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Lucanis sits in the dark, hunched in an armchair by the fire. The flames flicker softly, creating shadows that dance across the walls, their movements as restless as his thoughts. The ethereal glow of the Fade spills in through the windows, bathing the room in an otherworldly light. Even here, in the dark of the dining room, the Lighthouse never feels fully at rest.
Neither does Lucanis.
His eyes are fixed on the fire, but he isn’t truly seeing it. He hasn’t moved in what feels like hours, save for the occasional clench of his fists or the faint twitch of his jaw. Spite’s voice hovers at the edges of his mind, an insistent and irritating buzz.
“Talk to. Rook.” the voice clangs around his skull, making his molars vibrate with its indignation.
Lucanis pinches the bridge of his nose, his patience fraying. “Not now,” he mutters under his breath, though he already feels Spite’s retort forming in his head.
“Now is. The best time.” The demon’s voice slithers through his mind. Part mockery, part demand. He conjures himself in front of Lucanis, a mirror image which makes his stomach coil. Spite lowers his head, glaring down at him with a sneer curling his -Lucanis’- lips unnaturally. “I want. I want. I want. ”
Lucanis exhales sharply through his nose, trying to block out the voice. But even the steady crackle of the fire can’t drown out the incessant demands of the demon. They’re loud enough to cut through Lucanis’ defences, especially when he’s this tired. His body is tense, his muscles coiled tight as if ready to spring into action - except there’s nothing to fight, nothing to kill or focus on. Only Spite.
“You. Promised.” Spite’s voice quiets for a moment, and for an even briefer moment Lucanis feels ashamed. Spite had dragged Rook through the prison of Lucanis’ mind, had helped Lucanis in its own way, and yet here they still were. Spite trapped and Lucanis exhausted.
What a fine pair they make.
His thoughts are broken as the door creaks open behind him, but Lucanis doesn’t react to the familiar sound of Rook’s entrance, the rhythm of her movements as familiar to him now as his own. He’s not in the mood for company, though he has a feeling she won’t take the hint. She so rarely does. Her footsteps echo softly as she crosses the room towards him.
He finally looks up. His eyes meet hers as she looks down at him in the chair, concern apparent in her eyes.
“Still awake,” he says before she can ask, his voice rough. The act of speaking alone takes more energy than he’s willing to give. “Why are you up?”
Rook shrugs, “Couldn’t sleep either.” She returns to her quiet scrutiny of Lucanis. The circles under his eyes. The tightness of his shoulders. She catalogs it all with narrowed eyes, just as Lucanis catalogs her mouth opening and closing a few times, watches her head tilt as she considers her next words. Always the charismatic chameleon, able to shift and change her demeanour to get what she wants. He wonders what she will be tonight. The Diplomat? The Tactician? The Mercenary? “I’m hungry. Want to help me cook? Or would you rather just watch me find fun and exciting ways to make a mess of your kitchen?”
Lucanis stares up at her. Ah, The Charmer . The Rook with a silver tongue and an easy smile. His favourite version, and the one she seems to be most comfortable with. For a moment, he considers denying her, excusing himself to find somewhere else to be. Any where else to be other than near her. He feels Spite sing in her presence and his jaw clenches so hard he swears the grind of his teeth is audible. But he sees her own jaw set with determination he’s seen many times before, and a long, weary sigh slips from his lips. If he leaves now, she will simply find him and try again.
A rook, he remembers, moves determinedly on its chosen path on the board, regardless of what stands in its way.
“I suppose I could eat.” He unfolds himself from the chair with a catlike grace and stands, rubbing the heel of his hand over his weary eyes.
“Tough night?” She asks easily, slipping back into the familiar, friendly version of herself. “How many of those has it been now?”
“Five,” Lucanis answers. His voice is a rough, tired growl, carrying the exhaustion that’s clinging to his frame and comes out sharper than he had intended. He glances sideways at Rook. “Surely you have better things to do than count my waking hours.”
“Surely you have better things to do than brood.” Her own slightly-too-sharp retort makes him scoff.
“Brood,” he repeats with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t brood. I’m not some angsty teenager.”
She laughs, her head tilted back slightly as her curls dance around her face and the long line of her neck is briefly open for him. Lucanis keeps his eyes determinedly away from her. Rook pauses her stride towards the kitchen, turns fully to look at him. “I thought you two had reached an… agreement.”
Lucanis snorts, choosing not to dignify that with a response. As if a simple, brief conversation could undo The Ossuary. Undo what had been done to him - to them - for a whole year in just a few days. He tried to move past it, to face the chains and bars in his mind and claw to freedom as desperately as Spite was but he was just so damned tired .
Rook bites her lip. Oh. Lucanis’ eyes drift down, unable to stop himself from watching. He should be more focussed. Rook only bites her lip when she’s nervous, about to deliver bad news or ask a bad question. But all Lucanis sees is her plump lower lip caught beneath her teeth and he idly wonders how it would feel to have it between his teeth instead. Spite hisses in delight and he snaps his eyes back up to hers. “Perhaps..” she begins, uncertain. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Emmerich some more? I’m sure he can help soothe Spite as he does with the other spirits.”
Irritation creeps into Lucanis’ voice as he says, “I don’t require Emmerich poking around in my mind. One unwelcome visitor in there is quite enough, thank you.” His tone is clipped and short and he hates the way she falters for a moment. He opens his mouth to try again, to elaborate that he didn’t mean her, that he’s so grateful to her for helping him, that he’ll go and talk to Emmerich another time if it gets worse but she shifts back to The Charmer once more before he can.
Rook’s hands raise up in a peaceful gesture, “Alright, I won’t push. I just worry about you. You’re… important, you know?” she grimaces slightly at her awkwardness and he notices the tiredness in her own eyes for the first time that evening. She continues on towards the kitchen area, “You know… I’ve been craving cioccolata calda since we swung by Treviso last week. Do you think we could make it?”
His lips twitch in the barest hint of a smile at her request. He recognises it for the lifeline that it is, an opportunity for easy conversation which he welcomes. “That’s not food, Rook.”
She sniffs haughtily, easily taking on her designated role in the conversation with her hands on her hips. “Of course it is. Liquid food is still food, Lucanis.”
He huffs a laugh and lifts his hands in mock defeat, “Very well. Cioccolata calda it is.” He busies himself with gathering the powder and a saucepan, glad for the work.
Rook claps her hands together in delight. “Alright, then! We can talk as we cook. How about you start with telling me why you’ve been avoiding me?”
Lucanis freezes. Curses himself for not seeing their conversation for what it was; a trap he happily followed her into. He sighs at her direct question, recalibrates himself. He could try denying it, but there’s little point. Rook’s observant enough to have noticed the way he’s been skirting around her since she was in his mind. Lucanis runs a hand through his hair, the gesture a sign of his unease. His eyes flit between the ingredients before him and Rook as he considers what to say.
“I…” he hesitates, the words sticking in his throat for a moment. He’s unused to admitting vulnerability, and his instincts rail against it. “I’ve been… trying to keep my distance.”
“Why?” she asks softly, and his stomach drops at the hurt in her expression. His fingers curl into a fist for a moment, his knuckles whitening with tension as Spite screams in his mind, tugging at his arms. “Touch. Her.”
Lucanis lets out a sharp exhale, his gaze dropping to the countertop once more. “It’s… complicated,” he finally mutters. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“Bullshit.” Her voice is firm enough that he looks back up at her, surprised. “You know that I can protect myself. You wouldn’t hurt me, and you know that Spite likes me.” Spite jeers in agreement and Rook steps closer to him, forcing his eyes to remain locked on hers. “You know what I think? I think that you’re trying to protect yourself in the most idiotic way imaginable. But from what?” Her voice softens to a murmur as she tilts her head once more, seeing him with such intensity that it burns him. “I’m not going to hurt you, Lucanis. None of us are.”
Lucanis feels the air between them suddenly becomes charged as Rook consumes his senses. He mistakenly inhales, the smell of her bombarding him. Spite preens . “Jasmine. Static. Rook.” He needs to step back, needs to extract himself, to breathe, to fucking sleep but her eyes lock him in place as her words strike like lightning into the core of him. His gaze flicks from side to side, desperate to regain control as his jaw clenches to avoid breathing her in any more.
“It’s… not that simple,” he mutters, the words sounding weak even to his ears. He sighs, the sound heavy with resignation. “Spite does like you,” he admits, “Very much… too much.”
Rook sighs and ever so slowly reaches her hand up to him, rests it on his cheek. “Oh, you’re so stubbornly self-destructive, Lucanis Dellamorte…” She’s always been tactile with them all, but the contact is electric, sending a shockwave of sensation through him that he tries to ignore.
Lucanis swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He tries not to notice the way her eyes flick down to his throat and then linger on his lips. Spite, however, has no such reservations. “She sings. For us. Touchhertouchhertouchher-”
“Lucanis…” her quiet voice rings above the din of Spite, “Please don’t push me away anymore, alright? Whatever is going on in that mind of yours, we can figure it out.” Her thumb brushes across his brow, easing the frown he did not know was there. She leans slightly closer to him as she whispers, “Talk to me.”
The proximity is intoxicating. His gaze darkens as she whispers to him, the gentle command in her voice stirring a deep, primal part of him. He fights the urge to reach out, to pull her closer.
Lucanis hesitates, his breathing becoming faster. Every instinct is screaming at him to push Rook away, to keep up the walls he’s built around himself. But the heat of her body against his, the look in her eyes, makes it impossibly difficult to maintain distance.
His voice is gravelly murmur as he replies, “You know I’m a mess.”
A wry chuckle escapes her and Lucanis feels the warmth of her breath against him, “Aren’t we all?” She tilts her head in silent question as her gaze drifts down to his lips, “Do you want me to leave?”
His heart aches. Even now, she is giving him a choice. He knows that the smart choice would be to step away, to reestablish his distance. But…
“No,” he whispers, “I… don’t want you to go.” Rook smiles at him, bright and open and effectively shattering the resistance lingering in his mind.
“Good, because I really don’t want to either.” She leans up to him, and his eyes flutter closed in anticipation. But she veers left slightly, gently kissing his cheek. Her hot breath tickles his skin slightly as she moves to kiss the other cheek. Lucanis’ heart thunders in his chest, the slow progression of her actions igniting a wildfire inside him. He tries to resist, to maintain control, but the feel of her breath against his skin and the heat in her eyes is too much.
A low hiss escapes his lips as Rook’s hover an inch from his. He can feel the tension between them crackle like the electricity she hurls in a fight. His voice is a ragged whisper. “You’re dangerous.”
“Sometimes dangerous is better, no?” She stretches up to kiss his nose. “Let go, Lucanis. I’ve got you.”
The last shreds of his restraint crumble into dust.
A low snarl escapes Lucanis’ throat as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. One hand reaches up her back to tangle in the curls at the nape of her neck as his lips finally claim hers in a fierce, passionate kiss. Lucanis groans into her as all the pent-up yearning, the weeks - months - of holding back burst to the surface in a single, intense moment which leaves him reeling.
Rook smiles against his lips and runs a hand through his hair as another comes to rest above his thundering heart. Her tongue darts across his bottom lip, asking for more. Lucanis’ breath catches in his throat, his grip on her tightening. He shivers at the caress, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. He parts his lips, granting Rook entrance, a wordless invitation to explore.
Their tongues meet, hot and eager, as Lucanis pulls Rook tighter against his body. They remain for what feels like both an eternity and nowhere near long enough until they eventually part, gasping for air. Spite roars in his head, unhappy with the pause. Rook tugs his forehead down to rest against hers and Spite quiets. “That was…” she begins, lost for words.
“Intense,” Lucanis supplies, his voice a low, gruff rumble. He tilts his head, his lip brushing the sensitive skin of her neck and delights in the shiver it elicits from her. Lucanis draws in a ragged breath, indulging himself in another inhale of Rook’s scent. “I’ve wanted to do that for too long,” he confesses, his mouth trailing along her jawline.
“Oh?” Her voice is low and sultry in a way that sends sparks along his spine. “And how long is that?” She cranes her neck to allow him better access there as he peppers the sensitive skin with soft kisses. He feels the tiny gasps and sighs she makes under his touch, the sound making his skin hum.
As he reaches the spot where her ear and jaw meet, he smirks as she moans softly and his teeth graze the area, a slight nibble which has her gasping his name and arching her back in a way which knocks his control. “Longer than I should admit.” he murmurs simply. Spite pushes to the front of his mind, purple smoke clouding his vision for a moment, “Ossuary. Sliced lightning like a knife. Through six Venatori. Beautiful. Carissima. ” Lucanis regains control with a snarl, shame hitting him like ice.
Rook blinks at Spite’s brief confession and Lucanis begins to step back in disgust, reeling. But then she laughs. A small giggle at first which blooms into full, throaty laughter which brings tears to the corners of her eyes and turns her cheeks as red as her hair. Lucanis knows that the shame should still be taking precedence right now, but instead he cannot help but watch Rook’s delight with equal parts adoration of her beauty and concern for her mental wellbeing.
Eventually, her laughter subsides enough for her to speak, “Only you would see a woman murdering cultists and decide you want her.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders, her hands joining behind his head as she gently pulls him back towards her. He relents and she rewards him with another gentle kiss which still leaves him breathless. “I wanted you too, you know. When I saw you fighting. You move so easily, so graceful and precise. I couldn’t help but imagine…” she trails off, busying herself with trailing kisses along his bearded jaw, down the column of his neck. The heat returns in full force as she nips at his jugular and his hand flies to grip her hair. The vibration of her moan against his skin shoots straight to his groin.
“Mierda-” Lucanis curses and he tightly grips Rook’s waist as he desperately tries to find the right words. “I… you… I want… Rook, please .” He feels her smile against the crook of his neck and she pulls away to look at him. He barely manages to suppress the needy whine of protest at her momentary departure.
“Where do you want me?”
Maker. “Anywhere,” he murmurs huskily, his voice ragged with need. “Anywhere and everywhere . I want you everywhere.” He leans into her once more, seeking that sweet spot on her neck once more, delighting in the way she gasps his name as he finds it, the way it sounds like a prayer on her tongue. He feels her push him, guiding him towards the dining table. It would probably be an easier walk if he were willing to stop kissing her, but such a thing seems unspeakably cruel.
Her hands are restless as they move, pawing at his waistcoat and shirt, fumbling with the buttons. “Off.” She eventually growls as her impatience wins out.
Lucanis chuckles, the sound vibrating against her skin. His hands move to help her, deftly unbuttoning the clothing. “Impatient…” he murmurs, voice sinfully low now as he frees the shirt and waistcoat from his body and tosses them aside carelessly.
Rook’s eyes roam over his naked torso with blatant, breathless desire. “ Yes. Although, can it be impatience after so long waiting?” Lucanis’ mind stills as he watches her hands tend to her own buttons. His gaze narrowing on each inch of skin she exposes as she removes her own shirt. A low growl rumbles in Lucanis’ chest, and he’s not entirely sure if it comes from him or Spite as he moves to gently cup her breasts. His touch is gentle, almost reverential, as he squeezes and caresses the sensitive flesh.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs huskily, awe-struck by the way she arches into him and moans as he touches her. He watches her blush and hide her face in the crook of his neck. Her mouth traces along the line of his neck and collarbone, her nails lightly running down his back, to the waistband of his trousers. Lucanis lets out a shuddering sigh as her teasing touch leaves lines of fire in its wake. He holds her flush against his body as he tries to regain some equilibrium. Rook contents herself with tracing an old scar which stretches from his rib to his hip, her touch teasingly, frustratingly, light.
“You're driving me wild ,” Lucanis growls, his voice thick with need.
“Then do something about it,” she challenges huskily against his hot skin.
Lucanis’ hands grip her hips as he lifts her onto the dining table with a swift, almost desperate move, smiling despite himself as she lets out a surprised laugh. His lips find her neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive skin towards her breasts.
Rook moans and rolls her hips against his hardness, whimpering his name once more as she grips onto him tightly, “ Please …”
Lucanis grinds against her again with a guttural moan. He should feel horrified, rutting against her on the communal table. And he should certainly feel scandalised by the dark edge to his voice as he says, “Please what? Tell me what you want, carissima . What you need.”
“You. Just you. Please, Lucanis. I need to feel you against me, inside me. I need to taste you.” Rook is rambling, lost in the feeling of him and desperate for more, “I just… need you .”
Lucanis rewards her with a swirl of his tongue around her pretty, pert nipple. He delights in the sound she makes. “Tastes. Sweet. Moremoremore.” Ah, he wondered when Spite would interject. “Patience…” he murmurs to both Rook and his demon.
With one hand toying with her breasts, the other works on the laces of her trousers, undoing them easily. Despite her mewl of protest as his mouth leaves her nipple, Lucanis drops to his knees between her legs. He works on the laces of her boots at an agonisingly slow pace which has Rook tugging at his hair in frustration. He laughs and relents, removing her shoes and trousers with startling efficiency.
Lucanis takes in the sight of Rook spread out before him in naught but her smalls. She’s a vision of desire and surrender and one he’d like to commit to memory permanently. He runs his hands up her legs, his touch worshipping. He kisses the crook of her knee, his voice as rough as gravel as he whispers, “You’re so beautiful , do you know that?”
Rook shyly hides her face with a laugh, the blush spreading across her chest now. Lucanis gently kisses up her thigh, muttering praise against her skin like it’s a holy benediction. Rook’s fingers run through his hair restlessly, gently pulling him towards her center. He laughs, but obliges her as he moves her underwear to one side. He runs his tongue along her seam in one, sinful path. Rook arches and moans and Maker she’s so wet, so delicious that he thinks he could spend his life doing nothing but taste her.
“Taste.” Spite pushes at his skull, demanding more as Rook’s hand on his head does the same. Lucanis groans hungrily against Rook’s flesh as the last scraps of teasing control he had shatter at the dual demands. He spreads Rook open with one hand and devours her, his lips, tongue and teeth merciless and restless on her clit. Rook keens and whines in pleasure as Lucanis floods her senses, rolling her hips against his mouth so wildly that Lucanis has to pin her hips down with his free hand.
He glances up to see her watching him work between her legs, their eyes meeting sending a shock of arousal to his own throbbing cock. He holds her eye as he easily slips one finger, two fingers into her. He curls his fingers inside, beckoning her pleasure.
“Good boy,” she moans sinfully and he swears he could come apart right there and then. Instead, he focuses his attention entirely on her, on delving deeper and faster as he traces love letters against her clit with his tongue. He feels her tightening and quivering under him as her climax builds and builds until she finally breaks apart, coming on his tongue with a broken moan of his name. He greedily laps at her until she pushes his head away with an overstimulated laugh and pulls him up to kiss her, their bodies flush against each other once more.
Lucanis kisses her deeply, the taste of her still on his tongue as he claims her mouth with a fierce, possessive kiss. He says her name softly, gently cupping her jaw and tilting her face so she’s looking at him, “I… I want more. I need to feel you, carissima . May I?”
Rook turns her head to kiss his palm, a gentle gesture whose intimacy takes his breath away. “Don’t stop. I want all of you, Lucanis.” she says simply, biting gently into his skin as she raises her hips against him. Lucanis presses his own hips down, pinning Rook in places he growls in response.
“I won’t stop, carissima ,” he assures her, his voice thick with need. “Not until you’re completely writhing beneath me.” Rook whines once more and reaches down to cup him through his trousers. Lucanis gasps and undoes his trousers. He supposes he should be embarrassed by how needy he’s acting, hands shaking with eagerness as he swats her hands out of the way to release his cock from his smalls.
Rook gently wraps a small hand around him, marvelling at the feel of him in her hand as a ragged, guttural moan is dragged from him and his body arches against her touch. She pumps him experimentally a few times as she watches his reaction. Lucanis’ eyes flutter shut for a moment, the sensation and the intensity of her gaze overwhelming and so, so good. He gasps and hisses as she strokes him, his hands clenching her hips. “Mierda… don’t stop, carissima . Please.”
Rook continues to stroke him, languidly and without any rush. She experiments, figuring out the pressure, the speed that he enjoys. She runs her thumb over the tip of him and he groans her names, bucking into her. “Do you want me to continue like this, or are you going to fuck me already?” She asks, and he laughs breathlessly. Always so direct.
“Want. All of. You.” This time, Lucanis is hardly surprised with the purple fog which descends, but he is surprised by the guttural groan it elicits from Rook. A better man might have taken offense, been concerned by her reaction. But all Lucanis feels is an all-consuming want . He rolls his hips against her, the blunt head of his cock sliding up against her and bumping against her clit. They both moan and lock eyes as Rook guides him to her entrance, the sight of her making his head spin.
Lucanis feels Spite tug his body forwards, eager to fill Rook, but Lucanis snarls once more, “ Patience. ” He takes his time entering her, savouring the slow, torturing feeling as pushes inch by inch, every muscle taut with tension and desire.
He hisses as he finally fills her completely, his voice ragged and breathless, “Mierda, you feel… so good. You were made for me, carissima . Just for. Us .”
Rook clenches around him and Lucanis sees stars. She runs her fingertips along his jaw, “You feel… Gods, I can’t even fucking think of the words.” She groans with a laugh, far too consumed by the feeling of Lucanis inside her for any sort of witty response. Instead, she rolls her hips up into him, an invitation for him to move which he does not need to be given twice. Lucanis’ hands grip her hips, bruising into her skin as he begins to move.
Each slow, steady thrust is delicious torture, each movement stoking the fire of desire between them. “Oh sweet Maker ,” he groans hoarsely.
Rook’s hands continue their restless path all over him; combing through his hair, softly caressing his cheek, raking down his back just hard enough to leave a mark, gripping his hips to encourage him to go deeper, faster, harder as she continues to moan against him. “ Lucanis. ”
He feels her clench around him once more, watches her face contort as she surges towards her climax. “That’s it, carissima ,” he whispers raggedly, “Let go. Come for me.” At his command, her body snaps taut as she comes once more, gasping and groaning as she impossibly tightens even more around Lucanis. Every sound and move from her makes his insides coil and throb, the sight of Rook completely undone by him is just too damn perfect.
“Lucanis… I…” Rook hesitates, as if considering her words before instead wordlessly pulling Lucanis into a passionate, fierce kiss as her legs tighten and wrap around him, pulling him deeper into her and grinding her hips against his.
Even as Lucanis continues to move within her, he is overwhelmed with a sense of affection he is too afraid to name, his heart aching. He gasps against Rook’s mouth, the way she pulls him deeper making his head spin. He moves back slightly to watch her as he moves faster within her. He watches her half-lidded eyes gaze back at him, her full lips part in gasps, her flushed skin shine in the candle-light, her perfect tits bounce with each thrust as the feeling of his own peak builds inside him.
“Come on, Lucanis… that’s it.” She whispers encouragingly. He’s hanging on by a thread, his body shaking and shuddering with the effort of controlling himself, unwilling for this to end. His eyes screw shut, but Rook’s hand on his face forces them open. “That’s it, so good for me. So wonderful. So… Fuck, I love you.”
Oh.
Lucanis gasps her name, not ‘Rook’ but her name , his body going stiff as his climax suddenly washes over him. He barely manages to pull out before he spills onto the table, his hips jerking and twitching against his hand as he comes, the force of his release overwhelming and intense. Rook holds him against her as he finally calms, soothing with gentle hands, kisses and hushed murmurs of praise as he clings to her just as tightly.
“You will be my death.” He says, breathless.
“Ah, but what a death…” she chuckles and kisses his sweaty temple. He could stay here with her for an eternity, but Lucanis’ cooling skin and the mess he’d made of the table - Maker, how was he expected to ever sit here with a straight face again? - force him to reluctantly move away from her, pulling up his trousers. He attempts to tidy up, handing Rook her clothes and cleaning the table with burning cheeks. Beside him, Rook wordlessly gets dressed, hesitates by his side.
“Lucanis…” she begins hesitantly. He turns to look at her. Notices the worried crease in her brow, the pull of her lip between her teeth… Mierda. Does she think…?
“Wait.” he breathes, desperate. “Please. I just have to clean this before the morning.” He watches the tension bunching around her shoulders release, a shy smile returns to her face.
“Alright. Let me help, I am partially responsible.” Her blush matches his own as she straightens the table, puts the unused cioccolata calda ingredients away with a soft laugh and attempts to open a window.
Once the room is marginally respectable and smelling slightly less like sex, Lucanis takes Rook’s hand, bringing it up to tenderly kiss her knuckles. “Stay with me.”
“Will we both even fit on that bench you call a bed?” She laughs, but follows him willingly into his tiny pantry room. Lets him remove her clothes unhurried by passion, removes his own with equal care - she even folds his shirt the right way to reduce creasing and he thinks he may have to marry her.
It is slightly awkward and cramped, but they both manage to fit onto his bed, Rook’s head against his chest. He wonders if she hears his heart thunder against her ear, hears it beat her name as she curls into his side. He idly runs his fingers along her back and feels content, at peace for the first time in a long time.
But soon she sighs, sits up to look at him with a determined set to her jaw. “Lucanis… what I said… I don’t regret it.” She begins falteringly, clearly unused to such emotional vulnerability, but she takes a breath and continues on, “I don’t want you to feel pressured, or like you don’t have to say it back if you don’t feel it. I just… thought you should know how I feel. Especially if this-” she gestures vaguely between them, “-will be a repeat thing. Which I would very much like it to be.”
It takes a moment, during which Rook fiddles with her hair, looking everywhere but his eyes, before Lucanis realises that he should probably respond. He reaches up to her, tucks her hair behind her ear with the reverence others handle artefacts of the Maker Himself. “I love you, carissima . I am yours, for as long as you will have me.”
He watches Rook’s face split into a heart-wrenchingly beautiful smile, her eyes bright and wet before she buries her face in his chest once more. “Good. Because next time, I want to taste you.” She gently grazes her teeth against his nipple as a promise, and Lucanis gasps as the sensation sends a jolt of desire and anticipation coursing through him. Maker, even after just taking her, he still wants her.
He runs his and through her hair, tugs lightly at her scalp as he hums “You truly will be my death, carissima,” he teases, his voice warm, “But I’m more than happy to accept your terms.”
Rook nods against him, “A deal, then,” she mutters as her own exhaustion hits her. “But first, for the love of any gods there are, Lucanis, sleep .”
He laughs, warm and full. He kisses the crown of her head and holds her a bit tighter in his arms, his arms secure and protective, as he feels sleep pull them both under.
The last thing he remembers as his mind drifts off is the warmth of her body against his and the sound of Rook’s soft breaths. As he drifts into sleep, one thought persists in his mind.
Feels like. Bliss.
Love , he corrects.