#stinerva

Unrelenting and frigid as she stared him down, only worsening his sly teasing. Minerva wouldn't do anything; for she secretly loved it. Loved the memories they had shared behind her father's back. He ruminated on his way over, maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to approach her. 

"You saved our asses out there, y'know." Gently prying open her folded arms, fingers sliding over the broken silk. Almost electrifying as he passed over her olive skin. 

She glowered, "Tell me something I don't know." Her hands settling in his chest -holding back a whimper as her thumbs rubbed over the scars. A final warning, "I will find myself another room. It's over, for now."

His hands still managing to creep up into her obsidian locks. Tension subsiding from her jaw, down to her shoulders as he pulled through. Careful not to disturb her small buns as he combed through every knot. As every bump was smoothed, they descended to the floor. Minerva falling into his arms. 

Exhaustion finally consuming her being. "Tomorrow. We'll be on our way home tomorrow." 

"They're already out of the woods," scoffing at his optimism. His fingers playing with the two knots settled on her head. Decrowning her of the title he'd bestowed, all traces of a mouse gone. 

Sting wasn't sure if there was anything else to say. Only one other way to soothe her doubts, fearing for himself as he crooned down. His lips doting on the crown of her hair. "Sting…," her eyes swimming as she looked up, "Don't make a mistake." 

But this was his girlfriend. His lips diving on the her cupid's bow, savoring the chalky red lipstick. Holding her chin as he pressed into her, ready to give what Minerva wanted. She pulled away for a brief moment, only to be covered by his once more. He needed this. "Please," he whimpered. 

Swelling with joy as she turned swiftly, falling into each other. The comforter pulled from the bed as Sting haphazardly placed it on the floor, afraid to release the tigress within his hands. He inched toward the zipper on her back, Minerva's bosom arching into him. His hesitation dissipating as he disrobed her, descending upon her curves as they laid on the floor. A beautiful escape. 

Each heady mewl and clawful of his skin, encouraging his ministrations. Biting down her breasts and taut stomach, marking her bruises with hickies in place. Spots that should have already been filled with sincerity. Encroaching onto what he held himself back from for so long. Rasping as he loomed above her dark patch, "Nobody will ever lay a finger on you." 

Gripping her waist as he delved into her folds, laughter mixed with the offset of pleasure. “And what of magic? Titania?” 

He merely peered up to wink, whispering into her thighs. “Nothing, nothing. Forget about that bitch.” 

Plush peaks wrapping enveloping him; now his own protection. He lapped at her arousal but stilled. Minerva’s fingers close to ridding his pants, coyly pressing against the pearl he had longed to rid of. The slightest of tremors working their way as Sting ripped through the turmoils he raved over nightly. A great rift the games created closing within a matter of seconds as every light touch made him regret keeping to his fragile tempts. 

“Minerva-” Cut off by tenderness. Softly petting the part he couldn’t stand, circling around and nipping. Gasping from pure devotion she sought to give. 

And down went his boxers and Sting mewled as he lay on his side. Unable to see the passionate glint in the hazel eyes he knew so well. “It’s a two-way street,” Minerva blowing softly as her finger mused against his folds; unhesitant to push in. 

Returning to the honeyed crests of the space between her thighs. Flattening his tongue against the dark muscle; Minerva biting down on the bundle of nerves. Just how he liked it. Her digits only distracting him as they pumped inside. Crying out as Sting delved into her pulsing lips. It wouldn't be plausible for his lady to give him the release, spearing his tongue into her heat. 

Her plush thighs tightening around his head -a good sign. Giving her darkened folds open-mouthed kisses; heat that pooled in his stomach, falling between Minerva’s fingers. Into her mouth. Sting already on the onset of a climax, clutching her bottom. Sidling closer to the virtues of his woman, careening Minerva into the highest glory. Just as she did for himself. 

Every muscle in his legs spasming as she continued to piston her fingers. A low grumble as prodded her swollen button with his tongue. Not ready to lose, not this time. 

“Miner-” Not a peep as he growled the rest of her name. Playfully pulling her waist, tracing her stomach with petty kisses. “The bed, now.” 

Her eyes piercing as she rolled over, sprawling onto the floor. “You’re the one who choose the floor.” 

Unrelenting as his kisses traced the hardened muscles of her back. Her curtain of hair pulled over her shoulders as he continued to the nape of her neck. A quiet giggle as he blew; the only ticklish spot she had. “I’ll pull you up there if I have to.” 

Her small musing erupting into a chuckle. “Tomorrow is a new day, Sting. To which you need to be well-rested.” 

Sting stalled as he hovered. What exactly was she implying? They had shared a bed before, too many times to count. “We don’t have to continue…” 

“Remember Jiemma?” Not even addressed as father. “I will see you tomorrow.” 

“But, Minnie,” his eyes watering. Fumbling as she wiggled away from him. “Don’t go,” he griped and commanded. 

Her chuckle only worsening. “My dress, baby.” The nickname littered with regret yet love. 

Stiff as his fingers listened. Even righting the small wrinkles in the embroidered silk. “Tomorrow?” 

She merely nodded. One last kiss placed against his lips before she stood. Still beautiful. Still hardened and cold. And Sting still lingering as he gripped her hand. Still as he watched her go. Only for him to be left on the golden bedspread. Holding tight as her scent lingered, her lips, her entire being. 

One idea spurring the rest of the night. An entirety of an ordeal as he plotted against their guild master. But as his plan worked, it didn’t keep the treasure. Their lady hit the ground running after their humiliating defeat. So much for the promises of a new day. 

~~~~~

Magnolia was rutted within the depths of hell, every building for miles to see crumbled within ruin. Fires of the highest degree surrounding the allied guilds as they fought against the latest enemy: Tartaros. Cringing every moment another drop of iron was spent, spilling from the innocent. A fucking mess. 

Exhaustion his second end only after the faintest essence of nostalgia passed him. Sting careful not to tell a single soul of what he was really after. His right hand just as belligerent as he came to be as the passed through demon after demon. Rogue the only person who has the faintest sense of what he was after. 

He screamed as heat seared past his side. Stumbling through the rubble as he grew closer to the darkened heavenly scent of orchids. 

"We have to go back," Rogue hissed. The slayer commandeering as ever. "Our allies-" 

Sting growled, pressing his hands against his abdomen. His vigor draining as he wheezed, "Our friend has more importance, don't you think?" 

Another whimper as Rogue's arms hoisted him up. Any sense or reason failing to reach Sting as he rambled on about their newfound duties to the guild alliance but he was Sabertooth's guild master, not Rogue! 

"Enough," inhaling for a timeless minute, "she's here. Somewhere. I can handle this, go back." 

Sting's dismissal untaken as his right hand sniffed the blotted air. Neither of their heightened senses peaking in the state of disarray. Though they were managing under the circumstances. 

He just wanted to call her name but feared Minerva would run. The usual dance they had played since she first took off. 

"Listen," Rogue echoed. The grip he held around his own shoulders tightening.

All he could identify was the roaring of fire. Raucous explosions caused by magic or the curse of that one blonde demon. None of those wretched spawn having the chance to fall to the good's knees. Each stringent infiltrating what he was truly reaching for -breathing. Sting closed his eyes, unsure of what to focus on. Training his ears to the most minute of noises; pebbles of wreckage tumbling from a nearby building. 

And in that fold, was the cress of labored breaths. All welling from an injured bodice, inching his nose as he realized it was exactly what he'd scrounged for. 

Ripping away from Rogue's side, he tumbled through cement and broken walls to the wreckage of battle. The loser laying in a bed of steely metal and dust.

"Minnie," Sting croaked. Tears welling from his eyes as he looked upon her battered form.

He had changed but so had she. 

Twisted horns sprouting from her head, in conjunction with the raven patch that sat over her eye. Claws scathed and pointed from the tips of her fingers. Each limb wrapped in an unfathomable purple fabric, a monster. What had they done to her? 

Her nickname going unacknowledged as he kneeled next to her. Anger burning through the tears that threatened to spill. Barely glossing over the bruises and burns that marred her olive skin. Just where to begin with first aid was mind boggling. The smallest idea of killing whoever did this to Minerva sprouting. 

Her breathing became more narrowed, Sting only becoming more frenzied. Pressing his forehead against her own, "Wake up." Letting his fingers entangle within her knotted tresses as he begged. "Pleasepleaseplease… We all make bad choices. We've both been through it," hoarse as he continued, "and- and we've all been forgiven. Just give yourself the chance." 

The long moment growing as he bore down. His tears streaking down her sharp cheekbones in lines of gray. 

Just give yourself the chance. 

Hope dwindling as Minerva's chest heaved less and less. The eerie presence of Rogue unsettling as Sting lay there with her. 

"She needs treatment," obvious advice coming from his partner. 

He shook his head, knowing she would be condemned if they brought her to Fairy Tail's makeshift medical tent. Struggling to think as her lifeless body lay under him. Only one thought pervading: his own curse of light. Growing ever more tiresome as his hands lined up over her abdomen, a long winded force of magic scorching through his fingers. 

"Insanity," Rogue belted, "Your magic can't heal." And he was right. Sting wasn't going to let that small rule stop him, it was his last resort. 

A pure rune widening as he muttered the Latin verse. One that promised gave an unveiled promise of protection of evil, though only those vain enough could pertain the blessing. Sting hoped his sheer will could surpass the demonic blood that pumped through Minerva. The crest of the seal beginning to burn into her abdomen, curling around the dark scrawl of Tartaros's mark. 

As the amble pressed forth, every expanse of deterred space filled with the blinding rays of the spell. Just the beginning as the real purge welled, dark spirals springing from every inch of her pale skin. Gaining the reaction Sting wished for moments earlier. 

Racked with turmoil, Minerva’s scream pierced his own eardrums; leaving them ringing as he held her down. He couldn’t drop the incantation now, nearing the end of the verse. Keeping his eyes closed, hoping to the gods that she would still. 

Sting knew that the purification would hurt like hell. Minerva just had to hold on for a little bit longer. Hoping that she could feel his love as he pressed on. Come back -the ethernano he pulled on bringing her to life with every second. 

She heaved forward, Minerva’s nails dragging into his skin. Sting reeling from the contact, burning from her painful touch. The last of the demonic presence draining from her hazel orbs. The exhaustion he felt before opening ten fold as he held onto her, panting in the stale air. All three of them struggling to breathe as he finished the spell. 

Damned if he couldn’t heal but he was the salvant. The sanctuary he always wished to be as his forehead stepped low, brushing against Minerva’s sillowed bangs. 

Strangled as she cried, “Sting…” 

He hushed her, clasping his hand behind her head. Every suppressed emotion revealed as his own cries were unleashed. “I’m here, Minnie,” falling at the name, “I always have been.” 

And he always will be. 

“You ready to go home?” The barest smile riding on his lips. 

An unheeded answer as Minerva’s tears fell onward. Unknowing of the final battles that raged as Rogue followed him down the path of Magnolia. Checking out at his own notice.