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femslashficlets2015-09-16 11:14 pm
rosage) wrote in femslashficlets2015-09-16 11:14 pm
Entry tags:
A Dame Breaks (#024 - kiss)
Title: A Dame Breaks
Fandom: Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn
Pairing: Titania/Almedha
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #24 - kiss
Word Count: 881
Summary: After days of inactivity, Almedha makes a move.
Note: Part 5 of my drabble series for this pair. The others start here in my AO3 collection.
Almedha stays in Soren’s room. Not as a seemingly conscious attempt to move in; Titania has to deliver Almedha’s belongings to her unrequested, as she barely moves from the bed. Mist and Rhys ask if she’s sick. Titania gives vague answers and brings Almedha’s food herself.
At first, Almedha doesn’t acknowledge her. The food tray has just as much chance of being full when Titania comes to pick it up as not, so she takes to bringing her own food as well and sitting on the other side of the tray to eat, such that Almedha must finish at least part of her meal if she wants Titania to leave her alone.
“I was thinking about your training,” Titania says one day. They’ve mostly sat on the bed in silence, as Titania does not want to push the situation, but judging by the disheveled sheets Almedha is growing restless.
“I’m not interested, thank you.” Almedha breaks a crust of dark bread in half. Years of supping with Soren have taught Titania not to mistake the pieces for a sign that Almedha has eaten. On similar instinct she examines Almedha’s face for loose skin, getting distracted by the sharpness of her cheekbones, which assuredly outmatches that of any of the children Titania’s looked after.
“It would do you good to get out,” Titania says. “Your strength is already formidable; your skill could be as well, with regular practice.”
Almedha cracks one of the bread halves with her nail, drawing a crusty line down the center. “You are a busybody, aren’t you?”
“I’m aware your life is none of my business, but you’re under my company’s roof. The responsibility thus falls to me to…”
The tray clatters against the floor, replaced by Almedha’s knee as she grabs Titania’s shirt. “Enough with the formalities. If you insist upon remaining a mercenary, at least have the gall of one.”
Titania balks. For enough days she has seen only a mother’s mourning, begetting sober tenderness. Her jaw sets, and she loosens her shoulders, prepared to defend herself. “Are you not the one who just called me a busybody? I apologize, but I can’t brook your judgment upon my occupation any further.”
“It’s about time,” Almedha says, her lips twisting up. “Here I worried you’d mother me to death.” She tugs the fabric until it’s taut against the back of Titania’s neck, prompting Titania to reach for Almedha’s wrist and open her mouth in warning. Before she can utter more than a strangled sound, Almedha’s mouth crushes up against hers.
There’s nothing tender about the way Almedha kisses. Her fangs knock against teeth and drag over sensitive skin, leaving little separation between pleasure and pain. The burn forming at Titania’s surface slices deeper. She abandons the struggle to unlatch Almedha’s claws in favor of gripping her waist to keep them both from toppling off, which Almedha takes as an invitation, slinging a leg around her such that they’re locked in place when Titania pulls back with a gasp.
“Such a proper knight, so unfulfilled.” Almedha’s free hand traces the muscles of Titania’s arm, her purr grating more than any scream. “What is it you’re after?”
“That…that is what I should be asking you,” Titania says, remaining still to maintain some semblance of control. If Almedha shoots the question back, she won’t know how to answer. Memories of fumbling with other trainees have been swallowed by years of living in chaste devotion. It suits her plenty, or it did, but there is a childish voice telling her that those she stayed beside have not stayed beside her. She has not felt the force of the hunger now present in Almedha’s eyes, more gripping than the leering gazes of drunken Beorc men. “Though this is hardly…”
“If you say proper,” Almedha says, tapping a bicep, “I shall grow very bored.”
“In that case, it’s only polite for a host to entertain a guest.” Bolstered by the teasing, Titania presses a smile to Almedha’s temple, bending to reach the skin under her pointed ear and the crook of her neck. Almedha’s fingers beg for pressure at her throat, but Titania simply glides until Almedha yanks her back against her mouth.
When they part, something is caught in Titania’s gums. As spitting is one habit she never picked up after knighthood, she tilts away to discreetly pick it out. So thin and translucent as to blend in with the rings of her finger, it baffles her for a moment until she realizes it’s the wing of a bug.
“Why, you look as green as my hair, dear,” Almedha says with a grin. “Has one who’s seen as much carnage as you not strengthened your stomach?”
It’s true, claw and steel and the judgment of the Goddess should have prepared her for something so benign, and she laughs at her own timidity. The laugh peters out as she spots the fallen tray, circled by a puddle of broth. Titania’s chest squeezes. She pushes Almedha’s thigh away. “The mess—Soren would, I must…”
The name makes Almedha’s smile fall. She lets Titania disentangle from her and stand, crouching with her back toward Almedha to hide her shaking hands as she cleans. By the time she’s done, the broth has already left a stain.
Fandom: Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn
Pairing: Titania/Almedha
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: #24 - kiss
Word Count: 881
Summary: After days of inactivity, Almedha makes a move.
Note: Part 5 of my drabble series for this pair. The others start here in my AO3 collection.
Almedha stays in Soren’s room. Not as a seemingly conscious attempt to move in; Titania has to deliver Almedha’s belongings to her unrequested, as she barely moves from the bed. Mist and Rhys ask if she’s sick. Titania gives vague answers and brings Almedha’s food herself.
At first, Almedha doesn’t acknowledge her. The food tray has just as much chance of being full when Titania comes to pick it up as not, so she takes to bringing her own food as well and sitting on the other side of the tray to eat, such that Almedha must finish at least part of her meal if she wants Titania to leave her alone.
“I was thinking about your training,” Titania says one day. They’ve mostly sat on the bed in silence, as Titania does not want to push the situation, but judging by the disheveled sheets Almedha is growing restless.
“I’m not interested, thank you.” Almedha breaks a crust of dark bread in half. Years of supping with Soren have taught Titania not to mistake the pieces for a sign that Almedha has eaten. On similar instinct she examines Almedha’s face for loose skin, getting distracted by the sharpness of her cheekbones, which assuredly outmatches that of any of the children Titania’s looked after.
“It would do you good to get out,” Titania says. “Your strength is already formidable; your skill could be as well, with regular practice.”
Almedha cracks one of the bread halves with her nail, drawing a crusty line down the center. “You are a busybody, aren’t you?”
“I’m aware your life is none of my business, but you’re under my company’s roof. The responsibility thus falls to me to…”
The tray clatters against the floor, replaced by Almedha’s knee as she grabs Titania’s shirt. “Enough with the formalities. If you insist upon remaining a mercenary, at least have the gall of one.”
Titania balks. For enough days she has seen only a mother’s mourning, begetting sober tenderness. Her jaw sets, and she loosens her shoulders, prepared to defend herself. “Are you not the one who just called me a busybody? I apologize, but I can’t brook your judgment upon my occupation any further.”
“It’s about time,” Almedha says, her lips twisting up. “Here I worried you’d mother me to death.” She tugs the fabric until it’s taut against the back of Titania’s neck, prompting Titania to reach for Almedha’s wrist and open her mouth in warning. Before she can utter more than a strangled sound, Almedha’s mouth crushes up against hers.
There’s nothing tender about the way Almedha kisses. Her fangs knock against teeth and drag over sensitive skin, leaving little separation between pleasure and pain. The burn forming at Titania’s surface slices deeper. She abandons the struggle to unlatch Almedha’s claws in favor of gripping her waist to keep them both from toppling off, which Almedha takes as an invitation, slinging a leg around her such that they’re locked in place when Titania pulls back with a gasp.
“Such a proper knight, so unfulfilled.” Almedha’s free hand traces the muscles of Titania’s arm, her purr grating more than any scream. “What is it you’re after?”
“That…that is what I should be asking you,” Titania says, remaining still to maintain some semblance of control. If Almedha shoots the question back, she won’t know how to answer. Memories of fumbling with other trainees have been swallowed by years of living in chaste devotion. It suits her plenty, or it did, but there is a childish voice telling her that those she stayed beside have not stayed beside her. She has not felt the force of the hunger now present in Almedha’s eyes, more gripping than the leering gazes of drunken Beorc men. “Though this is hardly…”
“If you say proper,” Almedha says, tapping a bicep, “I shall grow very bored.”
“In that case, it’s only polite for a host to entertain a guest.” Bolstered by the teasing, Titania presses a smile to Almedha’s temple, bending to reach the skin under her pointed ear and the crook of her neck. Almedha’s fingers beg for pressure at her throat, but Titania simply glides until Almedha yanks her back against her mouth.
When they part, something is caught in Titania’s gums. As spitting is one habit she never picked up after knighthood, she tilts away to discreetly pick it out. So thin and translucent as to blend in with the rings of her finger, it baffles her for a moment until she realizes it’s the wing of a bug.
“Why, you look as green as my hair, dear,” Almedha says with a grin. “Has one who’s seen as much carnage as you not strengthened your stomach?”
It’s true, claw and steel and the judgment of the Goddess should have prepared her for something so benign, and she laughs at her own timidity. The laugh peters out as she spots the fallen tray, circled by a puddle of broth. Titania’s chest squeezes. She pushes Almedha’s thigh away. “The mess—Soren would, I must…”
The name makes Almedha’s smile fall. She lets Titania disentangle from her and stand, crouching with her back toward Almedha to hide her shaking hands as she cleans. By the time she’s done, the broth has already left a stain.