Summary/Note: Drake gets injured. Smuttiness with Mika ensues. This assumes that Drake is/becomes part of the King’s Guard.
Mika can tell Drake is in a foul mood the second he walks in the door. He kicks his shoes off and shoves his coat in the closet, muttering irritably under his breath. When he turns around, his face pinched in a frustrated frown, Mika’s gasp seems to take him by surprise.
“Drake!”
“What…?” he glances down as she rushes over to him, fingers flying over his shirt.
“I’m fine!” he says as soon as he realizes what has her so panicked; the stain on his shirt is the size of her palm and bright red.
Drake covers her trembling hands with his. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s not mine.”
Mika lets out a relieved sigh, her hands stilling before she wraps her arms tightly around him and buries her face in his chest. “Oh god, Liam?” she asks a split-second later, lifting her head up.
Drake shakes his head, his hands running up and down her back. “No. Liam’s fine.”
Mika rests her back against him, feeling his quiet strength, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Thank god. Who?” she asks after a minute.
“One of the new guards,” Drake answers, then takes her hand. “I’m gonna get out of these clothes.”
He leads her into the bedroom and starts to undo the buttons on his shirt. A grimace crosses his face when he goes to take it off.
“Let me,” Mika says, gently pushing his hands aside and sliding the shirt over his shoulders.
She eases his undershirt over his head, frowning as he’s bared to her. He may not be bleeding, but there’s a spectacular bruise blooming across the left side of his rib cage and a few on his left shoulder.
Mika nudges him to sit on the edge of the bed and helps him get his shoes and socks off as Drake explains, with growing irritation, that someone, a lone gunman, from what they could tell, had come after Liam and some visiting diplomats. One of the newer guards had panicked and broken protocol and gone after the guy, and ended up getting shot.
“He’s fine,” Drake says, and Mika can tell he’s relieved about that, though still frustrated with the entire situation.
She gestures to the marks on his arm and ribs. “What happened?”
“I had to tackle one of the diplomats out of the way,” he explains.
Drake stands, raising his eyebrows as Mika swats his hands away when he goes to undo his pants.
“I can take my own pants off, Kelemen,” he tells her.
“I know. But you walked in the door and I thought for half a second you’d been shot or stabbed. And you’re injured. So let me help you.”
Her voice is quivering a little by the end. Drake tilts her chin up, pressing his lips to hers.
“Okay.”
He lets her get the rest of his clothes off, watching as she runs gentle fingers over his skin.
“Hey,” Drake says, and she glances up.
“I’m fine,” he reassures her.
Mika sighs. “I know,” she says again.
She guides him into the bathroom, blasting the hot water from the shower until the room fills with steam. Drake is surprisingly cooperative as she runs the soap over his wet skin, moving slowly over his ribs and shoulder. Normally he grumbles when she teasingly offers to help him in the shower, rolling his eyes and pointing out that they both end up almost late every time she ‘helps’ him, even though he gets flustered when she reminds him he loves it.
Drake ducks his head so she can suds the shampoo in his hair, then tilts back into the water to rinse it out.
“Better?” Mika asks, brushing her lips over his when she’s done.
“Getting there,” he answers, running his hands up and down her sides.
The water gets cold far too quickly, Drake shaking his head as she curses their water heater for the millionth time.
“It’s a normal water heater,” he insists.
“It’s tiny,” she shoots back at him.
Mika helps him dry off, grinning at the way his dark hair is all over the place as she rubs the towel over it. She slips into her pajama shorts and a tank top, then grabs Drake’s pajama bottoms from where he always tosses them on the bed in the morning. Once he has them on, they climb into bed, Mika flipping the light off and plunging the room into near darkness.
Setting against his right side, she brushes her lips against his chest and over his collarbone, hearing his breath hitch just slightly. Mika eases closer, then lays gentle kisses across his neck, his pulse thrumming under her lips. Drake sucks in a breath, and she can feel him staring at her when she looks up at him.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I just…needed to remind myself you’re okay.”
“It’s fine,” Drake grits out. “I just…I want you, but I can’t really do anything tonight.”
He lets out a short, frustrated laugh.
Slipping her hand around his neck, Mika leans in to kiss him.
“No…but I can,” she murmurs, and hears him groan quietly.
“Mika,” he says hoarsely. “You don’t have to…”
Mika responds by kissing him again. “I want to. You had a rough day. Let me make you feel better.”
Before Drake can protest any further, she presses her lips to his again, a deep kiss full of persuasion. “Okay?”
Drake groans as she kisses him harder, taking his lower lip between her teeth, her fingers scratching gently over his scalp and running through his hair.
“You’re pretty damn persuasive, Kelemen, you know that?” he says gruffly.
“One of my many gifts,” she murmurs.
For a long moment, she just keeps kissing him, their lips moving together instinctively. Drake wraps his good arm around her back, his fingers lightly caressing her bare skin where her shirt has rode up. Mika loves kissing him, can feel his love and desire for her poured into every press of his lips to hers.
She trails her hand down his chest and stomach once he seems more relaxed underneath her, gliding her hand beneath his waistband. He hardens almost immediately at her touch, her name a quiet moan in the dark as she slowly runs her hand over his length. Drake moves his arm up, threading his fingers into her hair, his grip tightening as she squeezes slightly. When she runs her thumb over the tip of his erection, he inhales a noisy breath, pulling her down into a desperate, messy kiss.
“Mmm,” she sighs, twisting her hand.
Drake lets go of her reluctantly as she sits back and tugs his pajama pants down. Her fingers trace up his thighs before she takes him in her hand again, pumping up and down. His hips instinctively buck up into her touch. Mika bites her lip, feels a familiar ache spread through her at the sight of him naked and wanting her, allowing herself for a second to silently curse the fact that he’s hurt. She settles between his legs, looking up as she lowers her head. Drake is staring at her, his breathing ragged.
He jerks against her, muttering, “Oh, fuck” as she takes him into her mouth. Both hands bury in her hair for a second before he hisses quietly and pulls his injured left arm away. She bobs her head, swirling her tongue around him, gently using her teeth, listening for his reactions.
They know each other well by now; she knows what makes him tug at her hair, what makes him curse, what makes him come undone, but she still likes knowing she’s the one who does this to him. He moans as she runs her tongue on the underside of his shaft and sucks harder. She can hear his breathing pick up as she moves faster, her hand joining her mouth to move over him again. Mika can tell when he’s close, the familiar way his fingers curl into her hair, his muscles tensing.
He goes to pull her head back, muttering, “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come” but she stays where she is, humming quietly against him. Drake stiffens at the sensation, saying her name in a strangled voice as he comes and groaning when she swallows hard.
He pulls her back up after a minute, sucking in ragged breaths, his lips seeking hers in a desperate kiss. When she leans back, resting her forehead on his, Drake’s eyes are wild, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find something to say.
“Have I left you speechless for once?” Mika asks, a smile slowly spreading across her face.
Drake barks out a quiet laugh. “You leave me speechless pretty regularly.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” she sighs, brushing her lips over his.
She helps him get his pajama pants back on and she curls up against his side again, her fingers running lazy circles across his chest.
“I love you,” Drake says.
Mika smirks. “I bet you do.”
“Kelemen…” he sighs.
“Sorry, sorry,” she laughs.
She tilts her chin up, smiling, and captures his lips in a deep kiss. “I love you too, Drake.”