[ the brittle words snap on their way out. her expression is colder for the call-out, violet eyes shining and sharp instead of warm and bright. her grip on him tightens. she can sense his hesitation. it kicks up a low panic in her, which in turn curdles towards fury, as all yennefer's emotions do. ]
It's not your job to manage my fear. [ which is the farthest she can get into acknowledging it exists. better, she thinks, that she could boldly claim that she isn't afraid of anything — merely aware, merely astute enough to measure the real, practical possibilities of disappointments and threats. it's not true, though. her greed makes her constantly afraid of losing anything, even things that were never really hers. ] And it's too late to try.
[ too late to stop her from being afraid. every outcome from the moment she'd invited him under her skirt had been one that terrified her. this whiff of rejection might be the worst of all of them, though. ]
[ Torn two ways. A lot of him wants to relent to her vice grip and the ice in her tone, burn it all up the easiest way he can, do as he's told and make them both happier for it. But that fear isn't going away. And as it brews in her it draws in like a net around him. This is both of theirs to handle, no matter what she says. A pair of fish enjoying the ocean for the last (first) time. About to suffocate in open air.
Is it using her if she wants him to? If she's using him? Are they using one another at all if it matters enough for there to be a future worth fearing, even if there are consequences they're ignoring to take comfort in the now?
The rapid pattern of his thoughts translates into a fine, jagged stutter of anxiety. That's met with immediate derision and a flurry of snapshots and sense memories, times when sharing their bodies was the least complicated thing in the world. She'd given him a command. Why convolute it?
With a rough grunt of frustration and surrender he succumbs to himself and to her, sinking over the last slim stretch of skin and neat hair to where she's been waiting for him. The slick heat of her claws with hot talons at his insides and swallows whole any lingering doubt. Burden of indecision lifted, boundary crossed, he grips her tight as she does him and sets to work rediscovering a few choice ways he's many times but never yet taken her apart. ]
[ the relief of distraction sears through the tendrils of anxiety — his and hers, how quaint — gripping her. like tethers, cast off, and when his mouth closes over her skin, her head drops back in rapture and peace. for a time, let it be uncomplicated. he has worn this path over decades and he knows it well. traces his footsteps carefully, wringing sighs from her like water.
an old path, but it feels new. alcohol on a cut, scouring a wound that feels simultaneously recent and far away. she does not give of herself easily, and she had diligently fooled them both into believing she was at no such risk with him. that kinship and cooperation might be only that. now they are as tangled as she and geralt had been, and she has no one to blame. in that way, it feels like the resolving of a long-held chord.
yennefer grinds herself against his mouth, clinging tight. that other woman she had been, the cardinal, had been afraid to hold him too tight. holding too tight to things only ensured they would slip away. but he is still here, isn't he? if it's inevitable that he slip away, better she enjoy him before he does.
there are stars behind her eyelids. how long has she gone without seeing stars? yet she forces her eyes back open anyway, banishing them. stilling, breathing hard, she says, ] Not yet. [ she wouldn't want to risk the end of this. she would deny them both any kind of reprieve if it meant dragging this out. ]
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(cw: hints of dubcon ?? ? i think ? ?)
[ the brittle words snap on their way out. her expression is colder for the call-out, violet eyes shining and sharp instead of warm and bright. her grip on him tightens. she can sense his hesitation. it kicks up a low panic in her, which in turn curdles towards fury, as all yennefer's emotions do. ]
It's not your job to manage my fear. [ which is the farthest she can get into acknowledging it exists. better, she thinks, that she could boldly claim that she isn't afraid of anything — merely aware, merely astute enough to measure the real, practical possibilities of disappointments and threats. it's not true, though. her greed makes her constantly afraid of losing anything, even things that were never really hers. ] And it's too late to try.
[ too late to stop her from being afraid. every outcome from the moment she'd invited him under her skirt had been one that terrified her. this whiff of rejection might be the worst of all of them, though. ]
no subject
Is it using her if she wants him to? If she's using him? Are they using one another at all if it matters enough for there to be a future worth fearing, even if there are consequences they're ignoring to take comfort in the now?
The rapid pattern of his thoughts translates into a fine, jagged stutter of anxiety. That's met with immediate derision and a flurry of snapshots and sense memories, times when sharing their bodies was the least complicated thing in the world. She'd given him a command. Why convolute it?
With a rough grunt of frustration and surrender he succumbs to himself and to her, sinking over the last slim stretch of skin and neat hair to where she's been waiting for him. The slick heat of her claws with hot talons at his insides and swallows whole any lingering doubt. Burden of indecision lifted, boundary crossed, he grips her tight as she does him and sets to work rediscovering a few choice ways he's many times but never yet taken her apart. ]
no subject
an old path, but it feels new. alcohol on a cut, scouring a wound that feels simultaneously recent and far away. she does not give of herself easily, and she had diligently fooled them both into believing she was at no such risk with him. that kinship and cooperation might be only that. now they are as tangled as she and geralt had been, and she has no one to blame. in that way, it feels like the resolving of a long-held chord.
yennefer grinds herself against his mouth, clinging tight. that other woman she had been, the cardinal, had been afraid to hold him too tight. holding too tight to things only ensured they would slip away. but he is still here, isn't he? if it's inevitable that he slip away, better she enjoy him before he does.
there are stars behind her eyelids. how long has she gone without seeing stars? yet she forces her eyes back open anyway, banishing them. stilling, breathing hard, she says, ] Not yet. [ she wouldn't want to risk the end of this. she would deny them both any kind of reprieve if it meant dragging this out. ]