A/N: Okay, so ever since I read issue #23 of the Arrow 2.5 comics, I have had this in mind, because, well, of course that's where my mind would go when I saw this:
As you can expect, this is pretty smutty, so fair warning. Also, the title translates roughly as "I promise" in Arabic.
Please note also that certain lines of dialogue were taken directly from the Arrow 2.5 comics - from "Let me talk to my father" to "it is the last time I will ever see you". But by no means do you need to read the comics to understand this story, since it includes the actual scene in question.
Nyssa's quarters are quiet when Sara enters them, shutting the door carefully behind her. As she is accustomed to, she takes off her shoes first, before padding softly towards their bedroom, the carpet rough and warm beneath her bare feet. She is greeted immediately by the smell of candles, even before she walks in, and once she is inside the bedroom, she can hear the faint sound of the shower running from the adjacent bathroom.
Night has fallen in Nanda Parbat, and it is only now that the heat from the blazing sun begins to simmer down. Sara goes to the window, taking in the sight of the dark blue sky, clear with just a smattering of stars. For how long she stands there, just staring at the heavens, she's not sure, but eventually, just as there is the tiniest click of the bathroom door opening, Sara shuts the curtains. Nyssa emerges, hair loose and wet around her shoulders, wearing a thin dressing gown – made of silk – that falls to her knees and with a small towel hanging from one arm.
"Habibti," she says, a smile spreading on her lips, and Sara smiles back. "Did you speak with my father?"
"Was it that obvious?" Sara asks. She sits on their bed, stretching her legs, watching Nyssa tilt her head forward and start to towel her hair dry.
"I have long since learned to read your every expression, ya Sara," Nyssa says, and even though Sara can't see her face, she can tell Nyssa is smiling. It makes Sara feel a little guilty knowing what she has to say next.
"Yeah, I spoke with him. I have to go back to Starling."
But all of a sudden, at Sara's words, Nyssa freezes, and her smile is gone in an instant. Just as abruptly, Nyssa looks away from Sara, busying herself by setting aside her towel and adjusting her dressing gown instead. "You are leaving?" Nyssa says at last.
"Not until tomorrow morning," Sara tries to assure her, but still, Nyssa's back is to Sara and it is impossible to see her expression. And before she knows it, Sara is on her feet; in a few strides, she is just inches away from Nyssa, so close that she can smell the warm fragrance of Nyssa's shampoo.
To her relief, Sara can feel Nyssa relax a little when she wraps her arms around Nyssa's waist, hugging her tightly, burying her face into her neck. "Hey," Sara says softly, "I'll be fine. I promise."
And Sara can't help but smile when she feels Nyssa's hands grip her back. "I know you will be. But…" She trails off, and Sara takes advantage of her temporary silence to move her hair over one shoulder and kiss up Nyssa's neck.
"But what, habibti?" Sara says eventually, and for a moment, she feels Nyssa stiffen beneath her. But then the moment passes and Sara continues pressing her lips against Nyssa's collarbone, pulling on her dressing gown until she succeeds in exposing one shoulder (hoping – no, pretending that it's nothing, that she only imagined Nyssa's unease).
"I will miss you," Nyssa whispers at last, "that is all."
"I'll miss you too," Sara murmurs back, and then she meets Nyssa's eyes. "But we have until morning before we have to think about goodbyes."
And this time, Nyssa is the one to kiss her, hands light on Sara's back before they settle around her middle. Sara reaches up, cradling the back of Nyssa's neck and letting Nyssa take a few steps backwards until she is sat on the edge of their bed and Sara is firmly between Nyssa's legs. She lets out a moan when Nyssa pulls away and tucks Sara's hair behind her ear.
"I take it you will not be letting your family know you are in Starling?"
Sara closes her eyes for a moment. "Not sure yet. Last time, I only let my dad know because I needed information."
"How is he?" Nyssa asks softly. And Sara can't help but smile in surprise at her question – something Nyssa seems to notice. She picks up Sara's hand – the one lying on Nyssa's shoulder – and impulsively presses a kiss on her palm. "Although I know my actions have not always reflected this... you should know, habibti, that whatever and whoever is important to you is important to me also."
Bending her knees a little, Sara runs her finger along the edge of Nyssa's cheek, and the smile Sara bestows upon her beloved says thank you in a way she can't get across with words. "He's all right. Mostly. Last time I saw him, he was still in hospital, but he's okay, I think. It's just –"
"– you fear he will have another heart attack if he knows the true reason behind you being in Starling?" Nyssa suggests.
Gratefully, Sara nods. "Something like that. And my sister... I know she's had a rough go of things lately too, having to deal with this stuff with Dad on her own. I figured I should check on her while I'm there, at least."
"I understand." Nyssa is cupping the backs of Sara's thighs now, her thumbs rubbing circles almost absent-mindedly on her legs through her jeans.
"And if that wasn't bad enough… I found out she had been kidnapped the other day," Sara adds. Her eyes are closed, comforted by Nyssa's touch, but Sara can tell from the way Nyssa's hands still on her legs that she is concerned. "She's fine – she got out alive and even saved Oliver's life in the process. But that doesn't stop me from worrying about her."
"She seems strong," Nyssa says, "from what you have told me about her. Just like her sister, I daresay."
Sara smiles and kisses her, and she can feel Nyssa's smile when she kisses Sara back, letting her undo the sash of her gown.
Nyssa's body is littered with scars, same as her, but that doesn't make her any less beautiful. She reaches down and her knuckles brush ever so lightly against the scar left by a bullet hole on her collarbone (it is Nyssa's first ever scar from being out in the field – the ones you get from training don't count, apparently – and for Sara it is the most beautiful, too, proof that her beloved is as breakable as anyone else, but that Nyssa, just like Sara, has grown the stronger for it).
Sara has a feeling it'll be hard saying goodbye once they're done with each other tonight.
And then Nyssa tugs off her gown completely, and Sara's hand moves down, to cup Nyssa's breast. Sara's thumb automatically meets her lover's nipple, stiffened – whether from Sara's touch or the sudden exposure to cooler air, she doesn't know, but when Nyssa arches her back appreciatively, Sara has a feeling it's the former.
Lowering herself so she is half-standing, half-kneeling, now, Sara's mouth closes around Nyssa's erect nipple, making her gasp, teasing her with her tongue. She doesn't mean to but her teeth lightly skim along the sensitive skin of Nyssa's breast, and when Sara moves her mouth away, she can see the indentations – the mark she has left on Nyssa will fade, eventually, just like the others she has left over the years, but there is something arousing about it all the same. That much she can tell from the sudden gentle ache between her legs. And at that moment, Sara can't help but reach up again, looking Nyssa in the eyes and seeing only a haze of lust in her darkened irises before kissing Nyssa on her lips – if only just to taste the groan that leaves her mouth once their lips touch.
Nyssa had already slipped her fingers inside the waistband of Sara's jeans and past her panties, touching, caressing her hipbones, making to inch further down, but Sara pulls them away. Nyssa doesn't have a chance to object, though, because then Sara's lips move across to Nyssa's shoulder and then down again, stopping briefly to admire the crevice between her breasts. Sara's tongue darts out, mouth open, and all the while, her fingers are exploring the smooth, toned golden flesh below her breasts. They dance over Nyssa's ribcage and the myriad of scars that decorate her skin in a not-quite-pattern of lines and shapes that make up the crisscross of scarred streets and bruised walkways of Nyssa al Ghul's life, each which Sara has long since familiarised herself with.
"Saa-raa," Nyssa whispers, and Sara loves how Nyssa draws out her beloved's name, elongating each syllable so it hangs in the air, hot, scorching, long after the sounds leave her lips. But Sara doesn't stop – she trails kiss after kiss down Nyssa's stomach, undeterred by the way her lover arches upwards when Sara gets to the sensitive skin of Nyssa's midriff just above her belly button, while Sara's hand moves to grip the back of Nyssa's thigh, squeezing gently.
At this, Nyssa's hand covers Sara's, and their fingers tangle together as Sara nudges Nyssa's legs open with her nose. Immediately, she can smell the intoxicating scent of Nyssa's arousal, and Sara can't stop herself from running her tongue along the very edges of Nyssa's entrance, slick with a hot sweet wetness that tastes so very Nyssa. She grips Sara's hand even tighter and Sara can tell from the way Nyssa's leg is quivering a little beneath her hand that she is biting back a cry.
(Nyssa's always held back a bit. She wouldn't even let Sara go down on her for the first few clandestine weeks of their relationship – there isn't enough time, she said after another quick heated tryst before dinner, or you are more important, she would say as she flicked her tongue against Sara's clitoris while in the shower, and I do not want you to feel like you need to – until finally Sara showed up in Nyssa's quarters one evening, having climbed in through the window, and armed with the sole mission of making Nyssa exactly as breathless and close to screaming point as she made Sara once she had her mouth in the right place. Sara had of course seen Nyssa have an orgasm before, at Sara's hand, too, but there was something different about feeling her lose control because of what she was doing with her tongue – maybe because Sara felt every movement of Nyssa's hips and could feel her thighs tighten over her shoulders and taste that unusual, heady wet heat pooling from her centre and onto Sara's tongue.
Later, they had lain atop Nyssa's silken bedsheets together, spent, Nyssa's cheeks unusually rosy and with a fine sheen of sweat forming on her forehead and dripping down her neck. And it was then, only then, that she had admitted to Sara that in the brief encounters she had had with the three women before her, each time she had always felt that she should be the giver of pleasure – not the recipient of it.
Thank you, habibti, for proving me wrong.
Sara had smiled back, saying – in complete seriousness – My pleasure.)
Sara goes slowly, now, pressing a kiss at Nyssa's entrance before lifting her free hand and slipping her finger inside. Her knees are starting to go numb from where they are pressing against rough carpet through her jeans, but she doesn't care – and when Sara feels Nyssa's walls clench around the two digits that are sliding insistently around her wet centre, it's obvious Nyssa doesn't either as she lets out a cry of obvious pleasure. They know each other's bodies well now, and Sara knows from the way Nyssa is now stroking Sara's jaw, eyes closed, that Nyssa isn't going to last long.
Taking away her fingers, the flat of Sara's tongue is suddenly pressed against Nyssa's clitoris, and Sara is patient, letting Nyssa rock her hips forward and then back and then forward again before she regains a little bit of control. And then Sara is licking and nipping and sucking on that swollen spot inside Nyssa, head bobbing up, down, following the movement of her lover's hips. All the while, Nyssa is letting out a stream of Arabic, showering Sara with rapid words of reverence and love and adoration that grow louder and throatier as Sara brings Nyssa to her peak. Her final gasp of pleasure reverberates around the room, making Sara inwardly thankful to know the remoteness of her quarters from the rest of the League is as good as soundproofing the walls (and also turning her on even more, because, by God, they have not had this kind of earth-shattering sex in at least a month – one of the downsides of going on missions for the League, Sara supposes, even if it is the first one she truly believes in).
"My beautiful yellow bird," Nyssa breathes, pulling at Sara's shoulders until she is no longer on her knees and their eyes are level once more, and seeing the soft pink flush on Nyssa's cheekbones – cheekbones that are usually so sharp they could cut glass but have now lost much of their hardness – is enough to generate a fresh tug of arousal in Sara, renewing the ache in her groin so that it almost (almost) hurts. They're both on their feet now, Nyssa leaning a little on the bed's edge for support, letting Sara kiss her, eyes glazed over as the vestiges of her climax slowly begin to leave her in soft pants that come out slower, slower, until her breathing is back to normal. And as Sara's eyes travel downwards, once again fixed on the ample swell of Nyssa's breasts and the beads of sweat rolling down her skin, stopping only at her belly button, Sara realises that their clothing ratio is simply unfairly matched right now. She reaches behind her to undo the zip of her top, but Nyssa is quicker, at Sara's back in a heartbeat.
And Nyssa has the zip unzipped and the garment up, over the top of Sara's head and on the floor before Sara can say a word. Sara makes to say something but whatever words are on her tongue die on her lips when she feels Nyssa's breasts press against her back, all hardened nipples and damp skin and wet hair that sticks to Sara's shoulder. Nyssa tugs down Sara's jeans and panties at the same time, not even bothering to disentangle them from Sara's ankles, and Sara cries out, now, as Nyssa's nails dig into Sara's hips, while unhooking Sara's bra with her teeth from behind her. And then Sara can't take it anymore – she tosses her bra aside, turns and meets Nyssa's lips for a long, heated kiss. At first, Nyssa is taken by surprise, but after a moment, she smiles against Sara's lips and lets Sara lower her onto the bed, and usually Sara would be more graceful when she covers Nyssa's body with her own, but she's almost dizzy by how much she's turned on right now, to the point that she lands more than a little clumsily on top of Nyssa, so her lips collide with the hollow of Nyssa's throat and the sticky wetness between Sara's legs smears onto Nyssa's thigh. Nyssa just shakes her head in faint amusement, though, manoeuvring them so Sara is on her back and Nyssa is straddling her waist.
And now Nyssa is parting the damp hair between Sara's legs with her fingers, her touch oh so light – to the point that Sara has to bite her lip to try and stifle the gasp that leaves her lips. She knows Nyssa is teasing her, with her fingertips dancing around Sara's entrance but also with the way Nyssa kisses her, gently, tenderly, in a way that is far less fiery than what Sara is used to, tongue sliding along the length of Sara's lower lip. Sara breathes her beloved's name – ya Nyssa – several times over into Nyssa's mouth, and Nyssa takes that as her cue to pull away, to dip her head to the parting of Sara's thighs. She hooks Sara's knees over each shoulder, pushing her own thick dark hair out of the way, palms firmly anchored on Sara's hips, and Sara jerks involuntarily forward when Nyssa's tongue finally slips inside her. She can't help it – it's like her skin has been set alight and the pleasure is white-hot, burning through her blood.
Nyssa can tell, it's too much, too quick, so she takes it down a notch, making her touch lighter, going slower. It helps. Sara's bare feet slide a little down Nyssa's back, and gradually, Nyssa increases the pressure with her mouth, making Sara's toes curl, the bottoms of her feet pressing against Nyssa's spine. Sara is vaguely aware of the fact that there are words leaving her lips and that her speech is almost certainly riddled with profanities (something that ordinarily Nyssa would chide her for, but thankfully, her lover is busy doing something much more important with her mouth). All Sara cares about now is riding out the high she gets as Nyssa continues to stroke Sara's thigh, and Sara's hand darts out to catch Nyssa's, their fingers tightly interlacing and a softly mouthed fuck leaving Sara's lips when she feels the scrape of Nyssa's teeth on her clitoris, and now Sara doesn't care that it's too much because the frisson of pleasure that courses up and down her spine and causes an eruption of gooseflesh on her arms feels too good, especially when the tip of her tongue is right there –
With a final moan, Sara is at her climax, back arched, eyes closed, barely aware of her surroundings, and it's as she is slowly drifting down from that wonderful cloud that she registers the flutter of Nyssa's eyelashes on her collarbone when she inches back up Sara's body until their faces are level once more.
"I love you," Sara whispers, and she looks up into Nyssa's eyes, admiring the way Nyssa's lips are shiny, a darker pink than usual and her warm brown eyes are darkened and her golden skin has a pleasant glow from the candlelight. "So fucking hot."
"My little yellow bird, is there really a need to spout profanities simply to pay me a compliment?" Nyssa says, but her tone is lightly teasing. "I love you, too, and you are beautiful, too. I will miss seeing you when you are gone." And then, suddenly, her smile fades a little.
"What is it?" Sara asks. But instead of answering, Nyssa kisses her, catching her unawares, and Sara can taste herself on Nyssa's tongue; Sara lets herself get lost in their kiss, in the way Nyssa has nudged her leg in between Sara's thighs and how Nyssa's arm is wrapped around Sara's neck.
Eventually, though, when Nyssa pulls away, Sara can feel her take a deep breath before saying, "Let me talk to my father, Sara…"
Sara raises her eyebrows. "And say what?"
"That I will go to Starling in your place."
And Sara can't help but smile indulgently, dropping a kiss on Nyssa's chin before tugging on one of the red bedsheets to wrap around her body, getting to her feet. "You're sweet, Nyssa… but I can more than take care of myself."
But now Nyssa is sitting up in bed, and her expression is one of serious worry. Her brow is furrowed and she is biting her lip in a way that is making Sara nervous. "Sara…"
"Okay, that is not the look of someone who thinks I can take care of myself," Sara declares. "I might even be insulted if it wasn't so unlikeyou to worry."
Nyssa nods. "I know it is. And I am almost ashamed."
Pulling the sheet a little higher, Sara says, "I sense a 'but' coming here…"
"But of late, I have been possessed of the most horrible fear. Of you confronting Malcolm Merlyn."
So this is not about allegiance, as in the back of Sara's mind she had wondered. "I can handle Malcolm Merlyn," Sara says firmly.
"I know, and yet…" Nyssa trails off, and to Sara's shock, she realises her beloved is becoming tearful. "…and yet I fear that once you go, it is the last time I will ever see you."
At this, Sara lets the sheet fall to her feet and is back beside Nyssa in a heartbeat. "Nyssa," Sara says softly, "this is hardly my first day." She lifts her hand to Nyssa's cheek, wiping away the single tear that has escaped from her eye.
And when Nyssa speaks again, her voice is a little steadier. "Merlyn is a dangerous man."
"I'm dangerous," Sara says, and for once, she isn't joking. She knows she's well-trained; if she wasn't, she wouldn't have beaten Merlyn's very teacher in battle. "Habibti, I'll be fine."
She makes to kiss Nyssa's neck, but Nyssa lifts Sara's face to hers before she can do so. "'Idni?"
And Sara just squeezes Nyssa's fingers where they are grasping her cheeks, pressing a firm kiss on her lips. "Wa'id, ya Nyssa," Sara replies softly. "Wa'id."