Summary: A conversation and comfort between Kenna and Diavolos on a difficult day.
Kenna wakes early, the daylight not yet coming through the shutters. She lays quietly, watching the flames dance in the fireplace, then rolls onto her other side. Diavolos is still sleeping, his face peaceful and relaxed. Rarely does she wake before him, so she takes the opportunity to watch him, knowing that today, of all days, he won’t tease her about it.
When the daylight starts filtering in, she allows herself to lightly trace her fingers over his face, pushing his dark hair off his forehead, gliding her fingertips along his cheekbones, then running them over his lips. Diavolos stirs awake almost immediately, pressing gentle kisses to her fingers as he opens his eyes, then brushing his lips sleepily over hers.
“Good morning, my love,” he murmurs. “Have you been up long?”
“For a little while.” Kenna sighs softly as he kisses her again.
“You could have woken me.”
Sometimes she does wake him when it’s difficult to sleep, but sometimes, she likes to be alone. When her thoughts and emotions get this twisted and tangled, she likes to sort through them by herself first. Today is always one of those twisted and tangled days.
“I love you,” Diavolos says, stirring her from her thoughts, his voice thick with emotion.
“I know,” she says, sliding her hand up into his dark hair. “And I love you.”
“Do you want me to go?” he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.
“No,” she says reassuringly. “I want you right here.”
He brushes another gentle kiss against her lips, then tugs her closer, his arms wrapping around her as she curls into his chest. Her thoughts wander to her mother, as they always do on this day, and she blinks back a few tears.
“I’m sorry, Kenna,” Diavolos murmurs, his voice tinged with regret. “I wish I could change things.”
Kenna leans back and cups his face in her hands. “It wasn’t your fault,” she says.
Diavolos sighs. “I know. But it was my father’s fault.”
“You’re not your father,” she reminds him.
“Thank the gods for that,” he mutters.
This is always a bit of a strange day for them, the anniversary of her mother’s death. They struggle with it in their own way; Kenna mourning her mother and sorting through the complex emotions of being in love with the son of the man who murdered her, Diavolos dealing with the harsh reality of the trauma his family caused the woman he loves.
Kenna nudges Diavolos onto his back and slides over him, his hands gentle as they run up and down her sides. She leans down, nuzzling against his neck, then presses her lips to his.
“Tell me what you want, my love,” he murmurs.
“I just want you.”
He rolls them, settling between her hips as he peels her nightgown off and kisses her bare skin.
“I love you,” he whispers again as he slides into her, setting a gentle pace as they move together.
He’s usually so commanding that it still sometimes takes her by surprise how gentle and soft he can be. She loves his dominant, controlling side, but oh, she loves him like this too, and the way she can feel how much he loves her.
Diavolos groans as she wraps her legs tightly around him and presses her hips into his. She senses when he’s close, the way his breathing speeds up, can feel him struggling to maintain their gentle rhythm. Kenna clenches around him, moaning his name as he thrusts hard against her and moves faster.
He slides his hand between her legs, pushing her over the edge, her name a guttural groan on his lips as he comes. He collapses against her for a moment, catching his breath, then kisses her deeply and rolls onto his back, settling Kenna over him.
He tangles his hands in her hair as she traces her fingers lazily over his bare chest, closing her eyes as she listens to the steady thump of his heart under her ear.
“Do you want to sleep some more?” His voice is a nearly silent murmur against her.
“Mmm,” she answers in a sleepy voice. “Will you stay with me?”
“Always, my love. I’ll be right here.”