Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
No, he doesn’t know because she hasn’t been able to tell him all. The worry of burdening him too great, but it doesn’t matter. Not when their relationship transcends words. Nothing about them fits the mold of what’s ‘expected’. It work for them, though. The love held in their hearts for each other greater than anything that would dare come between them.
Their lips brush together in a kiss. Tender, sweet, and soft. A gentle sort of heat behind it, but neither of them pressing it further. Not yet. Her breath pushes from her lungs in a shaky exhale, lashes fluttering as she forces her own eyes to open, ”Forever.” Maeve whispers, lips curling into a slight smile, the corners of her mouth twitching just enough to be considered one. Brushing her thumb across his cheek as she draws back to look at him, the Nightshade nods, ”Bedtime.” She confirms, drawing back from him to stand though she’s loathe for their to be any space between them.
Turning to check on the babe, Maeve leans down to press a kiss to the top of his wispy hair. Aidon lifts his head from the top of his claws where he’s resting beside the bassinet and Maeve knows from experience that should he wake up, Aidon would come get them, having done the same when Edmund was a baby. She returns to him, taking his hand and tugging him back towards a room off to the side, pressing into the dimly lit room. The door isn’t closed behind them, but once they’re inside her hands find his waist again. Fingers slip beneath his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor in a heap. ”How long has it been, love?” The queen murmurs, finding the hem of his shirt, thumbs brushing across his hip bones lightly.
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
For all the soreness of his body, standing and preparing for the journey to the bedroom is worth the stiffness that has settled into his joints in the time they've spent on the settee. He follows behind her as she leans down to kiss Jude's head, his hand automatically coming to the small of her back in a move he'd done with Phoebe so few times before she'd vanished. Leaning down once she has straightened, he brushes a kiss over his son's forehead next, whispering a quiet adoration. Aidon's attentive nature is given a wan, appreciative smile as Harper travels past the dragon, reminded anew of the desire to ask for a companion that he'd warred with since before he and Phoebe had even confessed to each other. It would certainly make watching over his child easier, though he's loathe to envision a companion for only that purpose.
Her hands are nimble but gentle as they remove his jacket, and the warmth of her fingertips against his skin as they dive beneath his shirt makes him tremble, not having anticipated the move. Blowing out a breath, he tries to think back, and then chuckles a little brokenly. "A year now." And isn't that a devastating realization? His forehead falls down upon her shoulder, farther than he's used to given Phoebe's taller frame, but he sways lightly in her grip. Docile, trusting.
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
It’s a strangely familiar action. His hand at the small of her back, bracing there lightly as she leans over Jude to say good night. Except it wasn’t something Locke ever did. No, it was always Harper. Each night she laid Edmund down to sleep he’d been right there with her. His own kiss is dropped to the babe’s brow and it’s only a moment longer before they’re slipping into the side bedroom.
The sound that rises in her throat is pained on his behalf. ”Too long.” Maeve whispers, lips brushing against his temple as she turns to nuzzle there as he drops his head against her shoulder. Her fingers continue their path, tracing over his abdomen lightly, barely a whisper over his skin. ”Deserve to get taken care of.” Not to be left alone for a year without the touch of someone he loves. Gingerly she inches his shirt up until she eventually can curl her fingers at his ribs, ”Is this okay?”
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
Leaving Jude in another room is completely strange to Harper, and yet he finds he doesn't have anxiety about it. Normally he keeps his son in the bassinet beside his own bed, or they co-sleep. Too afraid to let his son out of reach or earshot. The open door helps in that aspect, but even if Maeve had deigned to close it Harper is certain he wouldn't be anxious about it.
Her pained noise has his lips twitching. Sex was never a requirement in Harper's life, and he doesn't miss it as much as she might in his shoes where it is like a second language to her, but her compassion fills a hole in him all the same. Her hands are warm and small against his sides, and the swell of his ribs as he breathes never stutters in their calm, sedate pace. Trusting. He nods slightly against her collarbone, twisting just enough to lay a chaste kiss to it. "It's okay. But you don't have to, you've already done so much." Harper doesn't assume that's why she's doing it, but he wants to give her the out regardless. His own hands come to her waist, unable to touch her skin as easily when she wears a dress unless he moves to undress her entirely.
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
It was a second language to her. A way she showed love. It was easy to understand. A universal language. Showing affection with her body, taking care of her partner’s needs, being of use to them. Her heart doesn’t race even as her fingers explore his skin. This isn’t like her other sexual encounters. Full of desperation and simply to scratch an itch or fill a void. This was entirely different. His lips brush against her collarbone, the delicate curve exposed to him as his hands find home on her waist. ”I know I don’t have to. I want to.” She needs to. Her lips press another kiss to his temple before she draws back, tugging his shirt off and over his head, letting it join the jacket on the floor.
”You can tell me to stop.” And she would stop. If that’s what he wanted. If it’s what he needed. It was late and she was already dressed for bed herself. The robe that’s tied around her waist covering the simple satin sleep set she wears, feet bare against the smooth wooden floor. It wouldn’t take anything for him to untie the belt and slip it off of her slender frame. He doesn’t move beyond letting his hands rest on her waist, breath warm against her skin as he rests his head against the curve of her shoulder.
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
He may not understand it with anyone else, but with Maeve it's easier. Knowing that their love takes the shape needed of it, constantly shifting and reforming. Solid and unbreakable even when pressure was exerted against it. In fact she may be the only person he could conceive of having sex with while not being in a relationship together, and it's only due to years of watching over her as a Halenani worker, as a friend and confidant. He knows there are no expectations of him here, where there are so many beyond that door.
The shirt bunches up and over his head easily, the muscles below scarred skin rolling with the motion of helping her do so. Even the brief lapse in attention to his otherwise rigorously kept training regime would do nothing to soften the hard lines of his body. A machine made for war and protection. A body not used to being touched gently or with any degree of reverence. Each touch of her hand draws a shiver or a twitch, anticipating everything the wrong way around, keyed up without knowing where the energy should go.
Exhaling slowly against the curve of her shoulder, Harper tentatively reaches to snag the silken end of the robe's tie in his scarred fingertips. There's a comparison to be drawn there, and included in it should be the aching gentleness he exhibits as he pulls on the fabric. The robe opens easily, and falls just as smoothly from her shoulders to the floor in a puddle of fabric that shines in the dim light of the room. And he holds her waist gently, marveling silently at how small she is in his hands, and yet how he feels just as small in hers. Thumbs tracing vapid shapes on each side of her navel, disturbing her satin shirt until it rucks up just enough for the pale sliver of her skin to be seen between the hem of it and the band of her shorts. Unhurried as he lets her touch him, and touches her in turn.
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
Soulmates had always been a dream to her. A silly notion that filled her mind when she thought about love. An idea that seemed impossible for her to achieve with each passing day. Each broken relationship and partner that chose to leave her behind. Yet, in this moment, with Harper's head on her shoulder and his hands at her waist, the sea salt scent of his hair and the sandalwood musk that clung to his clothes; Maeve thinks that maybe she had been looking in the wrong place, trying to see this connection somewhere else when it had been right in front of her. Their love was unlike anything else. Forever changing and growing, becoming what they needed in that moment of time.
It was the only logical explanation for it. Their souls knew each other beyond their physical forms. Across time, space, and worlds. How could it be anything else?
Each jump and twitch becomes a pattern for her to follow. Fingertips brush over scars, trailing along muscle, tracing the path of hair that dusted his navel to disappear beneath the waist of his trousers. A new kind of tension finds a home in his body, holding him tight like a marionette on a string, waiting for the next part of the dance. Finally, he moves, guided by her gentle urgings.
The robe catches in the crooks of her arms and she has to release her hold on him so it can join the slow growing pile of clothing. Delicate fabric pools around her feet, catching the flickering lantern light that casts dramatic shadows across his skin. "It's okay, Harper. You aren't going to break me." Maeve whispers, hands finding either side of his face, drawing him back just enough to catch his gaze. Thumbs brush across stubbled cheeks, a hint of a smile playing on her lips even as goosebumps rise over her skin in the wake of his touch.
She shivers just as much from anticipation as the coolness of the air, jade eyes searching his face for the span of a breath, looking for any sign to stop. The Nightshade finds none as she finally draws him down for a kiss so achingly sweet that her breath catches in her throat. Cradling his face between her palms she lets her tongue swipe across his bottom lip, tasting him for the first time, heart fluttering beneath her breastbone as she takes a step closer to press herself flush against him.
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do
Her hands are practiced, but even in their surety they don’t make him feel like just another man. A customer, a faceless suitor. They don’t pause over his scars or marvel over the well-trained cut of his muscles. Yet they still manage to take his breath away in an exhale of soft noise as they dip beneath the band of his pants.
She says he won’t break her, but he can. Strong as she is, Phoebe had been a demigod, and even then he had been reluctant to be firm with her in ways he knew he could be. Maeve has seen him hurt people, he knows this, and he knows she trusts him regardless - even with this. But he doesn’t trust himself. So while he doesn’t plan on stopping what they’re doing, he knows tonight is going to be gentle. Only gentle. And he thinks, maybe, that’s exactly what they both need. Soft, slow, tender. Because they are both lonely and hurting these days, and only the person they’re currently entwined with seems to make that any better.
As they kiss he holds her closer, and doesn’t think about anything but making them both feel a little bit better.
- FIN <3
lord don't let me break this, let me hold you lightly give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly
