all is fair in love and war

right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold

“It is.” He retorts back. It is different for him, and at the end of the day he does know how it works – knows exactly the ins and outs of how it works, but he doesn’t want there to be any confusion over who the father is if he sleeps with her now. Let alone how awkward it feels for him. “I know, but…” He pauses as she shifts again and she straddles him and he peers up at her as she arches over his chest, holding his gaze.

Her hands find his face, thumb brushing his jaw and he inhales slowly, quelling the flush that threatens to grow along his neck, feeling her breath and her plea against his lips with the brief space between them. “It’s different, Maeve.” He breathes back, still making no move to stand with where she’s placed herself, trying hard not to focus on the pulse he can see the brief flicker of rabbiting against the side of her pale neck. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” He finally decides, gaze finally finding her jade again. She knows how to press his buttons, though, and it’s something that has him watching her carefully.

He fails to keep the flush from creeping up his neck, however. The way he tilts his head a fraction as he regards her. It isn’t his work, it isn’t his job – not like how it’s hers, and it leaves him at a loss as to how to help her.

you're not who you were, but you can't let it go
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone

SUNJATA

Maeve

Maeve swallows thickly, shaking her head minutely as her thumb brushes against the sharp jut of his jaw, ghosting over the light stubble there. It isn't his job. She knows that, but what it is, what it's meant to do, that's the same. A distraction, a means to an end, simply coping because nothing else is working. Her breath is warm as she exhales against his lips, so close their noses almost brush as she settles in his lap, her free hand trailing across his skin ever so lightly.

He doesn't pull away from her. He doesn't move aside from the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes and the tilt of his head. Whether he wants her to see it or not, she doesn't miss the flush that trails up his neck or the way his fingers twitch against the cushions of the couch, steel gaze finding hers once more. "I won't tell." Because she knows that's a concern. She knows he worries about what people might think, but they already think it every time he steps foot into her room whether he wishes them to or not.

"Just this once..." Because that's all she needs, she thinks. One night of distraction, one night of sound sleep, one night where the fact that her bed is empty doesn't leave her aching more than she already does. Her head dips, lips barely brushing along his jaw, not daring to kiss him despite how she yearns to taste his skin. Se's flush against him now, body soft and warm and pliant, molding against his easily. "Bête, s'il te plait. I want to forget for a little bit and I don't have another way." A way that won't hurt her or the baby. This is all she has and he's one of the few she trusts while she's like this. So broken and vulnerable. Just as he trusted her.

NO ONE WANTS YOU WHEN YOU HAVE NO HEART
AND I’M SITTING PRETTY IN MY BRAND NEW SCARS

right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold

She’s warm against his skin and he watches her, offering his protests that she replies to with an ‘I won’t tell’ even if that’s not at all reassuring in the slightest. She didn’t have to tell, but he would know, he would know of the rumors that spread. So he works his jaw, even if her hand caresses it, even as she offers her pleas – practically begging at this point.

Her lips find his jaw, brushing against it gently as she flattens herself against him and he can feel every curve of her, even the edge of her heartbeat as he swallows thickly, feeling her mold against him. He pauses, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “Maeve…” He manages with the edge of a whine forming from his throat, as she remains settled right there in his lap, pressed against every part of him.

This isn’t how he planned his evening to go, either, unsure of how to explain it. His hands clutch at the fabric of the couch as if he’s torn between digging claws into the fabric and shredding them versus actually reaching for her to touch her skin. He takes a deep breath, chest rising and pressing back against her. “Is this really what you need?” He asks in a whisper, his gaze starting to simmer.

you're not who you were, but you can't let it go
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone

SUNJATA

Maeve

Rumors spread like wildfire in a place like Torchline, but it doesn't change the fact that they would have spread even if they did nothing at all. Even if they had shared tea in the lounge or a meal or existed in the same fucking space as one another. They would spread simply because he was the Flood and she was the Madame. There was no way around it. They both knew it. Maeve would do her part to dispel them, not daring to let anyone question whether the child was his or not, but all would do so anyway. It was the way of things.

His jaw feathers under her touch and she can feel his heartbeat thundering through his shirt where they're pressed together, balanced on the precipice so precariously it would only take a sudden wind to push them both over the edge. Her name falls from his lips, strained and edging on a whine, rolling through her in a way she's not expecting. She shudders against his, a shaky breath exhaled across his pulse as she dares to press a kiss there, the faintest scrape of teeth just the way he likes. "Jata..." Maeve breathes, voice already dipping down into something edging on needy, following the same path she just took until their looking at each other again.

She can feel his hands on the outsides of her knees, feel the claws that take shape there, pressing into the cushions of the couch and threatening to tear them to shreds with his barely held self control. Heated jade meet simmering steel, her own chest beginning to rise and fall more rapidly as she takes in greedy sips of air through parted lips, tongue darting out to wet them as his question is aired.

They both know what she really needs is for Locke to come back; for him to not have left in the first place, but that isn't an option right now. All she has is this. Maeve nods, the movement almost imperceptible as her fingers curl at the nape of his neck, tightening in his hair. "Yes." The word is no louder than his own, whispered in a rush against his lips, not closing the space between them even as everything screams at her to do so.

NO ONE WANTS YOU WHEN YOU HAVE NO HEART
AND I’M SITTING PRETTY IN MY BRAND NEW SCARS

right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold

She shudders and she breathes his name and Sunjata’s heart thunders a bit harder this time, shivering under the kiss pressed to his neck and the scrape of teeth – his head tilting a fraction despite himself as she grows more and more needy, more desperate against him. Her gaze is heated as it meets his and he knows that she’s chipping away at him, that this isn’t at all what he’d intended when he’d arrived on her door. But the alcohol swims in his system and he’d opened up enough to offer her a hug as she fell apart, and now? Now evidently he’s here to patch her up for a night.

Her fingers tighten in his hair and she whispers her answer back and Sunjata swallows hard, watching the way she doesn’t close the space between them. Is this a mistake? Probably, but she’s chipped away at him and he’s struggling trying to find reason within himself to leave without hurting her in the process. So he takes a deep breath, readjusting his legs a bit beneath her, almost as if he’s relieving pressure she’s caused there.

“I have some requirements first.” He murmurs, gaze dancing between her lips and her jade gaze. “Alright?”

you're not who you were, but you can't let it go
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone

SUNJATA

Maeve

It wasn't what she planned on happening either. They were simply meant to make a plan, to discuss options for the upcoming war, make sure that they could be prepared. Except they both have a habit of not following plans when it comes to each other. Whether they want to admit it or not. Maeve knows that she'll owe him after this, but she already does, doesn't she? He kept her safe during monsoons, he rebuilt her business, he trained her, and so much more. She owes him more than he likely realizes and this just adds to her debt.

He shifts just enough to make her squirm as she realizes just how much of an effect she's already had on him. Neither of them close the distance despite the way his steel gaze flicks between hers and her lips, smoldering with a barely restrained heat. His hands stay planted on the cushions, not lifting to her body, not daring to touch her even as he speaks again. Maeve swallows thickly, lips parted with her breaths, a flush rising to her cheeks and she's nodding for him to continue. "Alright." She murmurs, trying to keep from growing impatient as her free hand braces against his chest, fingers twisting into his shirt.

NO ONE WANTS YOU WHEN YOU HAVE NO HEART
AND I’M SITTING PRETTY IN MY BRAND NEW SCARS

right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold

She sits up a bit more fully, which just supplies more weight against him even as her hand braces against his chest, as her fingers twist in the fabric of his shirt. He watches her and she agrees, and then Sunjata’s tilting forward just barely a fraction of an inch, as if his lips ghosting by her own are playful enough. “First, it’s just this once.” His voice is already a bit rougher, thicker and deeper with the lust as it simmers through him.

His hands shift back into regular, calloused ones, ones that rise and skate along her sides, drifting up to the camisole that’s fallen off of her shoulders, pulling it down further, exposing more of her skin, even if his head doesn’t drift closer to her to close the distance. Instead, his head tilts, while his hands ghost against the pale, bare skin there. “Second, it’s a favor.” His accent has him purring the ‘R’ at the end. “And third?” He pulls his head away a bit, chin tilting up as he readjusts his legs, hips pressing up in the process. He regards her carefully, tongue slowly running across his lower lip, smoldering steel meets her face, before he’s tilting his head back toward her, cheek brushing against her own as his lips brush her ear. “Third, I’m not going to cum in you.” And he’s still going to put on protection regardless.

He withdraws a fraction, gaze watching her a moment, waiting to see how she reacts. It’s his own way to ensure there’s little to no mishaps aside from those already made.

you're not who you were, but you can't let it go
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone

SUNJATA

Maeve

Maeve stays still, barely breathing even as he leans forward, lips barely brushing against hers and she trembles in an attempt to stay still. Her lips part in anticipation, fingers tightening in his hair even as he starts to speak, his voice dipping into something so painfully familiar it sparks the heat building in her belly to a steady flame. The first condition is laid out and she nods, starting to lean forward to close the distance between their lips, but he denies her. Clearly not done laying out his conditions.

Calloused fingers suddenly find her sides, ghosting over heated skin until they find the straps of her camisole that have already fallen off of her shoulders, searing into her skin where he touches her. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch, the loose cardigan she was wearing slipping further down her arms along with the thin camisole, exposing milky white skin to his gaze. She's free of marks besides the beauty marks that litter her skin, no new scars for him to uncover since he last saw her this way, and no tells from previous lovers to be found. Her arms are caught in her cardigan and camisole, pinned to her sides just enough that moving it a touch difficult, but she doesn't squirm out of them. He's the one setting the pace and making the rules. Rules that Maeve intends to follow. "A favor." Maeve echoes, voice soft and breathy, eyes following every movement he makes.

It isn't until his hips shift, pressing into her through the thin fabric of her sleep pants that she gasps, unable to help rocking her hips in response. The friction isn't enough to do anything more than wind her up further, but it's enough to make her squirm in his lap. It takes everything in her to stay focused on him, eyes following the swipe of his tongue, dying to follow that same path with her own. Maeve meets his gaze, holding it for as long as she can before he's dipping forward, stubbled cheek brushing against her own as his lips find her ear. Something like a whine rises in her throat at the heat of his breath there, the way his words coil around her spine, liquid fire seeming to fill her veins as he finally lays out all of his terms.

Their eyes meet again and she can agree with all of them easily, not caring about his final stipulation, knowing why he finds it necessary. She can't blame him for it. If they were going to do this, they needed to be smart about it. That's all there was too it. So Maeve nods, letting out a shaky breath, poised and waiting for him to finally break the tension that's grown so taut between them.

NO ONE WANTS YOU WHEN YOU HAVE NO HEART
AND I’M SITTING PRETTY IN MY BRAND NEW SCARS

right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold

She agrees to the favor, and in the end agrees to it all. Which is truthfully all Sunjata needs. She rocks her hips in response to his own readjustment, and his hands begin to move again, slowly untangling her arms from her camisole, until the fabric falls to the floor beside the couch. She nods, let’s put a shaky breath, and Sunjata guides her hands up along his chest, to the buttons of his shirt, his nose brushing against hers as he still refrains from kissing her right off the bat.

“Let’s distract you then, hm?” He purrs, running his hands along her sides, along her hips before rising to tug at her pants, fingers dipping into the waistband there as he so incredibly slowly begins to tug them down. He presses against her the second their lips meet, the flush growing along his neck and rising to his freckled cheeks, and Sunjata takes the moment of distraction to push up against her to settle better on the couch, so that his back is to the cushions and she can settle a bit easier in his lap.

He also takes the moment to lift her hips enough to continue to slide the pants off, until they’re joining the camisole at the side of the couch, his kiss a bit more devouring, all encompassing, giving her the distraction she seeks.

you're not who you were, but you can't let it go
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone

SUNJATA

Maeve

The choice has been made. A deal struck. He gently untangles her from her camisole and sweater, letting them fall to the floor beside the couch, baring her torso to the cool air of the room. Her skin flushes prettily, but he still doesn't touch her besides to draw her hands up his chest, bringing them to the buttons of his shirt and Maeve takes the direction easily. Deft fingers pop the buttons one after another, pushing the offending garment from his shoulders so the palms of her hands might run over his chest, smoothing across scars and freckles and tattoos. She wants so many things at once, mind tugged every which way, struggling to settle on one course of action.

He's there to guide her, though. His nose brushes against hers, words purring against her lips as calloused hands trail over her sides again, long fingers curling into the waistband of her pants. "Please.." It's the only word she seems to know anymore, but others soon follow it much to her surprise. "I need it.. need you." The Flood is agonizingly slow with these movements, keeping her on edge and wanting, not allowing her to fall just yet. Finally he claims her lips in a kiss, pressing flush against her and she could sob with relief, the sensation of his lips on hers overwhelming in itself.

Sunjata moves them this way and that, finding a resting place that's comfortable for both of them and in seconds she's left bare above him save for her socks. She's never been more thankful for the way he takes control and overwhelms her, filling her head with the sensation of his kisses and hands instead of the thoughts that have plagued her for days now. A whimper rises in her throat, pressing into his mouth as she deepens the kiss, nails biting into his shoulders in a vain attempt to ground herself as her hips rock minutely against the hard line of his cock that she can feel pressing through his pants.

"Jata.." She hisses against his lips, arching into him eagerly as she melts for him. Soft, willing, and pliant. Their flushed skin seeming to burn everywhere they're touching, encouraging that heat in her belly to spread through the resr of her, scorching her up from the inside lot.

NO ONE WANTS YOU WHEN YOU HAVE NO HEART
AND I’M SITTING PRETTY IN MY BRAND NEW SCARS

right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold

He works at her clothes as he distracts her with the buttons of his shirt, guiding her along. His fingers loop into her waistband and Sunjata works to move them away, keeping his lips from hers for the moment, humming in thought. “Do you?” He asks her, briefly, lips meeting so that they can readjust.

He only pulls away once he’s gotten all of her clothes off, when she tries to grind down against him while he remains mostly fully clothed. His hands rise, slipping along her sides, cupping both her breasts as he pulls back further, scanning her with a simmering, smoldering gaze. “Yes?” He replies to her hiss, her whine, head tilting slightly. This is his favor for her, she’s going to have to work at it. “It’s been a while Maeve.” He trails off, thumbs brushing over her pierced nipples.

She might be unblemished from marks, but he isn’t. New ascended bites settle along his skin, as do the bruising of fingertips along his hips the further she pulls the shirt away. And the further his shoulders and collarbones are revealed, the more dark marks are found covering his bronze, sun kissed skin. “Did you miss me?” He’s going to get everything out of this if he can, every bit of ego boost, every bit of making it worth it for him, because he’s sure there will be a lot of explaining to do.

you're not who you were, but you can't let it go
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone

SUNJATA

Maeve

She nods quickly as their lips reconnect, hands greedily running over the newly exposed skin of his chest, palms rasping across his nipples before her nails draws lines down his chest, leaving trails of red in their wake. Of course she does. She's already told him as much, but he seems intent to push. To break her to pieces bit by bit until he can assembly her once more. A broken china doll in desperate need of someone with the patience to do the work. Sunjata seems to be the one up for the task.

He's not going to make it easy for her, though. No. She's going to have to surrender and let go. It's what she wanted, wasn't it? A distraction? To forget for a time being? This is more than good enough. As cruel as his ministrations are, refusing to give into her right away, driving her higher towards her breaking point instead. Everything about her burns right now, aching for release, for his touch, his voice, his kiss. He takes an ounce of pity on her, reaching up to cup her breasts, hands easily covering them both as his thumbs tease across her nipples in a way that makes her arch. Lashes flutter across cheekbones and she forces her eyes open, pupils blown wide as she meets his smoldering gaze, the ache between her thighs flaring at the intensity of it.

It has been a while. More than a season since she had him like this and it's the kind of drug she needs right now. She just needs to get well tonight so she can push through the rest of it. So she can focus on herself and the things she has planned.

Maeve barely notices through the haze of lust clouding her brain and if she did really notice, she doesn't have it in herself to care. Not about Nate or Locke or any of it. All there is is this. The Madame whines again, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, catching it so hard she might make it bleed. Another nod, another gasp of breath as she squirms in his lap, trying desperately to find her voice. She did miss him in a way that Maeve doesn't really want to admit, but that's in the past now. She's still willing to play the part for him, to beg, simper, and plead if it means he'll indulge her. "Missed you so much..."

NO ONE WANTS YOU WHEN YOU HAVE NO HEART
AND I’M SITTING PRETTY IN MY BRAND NEW SCARS

right by the entrance you broke, finally reality's taking its hold

“Good.” Comes the quiet rumble, a just this once bit back behind pale and sharp teeth. His hands continue to map her skin, his gaze watching her as she squirms in his lap, but she’s made no attempt to get him further undressed and if it’s something she wants, she’s going to have to do it herself.

He still proves himself to be a good distraction, though, a hand leaving her breast to trail down the pale skin of her chest, down and down until he can slip a finger between the press of his cock through his jeans and her folds, giving her something to grind against, watching her all the while.

There’s a gleam to his gaze that seems to suggest that she should make it worth his while, but he makes no audible comment for it aside from a deep rumbling in his chest. He tilts his head back until he can feel the couch cushion behind his head, until the draconic horns begin to spiral around his head, a set of two — not the nyala gold tipped horns, but scaled, spiraled sets from his temples that curl around his ears with the points that tip toward her, and another set similarly enough to the nyala that rise up higher and curl around the top of his head, threading through the longer dark locks there. “I want to hear you.”

you're not who you were, but you can't let it go
you're not where you're from, but you're always alone

SUNJATA

Maeve

He doesn't have to give her the warning. She already knows. It's just to get well. That's all it is. A distraction. Good. It's a rumbled reply that vibrates through his chest and he's so lazy in how he regards her. Content to let her flounder unless she asks. Unless she tries to take. He wants her to work for it. It's good in a fucked up way, giving her something to focus on, an attainable goal to reach for.

She's aware of his hand moving down her body, between her breasts and over her still flat belly, wedging itself between their bodies to slip a single finger through her folds. He'll already find her wet and ready, his finger able to press against her clit with no resistance, the pressure making her keen high and needy in her throat. She's flush with want now, skin glowing in the light of the fire, lips parting as she drinks in greedy breaths. One hand remains braced against his chest, giving her some leverage as she rocks her lips, managing to maintain a slow rhythm despite the desire to race towards her completion.

With her free hand, she reaches between them, fumbling momentarily to avoid dislodging the one that's between her legs. Jade eyes flash open, irises having gone dark as they settle on his face, flicking up to a new set of horns she's unfamiliar with. Her voice is breathy as she speaks, fingers popping the button of his pants, "Do you want me to beg, Jata? Talk about how much I missed your cock? Your tongue? Your voice in my ear and your teeth on my skin while you fucked me?" Maeve catches her bottom lip between her teeth, gazing at him through thick lashes, fingers working his zipper down so she can just brush her fingers against him in return.

NO ONE WANTS YOU WHEN YOU HAVE NO HEART
AND I’M SITTING PRETTY IN MY BRAND NEW SCARS