[ P ] see the end in your eyes

Kieran thinks the sound of Nylah's laugh might be his new favorite harmony. He wants to coax it from her again, wants to see her in this relaxed state every morning with the sunrise, wants her to know she's safe with him—fates, he's fucked. It had crept up on him, this affection he feels for Nylah, and he doesn't quite know where to put it without overwhelming her with it. For the longest time, he'd relegated her to the same place in his mind as duty; he'd thought if he let himself know her, he would be forsaking Aislinn's memory. But rather than overwrite that part of him, she's bled slowly into the empty pieces of Kieran that had been left hollow and aching.

His question rouses another chuckle from his wife, but she still denies him, and Kieran tuts softly. "Damn," he sighs blithely, sprawling out beside Nylah and throwing a forepaw over his eyes as though he's embarrassed. "I snore that bad, huh?" His lips are fighting a smirk, and it's clear that Kieran is trying not to laugh as he playfully teases Nylah.

Then, he does something he hasn't done in all their months together—he rolls, offering Nylah his belly. Historically, it's not something Kieran does; he's protective of his most vulnerable places, so putting them on display is a visible measure of trust. She could eviscerate him if she really wanted to. But Kieran just tilts his head towards her, extending a forepaw in hopeful invitation, "come here?"

code // art

you're in the dark
just you and anger

your oldest friend
your closest lover

With more drama than she’s ever seen from him, Kieran sprawls beside her, covering his eyes in mock embarrassment. Rolling her eyes, she ignores the smile that toys with his lips, the laugh that he suppresses as he teases her. “Almost as bad as your work ethic.” She drawled, pointing out not too subtly that he had stopped. With his spell broken, she started to sit up, forelegs pushing her lazily up as her jaws parted in another yawn.

Kieran does something she doesn’t expect from him. He rolls onto his back, exposing his belly to her. Looking down at him, her expressive is contemplative as she considers what this means. Pastel eyes travel from his face down his throat, across the broad planes of his chest to the taunt curve of his stomach. Nylah isn’t particularly shy about it. While she might keep men a minimum of ten feet away, she’s not blind and she noticed her husband the day they met. Now, he lays there, trusting her, exposing his vulnerabilities in a way she’s not been shown before. Once again, he leaves her at a loss.

Come here?

Her eyes snap back to him. Kieran has a forepaw extended in invitation and she could see the flicker of hope in his offer. Again, her teeth worried her lip. He’d crossed so many of her lines already this morning. “Why?” Rather than flat out reject him, she wanted to know what else he was to. Much to her surprise, Kieran had managed to wiggle through her defenses in one morning. His hands had already been on her, his fingers combing through her hair. Briefly, her eyes narrowed. She didn’t bolt from the bed, she didn’t flash her teeth, she just wanted to know - what did he want from her now?

"speech"

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"Why?" Nylah is always suspicious, always questioning him, always waiting for him to reveal an ulterior motive. He never does—because when it comes to her, Kieran doesn't have one. She was never supposed to be important to him; he'd kept his walls so high, but spending day in and day out with the same person has a way of chipping at the foundation, one crack at a time. He sees so many of the things she won't tell him, playing her cards as close to her heart as he does his own, and it's softened him to her.

He offers a small, reassuring smile. "It's still early. I just want to lay with you for a little while," Kieran murmurs, watching her through lazily hooded eyes still heavy with sleep. "No funny business, I promise," he adds, hoping to reinforce the fact that she can trust him. Kieran knows she isn't convinced yet, which says plenty to the sorts of hardships that Nylah has faced in her life prior to his unceremonious arrival in it.

He waits, motionless, with his paw still extended in open invitation. It wouldn't surprise him if this is the part where Nylah bites his toes and leaves, but he hopes she'll take the olive branch he's offering instead.

code // art

you're in the dark
just you and anger

your oldest friend
your closest lover

...I just want to lay with you for a little while. Her nose wrinkled, not in distaste but like she couldn't even begin to fathom why he would want that. Nylah didn't cuddle, she had never been cuddled. She regarded him with the same level of suspicion she always did, always waiting for him to decide this wasn't enough. But then he was promising no "funny business". She rolled her eyes. He could be such a chlid sometimes.

He hadn't moved, laying there with his paw outstretched in invitation.

Pressing her teeth into her lip she would relent, slowly sinking back into bed and into his arms. He was warm, intoxicatingly so in the cooler temperatures of the a fall morning. This close, the only thing she breathed in was the scent of moss and pine, something that had become annoyingly familiar and even more disturbingly, comforting.

She rested her chin on his chest, pastel eyes turned up towards him with so many questions. Kieran never pried though. Unlike her, he didn't ask the hard questions, he didn't demand answers. He simply let her be, silently coaxing her along with seemingly infinite patience.

Despite experience telling her not to relax, the platonic warmth he offered was irresistable. Who knew snuggling her husband could be so nice. A quiet sigh would huff out through her nose and she found herself considering a cat nap of sorts. Would it be so bad? Yes, it could be.

"speech"

code // art

Much to his surprise, Nylah relents, sinking slowly back onto the bed and into his waiting embrace. Kieran's leg curls around her shoulders, and he sighs softly in contentment, inhaling the sweet scent of jasmine. It's a unique sort of torture to have her so close, flooded with her smell and heat, and not be able to have her—and fates, does he want her—but he is a patient man, deliberate in everything he does, and acutely aware that just because he wants something does not just mean he can take it. Some men, he knows, never got that memo, and he suspects that Nylah has known at least one of them in her life.

If he has any say in it, she'll never be at the mercy of such a man again.

Idly, Kieran's nails begin to trail lazily up and down her spine, ruffling her fur in one direction and then smoothing it back down in the other with casual strokes. He can feel Nylah relaxing against him, yielding inch by inch as she settles into the understanding that he isn't going to try to push her boundaries. Her eyes are drooping, like she's fighting sleep again—and as easy and satisfying as it would be to let her do just that, Kieran has something weighing on his mind. He needs her to know, and not just wonder at every turn.

"Nylah," he murmurs, drawing her attention as his fingers continue their idle petting of her hair. "I want you to know something," he says, his voice and tone soft though his expression is earnest. "You don't owe me anything, ever. Not today, or a year from now, or ten years from now." His eyes are hooded so that he can look down at her face, looking for those subtle signs he's grown so aware of, searching for symptoms of her discomfort. "But if you ever are curious," he hums a little quieter, his nails tickling the back of her neck in a slightly teasing fashion, "I promise you'd enjoy every second." It's partly jest and partly his own masculine arrogance, evidenced by the wry quirk at the corners of his lips. If Nylah wants to know if he's telling the truth, she'll have to break her own rules—and though Kieran will never push her boundaries, he will eagerly prove himself right if given the opportunity.

code // art

you're in the dark
just you and anger

your oldest friend
your closest lover

The longer he runs his nails up and down her spine, the more she melts into him, the harder it is to resist sleep. She’s okay with this. This she doesn’t mind, she even likes it. It was new and it was scary, foreign territory but a tentative trust was being formed. So far, he’d not let her down, even when she pushed him. Still, she resisted him often, always assuming the worst first. But what if it never came? What if he never let her down? It seemed unlikely. She’d been failed so many times at such a young she, she couldn’t conceptualize anything different, what he was offering. But it’s so incredibly addictive, laying here with him.

Kieran is talking then, her name snagging her attention and puling her from the depths of her thoughts. He quieted the back and forth that ran rampant in her mind in a way that she didn’t entirely like. Because if, one day, he did let her down, she knew it would be catastrophic. She knew that would cut the deepest.

I want you to know something.


Sleepy eyes met his, questions forming as she waited for him to continue. Kieran’s ability to leave her utterly speechless was becoming annoying. Once again, Nylah could only stare. What in the actual fuck was this man up to? He seemed so genuine, like he knew, without a doubt in his mind, that it would always be true. He doesn’t leave her drowning for long. His nails tease her skin, tickling the back of her neck and sending a shiver down her spine. He jokes, but she’s not deaf to the virile confidence in his voice that suggests he might not be wrong. 



Deflecting, she rolls her eyes as a smirk lifts one corner of her mouth. “That’s awfully presumptuous of you.” Her tone was uncharacteristically light, teasing him back while simultaneously not slamming the door in his face. She didn’t shut him down, not this time.

"speech"

code // art

He's figuring out a balance with Nylah—offering flashes of sincerity, and then smoothing away her tendency to balk with something lighter and borderline silly. He isn't expecting her to respond to his promise, but he openly lays this one at her feet, just as he had when he promised to never hurt her. He'll lay a path to her heart, paving the way with one meticulously-placed brick at a time—a foundation she can learn to lean upon.

Her eye roll prompts his lazy smile to widen slightly, and her comment stretches it into a downright smirk, boyish in nature. "It is," he agrees amicably, his talons resuming that slow, casual stroking up and down her spine. "Here's the thing, though," Kieran drawls, his muzzle leaning in closer to her like he has a secret to share, his breath ghosting lightly over her ear as he murmurs, "I don't make promises I can't keep."

He's pushing, just a fraction, curious to see what kind of reaction he can get out of her, but Kieran doesn't go any further than that. He doesn't run his tongue up the pulse point beneath her ear like he wants to, his paw doesn't stray any further than the places she's already allowed him to touch her, he doesn't try to trap her against him. Kieran simply dangles the bait, and waits.

code // art

you're in the dark
just you and anger

your oldest friend
your closest lover

TW: SA prior to 2 years old (sonder ages).

I don't make promises I don't keep.

His nails trail up and down her back, his touch is slow and languid, lulling her into the security she secretly craves. It elicited a warmth to spread from her belly down to the apex of her thighs. A strange and new sensation. Tentative tendrils of desire unfurled and spread slowly through her veins, taking a slow effect, like a new drug. Another contented sigh slipped past her lips. But it wasn’t to last. Nylah had never been raised to be a wife, to be a woman with desires. She was created to be a machine, a ruler with an iron fist. The feelings that Kieran was trying to coax out of her were strange and new and oh so enticing. She found herself curious for more, wondering what other tricks he had up his sleeve. But she didn't know what to do with those feelings.

How was she suppose to reciprocate? Propping herself up her elbows, she didn’t completely pull out of his grasp, going so far as to leave a leg draped across him. Looking down at him, there was indecision on her features. “I wasn’t raised to be a wife. My father didn’t teach me anything about what it means to be married.” She said without preamble. I was raised to rule. “So when he married me before I was 2, I didn’t know what to expect.” Her vocals didn’t dip with sorrow nor did they vibrate with rage. She could have been talking about the weather with the casualness of her tone. It was the easiest way to detach, especially when the memories flooded in. Her brows pinched together as she recalled all the gruesome details that she didn't share.

Her body certainly did though as shoulders tightened and her heart kicking up a notch, pounding against her ribcage. Nylah wasn't pulling away though, her skin crawled but not with the urge to get away from him, to get his hands off her. "Is it supposed to be so... violent?" She asks him suddenly, pinning him with a stare that demanded answers. Everything he was doing, had done, it was.... the opposite of everything she had experienced. Where his fingers teased her skin with feather light touches, she had once felt the press of fingertips that bruised her skin, that held her down with no hope to escape. Again and again, until she had finally reached her breaking point, until her monster was born.

She remembered the rush of blood as it filled her mouth. His startled gasp echoed in her skull. Like malevolent retribution, she had stood there and watched. Almost entranced, she watched the life fade from his eyes, she listening to his fading pleas for help, his false apologies and fucked up promises. But never, would she ever forget, the way the air whooshed from her lungs with a sigh of relief when the forest had fallen deathly silent. When it was finally over - the first time.

"speech"

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Nylah pulls back slightly, and when Kieran lays his head back down to peer at her face, he can see the indecision warring there. He gets the sense that she's about to do or say something, so he just waits in silence, watching her with sober curiosity. When she does finally speak, he isn't expecting it to be the most honest thing Nylah has ever given him, offering a glimpse into her past that rapidly reveals a darkness he'd suspected but never could have guessed the heinous depth of it. Kieran's jaw tics, a fury burning in his chest with the knowledge that she had been a goddamned child. It's a good thing her father is already dead, because Kieran would gladly have taken a long time doing it himself.

"Is it supposed to be so...violent?" Kieran's anger banks at the vulnerability in that question, his expression softening as his throat works on a swallow. He hates that she has to ask that. He hates that she doesn't know any better. "Nylah..." he murmurs, trying to find the words to answer her, his brows pulling together. Slowly, he lifts his head, leaning towards her until he can press his lips against her brow in a chaste but heartfelt kiss. "No," he whispers against her skin, "it's not."

His muzzle shifts, dipping down to press another soft kiss upon her cheek, and then another on the bony curve of her jaw. "Let me show you," he says softly, his voice a gentle coaxing, a promise that he is here not for himself, but for her. "Let me overwrite those memories in your mind." He doesn't want to dominate Nylah, or bring her to her knees, or claim her like a possession; he wants to worship her.

With a careful deliberation, as intentionally escapable as every other cautious advance he makes, Kieran laves his tongue against the pulse point beneath her ear, giving her the smallest taste of what he's offering. "Anything you don't like, tell me. If you say stop, I'll stop. I promise." With each promise he makes and keeps, Kieran hopes to build Nylah's trust in him—he hopes she knows that he means what he says. Kieran wants to empower her in a way she hasn't experienced, but if she says no, he'll accept it without question. Unlike the previous men in Nylah's life, he doesn't take things that aren't willingly and enthusiastically given to him.

code // art

you're in the dark
just you and anger

your oldest friend
your closest lover

She feels it, more than she sees his. His jaw tics, as if he's angry. In her mind, its a curious response, for him at least. She had a reason to be angry. But him? Why could he possibly be angry over what happened to her? But it doesn't linger long because the moment she shows her naivety, he softens. Nylah. She waits, watching him, as she always does - with keen eyes. With a slowness she was beginning to expect from him, he leans towards her and does the unexpected. His lips meet her forehead in a single, chaste kiss. Nylah is beginning to think that Kieran is from another world entirely. On its own accord, her expression immediately softens. She doesn't regard him with her usual wariness, she's not waiting for him to fuck up.

No. It's not. His words are spoken with conviction against her skin. And for some reason, she believes him.

It startles her, the way he disarms her. So easily too. Maybe its because no matter what it is he's doing, its unexpected. Like he moves deliberately, always offering an escape. He walks cautiously through uncharted territory, but he doesn't do so gingerly. Kieran navigates a minefield with precision, learning exactly where not to go. Its reassuring. It allows her to drop some of her guard.

His muzzle drops to press a kiss to her cheek next. And lower again to the edge of her jaw. Her head tilts away, granting him excess, offering him her vulnerability in the soft curve of her throat. Let me show you. Sweet temptation had her easing back into him. Kieran offers her a new experience, something different. Surely if it was anything like he was doing now, it would be worth it. Indecision waned, replaced with a desire to say yes. Placing her faith in him was unnerving, it rattled her to her core but she still found herself wanting.

Nylah didn't stop him, she didn't want to stop him. His tongue grazed her skin, just below her ear and it set her body afire. Her gasp is a sharp, quiet sound. Pastel eyes widened slightly, startled by the bolt of pleasure that shot through her veins. Her cheeks turned pink. I promise. The pleasant hum throughout her body demanded she say yes. Taking a step outside of her comfort zone, she'd smile shyly at her husband. "Okay." Again, she relented, letting him have his chance to prove her wrong. And she sure as hell hoped he would do just that.

"speech"

code // art