|Maella Abbey (maella_abbey) wrote,|
@ 2008-04-07 21:49:00
|Current music:||Vishnu's Secret - Carry On|
[Fic] Untitled, Cristo/Alena
Fandom: Dragon Quest IV
Rating: Not Worksafe
Word count: 495
Written For: porn_battle Round 3 (Prompt: Dragon Quest IV, Cristo/Alena, frustration finally satisfied); originally posted here.
He is not surprised when the celebration at Santeem Castle is done and Alena corners him, the two of them alone in a musty corridor that leads to the store rooms. The look in her eyes is fierce, determined, though she is a bit unsteady on her feet; he is, as well, and he fears the combination of drink and relief made him incautious during the festivities.
So it is also no surprise when she grabs him by the shoulders and shoves him against the wall hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.
When she kisses him nearly as hard as she pinned him, stealing the rest of his breath...that is a surprise.
"You could have said something," she growls when they part.
Cristo thinks of all the things he has said - slips of the tongue any other woman would have pounced on and daydreamed about, indiscretions he spent countless hours worrying over - and reminds himself that his princess is hardly typical; her fancies were ever of things other than romance, and he should have known she would make nothing of his words. "It was not my place. Is not my place. Our stations..."
Her expression makes him break off, a blend of incredulity and something like anger. "When has that ever mattered to me?"
When have I? he very nearly counters, but knows it unfair, born of frustration and drink and the unexpected hope of this confrontation. Instead he says, "Even setting propriety aside, you have never been particularly interested in romance."
She snorts. "This isn't romance," she says, "it's us."
Which is no answer, but she's kissing him again, her hands at his clothes as if she is the one who has spent years being denied, all passion and determination and no skill whatsoever. It reminds him she has no experience in these matters, that he should stop this, but he never has had much of a talent for telling her no. He guides her from the corridor to a little-used store room, and barely has time to shut the door before she is on him again.
It isn't romantic; the first time isn't even particularly pleasant, too swift and raw, too much need on both sides, release rather than pleasure. The second time is better, lessons learned about reading each other in battle adapting readily to this new use, leaving them spent and sated.
He expects them to leave, after, though his mind balks at considering what else "after" might entail, because all - almost all - of the reasons they hadn't, shouldn't, still apply. Alena, though, pulls him down with her into a nest made from slightly dusty bolts of fabric, silences him when he would protest. Cristo wonders if she is reluctant to leave the room for the same reasons he is.
Then her hands begin to move, leisurely exploring his body, and he begins to suspect she's merely waiting to find out if the third time really is charmed.