Oh my fucking god.
How the hell did I go from hating Sorin to making out with him in two minutes?
I hate him... but then again I guess I couldn't completely hate him since I was making out with him.
His rough and calloused hands cupped my face, pulling me closer to him. To my mortification, I kissed him back the second his lips had crashed onto mine. I matched his eagerness, surpassed his emotion.
He kissed me, kissed me so fiercely and deeply that I barely kept up.
We somehow made it back to my room, still kissing and still so, so close. I fumbled with the lock as Sorin kissed me against the door, and when we finally got inside, he shut it with his foot.
Though I was still cold, I flung my two heavy coats off. Sorin did the same. Then we stepped out of our boots and I heard the sounds of metal dropping as we took off our straps of knives and let them fall, somehow managing not to break the kiss.
Sorin led us to the middle of the room. Only when his hands picked me up and tossed me onto the bed did our contact break.
But I hadn't had time to think as he leaned down again and began kissing me again, on top of me. One of his hands gripped my thigh and pinned it to his hip while the other snaked up my shirt, just under my breasts. I clawed at his clothes, blindly trying to get them off.
I knew this was stupid, insane even, but I also didn't give two fucks because God his mouth felt amazing against mine.
Sorin broke the kiss again but this time to take off his shirt. I sat up slightly, panting heavily, and began unbuttoning my own shirt. When Sorin saw this, he quickly pinned my hands above my head and said softly, his voice like death,
"Now what kind of man am I if I let you undress yourself?" I was too breathless to retort. This amused Sorin.
Keeping his hands on my wrists, he leaned down and kissed my jaw, moving so torturously slow down my neck, to my chest. He reached the space where my shirt clashed with my skin and stopped. One hand came off my wrists and played with the bottom button on my shirt.
"Sorin," I panted, making his eyes flicker to mine.
"Yes, dear?" Cocky fucking bastard.
"Are you only good at teasing or can we get onto the fucking part?" A challenge.
But Sorin only smiled and said sweetly, "Don't rush, little assassin. This dick will be inside you soon enough."
Forgetting my shirt, Sorin ripped my pants off quickly, taking my socks with them and leaving only my panties. He lifted one of my legs and kissed gently up my inner thigh. I squirmed, my breathing speeding up. Now, he used both hands on the lower part of my body, one to continue holding my thigh and the other he used to rub me over my panties. My back arched slightly into him, but he pushed my hips down.
Sorin's finger went under the band of my panties, folding them down but not taking them off. God, he was an awful teaser. My eyes had closed, but I felt his fingers finally slide them down my legs slowly, his lips pressing into my stomach. His hand moved down to my thigh again, pushing it away from the other. I gasped softly.
The first flick of his tongue against me set me aflame. The second had me moaning his name under my breath in strung-together sentences.
My hands found his hair, brushing through the thick locks, yanking the ends. This only enticed Sorin more. His tongue began moving around my clit in quick circles, and somewhere in the bliss of pleasure, I felt his hand move under my shirt to my breasts. It fondled first my left breast, then moved carelessly to my right, giving each the same amount of attention.
Eventually, he focused back on the lower half of my body. Both of his strong hands pushed my legs apart further as he continued eating me out. I felt my climax nearing. I could nearly grab it.
But then Sorin slid two fingers into me, adding to the mix of his dancing tongue, and I no longer had to reach for it. It was there. I let out another loud moan apparently alerting Sorin to how close I was because then he stopped. Just stopped. He pulled himself up and watched my quivering body.
I barked a breathless slur of cuss words at him to which he laughed and bent back down, finally unbuttoning my shirt fully. He caught my lips in the process, but his hands still found the buttons with ease. I had to help him slide the shirt from my arms, but once I was completely naked, he raised slightly. His eyes widened, lips parting.
For at least five seconds, maybe more, he just stared at me, taking in my body, my flushed face. He opened his mouth wider as if to say something, but either he thought against it or simply had no words as he crashed his lips back on mine.
I reacted immediately, urging him closer by his shoulders, wrapping my arms around his back. Again, the sensation of his finger between my legs made me gasp and pull away from the kiss, moaning heavily, and this time, Sorin didn't let up. Faster and faster, his fingers worked me until I was once more a shaking mess.
"Come on, little assassin," Sorin urged quietly. His lips brushed my ear. "Cum for me, darling." If my thoughts weren't so jumbled up, I might've restored a smartass comment, but Sorin -damn him- had quite literally made me speechless. And instead, I actually listened to the asshole and felt my climax spillover.
I gasped for a breath while Sorin kissed down my jaw, but though already breathless and shaking, I wanted more. Craved it.
My hands reached for Sorin's belt, undoing it quickly and tossing it somewhere off the bed. Then I undid his pants and slid them down to his knees. He climbed off the bed, swiftly stepping out of his pants, and when I caught sight of him, it was my turn to gape as I got a good look at him. His abs were chiseled and doused with slight sweat along with his hair. And by God, South of his abs...
Maybe bringing Sorin wasn't a completely awful idea.
I was trying to remember if it had always been that big or if the alcohol last time had hindered my memory when Sorin, a cocky smirk on his face, somehow found my lips again. And mid-kiss, I felt him slowly enter me.
Inhaling sharply, I clenched my teeth. Sorin gave me a moment to adjust to him but pounded back into me not a moment after. Our moans clashed together as we found a rhythm. My hips thrusted up as he thrusted down, meeting in the middle.
"Fuck, assassin, you feel amazing," Sorin groaned, fucking me. He was fucking me so good, I couldn't string together two syllables. I felt all of him -every glorious inch.
Sorin's hand slid up on the bed and caught hold of my hair, yanking on the roots, forcing my head back. My legs shook from the pleasure. Faster and faster Sorin fucked me until my eyes began rolling in the back of my head. Sweat clung onto our bodies despite the chill that stood in the room. My hands roamed Sorin's body.
I clawed at his back and pulled at the ends of his hair, a silent order to not hold back, to go harder. He did. He did until we both came with loud moans, panting heavily, staring at each other with gazes I didn't understand, couldn't even begin to comprehend.
Eventually, we fell asleep on each other, listening to the raging storm outside.
________________
I woke up silently from another nightmare only to realize I was alone.
Shivering from the cold, I sat up softly. Still naked and thinking Sorin had left, I began getting up. But I froze when I saw Sorin -naked may I add- by the fireplace. He was placing wood into the hearth, stacking it gently on each other.
Stifling a surprised smile, I crawled quietly to the foot of the bed and laid on my stomach, hands cradled on my palms, watching him. He cussed under his breath when his stack of wood fell and I found myself giggling. Having heard this, Sorin's head turned in surprise.
"You're awake," he said before glancing at the window and turning back to the fireplace. "It's still night."
I raised a brow and asked lazily, "How can I sleep knowing that I'm sharing a bed with the king's top lieutenant? It's quite impossible, I'll tell you." Though his back was to me -and by God the muscles- I could tell he smiled.
"I knew you'd warm up to me." He lit the fire and we both watched as the wood caught flame.
I kept looking at him, watching him as he waited to make sure the fire didn't smother. But why my body rose from the bed, why it crossed the room to him, I didn't know.
"It should warm up..." Sorin didn't finish his thought. He glanced behind him and caught sight of me, naked, standing behind him. I smirked.
"What? Am I rendering you speechless, Lieutenant?" Face hardening, Sorin cleared his throat.
"I-."
"No, it's okay. I tend to have that effect on people." Finally, a smirk spread over Sorin's face. He began to stand and move to me.
"Cocky, assassin," he mumbled, eyes glancing down. His fingers brushed my hair off my shoulders, but his hand lingered.
"Conceited, lieutenant," I responded.
Our faces neared the other. Our breaths merged.
Just above my lips, Sorin asked, "Are we really about to do this again?"
I gave a half-smirk. "Eh, what's the harm?"
I felt his chuckle. "Immediate death."
"Yeah, well, death doesn't scare me."
"Yeah, me neither."
His mouth met mine, his lips slow and sensual, and our events from earlier repeated in the same glorious pattern.
__________________
Warmth.
That was the first thing I felt when my nightmares stirred me awake again.
I had expected to wake up alone, gasping for breath, confused and vulnerable, but I felt hands gently rub my arms, heard someone calling my name, and realized I wasn't.
Opening my eyes quickly, I tried to fight the person above me, but they were strong and kept me down. I hated the feeling that followed the innocent gesture- the panic. I was lucid and touch never made it better. Rafe knew this. Thoughts pounded my temples. Get off me. Get off. GET OFF!
"It's okay. Hey-" I tried to fight them again. "Vera!" The voice was stern. "I'm here. It was a nightmare. I'm here." Finally, when I calmed down, I realized it was Sorin. The memories of the night before flooded my mind.
I choked for a breath. My muscles slowly relaxed as his rich, brown eyes drew me back into reality. We were still naked. Sorin was on top of me. I was acting pathetic. I was an assassin for Gods' sake, a soldier. A soldier who was on the verge of tears from a stupid nightmare.
When Sorin was certain I had calmed down, he climbed off me and handed me a shirt as I sat up and continued to even my breathing. I rubbed my temples, counted to ten -many times- breathed in my nose and out my mouth, closed my eyes. I did everything to calm myself.
Sorin didn't say anything, didn't ask for an explanation. He waited for me.
"They've..." my mouth was so dry. "They've been happening for... for as long as I can remember. They... they just get... worse the more exhausted I am. It'll pass. Just... just give me a minute, please." When I opened my eyes, I found Sorin was looking at me.
"I'll be here." Then as I got up and walked -well limped is a better word thanks to Sorin- to the bathroom, I thought I heard him add in a whisper so soft, I thought I might've imagined it, "Always."
Once I reached the bathroom, I headed straight for the sink, running and splashing very cold water on my water. I then leaned against the counter, waiting for... well I don't know exactly, but when I straightened myself, I caught myself in the mirror and immediately looked away.
My hairbrush was still on the counter, so I grabbed it and brushed through my tangled hair. I remembered Sorin's compliment from the night before, how I used to always wear it down. That's about the time when I put my hair in a ruthlessly tight bun and walked -limped- back out to the room where Sorin was tending to the dying fire, the bed freshly made behind him.
He looked up at me -I wondered if he noticed the hair- and watched as I sat on the side of the bed, turned to where my back was to him.
I've never talked about my nightmares before nor the origin behind them, not even to Rafe. He has his guesses -none of which he brings up-but we have a mutual, unspoken agreement not to talk about our pasts. The only reason I know his is because of the day we met, but even then, I didn't know the depths of his trauma.
But with Sorin, it was somehow different. I don't know how, I don't know why, but it felt easier, not easy -this kind of stuff was hard as fuck for me to talk about- to talk to Sorin about this. Out of the six of us, he was the one whose past related most to mine -the trauma of war and of growing up in the castle. I told Rafe I wouldn't let my guard down around him, but I was starting to realize that maybe that was impossible.
"They began after my parents died," I said, my voice still rough and outlined with exhaustion. "I woke up to them dead one morning -murdered by a thief who had woken them during the night. I remember it was still dark and the house had been dead silent. I remember slipping on something and realizing it was the blood of my father. I remember sitting there frozen, looking at his lifeless eyes.
"Then my memory goes blank until the Core Defense was practically shoving me into my Aunt and Uncle's house. That's when they started, the nightmares. My aunt and uncle had eight kids and a house too small to hold them all, but even then, not one person heard me at night, and if they did, they didn't check on me. So, I learned how to deal with them alone.
"They didn't have much money, especially to support their family, so when the flyer was posted that the all mighty King Orson was in need of maids and stable boys and other helpers, they didn't hesitate to ship me off, take the money, and move far away, where their guilt didn't eat at them day and night, and where, I suppose, they finally got a big house. That was how I wound up at the castle." I still didn't look behind me, still kept my back to Sorin. In fact, I wouldn't have known he'd been there at all had he not said a moment later,
"I had... I had no idea." I exhaled something between a laugh and a scoff and looked up.
"Yeah, I have this funny thing about not telling people things. It makes it easier, I guess, if there's no past to judge you on." There was a second of silence. Then,
"I'm sorry." That was the second time Sorin Stryker ever genuinely apologized to me. It didn't surprise me as it had the first time.
I did something with my shoulders that vaguely resembled a shrug. "I don't think I'll ever escape them, and I have yet to live a day without them. There's no point in letting them eat at you."
Sorin then spoke the words I thought to myself. "But you still do." To this, I didn't respond. This was a conversation I had no energy to have. Instead, I pat the bed and said,
"Tell me about yours." After a moment of no answer, I thought Sorin was going to refuse, or at least not say anything, but then I felt the bed sink as another sat behind me. Our backs touched and a second later, the husky voice of Sorin began.
"My brother. That's who I dream about." He collected his thoughts for a moment while I was quiet. "The day we were drafted for the war, we -my parents, him, and I- celebrated. My parents believed this was a good thing. They were ecstatic that we were honoring our country, our family, at such a young age. Jacob was three years younger than me. He was fifteen, a boy, and I remember feeling confused as to why... why he was forced into war with no more than a few years of training. He was skinny and... adequate in combat at best. He hadn't been the best or the strongest, not even close, and yet was still drafted. But still, I celebrated.
"On the day we were scheduled to leave, we said our goodbyes, and I remember telling him, 'Try not to get taller than me while you're away'. (He was tall for his age). Jacob responded, 'When we get back, I'll be looking down at you and calling you a midget'." Sorin paused for a long while.
"In my nightmares, I see him... but I'm the one wielding the knife that kills him. No matter how I try to stop myself, the dream ends the same, me killing my own brother. Because that is what I was trained to be, a killer. Because that is what I've always been and what I'll always be. Because every time I kill, I could very easily be killing the brother of another, yet I don't ever hesitate to do it. I... I ask myself all the time why I still do it. I've yet to come up with the answer." My gut clenched, brows creasing. I felt the same in some aspects and had always lived with the same guilt.
Now it was my turn to whisper, "I'm sorry."
Sorin responded stiffly, "I wasn't there for him on the battlefield, when he needed his big brother. I've imagined his death a thousand times." I felt his breath, felt his body move as his chest rose and fell.
"He loved you." It was the best I could come up with. "I know he wouldn't blame you."
"I don't need him to blame me to feel guilty." I understood without any other context.
Slowly, swallowing hard, I reached my hand back and found his. Our backs were still touching, but still, I searched for his hand. I touched his finger, then two, and attempted to set my hand over his, maybe as a reassurance to the both of us, maybe to show he wasn't alone, but at my touch, Sorin pulled away.
I refused the temptation to look back at him.
He sighed. "Vera, I need to tell you something."