Juuni Kokki - Quand Le Vin Est Tiré
Title: Quand Le Vin Est Tiré
Fandom: Junni Kokki (Twelve Kingdoms)
Writer: Resmiranda (a_hollow_year )
Artist: Suriyel (moko_moko )
Character: Youko
Rating: R
Prompt: Light #5 // "on the nightstand"
Warnings: SEXY SEXY SEX
Summary: When the wine is poured, you have to drink it. Especially if it's good. [KantaiYouko]
Quand Le Vin Est Tiré
He wants to run. There is nowhere to go yet, but he needs to eat up the ground and spill blood and feel the world shake beneath his footsteps. He needs battle.
But it is still before, and as always before a battle, the air is thin. Too little to go around, it sends the head spinning and the nerves on end while the phantom fur along his spine bristles in the curious stillness and his nose grows sharp. He is full of lightning, with nowhere to ground himself.
Then the redhaired woman who fights like a man looks up from the maps in front of them, and her eyes glitter in the lamplight. In a few hours they go to war, but right now she smells of exhaustion and anticipation and blood not her own.
..o..
He thinks Bear thoughts.
They are thoughts that never truly go away, even when he is human. They cut through the fog of his human mind, leaving long trails of footprints through the wilderness that he cannot help but follow.
Here is battle, he thinks, and there is blood.
Heavy and deliberate, Kantai walks the path between them.
..o..
They are on the roof, looking down on the city they are to defend.
"Have you been to battle before?" he wants to know.
"I have drawn my sword many times," she says. The wind up here is cold, whisking her words past his ears and into the night above.
"That was not what I asked," he says.
She shrugs.
"Ready to fight, then?" he asks.
"Maybe," she replies.
There are no clouds in the sky, but he hears the grinding of thunder all the same. The long line of muscle in her neck jumps and quivers, and down her legs, through the stone of the walls and up his body he can feel her tremble, though she has no fear.
"Then surely you are ready to die."
She only laughs.
"Never."
..o..
He keeps the Bear a secret from her. She doesn't need to know that he can smell the blood she's shed, can feel the heat rolling off her body, can hear the secrets she also keeps from him echoing in her voice.
But they both know one thing. Every soldier knows.
There must be battle before there is blood.
..o..
They throw their weapons against the wall, and he pushes her hard against the door as soon as it is closed behind them. Their teeth click together as they go to war.
Frantic hands tear at cloth, her dull nails scratching tracks across his skin, though he is too tough to wound. His hips grind against hers with bruising force, the bones of her body meeting his with a dull thud. Fingers everywhere, limbs tangling. She bites his throat as he grabs her legs and wraps them high around his waist.
Too hot, not enough air. She is gasping in his ear. Somehow they make it to the bed, nearly naked, skin slick with sweat, a heaving battlefield ready for combat. His hands move over her, against her breasts as she rakes her fingernails down his arms.
Red hair spills over his palms and her face is so fragile, so small between his hands. He could crush her easily.
But he doesn't. Instead he pushes his way inside, and she throws her head back and sounds her battle call, wordless and old, until she has no more breath.
..o..
They fuck, quick and fierce.
He drags his teeth over her skin as he thrusts, close and furious until she tips him over, mounts him and rides him, the chill of the air causing them both to shiver until the bed shakes. Her teeth are chattering by the time he pushes her off and flips her onto her stomach, enters her from above and behind. The sweat dripping down his forehead drops to the expanse of her back and minglings with hers. She cries out. He drives into her as her fingers twist and turn, churning the bedding into a labyrinth.
The air ignites, and he follows her until they both are lost.
..o..
That was battle. And now...
The armored cavalry needs destroying. His movements are already growing heavy, but he can think. Beneath his feet the ground is firm and solid. He tosses his glaive aside.
"Ready to fight?" he asks her.
Next to him, her sword slides from its scabbard. Her breathing is low and even, and inside she is still and calm.
"Yes," she says.
And here is blood, he thinks.
At last, they begin to run.