#this is super over-the-top sweet so if you don't like fluff with a capital F

[animezinglife]

Sounds of Summer

Time seems to move more slowly in the Summer Court, and Lucien and Elain take in every second. A short scene of the two in Summer.

Genre: Romance/Fluff Post-canon Elucien ficlet. Special thanks as always to @lucienarcheron and @zenkindoflove for the continued support. I hope this brings you both peace and warmth this weekend. Elucien Masterlist | AO3

Time has always seemed to move more slowly in Summer. The thought strikes Lucien again now as he takes in Elain’s sleeping form. The sheets are draped over her in a near-tangled mess; her golden-brown waves fanning out around her on the pillow and one strap of her nightgown falling slack over her shoulder. She breathes deeply; serenely. At first, he doesn’t move, committing the sight–committing her–to memory. While she’s always beautiful–the most beautiful female he’s ever seen–seeing her slumber like this tugs at the quieter side of their bond. The side he’s been able to sense in her from the start, and that she’s sensed in him.

He silently curses the fact they have to wake at all.

Already, they’ve slept in, the sunlight and salty air from the massive, open doors filling their suite with mild heat and a hint of salty mist. She stirs slightly, a quiet, content hum barely audible over the sound of the sea outside. Gently, he brushes a strand of hair from her face, a small smile crossing his face as her brow furrows slightly.

“Elain.” His voice is low, still groggy from his own sleep. Her eyelashes flutter slightly though her eyes stay closed, and when she doesn’t move, he leans into her and brushes a kiss against her hair. She doesn’t wake–not entirely, anyway, instead letting out a small huff in complaint and turning onto her side so that she faces him. He can’t help the smirk that forms on his face at that, and he slides the strap of her nightgown back into place on her shoulder before lowering his lips to her forehead. He peppers small kisses to her cheek and jawline as he feels the approval she sends down the bond, and he rests his lips near her ear to murmur quietly before kissing her there, too: “They’re going to wonder where we are.” Another kiss as goosebumps rise on her skin. “What we’ve been doing,” he adds pointedly, and if he’d ever had a doubt that she’d begun feigning sleep now, the color that flushes her ears and her cheeks is enough to confirm her act.

Her eyes flutter open then, fawn-brown meeting his under those heavy lashes. Though she’s blushing at his implication, a small, sleepy smile crosses her face. Mother, he’ll never get used to this: waking up beside her, that subtle but addicting scent of honey and jasmine, and feeling her warmth. 

Feeling the bond that hums between them, peaceful and content.

They’d stayed out late the night before–each night they’d been here in fact, after long days filled with a mix of meetings and sightseeing. Tarquin and Cresseida both had taken to Elain instantly, and Lucien was almost certain that if emissary business hadn’t often called them and if they hadn’t shared a bed, the princess of Adriata would’ve claimed as much time with her new friend as she could.

It was almost funny, Lucien thought, how easily his mate had charmed the High Lords and ladies of each court. How easily she’d found that balance of navigating politics and building trust–the latter of which seemed to fall quickly to the others genuinely liking her and calling her a friend. Cresseida had been no exception despite the watchful, calculated distance she had kept from the two of them at first–something Lucien had picked up was likely still a reservation from what had happened with the Night Court. While Elain had been given as much of the backstory as he had, she had met Tarquin and the princess with an easy smile and manners that charmed them and quickly had the latter gossiping about less political matters.

Lucien had still managed to steal her away though, or more accurately, Elain had managed to steal him away from the politicking and courtly social affairs. They’d made their way to the beach together after dinner the night before and walked alongside the water, letting it wash over their feet and Elain soak up the sights, sounds, and feeling of it. She had taken his hand and half-led him there, and given his hand a squeeze as they’d stopped, watching the sun sink below the horizon. 

When propriety hadn't required them to join Tarquin for meals, they’d ventured out on their own to sample the local cuisine from a different, less courtly perspective. They’d explored countless shops and gardens; several bakeries that specialized in pastries with sea salt, chocolate, and caramel. Lucien hadn’t hesitated to show Elain to all the locations he could remember where the rare, tropical flowers of Summer bloomed, and at the sight of them her face lit up. She had clutched his hand and led him over to one plant in particular before he could react, leaning in towards its petals and taking a long, deep breath to sample its scent, expressing how much she’d loved the hints of orange, jasmine, plum, and amber.

When Cresseida had stolen her away the next morning to talk over colorful drinks, Lucien had returned to the shops until he’d found a perfume in the scent’s perfect match. He’d gifted it to her last night, and the sweet, gentle scent still lingers on her neck and wrists.

He lowers his lips to her neck then and she giggles, her arm looping around his neck lazily and tracing a line down the back of his bare shoulders.

“So persistent,” she says, her voice every bit still as tired as his sounds. But there’s a lightness to it he doesn’t miss, and when he meets her gaze again, she doesn’t hesitate before pulling him to her and pressing her lips against his own. 

The kiss is as slow and lazy as the waves below. It’s coaxing; savoring and slow, even as she angles herself to deepen the kiss and traces his lower lip with the tip of her tongue. He’s too aware of the hem of her nightgown rising as she hooks a leg lazily over his waist. His hands find the curve of her waist–barely concealed by that thin silk–and pulls her soft frame against him. The small sound she makes nearly undoes him there, but he savors every bit of her he can take in: the taste of her lips, her scent, and soft curves against his body as they lay tangled there. He both hears and feels her heartbeat synching closely with his own as his hand trails over down over her hip, giving her a light squeeze that makes her breath catch before continuing down her bare thigh. 

“I could get used to this,” she breathes against his lips, and he lets a small smile cross his face. She nudges the tip of his nose with her own–a gesture that sends a memory flooding through him of the first time she’d done so, and his amusement that had followed. That strange human gesture–as though she’d mimicked a curious, playful fawn–still floods him with warmth. “Being here with the sun and sea. I never thought I’d see the ocean again, you know.”

“I’ll bring you here anytime you like,” he murmurs, and she gives him a soft smile.

“I know.” She kisses him again, this time more earnestly with her hand sliding to the side of his neck and down the slope of his exposed shoulder. When they separate briefly, he sees the twinkle in her brown eyes just before she pushes him then, climbing over him as his back draws flat against the sheets. He lets out a low laugh as she lies across him and kisses the corners of his mouth and jawline. When her lips find his scar he breathes her in deeply; his hand brushing her hair off her back and wrapping those golden-brown waves once around his hand. 

“I’ll take you anywhere, Elain,” he whispers, and he doesn’t miss the caress she sends down the bond. It’s as though his mind and entire body react to it, too, whatever deep magic of that bond or their souls intertwining together and offering both a content, satisfied glow. 

“I know that, too,” she says, and she rests so that her face is hovering barely an inch above his. She brushes a strand of his hair off his face, and he traces a strand of hers that he still holds in hand. “I’d go anywhere with you, but right now…” Her voice trails as she shifts, and he senses her intentions changing before her body gives any sign. Her cheeks flush slightly, and he commits the sight of it to memory–all of her to it. His free hand slides down her back knowingly, her scent changing quickly and his own body entirely too near to giving his own wants away. Yet he stays still and he watches her until her eyes pose a question. As her full lips quietly speak the words he’s already hoping he might hear. “I just…want you.” 

He doesn’t wait for her to continue. He catches the back of her neck with his free hand and kisses her again. Softness turns to hunger, and the strap of her nightgown falls from her shoulders again she returns his intensity. 

His warmth.

His desire.

His love.

His mate.

He doesn’t care what hour it is. He’ll give her every second, every minute, every hour he can.

The Summer Court will have to wait.