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"Will that be all, your Highness?" Lanzelet says glaring at the ground.
"Excuse me?" Anathema had barely even started chewing him out over the shit he pulled and he was acting like they did something wrong.
She just turns to leave. Jackass.
The force of Anathema’s shove causes him to stumble, one, two steps forward. Lanzelet whips back around with such velocity that Anathema doesn’t have time to react.
She launches at them.
His fist connects with Anathema’s cheek. Their head whips to the side.
Their turn to stumble. One, two, three steps backward.
Shock briefly shields them from the pain as stars burst across their vision. Then, the pain is blinding. Their jaw throbs, the ache dulls and radiates out across their face. A metallic taste and smell overwhelms their senses.
Anathema’s vision returns in time to see Lanzelet’s momentum force them further back and for a moment they’re falling.
Only the oak behind them and his forearm pressing into their neck keeps Anathema somewhat upright.
Blood drips down their chin, as neither breaks eye contact.
Lanzelet’s teeth are bared, his face contorted into a snarl, and his feathers are puffed out like the hackles of a wild dog. Her breastplate is almost cool pressed against them, the more angular pieces jabbing into Anathema’s torso.
The only sound Anathema hears is their own frantic heartbeat and both of them attempting to catch their breath. Hot air hits their face with each exhalation as he pants, mere centimeters separating the two.
A moment passes.
“Don’t pull that shit. I’m done,” Lanzelet says and then pulls back, leaving only the tree to support Anathema’s barely standing form.
“I would like to go back to the group.” Lanzelet begins to turn and walk away.
Anathema’s fury finally catches up to them.
“Would he be proud of you?” their smug tone was impossible to hide as a cruel sneer pulls at their mouth.
Lanzelet pauses mid-step and turns slightly but levels their glare at the ground.
“Watch. Your. Tongue.”
“I don’t think I will.” Anathema uses the back of their hand to wipe the bright blood from their smile haphazardly, mostly smearing it across their cheek.
“Her Favorite–would he be proud of you?”
His scowl intensifies but his jaw still trembles. Are those tears?
“You don’t–” her voice cracks faintly and she swallows, attempting to regain some semblance of composure “–you don’t know anything about him.”
Anathema barely holds back a laugh, still leaning heavily against the tree.
“I know plenty about him–” one step forward interrupts Anathema and Lanzelet crashes into them with a bruising kiss.
Anathema’s mind goes blank as a different kind of shock catches them completely off guard. After a moment they kiss back hungrily, sucking at his bottom lip, a muffled groan escapes his mouth as they grasp at his hair. His hands dig roughly into their hips sending a pang of arousal straight through them.
It’s her tongue slipping into their mouth that somehow snaps Anathema out of it and they pull back abruptly.
“What do you think you're doing–” Lanzelet bites their neck and Anathema lets out a strangled moan.
“Shut up,” he mutters, sharp teeth grazing against their skin.
A split second decision. Anathema is tired and angry and at least this is a tension they know how to relieve. It’s not the good or smart or kind choice but none of those things have ever really come naturally to them. Fuck it.
They give in.
They let Lanzelet remove their scarf, he nearly tears it in his haste but after a moment it comes loose and he throws it aside. His hands are back on their waist, this time slipping under their shirt, the contact making them arch their back into him.
Lanzelet continues marking up their neck and Anathema slides their fingers down, fumbling only for a moment before unlatching her cuirass. She pauses, looking confused but allows Anathema to keep doffing their armor. It takes less than a few minutes to remove. This is a bad decision.
Once it’s all off, Lanzelet is left with just his undershirt and pants. Anathema looks him up and down. Admittedly, this wasn’t the first time they’d admired his physique. He was well built and toned… they could see the beginnings of a happy trail where their shirt had ridden up, interrupted by the heart-pattern boxers peeking above his trousers.
Their eyes eventually travel back up to his face. Some of their blood smeared around his mouth.
Anathema smirks slightly, strips off their cloak, and kneels. They watch Lanzelet’s expression carefully while grazing their fingertips across his exposed abdomen and he immediately tenses, sucking in a breath, eyelids fluttering.
Without really thinking about it, their tail begins slipping under his pant leg and wrapping around his calf. They feel him shiver from the sensation.
Their hands slide further under the shirt and they kiss her stomach a few times before lightly trailing their tongue along the skin just above her underwear, as their hands migrate to his lower back. Her hands fly down and grasp the back of Anathema’s head.
They bite his hip and drag their nails down hard enough to make him yelp and buck. His grip yanks Anathema back to look up at him, his pupils are blown.
“Careful,” he growls and they roll their eyes.
Lanzelet’s right hand grabs their chin forcefully before they can bite again and she runs her thumb along their bottom lip. Anathema licks it without breaking eye contact, attempting an innocent expression as they nibble on it.
He pushes his thumb past their lips and Anathema sucks on it, causing Lanzelet to moan.
His other hand moves from the back of their head to touch what’s left of their jagged left antler, he strokes a finger pad along the velvet texture gently and Anathema nearly chokes on their surprise.
Their claws involuntarily dig far too tightly into Lanzelet’s skin and they feel warm, wet blood against their palm.
“Shit, I didn’t mean to–” Lanzelet interrupts Anathema with something akin to a snarl and his thumb retracts from their mouth with a wet pop.
Her hand moves to the back of Anathema’s neck once more and roughly presses their face lower. Yes, please.
Anathema kisses him through his pants before tugging them down along with his boxers. Her hand presses insistently, gripping their hair, while the other continues to trace their horn with uncharacteristic delicacy.
They grin into Lanzelet's thigh, ignoring her urgency in favor of teasing. Their tongue glides dangerously close to where he needs it; instead they follow the crease between his thigh and pelvis up, leaving a wet line.
He huffs in frustration and Anathema bites into their flank not far from the previous one. The whine she makes causes her to flush further and Anathema takes mercy, kissing the bruise before sinking back down.
Anathema gently laps at his clit and the groan he elicits intensifies the heat coiling low in their stomach.
When they begin really sucking her cock, their desperate grip on Anathema’s hair tightens as she grinds into their mouth.
Their own hands begin to wander, feeling Lanzelet’s muscles tense as they ghost down from her back to grope her ass, and stabilize her bucking hips into a more consistent rhythm.
A different fluid drips down Anathema’s chin and neck as they sneak one hand lower to tease at his entrance, his slick coating their fingers.
They slowly press a finger in, waiting for a reaction, Lanzelet just moans and they slide another inside.
Anathema pumps them in and out, soon catching up to the rhythm she set for their mouth. Their tongue circles the tip of her clit.
This seems to send her over the edge.
Both hands grab at Anathema’s horns like handles and he rocks his hips in a frenzied state trying to force his cock further down their throat.
“God–fuck, please Az–” he bites the palm of his hand to keep from crying out as he cums and trembles above them, holding Anathema’s head in place.
Lanzelet just whimpers as their pace slows to a stop, Anathema pulls their fingers out, and releases the suction around his clit.
Anathema catches their breath and casts a quick prestidigitation to clean up the mess between her legs.
They try not to say anything as Lanzelet pulls his pants back up. He refuses to meet their gaze.
“Was that sufficient, your highness?” It was too good not to say. Anathema grins up at them, still kneeling, their chin still glistening, face paint smeared past recognition, and blood now dry.
Lanzelet didn’t even scowl. Anathema frowns and starts standing up. Nothing?
“I mean it seemed to be, considering how desperate you were.”
Still no reaction, just an inscrutable expression as they study Anathema. Heat rises to their cheeks as they begin to feel uncomfortable in the quiet. Oh, so now you’re going to act all stoic after I made you moan like a whore.
“What’s your problem?” Anathema shoves her. There’s less force behind it and surprise is not on their side, Lanzelet doesn’t budge.
What set you off last time?
“Does it only work if I bring up Her Favorite? Is that what gets you hot?” his facade ripples with a twinge of irritation. There we go.
Anathema smirks and steps closer, leaving at most an inch between the two of them as they leaned down.
“That’s it isn’t it? You–” Lanzelet’s hand clamps over their mouth. The surprise interrupts them more so than his hand.
The intensity with which he was focusing on them kept Anathema still.
“Thank you,” Lanzelet says, only throwing Anathema further off guard. Huh?
Lanzelet drops his hand from their face and in one swift movement, twists to maneuver them both, so that their back is on the forest floor with him straddling their hips.
The sudden shift is almost dizzying and it leaves Anathema speechless.
She leans down still studying their face and then kisses them so tenderly that it feels like a trick.
This doesn’t make sense I don’t understand– the kiss deepens but remains gentle, almost chaste.
What the hell are you doing, you’re supposed to be angry. Kiss me like you mean it, asshole.
He moves one leg to press against their core and Anathema moans into his mouth. She catches their bottom lip between her teeth but bites so softly it barely counts.
Anathema finally remembers they can move and reaches up to grip his hair and get things going.
They don’t get that far.
Their hands are intercepted and lazily pinned on either side of their head. Anathema snaps at her but she pulls back before they can bite her. I’M GOING TO BITE YOU, YOU FUCKING–
He interlocks his fingers with theirs. His thigh continues to grind into them–proving to be a rather formidable distraction. A damp spot begins forming through their pants. Motherfucker.
Lanzelet begins kissing along Anathema’s jaw and they resist the urge to bite her. He nudges their head back with his nose and starts sucking at their neck.
Fine. This is sufficient–for now.
His hands slip from theirs and begin running through their hair, tugging lightly. Anathema’s eyes roll back and they bite the inside of their cheek to suppress a groan.
Anathema loses when Lanzelet grasps both antlers and pulls their head further back causing them to whimper. Their tail almost immediately wraps around his thigh to try and pull him closer. Fuck.
Her leg is far stronger and resists any attempt to increase the tempo. They begin to whine and grab at his shoulders but resign themself to his ministrations.
Please, please, please–
“That–that felt very nice, before I mean,” he murmurs into their neck, moving his hands down, “you did good for me.”
Anathema’s hips buck up involuntarily. Please don’t say that.
Lanzelet withdrawals briefly to pull their shirt up and then moves to kiss down their sternum, her hands ghosting across their chest.
Anathema was somewhere beyond impatient as he continued to tease them.
“Fuck, can you please just–” Lanzelet’s mouth latches onto their nipple and the pathetic noise that it provokes betrays them. Their nails dig into his back.
“You’re being a tease. It’s unbecoming of you,” Anathema says with an indignant tone but she ignores them.
He supports his weight on his left forearm while his right hand disappears under their pants and underwear. They’re embarrassingly wet.
Her tongue stays on their chest while Lanzelet’s fingers gently play with them and Anathema struggles to stay still as each motion sends a jolt through their body.
Everything is too kind, too tender.
Why are you acting like you care?
Anathema doesn’t say anything.
His hand rubs their clit with a slowly building tempo, only barely satisfying them enough to keep their mouth shut while still teasing.
“Good pet.” They let out a whimper. Fuck, you can’t call me that–
They can feel the tension building low in their core, their tail tightens around his thigh. Lanzelet keeps her rhythm steady but sits up slightly to look at their face.
“You know, when you're writing, you’ll get this little line of ink”–Lanzelet shifts his weight onto just his elbow and reaches out with his left hand to press his thumb to their bottom lip–“on your lip from pressing the quill to your tongue. It’s cute, I-I like it.”
Anathema’s brain short circuits as they blush, tinging their cheeks purple. Oh no.
His thumb trails down from their lip, to their chin, and then runs along their jawline as the rest of his hand rests comfortably on the side of their neck.
“And there’s this muscle that twitches in your jaw when you're frustrated–so usually when you’re talking to me.” Lanzelet gives a small smile?
Their sincerity makes Anathema feel both ridiculously uncomfortable with how much Lanzelet has simply observed about them, and strangely charmed.
They want to object, tell him off, do something to make her stop talking.
Anathema doesn’t say anything.
Lanzelet’s right hand speeds up, it won’t be much longer now. Thank God.
“My favorite thing though”–he kisses the center of their chest–“is watching you paint your face every morning. You do it perfectly, and then you go back and smudge it after. It’s like you don’t want anyone to know you actually care.”
“Please–close,” Anathema barely chokes out, shuddering beneath Lanzelet, every muscle in their body tensing.
“So good for me.” She presses her forehead against their sternum.
Anathema cums, hard.
Lanzelet’s weight is enough to keep them relatively still while their body spasms.
Eventually, his fingers idle and she moves, but only to adjust her position, laying so that her face rests in the crook of their neck. He presses a kiss to their collarbone.
The two begin to catch their breath and Anathema reopens their eyes to find his wings partially enveloping both of them.
Oh fuck. What did we just do? Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck–
Lanzelet moves off of them not long after and puts back on her armor. After a moment Anathema gets up as well and assists him without a word. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh–
It takes a few minutes. Anathema casts prestidigitation until they’re both relatively presentable. No evidence of what happened. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh-
She picks up Anathema’s cloak and scarf, brushing the dirt off each, and then offers them both back. The scarf covers up the bruises on their neck sufficiently. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck-
The silence is deafening. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh-
Lanzelet steps forward and pulls Anathema down by their scarf, and kisses them tenderly, one last time. He lingers longer than he should’ve and they both know it.
When she pulls back her expression is unreadable. What was left of Anathema’s face paint is smeared on his chin. That’s cute.
I should say something.
He starts to walk away.
“Lanzelet.” She turns back to look at them, eyebrows furrowed.
“Yes?” I should say something.
“... Nevermind, I’ll just be a minute.” Anathema takes out the small jar of dark face paint out of their pocket and doesn’t meet her gaze.
Lanzelet’s eyes narrow for just a moment before he removes a gauntlet and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Wrong side.
Anathema doesn’t say anything.
And then she walks away.
Anathema spends a minute meticulously re-applying their skull. A split second decision.
They smudge the paint.