#Arya: you're not gonna believe me. Glen: .......... oh sweet stars above you actually figured it out. Arya: okay he had to TELL ME

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: First (pre-war Arya x Fäolin)

(A/N: This is only spicy in the way that nudity is involved but not exactly described and it's supposed to be a lead-in to more explicit stuff but haha that's for me to know and you all to probably never find out.

Fäolin is the more experienced one here. The only experienced one, really, and that's more because he was bored I guess? He's not had much to do since Arya left and spends his days practicing sharpshooting and just sorta wandering. He took partners to pass the time I guess.

Arya's coming off of a deployment that was one of the most active and combat filled that she'd had up till that point and is understandably dealing with that.

Fäolin told her how he felt in the Menoa tree probably like...two or three days before this. Derps.)

“Relax.” Fäolin murmured into her neck. He refused to continue if she wouldn’t. He could feel all the muscles along her back, the plane of her stomach, even her legs, loosely wrapped around his waist, tense and even trembling with the instinct to stay alert. “You’re not out there. You’re here. You’re with me.”

Arya bit her lip. The feeling of his hands running up and down her spine, trailing lazy patterns with those calloused fingertips, did feel nice. It wasn’t exactly the feeling of being absolutely bare while he sat shirtless beneath her that had her stomach twisting in knots. Clothes were clothes, skin was skin. There was nothing wrong with either.

But it still…it still felt almost wrong. 

Not in the way humans seemed to feel when bare, all embarrassment and shame. Arya had laughed at the other Wolfcats all those years ago when they yelped in indignation of her leaning into the showers to pass along orders. So silly to be afraid of someone else seeing them naked, to not take pride in what nature and diligent work had shaped them into being. 

Vans had her running laps for the whole day afterwards, chanting over and over, “I will knock and ask before I enter the showers, I will knock and ask before I enter the showers,” until he figured the young elf had learned her lesson in consent to see verses seeing without any warning. 

But being so close to someone, while so vulnerable…it felt almost frightening. She knew Fäolin wouldn’t hurt her, and at the same time she couldn’t help but feel like there was a knife about to slide into her unprotected belly, someone waiting for them to get on with it before leaping in to strike. 

“Sorry.” Even she could hear the tension in her voice, trying to hide it as she was. “I’m not…used to this.” She tightened her grasp on his shoulders, a soft, unexpected noise leaving her throat when he huffed against her neck at the change. Now that felt nice.

“It’s okay.” Fäolin assured her. His lips tickled her skin as they moved, a shiver breaking through the stress. “Do you want me to stop? We don’t have to do this.”

Again, she bit her lip. There was no denying she wanted him, not when he had confessed his feelings to her and kissed her that night. Hell, she kept wanting to kiss him, again and again, to feel him against her lips and her body and warm and everywhere at once. 

If she left Ellesméra in 48 hours without having felt that in its entirety, felt him…she was pretty sure she’d be regretting it, very deeply, quietly cursing in her bedroll every night, for however long she was out in the field. 

So she mustered up all her willpower to relax. Tried to force her muscles to ease. 

It didn’t work nearly as well as she hoped.

Arya leaned away with a shaky breath. Fäolin let her, shifting his grip to link his fingers behind her lower back to support her just as she did the same behind his neck. His eyes, mossy with those fascinating motes of liquid gold, held steady on her as she searched his face. Calm. The barest glimmer of the ache he felt, the almost painful want. 

“We don’t have to do this, Arya.” 

“Shut up.” Mumbled, lacking any bite. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, still trying to shake the static buzzing, the feeling of trepidation. “I can…I can relax.”

“It’s okay if you can’t. We can try another–”

He stopped. Her eyes were half hooded when she opened them again. She still felt tense, muscles against his legs and his sides rigid with the ingrained need for control, the same control over everything that had kept her alive out in the world for so long.  

She slid her hand from behind his neck to cradle his jaw against her palm, thumb wandering over his lips. 

“Shut up and kiss me.” She pressed her forehead to his. “Make me relax.”

There was no pleading in her tone. She had given him an order.

His smile was soft as his lips as they brushed against hers. “I can work with that.”

~~~

(Post-A/N: Is Arya a dom or is Fäolin letting her feel in control of the situation because he knows that's definitely a way to make her feel relaxed?

Yes.

I'm kidding, Arya's not a dom.