a desire demon?" He suppressed the urge to cringe—it wasn't his best line, but…
She laughed, and he so did he. Worth it to make a fool of himself every now and then. All to hear that melodic sound, low and rich, slightly raspy.
The warmth of it slithered down his back, and he inched closer to her, slipping an arm under her head, while his other still rested on her thigh, creeping up her hip—feeling nothing but warm, smooth skin.
"A desire demon, huh?" Her smirk was a tease, as was the way her knee bumped against his.
Lucanis groaned; he couldn't help it, but took it as an excuse to bury his face in the crook of her neck. "Not all demons are bad, are they?" The heat of Spite's agreement filled the pocket of space behind his eyes, the way it usually did when the demon made his presence known in his gaze—magenta pulses amplified by her nearness.
Rook reached out to brush the back of her knuckles over his cheek, the roughness of her hands still smooth against him. He wasn't sure how it was possible, yet it was so; his Little Warden—as fierce as she was soft. The most beautiful oxymoron of his life.
He sighed into her touch as she let her hand wander over the curve of his shoulder, down towards his hip, pulling the covers off of him—payback, he supposed. Entirely welcome, of course.
The slight chill in the room dissipated with the heat of her gaze raking over him. Lingering over the stiffening length of his desire.
Chuckling deeply, Lucanis slapped her thigh, squeezing the lissome but thick muscle beneath his palm, pliant under his kneading. He bit his lip at her soft gasp. So breathy and restrained. He would be sure to change that.
And that he did as he slanted his mouth over hers, fisting his hand into her hair as he held her there—the wet heat of his tongue spelling out his affection until she was breathing heavily and digging into his hip with her nails.
Still caught in the undulation of her tongue against his, he straightened his legs out under him, still on his side as he guided her legs to do the same. Just barely, he lifted her leg to slip the heat of his cock between her thighs. He pressed her leg back down gently before pulling back from their kiss.
They were both breathless as they stared at one another, both unmoving. The hand in her hair tugged lightly, and he nipped at her neck as he, slowly, painstakingly began rocking his hips, probing the level of her desire for him.
He found it roused and ready for him, her slickened folds more than accommodating as he slid against her. He firmed his grip in her hair again, tugging, and the moan that slipped from her lips resonated in his chest with a heady pride.
Slipping his tongue into her mouth, he matched the leisurely, arduous rhythm of his hips, pressing harder into the squeeze of her thighs every time his cock passed over the sensitive peak of her clit.
He swallowed all of her desperate and greedy sounds with a low grunt of his own, feeling her essence coating his length—spreading over inner thighs as he worked himself back and forth, lazily, so very slow. The sound of the wind howling against the window competing with the rustling of their movements over the bedsheets.
Lucanis wasn't quite sure how it had started, his fascination with this—fucking her this way, feeling the eroticism of her rising heartrate in her throat, through the kiss they never seemed able to part from. Or how the heat of her velvety walls, so close, so welcoming, always drew him in to feel the euphoria of her depths.
Whatever it was, the draw of the friction, the gentle rise of the mutual burn, the simple desire for intimacy was always greater than the primal need for release, even if it came at his expense.
Though, with Rook like this, her arousal dripping over his length, the added pressure and wet slide was almost enough to bring him there.
He stifled his moan with another kiss, this time their mouths barely connecting for long before he was nipping her lower lip, dragging the flat of his tongue against hers, or the roof of her mouth.
Their movements became rougher, as Lucanis pressed her thigh down tighter, while her hand reached behind him, fumbling until she grabbed his ass, pulling him in harder each time.
When his own thighs began to shake from exertion, he lifted her leg, bending his knee up further to balance himself as he entered her warmth, sighing heavily when the tight heat of her cunt wrapped around him; her arms now both curled around his shoulders as they rocked together, their breaths in tandem, falling short as the tension between them grew.
There was no quick, desperate chase for release—he simply let the buildup take hold, his senses slowly numbing, except for the overwhelming sensation of her beside him, enveloping him.
Lucanis marveled at Rook as she threw her head back in ecstasy, and not one for letting anything go to waste, he nipped at the smooth column. Sealing his lips around her sweat slick skin and sucking, marking her as his thrusts became deeper, but no faster.
"Mierda!"
He groaned, feeling her walls spasm and flutter, the way they always did when she was close.
Her voice was small, a breathless whisper, yet still the words were clear as day. "I love you."
Fuck, yes, his thoughts repeated like a mantra. And he bit into the meat of her shoulder, lapping over the red welts his teeth had left behind as she moaned—voice no longer so small, but riddled with lust and love and desire and need. His thrusts grew erratic, complimenting her voracity with the first pump of his release throbbing in his loins.
With one last swipe of his tongue over her trembling lips, Lucanis smacked her ass, pushing his hips flush against hers, keeping them both still. He held himself there, feeling every clench, every inch of her pulsating around his throbbing cock—while he spilled himself deep inside her warmth.
Slowly, and with a hiss, he eased himself out of her, rolling onto his back beside her with a throaty, rumbling chuckle.
As always, Rook followed. Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as she lay against him, before resting her head on his shoulder, fingertips brushing mindlessly over the expanse of his chest.
Lucanis grinned, placing his hand atop hers to lace their fingers.
"Keep stealing my shirts, amor," he said, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "They look better on you."