Summary: Some of Kenna’s thoughts the morning of her wedding, and a little explanation as to why she was running late that day.
The morning of the wedding, Kenna wakes early. It’s still dark, the flames dwindling down in the fireplace barely illuminating the corner of the room. She lays there for a few minutes, still not quite used to waking up without feeling like she has to rush off somewhere immediately. She turns her head, smiling at how Diavolos looks almost peaceful in his sleep. That usual smug grin she’s come to know and love isn’t there, his lips relaxed and slightly parted.
Kenna counts the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the steady rhythm stemming the hint of anxiety she feels. She’s not anxious about marrying Diavolos. No, she loves him, unquestioningly, and knows he’s who she wants to be with. Her friends have been supportive. Stormholt in general, and the knights of Abanthus, have been supportive. But already there are whisperings of discontent and unrest amongst some of Luther’s followers, that his favorite son would dare marry the woman who toppled his rule and was partially responsible for his death.
Kenna isn’t afraid of them. She’s spent too long fearing for her safety, her very life, to be frightened of a few unhappy people, but a seed of worry still plants itself in her brain. One of the logs snaps in the fireplace suddenly, and Diavolos stirs next to her. He blinks sleepily as he turns his head toward her, and Kenna curls against his bare chest automatically, seeking his warmth and his strength.
“You’re awake early, my love,” he says in a gravelly voice.
“Mmm,” she murmurs, brushing her lips against his skin as he runs a hand through her hair.
“What is it?”
Kenna traces her fingertips over the muscles of his chest and his stomach, unable to hide her flush and her slight smile when Diavolos sucks in a breath as she skirts her hand lower beneath the sheet.
“Nothing,” she assures him. “Just thinking.”
Diavolos rolls her suddenly, propping himself up above her. His dark eyes search hers for a moment, and she sighs as he leans down and presses his lips to hers. “Tell me,” he commands her quietly.
She frowns when he suddenly pulls back, a faint smirk on his face at her noise of protest. Kenna sighs but relents, explaining the tiny bit of worry she can’t get rid of over Luther’s followers and their adamant, outspoken anger about Diavolos marrying her.
Diavolos leans down to kiss her again, harder this time, as if he can force her worries away. “My father’s supporters haven’t been happy a day in their lives since they started supporting him,” Diavolos says gruffly. “Nothing will make them happy, short of him rising from the dead and taking over the Five Kingdoms again.”
Kenna groans quietly as Diavolos runs his hand down her side and caresses her hip.
“I know,” she sighs.
“Kenna,” he says suddenly, lifting his head up.
“Yes?”
“I love you.” There’s a tinge of vulnerability in his voice when he says it, something she hasn’t heard often since being with him.
She tugs him back down, kissing him deeply, reassuringly.
“I love you,” she whispers.
That familiar confident grin brightens his face, and he kisses her again, slowly, before moving his lips down her jawline, across her neck, gently biting at her collarbones. Kenna sighs, arching against him as he tugs her nightgown off and brushes his lips over her chest, swirling his tongue across one of her nipples, his fingers gliding down her stomach and between her legs.
“Gods, you’re wet,” he groans, moving to nip at and suck the tender skin of her other breast.
“Yes,” she moans, gasping as he slips two fingers into her warmth.
Her eyes close, her hands finding their way into his hair as Diavolos teases his fingers in and out of her. He presses another desperate kiss to her mouth before scooting down and withdrawing his fingers. She whimpers in protest, until he suddenly laps at her core and plunges his tongue into her, making her toes curl into the sheet. His name is a drawn out moan on her lips as he flutters his tongue inside her, his hands pinning her hips down against the bed.
Kenna squirms restlessly, torn between enjoying his slow, languid pace and telling him to move harder, faster. Diavolos curls his tongue as she writhes underneath him, his thumb pressing against her clit, and her muscles tense as she cries out, flashes of white exploding behind her eyes as her orgasm rushes through her.
She sinks into the softness of the bed as Diavolos moves back over her, his lips finding hers.
“Gods,” she mumbles, and Diavolos chuckles.
Watching him like this, the slight part of his full lips, the way he’s looking at her, the expression of total satisfaction mixed with utter commitment and devotion on his face, makes some of her worries diminish. She has no doubt of this man’s love for her. It’s not just the way he can make her come so undone, though she loves how good he always makes her feel. There’s some part of her, a part she can’t explain, that feels like she’s known him for far longer than she actually has, like he knows all these deep, secret parts of her that no one else does.
She feels Diavolos shift against her as he kisses her again, groaning quietly as his erection brushes against her core.
“Please,” she murmurs, reaching her hand down and running it over his length.
His eyes darken, then close briefly at her touch. She hears him curse under his breath.
“I want you,” she sighs.
“You have me,” he vows.
He presses into her, moving slowly at first, letting her adjust. When her legs wrap around him, her hands running down his back, he slams into her, making her gasp, her fingers digging into his skin.
“Kenna,” Diavolos groans, his hips thrusting against hers.
He sucks and bites at her neck, and the sensation of his lips and his movements against her push her quickly toward release. She moans as he starts moving faster, one of his hands gripping her thigh and bending her hip up, opening her up further to him. Kenna brokenly gasps out his name, wrapping her arms around his back as he tilts his hips, his movements growing sloppy.
He slams against her hard once more, and she cries out his name as she comes, Diavolos following right behind her as her muscles clench around him. Kenna sucks in a few breaths as he spills inside her, then sinks into the bed as he stills. Diavolos drops against her for a moment, then presses his lips to hers and rolls them to the side, pulling her back against his chest.
“Hells,” he mutters once he’s caught his breath, and Kenna laughs quietly, sated and exhausted and inexplicably happy.
She turns so they’re lying face to face, running her thumb over his stubble. Daylight has started to break, and she knows she needs to get up and get ready. Diavolos tightens his grip around her when she goes to move.
“I have to get ready,” she reminds him as he kisses her.
“It’s our wedding,” Diavolos reminds her with a low chuckle. “They can’t start without us.”
She’s about to protest, admittedly half-heartedly, but he pulls her in closer, and the words die on her lips. As long as they end the day married, Kenna thinks to herself, thoughts momentarily halted as Diavolos presses slow kisses down her neck, that’s all that really matters.