Another drabble (you are sick of them, yes?) for a friend. Kougaiji/Yaone, with the word earring. PG-15 for adult situations and lime, so ye have been warned.
"Tryst: noun - A secret rendevous (especially between lovers)"
As always, comments and criticisms are appreciated.
It wasn't how she'd imagined it, making love. It wasn't the horror she'd expected with every step she was forced to take closer to Hyakuganmaou, but neither was it the slow and sweet, gentle feeling she felt in her dreams.
Not to say he was hurting her, or was in any way not gentle. But circumstances did not allow for what they truly wanted—needed. He deserved to have someone he could hold without fear for her safety, and she needed someone who would give her all of himself. But until their mission was over, until the woman they both hated was gone, that would never happen.
She tightened her grip on his shoulders, nails digging into the skin as he kissed her neck and collarbone. Their bodies touched everywhere; he had all of her and she freely gave it. He was beautiful, so beautiful, sweat coating his skin and eyes full of all his feelings for her as he thrust into her one last time, burying his face in her neck and crying out. She held him tighter, whispering into his hair, guiding him back to her.
She held him tighter, whispering into his hair, and while her words were unintelligible, he knew every feeling behind them. Could feel all of what she put into them and stored them in his heart. They did not have the luxury to be found together, but he lay down beside her after pulling away and brushed the hair from her face. His claws skimmed across her skin, loving and tender, and his earring tickled against her neck as he leaned in to kiss her forehead.
And then her lips, silencing her as she began to say his name.
The time they had was precious, numbered only in minutes and seconds, and to hear her say his name, complete with that distant title she always included… For as long as he could, he wanted to go without being reminded of who they were and what was at stake. For as long as he could, he wanted only her and him and nothing more.
Her and him and nothing more, nothing to separate them except for time. And so finally he did move, and she mourned the loss of his heat, the feel of him against her, as his claws trailed her cheeks softly one last time. They'd taken too long, taken too big a risk, and she knew it from the look in his eyes. He knew it from the way she struggled to let him go.
One last nuzzle, one last touch and then he was gone as silently as he'd come, his scent the only betrayal of his presence.
Alone in her room, Yaone curled into a ball and promised herself they couldn't afford for this to happen, not again. But she fell asleep with her lord's scent still heavy in the air and smiled at the feel of his arms around her. And knew she could never keep that promise.