love fills me up like a tumor, parasite bent on devouring its host

[mywholecry]

tresa_cho requested Tamora Pierce femmeslash for this meme (there are still 7 drabbles open, by the way, if anyone wants to request one :D), and I've had a devoted love of Kel/Lalasa since I was a kid.

There are some d/S themes (because that's apparently my new favorite thing), since I tend to write out the naturally dominant and submissive roles when I write sex, and I remembered that Lalasa had that history of abuse (and maybe rape? IDEK, it's been forever since I've read Protector), and Kel has her whole Cold And Emotionless Yamani thing going on. I liked the idea of Kel giving up her control and of Lalasa taking it.

Title: the rest of her here
Rating: R (lightly)
Word Count: ~600
Pairing: Kel/Lalasa
Summary: Kel, for all of her fighting and odd, contained aggression, knows how to handle fragile things.
Warnings: mild sex, mild d/S



Kel, for all of her fighting and odd, contained aggression, knows how to handle fragile things. The sparrows travel the careful planes of her fingers to eat food from her palm, to perch at the dulled curves of her nails. When they’re in a pleasant mood, they let her stroke the feathers at the bend of their thin necks, arching up their backs for her.

She knows how to touch things that are easily broken, and, just sometimes, she knows how to mend them.

Lalasa makes small, pleased noises when Kel presses a hand against the edge of her jaw, leaning farther into the space between their rooms. She lets her arms settle around Kel, thin, bird-boned arms clutching her waist until Kel is backed up against the doorframe. Kisses are strange things, full of vulnerability. When they are done correctly, though, that doesn’t matter.

“Thank you.” Lalasa whispers, into her mouth, then a small, wicked smile close by. “Thank you.”

*

Neal knows about them, somehow immediately after they figure it out, in that way that Neal’s sort of tool but secretly more perceptive than any of them give him credit for.

“You might have to teach me how to please a woman.” he says, seriously, and she looks at him with wide eyes before she ducks her head and blushes before she can will it away. When she looks up, his eyes have gone sort of soft.

“It’s good.” she murmurs. “With her. It’s easy this way.”

“I would warn you to be careful with her,” Neal says, “but I think you’re the last person I have to tell that to.”

“Yes.” she agrees, then: “You don’t mind?”

“I’m a little disappointed I have two less ladies to potentially swoon over me,” Neal replies, “but you look happy, kid. I mean, you seriously look happy. There are facial expressions and everything.”

All at once, she tries to hide a smile and pull her sleeves down to cover the small crescent bruises that scatter the planes of her wrist, the lines of her hands. She’s pretty sure he only notices the smile, which she can’t hold back anymore.

*

Lalasa breathes pretty, quiet words against her neck, words that make her blush, three fingers inside of Kel. They haven’t figured out a rhythm yet, and Kel arches up at the same time that Lalasa presses her free hand to a hip, pushing her back down. They are still so new to each other, new to a body with a sudden shock of confidence and a body that lets someone else take over.

After, Lalasa stands up, dresses quietly.

“Is this wrong?” she asks, little girl soft, her voice and skin and curves, twisting her hands together as her skirts settle over her legs, covering them up like Kel doesn’t know what they look like when they’re stretched out bare. Kel blinks up at her from the bed, looks up at all the hope and hesitation. She smiles.

“How could it be?” she whispers, happily.

Kel is used to break traditions.

She can teach Lalasa how.