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“Can’t sleep?” Lucanis’ voice breaks your deep concentration on the water boiling in the pot. You glance with tired eyes at him leaning against the wall next to the fireplace. You take in his form, tracing every detail. His ruffled hair, his tired glazed over eyes that peers through your soul. The flames flicker softly in the dark, casting a shadow over his handsome face. He looks exhausted, just like you.
“Sorry if I woke you,” you murmur, finding it hard to focus on anything but the look in his eyes. It has always done something to you. Ever since you laid eyes on him in the Ossuary, it’s captivated you in a way where you don’t want to look away from him. You always wanted him with you, besides you, with you wherever you went. You wanted to make sure he was always okay, safe under your watchful gaze.
Lucanis shakes his head momentarily. “Spite does that naturally.” You scoff at the mention of the demon’s name. “I could keep him entertained for you while you sleep.” You offer half-heartedly before turning your gaze to the boiling pot again. The water was ready.
“Do you want some tea?” You question, “Tea?” He raises an eyebrow. “I’ll make you coffee if that better suits your taste.” You knew he’d prefer coffee over tea. He didn’t seem like the man that would drink anything that’s not his specific brew of coffee. He watches you move around the kitchen, finding it difficult to tear his eyes away from you. You can hear him slowly cross over the kitchen, his steps light.
“You’re too kind to me.” He whispers under his breath, moving to stand behind you. You tense up when you feel his warmth on your back, shivers run down your spine, tensing your back in ways that made you want to squirm in a good way. He places his hand on the wall next to you, trapping you between him and the table. Nervousness pricked at your senses. He's never stood this close to you before... aside from helping you during combat. “Kind? Can I not care for you?” You ask, working diligently, trying to hide your nervousness and keep your mind focused on anything but his attractive hand next to your face and his body trapping you. When you're met with silence, a lump forms in your throat. He didn't respond.
Lucanis swallows hard as he feels the heat of your body through his clothes. Your back flush against his chest, and he can feel every nervous breath you take when he steps closer. The smell of your hair fills his senses momentarily, and he shuts his eyes briefly, enjoying the smell. Like cinnamon and coffee.
He tries to shut out Spite’s remarks, edging him on to get closer. Pull you to him, kiss you, touch you. Yet ignoring the demon was hard, especially when they were both heavily affected by your presence and smell. You smelled delectable. "Touch Rook," Spite whispers in his head, his tone impatient. Lucanis sucks in a breath, uncertain of what to do. “Touch Rook!” The demon urges him on. Lucanis grits his teeth, his hands clenched by his sides, fighting the impulse to touch you. Spite being a constant nagging presence grinded his gears, but he couldn't deny the truth in the demon’s words any longer because he did want to touch you, and badly.
He can feel the tension rising between your bodies. Noticing the hairs on your exposed neck rising. He didn’t even take notice of your robe slowly falling down your body, hanging halfway on your back, exposing the soft flesh to him. Your hands had long forgotten of the coffee, now resting flat on the table to keep you up right.
Lucanis lifts his one hand up, skimming his knuckle down your bareback, relishing on the feeling of your soft skin under his touch. A shudder runs through your spine, your head tilting forward from the sudden contact. His touch sent tingles down your body, liting your body on fire. "I care for you too, Rook, more than I thought I would." He whispers, leaning his head down to whisper in your ears. Your eyes close when the feeling of his warm breath hits your ears.
Lucanis has never been this close to you before. He knows he should step back and put a respectable distance between the two of you. But he can't. He refuses to. Not when you're here - so close to him, your back against him, your scent filling his lungs, your bare skin soft under his touch.
His nostrils flare as he struggles, desperately, to push aside the urge to touch you more, trace your skin, and get to know your body, mind, and soul. His mind is a frenzy of conflicting thoughts. The rational voice of reason telling him to step away, to create some space between the two of you, but he's been fighting himself too long. "Lucanis," you say his name with a sense of breathlessness, your body responding to him in ways you could only imagine in your dreams...
The sound of his name on your lips is like a sudden light in the darkness. A surge of heat, a rush of desire that runs through his veins. He can practically feel it radiating off of you, the need, the desire, the raw, primal energy that simmers so close to the surface. He was done denying himself. Lucanis decided that he was done leaving you waiting on a string. Since that one night, when he almost kissed you the other night, he's been fighting himself, telling himself to stay away.
He lowers his head into your neck, rubbing his nose down the crook of your neck and inhaling your scent. You drove him crazy. Even the faintest smell of you anywhere in the Lighthouse drove both him and Spite crazy. "Rook," his voice was hoarse with desire. You tilt your neck, giving him more access to your neck, needing more of his touch.
"Lucanis," you respond. His name rolled off your tongue ao perfectly it drove him crazy in ways he couldn't understand. "Meirda," he sighs before stepping back from your body, regaining some sense. Your eyes blink open instantly when his touch leaves your skin. The absence of his warm chest against you sent cold chills down your exposed back.
You face him with worried eyes. You didn't want him to run off again. "Lucanis, please don't leave," you plead softly, stepping closer to his body. He watches you with gentle eyes, taking in every expression you make and every word that falls past your tempting lips. He wanted to devour you then and there and not overthink about it any longer.
"Rook," his voice sounds vulnerable. You hesitantly bring your hand up to his cheek, cupping it slowly. Your thumb rubs over his rough skin, feeling his beard. You stare at his moles before closing your eyes. "Talk to me Lucanis, please."
Lucanis stands in place. His eyes shut when your hand comes in contact with his cheek. He feels your soft and warm touch against the roughness, rubbing your thumb slowly. He can’t bring himself to move away from you, not again. You move your hand to rub it across his beard. He can’t help the sound that escapes him, somewhere between a sigh and a soft moan. Your touch and presence brought him peace.
He opens his eyes. His expression looks conflicted, but when he speaks, his voice is firm. "I’m not good for you, Rook," he says, despite wanting you more than he’s wanted anything before. "And who told you that?" You whisper.
Lucanis leans into your touch, his head tilting into your hand as if craving your warmth, your touch, your safety. His eyes close in what almost looks like agony. He lets out a hoarse laugh. "Myself. I told myself. But it's true," he states, his voice filled with a mix of concern and vulnerability.
"You have to admit you have a thing for bad decisions," Spite butts in from across the room. You sigh softly. "But why?" You lean your forehead against his, your voice bearing a sense of vulnerability. You felt scared that he would shut you out again, leave you wondering for days. A dry chuckle escapes Lucanis, his eyes slowly opening. They meet yours. He feels torn. Torn between what his head is telling him to do and what his heart is feeling. He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he does. Lucanis brings a hand up to your back to keep his balance, his palm resting on your exposed skin, warm and heavy.
"I feel scared," he admit, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Scared?" Your voice echoes, your eyes carrying a worried glance. His eyes have a glazed over shine, like a glass overfilled with water... Overfilled with emotion. He looked close to crying. "Because all I've ever known is killing and doing everything Caterina told me to. I was raised to be an assassin, not a lover." He says, his voice trembling anxiously as he admits what has been holding him back. You cup his face with both your hands, gently moving his face so that his eyes will meet yours. With a soft touch, you rub your thumb over his cheek.
Lucanis holds your gaze, his eyes studying every inch of your face. "You being raised as a killer does not mean you don't have the right to feel," you whisper. He wishes to argue, but his voice dies in his throat. "You are able to care. You have been caring for everyone, I've seen it since I brought you here." You try your best to communicate, desperate to express that he doesn't have to be afraid, that he doesn't have to view himself in a bad light. "I'm not good for you, Rook," he responds with a scoff, though there's no real argument in it, more a mixture of frustration and defeat. He wasn't sure why he was doing this to himself or you. He knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you. "I would hold you back, burden you with all my troubles."
"No, you wouldn't. I'm here to help you. We do things together. I'm here for you, Lucanis. You're never a burden or a liability." Firmness is evident in your tone. Your raw emotions are visible in the way you spoke and gazed with your eyes. You weren't hard for him to read because you never tried to hide your feelings, your thoughts, your desires.
Lucanis stares at you, his mouth half-open, ready to argue. But the way your voice sounded and the look in your eyes shut down the argument before it could even leave his lips. He stays silent for a long moment, eyes roaming your face, looking for any hint of uncertainty or hesitation. He is scared, even if it was hard to admit that to himself. He knows that, but he knows that he can trust you. Especially after you've helped him through so many things that weighed him down. You helled him out of his own mind that kept him prison and even helped him come to terms with his demon.
"Rook." He feels speechless for a while, a lump forming in his throat. He was uncertain about how to react, what to say. He had so many thoughts to express, so many feelings to lay out to you.
Lucanis eventually brings his other hand to your waist, his hold on you strong and possessive, yet gentle. You’ve won, you got through his stubborn head. "You're too good for me, you know that, right?" he mutters, rubbing his hand up and down your bare back.
You shake your head. "I am just a normal person who loves you. You deserve love and affection like every other person. Just because you were raised differently compared to others doesn't mean you don't feel." You press your hand on his chest, exactly over his heart.
Lucanis' jaw clenches. He wants to argue with you again, tell you that you're wrong, that he doesn't deserve your love or affection. But looking at you, seeing the sincerity in your eyes, he can't bring himself to do it. His one hand moves to cup yours that's pressed against his chest.
He sighs deeply, shutting his eyes again. His forehead presses against yours once more, his touch almost needy. "You're too damn good for me," he repeats. There's a hoarse edge to his voice, as if he desperately wants you but is trying to hold himself back. "You don't have to pretend or hold yourself back." You whisper.
Lucanis' breath hitches at your words. He feels the tension in his body, the urge to keep himself in control, but your words are enough to finally push him over the edge. He can't keep himself in check when you look at him with those eyes of yours. He needs you.
Without another word, Lucanis leans down and captures your lips in a rough and desperate kiss.
You can feel his hands clutching at you, holding you tight. A craving, a deep desire for you. His lips find yours, and he kisses you like a man possessed. His tongue slips past your lips, tasting your mouth, enjoying every sound that escapes past. He presses you against the wall behind you, body flush against your own. Your bare skin is pressed against his clothes, the leather and fabric coarse and rough, but Lucanis is all heated skin. The kiss is rough, needy, and intense. You respond with just as much passion as he is putting into it. He kisses you as if he's been drowning, and you're the air refilling his lungs and giving him life. Giving him reason.
"Mi amor," he groans into the kiss, feeling you nibble at his bottom lip. He brings up his hand, rubbing your jaw and holding your face in his hands. He kisses you gently one last time before pulling back and resting his forehead against yours. His eyes flutter close. Your presence relaxes him.
"I love you." He whispers, rubbing his thumb across your cheek gently. "I love you too." You whisper back. No matter the cost, you were going to protect this man's heart and cradle it like it was your last burning candle.