Written April 30th 2021 11:42 PM

They were alone and Ailith didn’t know how to proceed. She had never really done this before; clumsy fumbling with the stable girl next door didn’t count, not really. Not compared to this. She knew she wanted this, with Feyra, right now, more than she had ever wanted anything in her entire life. If she was being honest, it scared her a bit, the enormity of her feelings.

The First and Last had just returned to Dragontower after defeating Mammon and Ailith had immediately dragged Feyra upstairs to their room, not pausing to say anything to the rest of their party, want and need fuelling her actions. Now that they were actually here though, Ailith sat on her bed, hands twisting together in her lap as she watched Feyra set her bow down and start undoing the straps of her quiver. It felt like a swarm of bees had taken up residence in Ailith’s stomach, every nerve in her body buzzing.

Grime and mud still streaked across Feyra’s skin from their time in the Nine Hells and Ailith was sure she didn’t look much better. It didn’t matter though. In fact, it only served to conjure up images of sharing a bath, wiping Feyra’s skin clean gently, slowly… Ailith struggled to control her breathing. The air in the room felt heavy, like neither woman wanted to break the silence first. Fuck this, Ailith thought, the distance between her and Feyra suddenly far too great. Ailith stood and crossed the room before she could change her mind, coming to a stop in front of the other woman.

“Need a hand?” Ailith’s voice was low and she could feel her heart in her throat. She didn’t want to scare Feyra, to push her to do anything she didn’t want to do. She just wanted to be close to her in any way she could, in any way that Feyra would allow. She would take anything she was given.

“Okay,” came the whispered reply. Feyra brought her arms down to her sides, letting Ailith take over undoing her quiver. Ailith’s gloved fingers undid the buckles swiftly, leaning into Feyra’s space to slip the quiver off her back and set it gently on the floor. Feyra’s eyes never left Ailith’s face, and Ailith found herself unable to look away from them as her hands moved to undo the clasp of Feyra’s cloak, gloved fingertips brushing the delicate skin of her throat, before letting the cloak join the quiver on the floor.

She didn’t know what to do next, her mind crowded with thoughts and desires, all bumping into each other and melding into the next. Ailith wanted to pull Feyra into a hug, kiss her gently then not gently at all, to drag her tongue down her tattoos. She wanted to take Feyra apart and put her back together again, she wanted Feyra to open her up and write her name on her heart, gods, she wanted so many things she didn’t know where to begin.

Ailith was so wrapped up in her own thoughts she didn’t notice Feyra move, reaching out to her slowly. When Feyra grasped her hands, she jumped at the feeling, thoughts quieting for the moment. Ailith watched with bated breath as Feyra removed her gloves gently, one finger at a time. She waited, flexing her fingers at her sides as Feyra then removed her own gloves, tossing them onto the growing pile of discarded items.

Feyra moved to hold Ailith’s hands in hers and Ailith stopped breathing, waiting for the grimace of pain that always crossed Feyra’s face at the contact, no matter how much she tried to conceal it. When no grimace came, not even a flicker of pain in Feyra’s eyes, Ailith let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as Feyra entwined their fingers. Gods above. Such a simple gesture but hells if it didn’t make her want to weep. Her eyes snapped open at the feeling of Feyra running her hands up Ailith’s arms, tracing the vines and webs that covered the skin there.

Ailith never took her eyes off Feyra’s face, watching the miniscule changes in her expression. Ailith’s idle hands found their way to Feyra’s waist, bunching the fabric of her shirt at the sensation of callused fingers running up her neck.

“Feyra.” The word came out like a warning, low and hoarse. Or maybe it was a promise, an oath. Feyra looked at her then, a challenge in her eyes. Ailith’s tongue darted out to lick her lips and she watched as Feyra’s eyes followed the movement.

“Ailith.” A cocked eyebrow, a hint of a grin, and Ailith didn’t know who moved first. It was a messy kiss, with dry lips and too many teeth, but Ailith didn’t care. It had been months since she had been able to do this, all she cared about was finally getting to kiss her girl.

She couldn’t help the moan she gave when Feyra’s tongue ran along the seam of her lips. Her hands didn’t know where to rest, pulling and clutching Feyra closer at the sensation of the redhead’s tongue against hers. When Feyra sank her teeth into Ailith’s bottom lip, all thought flew from her mind. She walked Feyra backwards until she hit the wall with a small thud, lips never leaving hers, Ailith’s hand cradling the back of Feyra’s head to take the impact. Ailith slotted a leg in between Feyra’s, swallowing the gasp that accompanied the contact.

Ailith’s hands flew now, undoing the buttons on Feyra’s shirt with trademark speed. Feyra broke the kiss, panting as she shoved Ailith’s suspenders down her shoulders and untucked Ailith’s shirt from her pants. Feyra’s shirt now open, Ailith pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms, pausing only to press open mouthed kisses to Feyra’s tattoos. Those fucking tattoos.

Feyra gave Ailith an impatient shove, pushing her away only to yank Ailith’s shirt over her head. Both women now stood in only their bindings and trousers, breathing heavily. Ailith traced the skin above Feyra’s bindings with her index finger, watching as goosebumps followed her finger’s path. Feyra was running her hands up Ailith’s sides, tracing the web design inked into her skin.

“Bed?” Ailith breathed out, muscles tight in anticipation. Feyra nodded, then squealed as Ailith bent and grabbed the back of her thighs, picking Feyra up in one swift motion. Feyra bounced when Ailith dropped her on the bed, a sight that Ailith found endlessly endearing, but she didn’t join her. Instead, Ailith swallowed nervously as she undid her trousers and slipped them off, kicking them aside. She kept her underclothes on, eyes flickering up anxiously to where Feyra lay on the bed, watching Ailith’s every movement.

Wide eyed, the redhead followed suit, back arching as she worked her trousers off and dropped them off the side of the bed. Acting before she lost her nerve, Ailith removed her bindings, leaving her torso bare. Feyra’s eyes roved over Ailith’s body, pupils blown large. It was seldom that Ailith felt self-concious about her body; she knew she was strong, that this body was capable of truly superhuman feats, but with that came damage.

Scars riddled her upper body, some in the shape of claws, others teeth. There was a huge bruise forming on her ribs from where Mammon’s tail had whipped into her. She knew she wasn’t pretty, not like some girls with their soft skin and delicate features. She was rough, too coarse for most people. It hadn’t ever really bothered her until this moment, here alone with Feyra. Feyra, who was the most beautiful person she had ever laid eyes on, who she desperately wanted to be deserving of. In this moment, Ailith felt more self-conscious and more vulnerable than she had in her entire life. She moved, bending down towards Feyra, trying to ignore just how exposed she felt, but before she could spiral completely, Feyra surged up to meet her, dragging her down onto the bed.

Ailith braced herself on all fours above Feyra, whose legs were trapped by Ailith’s thighs. She ducked down to mouth along Feyra’s jaw, down her neck, into the dip below her throat. The noises Feyra was making bounced around in Ailith’s head, clearing any other thoughts away. When Ailith moved to remove Feyra’s bindings, she felt fingers tangling in her hair, pulling gently.

Ailith’s lips followed her fingers’ path as she removed the wraps on Feyra’s chest, chasing the flush that was working its way down Feyra’s body. When she moved to take Feyra in her mouth, the hands in her hair turned rough, insistent. Ailith caught snippets of murmurs; her name and something that sounded like “I love you.” Ailith couldn’t keep her hands still, moving them down Feyra’s body, caressing the softness she found on the way.

Feyra’s body, she realized, was much like hers. She too, had scars – some fresh and pink, others white and shiny with age. There was a tiny pinprick on her neck from where Yenobi had shot her with a dart back in Caltown, a jagged line running up her stomach where the demonic Minotaur had gored her. Ailith bent to each scar, each mark, and pressed her lips to them, sending up a thanks to whoever was listening for these reminders that Feyra was still here with her.

Feyra’s hands were still in her hair, grasping to the point of pain, but it only stoked the heat rising in Ailith’s body. She reached up and took Feyra’s left hand in hers, bringing her forearm into view. There were no scars there. Nothing to remind Ailith of what she almost lost before she ever really had it, but she kissed the skin there anyway, revelling in the smoothness of it on her lips, then under her tongue when she dared to taste it.

Feyra gasped and moaned, writhing under her, her hips bucking up into Ailith’s and gods, it was enough to drive a person mental. Raising her head, Ailith searched Feyra’s face. The other woman was flushed, beads of sweat erupting on her skin. Suddenly, Ailith wanted nothing more than to taste the sweat gathering in the hollow of Feyra’s throat. So she did. When she looked back up, Feyra’s eyes were dark, hair fanned out beneath her, her lips red and kiss swollen. Her chest was heaving, and she looked absolutely, almost obscenely, breathtaking.

“Feyra,” Ailith rasped, “is this… Do you want this?” She needed to hear Feyra say it, needed to know Feyra wanted this, wanted her. Feyra nodded, smoothing a few pieces of errant hair out of Ailith’s face. “I need you to use your words, love,” Ailith murmured in Feyra’s ear.

“Ailith, if you don’t shut up and finish what you started, I will kill you. Slowly,” Feyra ground out, breathless and impatient.

Ailith pulled back, eyes wide, a grin growing on her face. “Well alright then.” She wasted no time in tracing her hands down Feyra’s chest, over her torso, brushing her hip bones, before slowly pulling her underclothes down her legs. She felt Feyra’s hands on her shoulders and the next thing she knew, she was lying on her back, Feyra bare above her. I’m gonna need her to teach me that trick.

It was Ailith’s turn to squirm. Feyra was relentless, her mouth trailing heat down Ailith’s body. She nipped at Ailith’s skin, soothing the brief pain with her tongue. I’m going to die. This woman is going to kill me. When Feyra got to Ailith’s remaining coverings, she took the fabric in her teeth and Ailith’s eyes rolled back in her head. She lifted her hips and let Feyra remove the last barrier between them.

Feyra stilled for a moment, bringing her head up and sitting back on her heels. She knelt there, in between Ailith’s legs, not touching her, just looking. Ailith felt panic rising within her, a cold sensation running through her veins. This is it, she thought. This is where she decides I’m too broken, too battered for her. Green eyes ran up her body, tracing every scar, every bruise, every imperfection, until they found Ailith’s gaze. It was too intense; Ailith wanted to turn away, hide from it. But she didn’t – she couldn’t.

Feyra’s lips moved, but Ailith couldn’t hear anything past the rushing of blood in her ears. She shook her head slightly, watching Feyra’s brow furrow above her. Feyra shifted, bending down so that her hair created a curtain around Ailith’s face.

“You are,” she whispered, pausing to press a quick kiss to Ailith’s jaw, “so beautiful.” Another kiss, this time on Ailith’s lips. Ailith whimpered (which she would deny if anyone asked). Feyra murmured another phrase in a language Ailith didn’t know, but it was said so softly, with such reverence, that she knew what it meant. She wanted to cry, wanted to shout from every rooftop that she loved this woman with every fibre of her being.

“Gods, I love you. I – you have no idea how long I’ve waited for you. I was waiting for you before I even knew what I was waiting for. Feyra-” Ailith was babbling, words and endearments falling incoherently from her mouth. Feyra laughed softly – gods, Ailith loved that sound – catching the words on her tongue, pressing herself to Ailith as she did.

Everything else passed in a blur, only snippets standing out clearly in Ailith’s mind. Wet heat on her fingers. Gasping breaths in her ear. Sharp teeth on her collarbone. Shaking muscles wrapped tightly around her. Tears of finally on her cheeks.

After, they laid side by side in the dying sunlight, Feyra’s head tucked into Ailith’s shoulder. Ailith played with Feyra’s hair, feeling the other woman’s heart slow, her muscles relax into sleep. The setting sun turned Feyra’s hair to firelight in her hand, but Ailith didn’t burn.