by Liz Meldon
Ish.
Now, was she fine about everything else?
It was too soon to tell. There were still a lot of feelings to process from the last couple of months, ones that couldn’t be sorted through in a day. Moira had considered paying for some professional help to tackle the hurt inside her, the anger and the grief, but how could she be honest with someone about what she was? Maybe there was a supernatural therapist. If there were supernatural resorts, there had to be a supernatural psychiatrist somewhere whom she could unload her baggage on. She’d ask Alaric tomorrow.
For now, the feelings could wait. For now, she was content to lie here with Severus. For now, the rest of the world didn’t exist.
They stayed like that for some time, nestled together in an easy silence, until, just as sleep once more sank its hooks in her, Severus climbed out of bed. Slowly, with noticeable difficulty, he shuffled toward the bathroom door. Blinking the sleep out of her eye, Moira sat up.
“Do you need any help?”
“No,” he said—snapped, more like. He paused in the doorway, bracing himself against it, as if to catch his breath, then flicked on the light and disappeared inside. In his absence, Moira checked her phone, distractedly bouncing from app to app, checking her messages, texting with Ella, all the while keeping an ear out for the sound of him falling.
About ten minutes later, Severus returned. The corners of his bandages flared up, like he’d been picking at them, but she said nothing of it as he stumbled back into bed and drew the covers up. Rather than snuggling down again, he stayed upright, leaning against the headrest with a wince.
“Here,” she muttered, taking her pillow and pressing a hand to his shoulder. “Lean forward.”
“I’m fine, Moira.”
“Stop being stubborn.”
With a roll of his eyes, Severus did as he was told. Moira fluffed the pillow a little first, then set it in between him and the rigid wooden bars of his headrest. There was no wince when he settled back in this time, and Moira sat facing him, hiding her victorious grin.
“Where is everyone else?”
“Alaric and Cordelia are on a dinner date with Verrier,” she said, then chuckled when his eyebrows shot up. “Right? Super weird. And, uh, Ella and Malachi are picking up pizza from that place down the street. Cordelia gave Malachi the mark, so he can come and go as he pleases—”
“That pizza shop is shit.”
“Yeah, but Ella says she can’t drive right now and Malachi still doesn’t know how, so walking was the best they could do.”
She had learned all this while Severus was in the bathroom, a flurry of messages fired back and forth between the best friends. Moira had even asked if Ella wanted her to come with, but, apparently, she was also fine.
Which struck Moira as very unlikely. Ella had literally emptied everything in her gut twice this morning because of the bloodshed and violence around her. She wasn’t fine. None of them were—not really—and Moira still had no idea how to fix it.
“Moira?”
“Severus?”
They grinned at one another, and he reached forward, his hand still a little swollen—but better than broken, which was what it had been at one point—and grasped her knee.
“You know I appreciate what you did for me, right?”
She tipped her head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Yes.”
“Because I do.” His expression hardened somewhat. “But you shouldn’t have been out there.”
“Severus—”
“Do you know the risk you took? The danger you put yourself in?” he demanded, his hand tightening, fingers digging into her thigh. “You’re lucky Aeneas didn’t rip you to pieces as soon as he saw you. You’re lucky the other demons didn’t run off with you in the chaos. And my brother… My brother, involving you in this… I ought to fucking tear him a new—”
“Severus, stop.” She gripped his hand with both of hers, meeting his all-black gaze. “I know you’re trying to protect me. I know that’s what you’ve been doing all along, but you can’t handle me with kid gloves anymore.”
He scoffed. “Watch me—”
“No, listen.” She crawled forward, resettling so that she was closer to him. Cross-legged, her knee digging into his pillow, she grabbed his hand and set it back on her thigh. “Malachi spent hours helping me. He showed me how to fight, how to defend myself, how to move. We sparred on the roof every day. Ella figured out how to make my light work, and we practiced. Malachi put up with a lot of burns and blisters. We made sure I could do it. We made sure I could protect myself. And I can now. I can do it.
“Severus, I might have been fragile when we first met, and maybe I still am, but after everything we’ve been through, I haven’t broken—not yet. You need to give me some credit for that. It was my choice to be there, to go with the others and bring you home, and no matter what you say, I stand by it. You’ve sacrificed for me. You bet your ass I was going to do the same for you. I was going to do whatever it took to get you the fuck out of there.”
She paused for a breath, to give him the chance to say something if he needed to. Severus merely stared down at his hand on her thigh, brow furrowed. Fine. She wasn’t finished yet, anyway.
“And I’m sorry for how things went down before they took you. Really.” Moira pressed a hand to the middle of his chest, pushing a little until he looked up at her. “I’m sorry I sucked at getting my point across. I just wanted you to be safe. I thought if we separated for a while, maybe the heat would be off you.”
He frowned, silent. Moira took another deep breath.
“And by separated, I just meant live in different locations, maybe don’t talk for a couple days. Not—break up, or whatever.” Her cheeks burned when the corners of his mouth twitched up, and she tucked her hair behind her ear, her heart suddenly hammering. “Because I love you. You’re my partner. Just you and me, that’s all I want. But back then, I wanted to keep you safe more. You’d been doing it for me for so long, and I wanted to return the favour.”
Without a word, Severus swiped a thumb across each of her cheeks, smearing and collecting tears she hadn’t even realized were falling. Blinking hurriedly, Moira pulled back and sniffled, drying her face on her shirt.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to cry all the time when we talk about this kind of stuff, but—”
“Moira.”
She looked up sharply at the way he said her name—the way he growled it. From the look on his face, the downturn of his lips, the full black of his eyes, she braced herself for another irritated safety lecture.
Instead, Severus cupped her chin, then slid his hand down to her throat, lightly grasping it.
“I love you too,” he rumbled.
Relief raced through her, and she let out a watery laugh before letting him pull her in for a kiss. Their lips met firmly at first, closed and hard, stamping the moment onto one another so they would never forget it.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and she crawled closer, straddling him, her hands falling to his chest. It felt so good to kiss him again—so right. Moira hadn’t even realized just how desperately she missed him until they broke apart now. Inhaling sharply, she scrambled back to him, hands flying up to grasp his face, lips meeting in a storm of tongue and teeth and passion. Desire plunged right through her, electrifying her, scorching her veins.
Severus released her throat, only to grasp her backside with both hands, squeezing so hard she gasped into his mouth. His dark chuckle washed over her, through her, eliciting a heat between her thighs that had her moaning instead, hands threading up into his hair. Severus growled and ground her against him. The heat turned to a full-blown storm as her clit dragged along his cock, Severus’s hands steering her, rocking their bodies together, the layers of fabric separating them an unwelcome barrier.
And then she remembered, with startling clarity, the extent of his injuries. Eyes snapping open, she retreated, searching him for any sign of pain.
“Are you okay?” she w
hispered, fingers trembling over the faded bruises along his jaw, across his swollen lips. Full black met her questing blues, and she swallowed hard, trying to steady her heaving breaths. “Did I hurt you?”
“You can’t hurt me, darling,” Severus murmured as his hands delved under her shirt.
He dragged her baggy T-shirt over her head and tossed it aside, then undid her bra clasp in one fluid motion. Moira rolled her shoulders forward, allowing the straps to slide down, then cried out—half in surprise, half in admonishment—when he grabbed one of her bra cups and yanked the entire thing off. Severus smirked up at her, slowly lobbing the bra in the same direction as her shirt, before lunging forward and closing his mouth around one of her pebbled nipples.
“Oh!” She bucked forward, pain intermingling with the steadily building thrum of pleasure. Teeth grazed her delicate flesh, and she bucked again, grinding harder against him this time, dragging out a harsh, savage growl from the demon beneath her. Moira’s mouth fell open as he jumped from one nipple to the other, her hips rocking to a rhythm of their own design. She tipped her head back, losing herself in the sensation of his mouth on her skin, his hands on her ass, under her shorts, gripping her tight. When he pinched at one cheek, pairing it with a hard suck of her nipple, Moira folded forward, her body jerking, spasming at the delicious ache.
It was then, as her eyes fluttered open once more, that she saw the bandages. They stretched the entire length of Severus’s back, boxed in with tape Alaric had found in his dusty first aid kit. Cordelia’s salve would help him heal, but Moira couldn’t imagine it had stopped the hurt entirely. His wounds were deep, oozing and weeping should he twist the wrong way.
Severus liked to play rough in the bedroom, and while he had totally converted her to the dark side, she knew tonight wasn’t the time for roughness. He needed to heal. His body needed him to understand its temporary limitations. She licked her lips, jerking when he ground her hips harder against him, finding just the right tempo to drive her clit wild. Moira shuddered—but couldn’t tear her gaze from the bandages.
He needed to slow down. Ease up.
Just for tonight, she should probably steer the ship.
She could do that. Severus wasn’t in control all the time, right?
A shriek slipped out of her when he rolled them over, all but throwing her onto the bed before trapping her beneath his muscular frame. A feral grin greeted her when she looked up at him, wild and predatory—positively demonic—and something needy stirred inside her.
Guh. How was she going to steer the ship when he was just so damn good at it?
“Severus…” Her words died at the tip of her tongue as he prowled down her body, kissing and licking and sucking and nipping every inch of her until she was a limp mess of a woman, moaning and writhing—totally under his thrall.
Until her fingers grazed the bandages. Moira swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus. She eased her hands up his shoulders, careful not to push on anything bruised, determined not to disturb his back, resolute in her decision to slow things down.
Severus seemed not to notice—especially when he grabbed the elastic waistband of her shorts and ripped. The fabric split right down the side seam, and he pushed it away, exposing one thigh, then the other as he wrenched the torn garment down to her knee.
Lower lip caught between her teeth, Moira sat up on her elbows, her chest heaving and her body prickling with desire. Black eyes darted up, his sinful smile sending another dart of pleasure through her.
“Darling…” He smoothed a hand over her thigh, nudging it open to reveal just how horribly she’d missed him, the skin slick with her arousal. “You make my mouth water.”
She pressed her lips together as her cheeks burned, and Severus let out a little rumble, some intoxicating blend of his usual dark chuckle paired with a snarl. His hot breath danced across her skin, a promise of what was to come. Moira cried out again when he bit her thigh, and as her hips arched up in response, Severus seized the opportunity to plunge two fingers into her wet heat.
His name tore from her lips as he pumped in and out of her, easing up on his bite slowly, teasing out the agony.
So much for taking charge.
Moira held a hand to her forehead, wiping the thin sheen of sweat away, eyes snapping shut when he found that sweet little spot along her inner walls. Severus turned merciless in a heartbeat.
“Fuck…”
“When I was in there, all I thought about was you,” he growled, kissing up her thighs, then down the mound of her sex. “I thought about your smell, your laugh, your touch…and most assuredly your taste.”
She sat up onto her elbows when his mouth slid over her clit, sucking hard at the little bud as he worked her. All she wanted was to throw her legs over his shoulders and give in—let him do that thing he was just so exceptionally talented at. But then she saw the bandages again. She ought to be tormenting him with pleasure, not the other way around. However, the moment she chose to say something about it was when he flicked at her clit with his tongue, his fingers stroking hard and fast inside of her.
Defeated, she flopped back down, her entire body tightening, coiling, desperate for a release so close she could taste it—so close she could already see the fireworks exploding behind her eyelids.
But then he stopped.
A frazzled groan escaped her, and she tugged at her hair, her entire body on fire as he trailed his wet fingers up her belly, circling them around each nipple before carrying onward. Onward and upward, along her throat, over her chin, between her parted lips. She closed her mouth around them, swirling her tongue around the tips, eyes snapping to his with promise. I’m good with my tongue too—if you’d give me the chance.
Severus pulled back with a hiss, quickly replacing his fingers with his mouth, tongue thrusting into her, claiming her, rebranding her after all this time apart. She wove her fingers through his hair, knowing she shouldn’t pull but doing it anyway just to hear him snarl. His kiss was bruising, desperate, rough; Moira loved every second of it.
She felt him fiddling with the drawstrings of his sleep pants, and when he fumbled, he pulled back with a growl of frustration this time. Scowling, Severus sat up, yanking at the strings. When they came free, he shoved the silky fabric down his thighs—only to wince, a flash of pain shooting across his features. Moira inhaled sharply when he braced himself, one hand death-gripping the headboard.
“Hey, hey, easy,” she whispered, pushing through the fog of lust. Propped up on her elbow, she touched his chest, his heartbeat racing under her palm. “It’s okay to slow down. Slow is good too.”
“I’m fine,” he muttered before grabbing her wrist and pinning her back down to the bed. “And I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”
Her gaze dropped to his cock, rigid and throbbing, as it fell heavy between them. Maybe just a blowjob for now—Moira would be more than satisfied with that, even if he didn’t go back to finish what he’d started. However, just as she reached for him, ready to tease the silky head, Severus knocked her hand aside and settled between her thighs. She pushed against his chest, even though it was like shoving at a brick wall.
“Severus, wait—”
“No.” He sank into her without hesitating, filling her in a single savage thrust that had her slapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the screech. In an instant, the build was back, ecstasy shooting out from her core, the prelude to the main event. Severus raked his teeth along her wrist before tugging it away, replacing her hand with his over her mouth as he pounded her right through an orgasm that had her screaming, just as he’d promised.
As the pleasure radiated through her, Moira’s hands jumped from the sheets to his shoulders, sliding down his back—until the bandages again. She retreated quickly, her brow furrowing when Severus winced, his pace stuttering briefly. In a blink, the blackness of his eyes had retreated, and those slate-grey eyes soon met hers.
“Don’t pity me.”
Moira blinked up at hi
m, her mouth still smothered by his hand, too shocked for a moment to even fathom a response. Turning his head away, he continued rocking against her, occasionally thrusting hard enough to send white-hot bolts of pleasure through her. With a deep breath, Moira finally wriggled out from under his grasp, and she tugged at his chin, trying to get him to look at her again. Stubborn as ever, Severus refused, his hips hammering her harder.
“I’m n-not pitying y-you,” she stammered, all breathy and whispery as the build started all over again. Severus gritted his teeth, burying his face against her neck until Moira dragged him back out. Her thighs clamped down around his hips in an effort to slow his movements, his winces becoming more pronounced.
“I don’t need to be mollycoddled or babied,” he said, batting her hand away from his chin and trapping it against the bed instead. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, all the painful expressions really—” She pointed to him when another flashed across his face. “—like that one. Severus, my concern for you isn’t p-pity—fuck!”
He’d managed to tilt his hips to just the right angle, grazing her clit with every thrust, her inner walls tightening around him.
No. Focus. Moira sucked in another deep breath, then yanked her arm free.
“Can you just—” She closed her eyes tight as a wave of heat rolled out from her core. “Can you stop for a second?”
“Just because I’m a little bruised doesn’t mean you need to pity me. I don’t need—”
“Oh my god.”
This was getting old—fast. Locking her legs around him, Moira pushed up, hard and fast, and rolled Severus onto his back. Shock flashed across his features, followed by a much longer, much more obvious clench of pain. She sat up and planted her hands on his chest, stilling her hips, her sex rippling around him.
“Look,” she snapped, poking him in the dead center of his chest, “I’m not pitying you. I’ve never pitied you a day in my life, and I don’t plan to start now.”
He rolled his eyes. “Moira, we don’t have to—”