#patch 5.55

Nerys closes the door behind her. "Is this alright?"

He jerks his head in a nod. "It's you so it's fine. As long as you're not here to fuss over me."

"Me? Fuss?" Nerys crosses the short space between them. For all its gilt appointments and high ceiling, the room is not so large. She would have taken up too much space had she left her spiked drachen mail on.

His hands catch about her waist and tug her close. She starts reaching for bruised skin not far from the scars and he distracts her with a kiss.

"Weren't you wrapped up in Waters?" He asks, ushering her towards the narrow bed. Nerys knows exactly what he is doing but also doesn't mind. Battle energy still dances in her veins, especially after the encounter with Lunar Ifrit.

"I was." The cool, crisp sheets hit her back. "He was helping me with my armor."

Estinien snorts. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"He was." If Thancred's hands lingered, if his mouth brushed over hers, those were lovely bonuses. "But I was restless and he wanted to stay put and plan our next moves."

"And you ended up here." His hands find her breastband and tug it down. Nerys spears her fingers into the wet, silken curtain of his hair. Guides that lush mouth to close about her nipple.

Estinien is for once content to follow instructions. He suckles with a pleased hum while the free hand kneads the other breast. Aether dances along his fingers and she feels it sink into her, calling to her own. As only another dragoon's can.

"You scared me a little." She gasps from his ravenous mouth, the knee he presses between her legs. One of her hands unconsciously reaches in the air, grasping at nothing. The other touches the bruised skin near those fateful scars. "That last gambit you pulled-"

He nips at her lower lip. "It worked."

"It worked. It still scared me."

"Consider us even then, for the last few stunts you pulled." He doesn't sound reproving in the least. In fact, his smirk speaks libraries of pride in her. And that stills any reply on her tongue, has her cheeks filling with heat, no doubt deep indigo in color.

His brows furrow. "Oi. What's that for?"

"Nothing." Nerys tugs him back down. Kisses him until he is fully occupied with her mouth and the way she moans when his thigh grinds against her.

They stop talking after that but for his name on her lips and his moaned commands. There are no more pauses, no hesitations. The same post-battle energy is in his limbs, pulsing as strong and steady as his churning aether. He knows what she needs, just as she knows what he does.

When she is about to come, Nerys seizes Estinien's wrist and presses his hand over her mouth. Aether dances at his nails to make them sharp against her cheek. He snarls and bucks harder, as if he wants her cries to be too loud for his palm to contain. She lets go of the instinct to soften the noises spilling from her throat and his smile is triumphant, wicked, lovely.

He doesn't bother keeping quiet.

They lay in a tangle without moving. A deep sense of calm, of fatigue settles over her body. Catharsis, achieved in a deeply primal way fighting could not fully provide.

"Teach me," she mutters.

Estinien grunts in askance.

"That trick you pulled at the end of the battle." She kisses along his shoulder. "Teach me, fellow Scion."

He snorts. Grumbles his acquiescence. Drags her up to kiss her in a lazy, gentle way that is every bit as claiming as his fiercer touches.

"Very well," he muttered, at last finding his words. "I won't make it easy."

"Good." She cups his cheek. "I don't want you to."

His eyes narrow. "If you say things like that, you'll rouse me to take you again."