Chapter Text
Moiraine doesn’t know how long it’s been since she slept. Her eyes are dry and gritty, her limbs heavy with exhaustion, and the dust from the road feels as if it has coated her skin and seeped into her soul.
She is so, so tired.
The room at her family estate in Cairhien, so often a refuge, now presents its own danger. An illusion of protection and comfort with its enormous, soft bed and roaring fireplace. Moiraine sits in a high-backed chair in front of the hearth, staring into the flames, letting her thoughts chase each other around… circling, circling but always returning to one thing, or rather, one person.
Lanfear. Daughter of the Night. Forsaken. Her face has haunted Moiraine since she and Rand fled into the darkness.
She rests her head on her fist, her elbow propped up on the arm of the chair, and it only takes a second, a tiny moment, for her control to slip and sleep to roll over her in the gentlest of waves. There is the unsettling feeling of being wrenched from one place to another, and then her heart sinks as she recognises the strange unreality of Tel'aran'rhiod.
Moiraine has never been one to back away from a fight, and she knows that this particular battle can be put off no longer. She lets out a slow breath and finds a curious strength in the knowledge that she will likely die this night.
“I know you’re there, Lanfear, I can smell you.”
A low chuckle comes from behind her. Moiraine can almost hear the smirk when Lanfear’s voice drifts out of the darkness. “And what is it that I smell like to you, Moiraine Sedai?”
“Sexual tension and poor decisions.”
Lanfear is laughing, delighted, as she finally emerges from the shadows, all pale skin and dark eyes. “I’m so glad you appreciate my charms.”
She stalks slowly across the room until she’s no more than a whisper from Moiraine, the silvery material of her dress clinging to her form like mercury. Lanfear lifts her chin slightly as she examines her, sharp gaze drifting over her features and sliding down her neck, dipping into the collar of her shirt, before abruptly snapping back to her face.
"I have a proposition for you, little Aes Sedai."
Moiraine frowns, because she'd expected to be toyed with, perhaps made to suffer, but she hadn't expected negotiation. "What do you want, Lanfear?" she asks finally.
"Well…" says the Forsaken, teasing the word out as she slowly circles Moiraine, one fingertip dragging across her shoulder, then down her spine in what Moiraine is sure is a deliberate provocation, "as you know, I've been spending some time with Rand al'Thor."
Lanfear continues to circle, that single finger trailing up Moiraine's neck, then the side of her jaw, lingering over the shell of her ear as she pushes a lock of hair back from her face. And Moiraine bristles, jerking her head away and pulling a soft laugh from the Forsaken.
"Relax," she breathes, "we're just talking. For now."
Moiraine watches Lanfear warily. She can feel her own heart thudding in her chest, and struggles to keep her breathing under control. All the novice exercises and the much-vaunted Aes Sedai calm seem to have deserted her because Lanfear is so damn close, practically draped over her.
Moiraine takes a step back, and suddenly there's cold stone behind her, hard and unyielding. Lanfear raises an eyebrow in mild rebuke. "Where do you think you're going?"
She grits her teeth together and tilts her chin up because she won't be cowed by anyone, not even the Daughter of the Night, but then Lanfear steps forward, pressing her back into the wall and she can feel every inch of the other woman's body, feels the hard points of her nipples, feels a hand digging into the curve of her ass, feels the tip of a nose dragging up her neck as Lanfear breathes her in with a soft groan.
Moiraine lets out a shaky breath of her own because everything about Lanfear is heat and sex and power and want. But suddenly she steps back, and Moiraine slumps against the wall, feeling as if the oxygen has been sucked from her lungs.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Lanfear murmurs with a smirk. "Where were we?" She runs a finger over her bottom lip, as if lost in thought, but like everything else it's a calculated gesture and as Moiraine's eyes follow the movement Lanfear's tongue slips between her teeth, swiping over the digit and sucking it into her mouth with a soft, wet sound.
"Is everything about sex with you?" huffs Moiraine, angry with herself for being pulled into Lanfear's game.
Lanfear lets the finger fall, all innocence. "Who said anything about sex? I was talking about Rand, and he's really not very good at that." She gives a sigh but then concedes, "He's young, I suppose."
She tilts her head, staring off into distant memory. “Lews Therin was like a magnificent sculpture - intricate, complex, fascinating.” Her eyes flick back to Moiraine. “Rand al'Thor is more like a hunk of rock. He’s just not very interesting, not yet anyway.”
Lanfear’s lips curve into a slow smile. “You, on the other hand, are much more intriguing.” Her gaze is half-lidded now, drifting over the contours of Moiraine’s face. “So, I think you'll find my proposal is mutually beneficial.
"You get to play sculptor, chip away with your little Aes Sedai schemes and shape Rand into the man he needs to become, and I get to play… with you.” The look Lanfear levels at Moiraine is dark and hungry. “As long as you keep me entertained, I’ll leave your pet Dragon alone. I'll even make sure Ishamael stays out of your dreams… you'll be far too busy to deal with him anyway."
Moiraine closes her eyes, breathing slowly, trying to force her tired mind to summon a way out, an escape. She knows there isn't one, not here in Tel'aran'rhiod where Lanfear can snap her spine without so much as blinking, but it doesn't stop her from searching for it.
"Well?"
"You'll stay out of his dreams? Protect him - us - from Ishamael?"
Lanfear nods.
Moiraine squares her shoulders and holds out her hand. "Then we have an agreement."
"Good."
Lanfear grips the outstretched hand and pulls her into a searing kiss, and Moiraine is somehow surprised to find that her lips are soft, moving slowly against her own in a languid dance. The Forsaken's tongue licks into her mouth, warm and wet and tangling with her own, sliding against her with intent. But just as Moiraine is relaxing into the kiss, Lanfear steps back, leaving her blinking in confusion.
"Take your clothes off," she instructs, settling into the plush chair that has appeared behind her. It looks suspiciously like a throne. Moiraine rolls her eyes but shrugs out of her travelling coat, letting it fall into a pile at her feet.
"Slowly." Lanfear enunciates the word as if she can taste it, eyes glinting in the half-light.
So Moiraine crouches down, tugging at a buckle on one of her boots, undoing it with all the speed of a sick snail, because she can't let a Forsaken have all the fun.
Lanfear huffs out a frustrated breath. "I said slowly, not glacially." She flicks her hand in a dismissive gesture, and the boots snap out of existence, leaving Moiraine standing in her bare feet with the tiniest of smiles on her face. "Don't play with me, Moiraine Sedai," she growls, "you don't have the strength."
But Moiraine is coming to realise that she has something that Lanfear wants, or rather, she is something that Lanfear wants, and that gives her power. "Do you expect me to believe that you don't like to be teased?" she asks, sliding each brace from her shoulder in turn, letting them dangle from her hips as she slowly unbuttons her trousers.
And with a surprised burst of laughter, Lanfear is all playful warmth again. "I knew I liked you for a reason," she purrs, leaning back in the chair and crossing her legs. She lets Moiraine see a flash of pale flesh as her dress splits open, the slit in the side parting to mid-thigh.
As she eases the trousers over her hips, Moiraine can admit to herself that there's something appealing about Lanfear, something primal and powerful that excites her, makes her skin feel hot and tight.
The Forsaken is all lean tension and wiry muscle, sharp where Moiraine is softer, more gentle curves and smooth lines. She wonders what the other woman's body will feel like under her hands and allows her eyes to roam, sliding across the planes and angles of her. She supposes that she'll find out soon enough, and lets her trousers fall down her legs with a soft rustle of fabric, leaving her standing in only her smallclothes and a pale blue shirt.
Lanfear sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, dropping her head slightly and shifting in the chair, still watching Moiraine from beneath hooded eyes. "Take it all off." The command is barely a whisper in the near darkness.
Moiraine matches her stare, almost haughty as she removes the shirt, discarding it beside her with a flick of her hand and stepping out of her underwear. She can feel the blush heating her cheeks, but she doesn't let it affect her. Instead, she tilts her chin up and looks down her nose at the Daughter of the Night.
Lanfear's voice is low and rough when she commands, "Come here."
So Moiraine glides towards her as if she's attending an audience at the Sun Palace, serene and unaffected by her own nakedness, until she's grabbed by the waist and yanked forward, a tongue dragging up her belly and between her breasts as the heat of Lanfear's breath washes over her skin.
She licks all the way up Moiraine's body, slow and sultry, until she's sliding up the side of her neck to her ear, capturing the lobe between sharp teeth, tugging and sucking before she whispers, "Let's see if that pretty little mouth of yours is good for anything other than scheming."
Moiraine is still for a long moment, jaw clenching, before she drops to her knees. A bargain is a bargain.
The bottom half of Lanfear's dress dissolves and flows away like water, leaving her bare from the waist down. "Nice trick," Moiraine remarks. She can appreciate a little bit of theatre.
"Tel'aran'rhiod is my realm, and its reality bends to my will. You'd do well to remember that, Moiraine Sedai." The imperiousness in Lanfear's voice is at odds with the way her chest rises and falls rapidly under Moiraine's gaze.
"Mhm," says Moiraine flatly, unimpressed, and then, "Spread your legs." Lanfear frowns, bridling at the command but easing her legs open all the same.
Moiraine maintains eye contact as she runs slow fingers over the impossibly pale skin, then dips her head, brushing a kiss to the inside of Lanfear's thigh, sliding her tongue out and tasting the salt-sweetness of her sweat. This close, she can smell the Forsaken's desire, heady and intoxicating.
Lanfear leans back as the soft lips inch up her thigh, hands gripping the arms of her ridiculous throne.
Moiraine stops, waiting for Lanfear to lift her head and glare down at her. "Get rid of this," she gestures to the remains of her clothing, "I want to see you."
Lanfear narrows her eyes, considering, but she gives a slight shrug and the rest of the dress melts away. And Moiraine can't help a blink of surprise because she's magnificent. Lanfear is hard lines and the play of lean muscle beneath creamy skin but she's also high, firm breasts topped with hardened peaks of dusky pink that Moiraine wants to lick and bite and suck into her mouth.
She really shouldn't be thinking such things about a Forsaken, but it must show in her expression because Lanfear arches her back and smirks, basking in the lust written all over Moiraine's face.
And just for that stupid smirk, Moiraine slides her hands under Lanfear's ass and jerks her forward until she's perched on the edge of the chair. It pulls a surprised gasp from the Forsaken, and she tangles her fingers in Moiraine's hair, clutching at her as she ducks her head and licks a slow stripe right up the middle of her sex.
Moiraine can't tell which of them is groaning as she pushes the engorged folds apart with her tongue and works in between them, lapping at the desire spilling from Lanfear, circling her entrance and then thrusting inside. Moiraine opens her mouth, pushing as far into her as she can, feeling Lanfear's walls twitch and clench around the intrusion.
It's slippery and deliciously slick, because Lanfear is already dripping with arousal, dark pink and petalling open under Moiraine's lips, her fingers fisting in Moiraine's hair.
Moiraine slides her hands up the inside of Lanfear's thighs, urging her legs farther apart and then using her thumbs to spread her folds before licking another hot, wet path through her center. Her nose barely brushes against Lanfear's swollen clit on the upstroke, but it's enough to make her hips jerk and the muscles in her stomach tense beautifully.
Moiraine huffs out a soft laugh and lifts her head, running her mouth over the taut belly, letting her teeth scrape over the skin as it flexes under her touch. She's perhaps enjoying herself more than she should.
She looks down at Lanfear's flushed sex, a thumb on either side holding her open and exposed, glistening wetly in the dim light. In this position, despite the fact that she's sitting on a fucking throne, Lanfear gives the illusion of being just as vulnerable as any other woman who has shared Moiraine's bed, even though they both know that she's not. Her breath is coming in soft, rapid gasps as she watches Moiraine, one hand still twined loosely in her hair.
"Stop playing and fuck me," she breathes, tugging Moiraine's head back down and hooking a leg over her shoulder.
So Moiraine buries her face between Lanfear's thighs, swiping another stroke from her entrance to her clit, flicking around the hood with the tip of her tongue before closing her lips over the throbbing bundle of nerves and sucking gently, rhythmically. The sensation pulls at Lanfear, dragging all the way from the tips of her toes to the pit of her stomach, and she rolls her hips forward, grinding into Moiraine with a soft moan.
Moiraine can see the urgency building in her, in the surging of her body and the tightening of the fist in her hair, in the breathy little noises that are escaping her. As her mouth works, she trails her fingers over the slick flesh, swirling the tips around the band of muscle at her entrance, coating them in arousal before easing her middle finger inside. Lanfear lets out a groan, and Moiraine feels her walls twitching, pulling at her as she slips another digit into the tight channel.
Moiraine withdraws slowly, wondering if Lanfear can feel the smile on her face just before she slams back into her, knuckle-deep in one stroke, a hoarse cry spilling into the still night. But it's not pain, it's pleasure, and Moiraine really shouldn't be surprised that she likes it a little rough, so she rams her fingers into her again, pistoning in and out as she sucks her clit, and the wet, sloppy sounds that fill the air are fucking sinful.
Lanfear reaches her free hand behind her to clutch at the dark wood of the chair, arching her back and gritting her teeth, and Moiraine can feel her walls fluttering, squeezing her fingers as she tries to hold off the orgasm. But Moiraine has always been good with her mouth, and she rasps the flat of her tongue against Lanfear's clit, lips still sealed around the bundle of nerves, still sucking.
It takes only a few more short, sharp thrusts, and a broken cry rips from Lanfear's throat. She clenches around Moiraine's plunging fingers, body arching off the chair and head thrown back, every muscle in her pulling tight for an aching eternity. And Moiraine fucks her through it, working in slower, deeper strokes as her tongue stills against Lanfear's pulsing clit, letting her twitch against the firm pressure.
When Lanfear finally slumps onto the throne, breath still rasping from her in heaving gasps, Moiraine flicks the tip of her tongue against her oversensitive clit, pulling another jerk from her hips. It's all the Forsaken can do to plant her foot in the middle of her chest and shove her backwards. It doesn't wipe the smirk off her face, Moiraine has to take small victories wherever she can.
It's a few moments before Lanfear gathers herself, pushing her hair back from where it has stuck to her sweat-damp skin and fixing Moiraine with a look. "Get on the bed, on your back."
"What be - oh. That's a bit excessive, isn't it?"
The most enormous, opulent bed that Moiraine has ever seen, and she's seen a few, has appeared in the middle of the half-darkness.
“No, it's not excessive. I’m going to fuck you, and I’m going to do it in style.”
Can't argue with that, thinks Moiraine with a wry smile as she pads across to it, climbing on top and lying flat on her back. She watches as Lanfear stalks to the foot of the bed, leaning against one of the huge carved wooden posts that seem to disappear into the ceiling.
"You know," she says almost casually, "I watched you for a long time. From your dreams but in the waking world too. Watched you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. But it's such a pretty nose that I had to have a bit of fun with you."
As Lanfear crawls slowly up the covers, hovering above her on hands and knees, she reminds Moiraine of a stalking cat, sinuous and sleek. She dips her head down, nudging the ghost of a kiss against Moiraine's lips, trailing over her skin, licking around the shell of her ear as she whispers, "I'm going to make you scream, little Aes Sedai."
Lanfear settles beside her, her warm body pressed to Moiraine's side as she cups her face with one hand, thumb stroking over her bottom lip before she drags blunt nails downwards, scratching over Moiraine's throat, across her collarbones, a single digit trailing between her breasts until Lanfear can splay her fingers over her ribcage and watch it rise and fall with her breathing.
The Forsaken feels Moiraine's sharp inhale when she captures a nipple between her lips, sucking the hardened nub into the heat and wetness of her mouth and laving over the tip. Her smile is feral as she pins the sensitive flesh between her teeth, pulling sharply enough to wring a moan from Moiraine before releasing it, soothing the bite with another lap of her tongue.
Moiraine closes her eyes and clenches her jaw, determined not to give Lanfear the satisfaction of any more involuntary noises, but her hand is sliding over Moiraine's belly and dipping between her legs, and they both know that she's wet and ready. When Lanfear's finger presses into her folds and finds her clit, Moiraine's traitorous body arches like a dancer, and the moan she releases wouldn't be out of place in a Domani whorehouse.
She hates that Lanfear is playing her like a fine instrument, but it feels so good, and when the Forsaken pulls back to sit on her haunches she shoots her a look that's both resentment and frustration. Lanfear laughs, a low chuckle that irritates the Light out of Moiraine, those black-rimmed eyes sparkling with humour as she sucks her fingers into her mouth, slowly and deliberately licking Moiraine's arousal away with a soft slurping noise.
"Is there something you want?" she asks, and even when she's trying to pretend to innocence, Lanfear is still all sex and hunger.
"Not from you," grits out Moiraine with the last of her self-control.
"Is that right? Well, we'll just have to see about that." Lanfear's eyes flash, and when she rises onto her knees, Moiraine sees the phallus jutting from between her legs. And of course it's silver, glinting dully in the half-light, because it's Lanfear's, what other colour would it be?
"You have a bit of a thing for silver and black, don't you?" she observes, but it's bravado to hide a sliver of apprehension because she hasn't been fucked in the way that Lanfear seems to be intending to fuck her in quite a while. The dildo isn't huge, but it's big enough to stretch her open, and she's not anticipating that she'll be gentle.
Lanfear presses her lips together and tilts her head, observing Moiraine with quiet calculation. "I bet you like to be on top, don't you? I bet you like to be the one fucking some soft little thing into the bed, making her moan and look at you adoringly once it's all over."
She grasps the cock in one hand, stroking lazily from the base to the tip as Moiraine watches. "Not this time," she murmurs as she plants her other hand beside Moiraine's head and drapes her body over her, dragging the toy through her folds in a deliberate tease, nudging the blunt tip against her clit. Lanfear's hips move in a slow grind as she slides up and down Moiraine's cunt, coating the cock in a slick layer of arousal.
"I've thought about this moment for so long," breathes Lanfear into her ear. "There's something about you, Moiraine Sedai, I don't know exactly what it is, but I want it. I want you. And I always get what I want." She lines the head of the toy up at Moiraine's entrance and snaps her hips forward, burying it to the hilt in one stroke, driving the breath from her in a harsh groan.
And then Moiraine's world collapses until it's only the surging of Lanfear above her. She clutches at her back, feeling the muscles flexing under her hands as the Forsaken slams into her again and again, rocking her into the mattress with hard, deep strokes, and all she can do is hang on. Their bodies collide in a brutal rhythm, the slapping of flesh on flesh filling the air as Moiraine wraps her legs around Lanfear's hips and slides one hand down, fingers digging into the curve of her ass.
She can feel Lanfear's breath puffing against neck in time with her thrusts, washing hot and damp across her flesh. She tilts her head back against the pillow, exposing her throat because what she really wants is - "Ahh!" Lanfear sinks her teeth into her as if she can read her mind, and Moiraine whimpers even though she hates herself for it.
She can feel the warmth pooling low in her belly, that delicious tension spooling tight as Lanfear stretches her open each time she slams into her. She knows that she's going to come like a fucking thunderclap when suddenly Lanfear isn't there anymore. She lifts her head from the pillow to see Lanfear hovering above her with a knowing smirk, cock in one hand, hips pulled back and sliding out of Moiraine's grasp.
All Moiraine can do is breathe, trapped on the precipice, whole body thrumming with unreleased tension. She screws her eyes shut and squirms, but Lanfear is on her haunches again, and she pins Moiraine to the bed with both hands.
"Something you want?" She repeats the question with one eyebrow raised as Moiraine glares at her. She's unable to find the will for a denial but too stubborn to give in just yet.
Lanfear lifts Moiraine's leg and drapes it over her shoulder, leaning forward to mouth kisses up the inside of her thigh. Her breath tickles against the sensitive skin as she breathes, "Tell me what you want."
Moiraine fists her hands in the covers, trying to calm herself as that feeling of being on the edge gradually slips away. But Lanfear flicks her throbbing clit with the tip of her tongue, and her hips jolt off the bed.
"Tell me," she growls and then, lower, "beg me."
Moiraine grits her teeth and stares at Lanfear. It's a provocation, but a calculated one. "Make me."
Before she knows what's happening, Lanfear has flipped her over so she's belly down on the bed. Her legs are pressed together by the knees on either side of her and Lanfear nudges the head of the toy against the tight ring of muscle at her entrance, easing just inside her. She slides her hands over the skin of Moiraine's sweat-slick shoulders and slams her hips forward, the force of the thrust pressing her swollen clit into the bedclothes, dragging it roughly against the covers.
"Fuuuck," she groans as Lanfear pumps into her again. The thrusts are short and brutal as Moiraine rises toward her peak once more. She's so close when Lanfear pulls out, so fucking close. Her stomach clenches, and she grinds forward trying to find relief.
"Ah ah ah," tuts the Forsaken, firm fingers digging into Moiraine's ass as she stills her movements. "You have to ask nicely if you want to come."
"Fuck you," Moiraine mutters into the pillow. It's not the most eloquent sentence she's ever delivered, but it gets her point across.
"We're already doing that," observes Lanfear, still holding Moiraine in place. She drags her tongue up Moiraine's spine, pulling a shudder from the woman beneath her.
Lanfear runs her hands along Moiraine's sides, lifting her into a kneeling position, bodies flush as she eases back inside and starts an insistent grind. Moiraine can feel the Forsaken's breasts pressed against her as their skin slides together, sticky and overheated. She's reached the limit of her endurance, so she lets her head fall against Lanfear's shoulder and rocks into the motion.
The tip of the toy nudges against her front wall as Lanfear gives a particularly hard roll of her hips before stilling them both. "Are you ready to beg yet?"
And Moiraine is so, so ready. "Please, fuck me," she gasps, because principles and morals and light verus dark don't seem quite so important with Lanfear's cock buried inside her.
"Good girl," murmurs the Forsaken, pushing her onto her hands and knees. And Moiraine's head droops with exhaustion, sweat beading along her spine as Lanfear's fingers spread over the curve of her ass and hook around the front of her thighs, pulling her back and impaling her on the silver phallus as her hips surge forward.
"Ahhh!" Moiraine's broken cry is lost in the sounds of flesh on flesh, in the grunts of exertion as Lanfear pumps into her, the thrusts driving them both forward. Their bodies slam together in a frantic, punishing rhythm as Moiraine lifts her head, neck cording and straining. She knows Lanfear can feel her climax approaching, that she reads it in the way her chest heaves and her body writhes.
Moiraine feels the pressure building at the base of her spine, the heat and tension spilling into her limbs as Lanfear fucks her like an animal. She almost chokes on the scream in her throat, trying to hold it back, before it bursts from her mouth and her whole body clenches around Lanfear's cock, every inch of her pulling achingly tight.
The groan that comes from behind her as Lanfear's hips stutter slightly is small consolation as she collapses forward. Her cunt is pulsing, grasping at the length of the toy as she's fucked through the waves of pleasure, as Lanfear's body drives her into the bed in rough, hard thrusts.
Moiraine can feel Lanfear's harsh breaths when she finally slumps on top of her, fast and shallow and hot against the back of her neck. But the gentle kiss to the side of her face is unexpected, almost soft enough to be imagined.
"I'll see you tomorrow night, Moiraine Sedai," comes the whisper against her skin.