The Night the Fire Fell (aka "I F***** The Mage Out Of Him") (Alkereth & Emery) [M]

[Avelithe]

What do you mean by that, exactly?

The pause in their love-making seemed to give Alkereth a proper 'reality check', like a splash to the face after a good night of drinking.

"I—"

Alkereth blinked and peered into Emery's beautiful eyes, but for some reason, the intensity in them made it difficult for him to prolong his stare. He glanced sideways.

He knew what he wanted to say, and he suspected that Emery was getting the idea of where he was steering, but now that this conversation was happening, he felt the whiplash after yanking hard on the reigns.

It would have been easier to tell her, had they kept going, heightened emotions and all. But now he found his tongue dry and stuck to the roof of his mouth, refusing to unstick itself out of sheer terror. Alkereth swallowed, working his stiff jaw, but nothing seemed to help. He looked foolish and dumb with his mouth opening and closing, like he was chewing open-mouthed.

"Ahem." Alkereth turned his head and coughed.

"I... I don't know," he finally said. "I just know that I am terrified of being alone if... you're not there by my side."

It should have sounded romantic. Given any other time, it could have been. Alkereth was matter-of-fact, masking the absolute fear that closed in from all around.

"Does that make sense?"

Why the awkward now?

Why couldn't he just fucking say what stirred in his heart?

[Rhindeer]

"Oh."

Emery blinked at him, studying what she could see of Alkereth's face as he averted his gaze, and then she let out a sigh that had her sagging against him. She ignored the spike of anxiety that whispered that it wasn't the full truth and desperately threw herself at the excuse that gave them both an easy out.

"Oh, yes. Of course. Right, that makes perfect sense."

You're playing a dangerous game, a voice whispered in the back of her mind, as it always did. You know better. You know how this ends. You should run before it's too late, before it happens again. Before he makes you love—

Shut UP.

"Of course. I get it. I mean, it'd be pretty intimidating figuring this out alone, and you in a new world and everything on top of it," she went on weakly, voice a little high with nerves. "We're partners, you know? Partners in crime." She glanced down between them pointedly and arched an eyebrow. "With extra benefits. Thick as thieves and all that!"

Oh, she was laying it on a little thick, wasn't she? There was still a hint of panic in her voice, but she quickly covered it up with a fierce kiss. 

[Avelithe]

Fuck. He blew it. Abort. Abort. Abort. Abort—

"Yeah!" Alkereth laughed in a painful attempt to stem the awkward air, waving his hand as if that would help. "I'd say we're thicker than that, ahahaha—"

But then she kissed him, bless her goddamn soul, sparing the both of them from having to stumble and fall over each other like a couple of bumbling idiots (but let's be real, they're both a couple of bumbling idiots anyway).

It was easy enough to forget about it in the moment, because sex was such a wonderful excuse to lose yourself, so he went all for it, grasping her more firmly to himself and thrusting perhaps a little more sharply than he meant to, eager as ever to do this despite the stupid shit that almost fumbled its way out of his mouth.

In his lusty determination, he had felt himself ejaculate a bit too soon. And he wasn't exactly quiet about it, either.

[Rhindeer]

Thicker than that, indeed.

But Emery wasn't going to to think about that. She wasn't going to think about what he'd said and how they'd both fumbled around it, both utterly unconvincing yet pretending they were. She wasn't going to think about the strange, twisty flutter in her belly like some creature caught between fear and excitement. She wasn't going to think about anything. 

Because she was terrified of where those thoughts might lead.

The conversation and residual anxiety had killed her mood, but Alkereth did a good job rekindling the flames and she was ever eager for a good distraction and escape. And so she clung to the him as tightly as he pulled her in, kissing him fiercely on the lips and neck, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as she rolled her hips against his. Just forget it. It was nothing, she thought as she gasped against his ear and tangled a hand in his hair. It meant nothing. People said stupid shit all the time in the heat of the—

Emery felt him just as much as she heard him, his sound of pleasure and those familiar tremors clueing her in on exactly just how excited and eager he was. (Or perhaps nervous...) Emery stilled atop him, chest heaving, and pressed a soft kiss beneath his ear before she pulled back to look at him.

"That good, hm?" she asked with a wicked smile, and leaned in to press her lips to his. "And I barely tortured you at all."

[Avelithe]

Alkereth looked abashed after his release, blushing beneath the kisses. He could still feel himself pulse inside of her.

Damn, why did he have to be so loud? Holy shit. How embarrassing. That wasn't the only thought that made him hot around the collar. Still a little self-conscious about his over-excitement, he pulled at a lock of his hair just above his ear as he glanced up sheepishly. "I—I am so sorry, I wanted to warn you, but I just... I'm really terrible at that, aren't I." He deflated, letting his arms fall around Emery.  "It just felt amazing, and..." He shrugged, unable to stop himself from giving his goofiest grin. He knew Emery was drinking that special... 'tea', or whatever it was that Angel gave her to help prevent happy little accidents. He pushed anything baby related out of his mind.

"You needn't try. Every moment I'm not kissing you is agony." And he did so again, happy to lose himself in her kiss. Then he paused, worried. "Did you get your pleasure, my Sunfire? I—I know I finished a... bit too fast, there. If you... want to keep pleasuring yourself on me, I won't say no, just be gentle." True, he was sensitive, but he could not bear to walk out of this being the only one who got anything out of it. "Your moans are the best part of this, you know."

[Rhindeer]

Alkereth might be ashamed of his early release, but Emery didn't seem bothered at all as she caressed his neck and kissed his temple, trying hard not to grin. Not because it was funny, but because he was so fucking adorable. So different from the experienced, confident partners she was used to bedding and God, she loved his lack of inhibition. So many men were silent and almost stoic in their pleasure, so quiet she'd sometimes wondered if they were actually feeling anything at all, but Alkereth responded and reacted so delightfully, so genuinely. And despite his inexperience, he possessed a wisdom and selflessness even many experienced folk lacked. 

He, too, was a giver—in all the best ways.

"Shhh, Princess, it's okay. Misfires happen, it's not a big deal," Emery told him as she leaned into his kiss, unable to keep from smiling against his lips. "It's flattering, actually. Knowing I can make you lose control like that...hearing how much you love it, watching you come undone..."

She could see his concern, his embarrassment, and she wasn't about to let him linger in it long. Gently pushing him down onto the grass, she laid against his chest like that, giving him a small rest as she explored him with teasing kisses and nips along his lips and throat and clavicle. Sunfire, hmm? Emery didn't object to it this time, didn't even roll her eyes, instead responding to his invitation with a slow, careful grind of her hips to test how much he could handle, their bodies extra slick from his climax. If it was too much for him then there were other ways, of course, but she felt strangely hesitant to leave him just yet. This was...nice...in a way that wasn't purely about sex. Just being wrapped up together like this beneath a clear sky in the shade, for a moment forgetting all the earlier stress—it was perfect.

She wasn't ready for it to end. She didn't want to have to think just yet.

"I'll have to disagree with you there, though—your moans are the best," she said with a teasing wiggle of her hips, longing to feel him grow within her again. She pressed a fierce kiss to his lips, her breath catching in her throat as she tasted him, the gentle friction of his body against hers sending heat pooling between her legs. Careful, she reminded herself as she found herself wanting to chase the sensation, reigning in her enthusiasm. She wanted to ride him—but she didn't want to hurt him.

"I love making you sing. Think I can get another out of you?" she asked, and nipped him beneath his ear, breathing out a moan. "You enjoy this, don't you? Being used like this, a tool for my pleasure?"

[Avelithe]

Emery had to go and call him that *name* again—*princess*. It was annoying, it was disgusting and debauched; he wasn't a *princess* at all, it insinuated so many deplorable things, but—

*But damn,* he thought, feeling his face grow warm. "I could be," he said out loud, imagining all the terribly wonderful things that could happen if their roles had reversed... yes, there was a reason he put up with that nickname, a reason he didn't try and shut Emery down. He liked it. He liked the dangerous tongue-in-cheek tease, the humiliation. The hell was wrong with him?

He liked being a man. He liked doing things a male can do. Like this, for example—holding Emery, and feeling her make him grow hard with renewed lust. But he liked pretty things. Trinkets of gold and silver, gems on his breast and adorning his fingers. He was a goddamn peacock, whether he knew it or not. So, yes, he was going to wear that fucking princess crown, not just for his Sunfire, but because he was a fashionista at heart, and he will strut it proud... figuratively, of course. He was not sure he had the pocket change for a real crown, and he wasn't sure the locals would appreciate an ex-mage posing as royalty. But envisioning himself to be his real authentic self, away from judging eyes, to wear the most grand of studded silks with soft trousers and arms with laced cuffs, and a wonderful feathered hat to top it all off... would that ever be possible? His fantasies included Emery in them, but he wondered what she would think of his completely alien desires.

It was this out-of-the-blue thought, and Emery's grip and smooth rolling of her hips that brought his head back, his bare neck at her mercy, that let loose an involuntary moan. He was stiff as a rod again, and eager as a spring stag.

"Oh," he breathed between kisses, "you want to hear your princess sing, then?" He tried to control his hips, but it was easy to do when he felt meek from calling himself a princess. "I would be your slave, my goddess. Your tool to use forevermore if you will it."

[Rhindeer]

And there it was again. That delightful blush; the submissive baring of his throat; the growing stiffness within her, filling her anew even as he became putty beneath her. He had told her earlier that he didn't mind being called that name but Emery's hunch had begun back in the brothel, and this as good as confirmed it went deeper than mere tipsiness.

He didn't just not mind it; he actively enjoyed it.

Oh, this would be fun. There was no judgment within her, just a spark of excitement, of desire, that her strong, confident ex-mage, a man who slayed beasts and traveled worlds, could surrender to her like this. Be her princess, someone to be protected and cherished—and utterly ravished.

A thrill went through her, fire spreading through her veins, and with a hungry growl she kissed his throat before giving him a sharper bite, hard enough to leave a red imprint, hoping to hear more of those wonderful sounds. "Then sing, Princess," she breathed against his skin, and ran her tongue over the hurt area to soothe it. "Don't be shy. Prove it."

Rising up, she took him by the wrists and pinned them beside his heads, driven by his words and the look on his face, all the pent up stress and anxiety only driving her need. She met his eyes as she lifted and slammed back down, their bodies meeting with a wet slap, her breathing ragged and whimpers catching in her throat. God, it was crazy how good he felt, and it was taking everything not to lose control completely—but she needed him to know who had the reins here.

"I want to hear your pretty voice," she gasped out, sliding a hand from his wrist to grasp his throat, teasing him with the threat of danger—but holding him lightly, gently, her thumb caressing over his pulse. She was trembling, her breathing ragged as she held back. He was too good, and God she was growing close already—but she loved to watch him squirm. "I want everyone to hear how much you love this. I want everyone to know who you belong to. Say it," she ordered. "Show me what a good boy you are."

[Avelithe]

"Ahhh~"

Alkereth whimpered helplessly, delighted to be Emery's little man-doll. He gripped her hips as if his life depended on it, but then he found his hands pinned against the tree. His eyes popped open and he chanced a look at his love. Oh, how her blazing eyes *intoxicated* him so. He finally understood why he fell so hard and fast for her—

And then her hand was on his throat, *that was exciting*, god she was so deadly and fearsome like back when she captured him; how thrilling it would be to find himself bound by her again, he was spellbound enough as it is; oh he would let her take him any time of the day or night to give in to each other's basest pleasures... helpless, squirming, choking—

"ahhhHHHHHH~"

*Holy shit,* Alkereth thought, *that's a bit much, isn't it?*

But the dreadful implications of that thought popped out of existence as his focus was beckoned back to Emery, her weight and warmth so wonderful, the feel of her sucking wet pussy driving him back to that familiar edge...

But he held back this time, letting go of a high pitched whine, eager to give Emery exactly what she wanted. A song of *ecstasy*. He would serenade her with quickened breaths and uncontrollable moaning.

The bites followed up with consoling kisses and licks drove Alkereth wild. He really was not sure how long he could hold back, but a small, tiny part of in his brain praised him for doing such a good job in self-control. Baby steps!

"*I am your Princess!*" he blurted into the sky. *"I will always be your Princess!"*

[Rhindeer]

Holy shit, Emery thought, at first concerned she may have gone too far too fast despite what he'd told her earlier--and then transfixed as those scarlet eyes met hers. There was a kaleidoscope of emotion within them: passion, maybe a little fear mixed with the excitement, and her heart beat all the quicker for it. This was a man that slayed unimaginable monsters, a man that could throw her off and pin her quicker than she could blink...

...and he was utterly and completely at her mercy because he wanted to be there. Because he trusted her, and she him.

God, she had never been exposed to magic until he came along; perhaps she was enchanted.

And at this point? Fuck it.

Alkereth was her instrument and he performed beautifully, letting himself go, freely letting himself indulge, crying his pleasure--and it was too much. His whimpers, his helpless squirming, his fluttering pulse, the adorable expressions he made, his shameless proclamation that he was her princess--oh God, she could never in a million years have predicted that such a goofy, offhand nickname would soon be the thing boiling her over with a thrill of possessiveness, yet here she was, and he was hers. She didn't understand that feeling; she didn't want to. But it didn't matter, right?

All that mattered was the moment.

"That's my princess...good boy," she gasped out, hand tightening just a little on his throat, just enough to add a little pressure, a little extra danger, but no more. More was a discussion for later. She pressed her lips against his to muffle a whimper, nibbling sharply, trembling with the effort of holding back; he could no doubt feel it as she clenched around him. Just a little longer. "I think that deserves a treat. Would my princess like that?" And with an impish smile, she kissed his nose. "No cumming. Otherwise no treat."

That might be difficult to impossible for him and she knew it--going a second time was impressive enough already, bless his otherworldly genes!--but it was fun to watch him squirm.

Releasing her hold on him, she rode him in earnest then, grabbing one of his hands and bringing it between her legs with a clear message. It didn't take much, worked up as she was, the feeling of him stretching and filling her again and again, her eyes locked on his, driving her to the brink--and then over it. Head thrown back, she cried out as heat and pleasure flooded her and she trembled and tightened around him, and still she rode him through the release, desperately squeezing out every last drop of ecstasy that she could.