#(stealing that tag from azia)

[myreia]

A Question of Home

Rating: Explicit Characters: Aureia Malathar, Aymeric de Borel Pairings: Aurmeric Words: 2143 Notes: An unplanned sequel to A Question of Desire. Set the night before Baelsar's Wall. Read on Ao3

I need to thank Lucia later, Aureia thinks distractedly.

It occurs to her that she and Aymeric are very fortunate there was no one in the halls. She has been to the Carline Canopy and its associated inn more times than she can count and the halls are never empty… Not that she can give it much thought much attention right now. Not with her legs locked around him and her mouth firmly on his.  

He lifts her easily, fumbling with the handle before he pushes his way inside. Her chambers are small and modest—little more than a bedchamber and a connecting bathroom—but Mother Miounne insisted she be given a room with a view. The windows are large, the gorgeous detailing on the border only enhancing the beauty of the forest beyond.

Aymeric nudges the door closed with his foot and breaks the kiss, casting an eye about her room. Small lanterns hang on the walls, illuminating the room with a warm glow. Though the decorations are simple, it is well-furnished and inviting—and a complete disaster. Though Aureia has spent little more than five minutes in here, the room is already a mess. Her pack on the floor, its contents upended. Extra clothing strewn about, some hanging off the back of a chair, some piled haphazardly on the dresser. Only her weapons—staff, rapier, focus, the tools of her trade—are set away with any care, positioned respectfully in a corner.

It’s always the same whenever she arrives in a city. Some habits are impossible to break.

He coughs, covering a laugh, and leans his back against the door.

“What?” Aureia says, brow furrowed.

“I see you have approached Gridania with your usual flair,” he replies, a smile playing across his lips.

She tilts her head, scanning his face from her position above, and threads her fingers through his hair. She can never help herself; she has always loved playing with his hair. Humming with satisfaction, she bows her head and nuzzles his cheek. “Is that a criticism?” she murmurs.

He laughs and adjusts her weight, hoisting her higher. “An observation, perhaps,” he counters. “That you live in a state akin to a maelstrom—”

She trails her lips across his jaw. “Oh?”

He inhales sharply. “I wouldn’t change a thing. Though a thought has occurred to me, for the next time you visit Ishgard—”

She cuts him off with a kiss. He groans softly, leaning into it, and she laughs with delight. “Save it for later,” she murmurs against his mouth.

She can feel him smile.

Aymeric shoves off the door, carrying her across the room with quick, powerful strides. Aureia tightens her legs, squeezing her thighs to prevent herself from sliding down. She kisses him fervently, her hands drifting from his hair to cradle his face. Her heart flutters, the heat of anticipation already coiling deep within her.

They have reached her bed.

“Don’t put me down,” she breathes. “Not yet.”

He chuckles, eyes shining bright. “Whyever not?”

She loops her hands around his neck and draws herself upright. “Because I enjoy being taller than you,” she says with a little wriggle, testing his grip. “For once.”

His hands press into her rear. “Ah,” he replies, his gaze flickering over her. He lingers on her face, her collarbone, her breasts. The intensity is enough to make her blush. “If you want me on my knees, you need but say.”

She cocks her head, raising an eyebrow, and whoops with surprise as he loosens his grip, setting her on the bed. Her coat flips out behind her, the rich red fabric vibrant against the bedspread. He cradles her, a knee pressed against the mattress, and kisses her as she kicks off her boots. Her breath hitches as he trails from her mouth to her ear, gently caressing the lobe. When his tongue flicks against the tip, she all but melts, a little moan escaping her.

Chuckling huskily, he trails kissing down her jaw and her neck to her collarbone. His fingers are already pulling her shirt from her trousers and tugging at the buttons.

“Aureia…”

He mumbles her name against the hollow of her throat, his breath warm against her skin. Her hands brush against his as she claws at her clothing, eager to have it undone. She tears the buttons—she doesn’t care, she can fix them later—and pulls her shirt open. He sinks to his knees before her, his nose skimming her sternum, and kissing her collarbone, the tops of her breasts, her stomach. She gasps at his touch, heat pooling between her legs.

A low hum murmurs deep in his throat as he reaches her trousers. Unlacing them quickly, he hooks his fingers into the waistband and peels them away with practiced hands. The room’s cool air ghosts across her skin, sending shivers down her spine as he grips her hips and pulls her to the edge of the bed. His palms slide across her thighs, coaxing them apart—

And then his mouth is on her.

The first touch sets her senses aflame. His tongue glides through her folds, sweeping through her with unrestrained ecstasy. She gasps, swallowing a moan as he flicks her clit, trembling with pleasure. He chuckles at her response, his tongue roaming across her, through her, drifting in intoxicating circles. Her head tilts back, her hair brushing her shoulders, and she closes her eyes, giving into the sensation.

“Gods…” Her hands tangle in the bedspread, twisting fistfuls of it between her fingers. “Aymeric, I—”

He shifts his weight, relishing the mewling noises he coaxes from her with every lap of his tongue, and slips a hand between her thighs. His fingers press hesitantly at the entrance to her cunt, gliding through the slick heat. She groans and spreads her legs further apart, her hands now threaded in his hair.

“Go on,” she breathes, chest heaving. “Go on, please—”

He obliges. She moans, tugging gently at his hair as he slips two fingers inside her. Exhilaration clouds her mind, pleasure rippling through her with every thrust. He sucks her swollen clit, stoking her desire, urging her towards the edge. She gasps his name, chest heaving, and shatters beneath his touch. Her hips buck, nearly throwing him from her, but he holds her tight, kissing her through the throes of bliss.

Exhaling a long, satisfied sigh, Aureia glances down, her fingers still in his hair. Aymeric draws back and looks up at her coyly from beneath his long, dark lashes, grinning from ear to ear. He rises up and kisses her gently, cradling her back as he pulls her close.

“Content?” he murmurs.

She smiles and loops her arms around his neck. “With you?” she replies, breath still ragged. “Always.”

Her hands wander across his chest, toying with the thick fabric of his uniform. She fiddles with the clasps and belts, slowly shedding one piece after another. It’s not easy maneuvering around someone so much taller than her, but she manages, flicking away his hand whenever he moves to help. Soon, his robes and armour are a collection of blue and gold on the floor.

Aymeric stands naked before her, skin glowing warm in the lantern light, and cups her cheek. Leaning into her, he kisses her once, and lets them fall into the bed, pulling her on top of him. She straddles him and shrugs out of her coat, letting it slip from her shoulders to her elbows. The pleats flare out behind her, draping over her rear and across his legs.

She pauses, sensing him watching her with that captivated look he saves only for her. With an impish smirk, she tucks her hair behind her ears and rolls her hips against him. He grunts, face flushed, and his teeth scrape his bottom lip.

“Content?” she challenges, arching an eyebrow. Her gaze does not leave his face as she fiddles with her breast band, quickly undoing the knots and clasps. She pulls the garment free and tosses it aside, toying with her breast as she grinds against him.

He stares wildly, drinking in the sight of her. It is so rare to see him speechless, and yet tonight he has no words.

Not that she needs them. He hardens against her, responding to her touch. Leaning over him, she presses a quick kiss to his mouth. Then she reaches between them and takes his cock in her hand, guiding into her slick heat.

He groans, trembling, as he slides into her. She locks eyes with him, setting the pace, breathless at the feel of him moving inside her. He grips her hips, adjusting her position, and slips his hands beneath her open coat and shirt. His fingers rake across her back, mindful of the scars, marveling at the feel of her body against his.

She quickens the pace, heart hammering in her chest. Her body is alive with an energy to which no spell—thunder or otherwise—cannot compare. She bucks against him, guiding their paired pleasure to its zenith, sweat clinging to the nape of her neck and beneath her breasts. They move together, panting and breathless, lost in this moment they have carved out for each other.

He gasps as he comes, her name a jumble of vowels on his lips. She pulls free, falling against his chest, and he wraps an arm around her. He slips a hand between her legs, seeking her clit, and sweeps a finger across the slick, sensitive nub. She quivers, consumed by her blooming pleasure, and kisses him, moaning against his lips as he strokes her to her finish.

Lightheaded and dizzy with desire, Aureia disentangles herself from her coat and shirt, lobbing the garments onto the floor with the rest of them. She collapses on top of him and buries her head in the crook of his neck, clutching at him as if she can never let go. He holds her, those strong arms wrapped around her, and kisses her forehead.

They lie there for some time, tangled together, watching a sliver of moonlight on the hardwood floor. Outside, the woods dances in the wind, the canopy’s leaves black against a deep purple sky strewn with stars. Aureia has never felt more at peace. She wonders if it is the same for him.

“The thought you had earlier,” she says after a while. She props herself up on an elbow and runs a hand from his shoulder to his forearm, staring intently at their hands as she twines their fingers together. “What was it?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to her cheek. “While your propensity for staying in inns is charming—”

She shoots him a look.

“—and logical,” he adds quickly. “I thought that perhaps you should consider a more permanent solution?”

“We’ve been over this, I’m not staying at House Fortemps. I can’t, not after Haurchefant—”

“Aureia—”

“I’m happy at the Forgotten Knight, it’s what I’m used to—”

“Aureia.” He runs his fingers through her hair, tucking a lock behind her ear. “I was not speaking of House Fortemps.”

She meets his eyes, a lump forming in her throat. If he is proposing what she thinks he’s proposing… No. They can’t. The uproar it would cause. He’s too important, too crucial for Ishgard’s advancement, he can’t involve himself in a scandal. At least not so openly.

 “Aymeric, I…” She exhales a long breath. “I don’t know about that.”

“Even so, you should have a place to call your own. In that way, no matter how far your duties take you, you will always have a home to return to.”

Her stomach twinges.

Home…

Can she even call Ishgard home? Does she even dare? Home has brought her nothing but grief. She fled her first home, sending herself into permanent exile for the atrocities her family committed. Not along ago, she called Ul’dah home, but she lost that, too, to treason and greed. It’s a sad tradition, one that makes her heart ache if she thinks on it for too long: whenever she chooses a place to call home, it is inevitably ripped away from her.

She can’t bear to let that happen to Ishgard. To him.

Then again, that he even dares to ask her that question now, when they are on the brink of so much uncertainty and chaos… It is nothing but a demonstration of how much faith he has in her. Neither of them know what will happen tomorrow at Baelsar’s Wall, but there is no doubt in his mind that she will return to him.

Just as she always does.

She smiles and curls into him, grateful for his warmth. “I’ll think about it,” she says, resting her head on his shoulder. “That’s the most I can promise.”

[cfmanymuses]

Muse Favorites/Preferences!

Namira’s Favorite:

Animal: Birds and dogs! To her, birds mean freedom, and dogs are great companions.

Flower: Violets.

Scent: The forest after a rainy night.

Coffee: She’s only had it a couple of times, and she wasn’t fond of it. 

Tea: She doesn’t mind herbal tea before bed, but only if she’s staying at an inn.

Drink: Water.

Alcoholic Beverage: Elven mead. Azia’s gotten her drunk on it a few times.

Food (Savory): The stew at the Singing Sprite in Secomber.

Dessert: Cherry pie from a little hamlet outside Daggerford.

Article of Clothing: Her well-worn armour or travelling gear.

Candy: Honey drops from Waterdeep. She hasn’t had them in a long time.

Left or Right Handed?: Right.

Sloppy or Neat Writing?: Sort of in the middle. Depends on the language she’s using.

Clean or Messy Home?: She doesn’t have a fixed abode, though her campsites are usually tidy.

Shower in Morning or Night?: Night.

Tasks Done Early or Last Minute?: Last minute.

Love Language?: Physical affection, words of assurance, acts of service.

Believe in Love at First Sight?: Not really? It takes her a while to warm up to people. Thanks, trauma!

Stolen from: @electricea I’m not tagging anyone, steal it and have fun!