#natsu x lucy smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tokkias · 9 months

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is now a bad time? ship: natsu dragneel x lucy heartfilia summary: Lucy's a good friend. Sometimes, Lucy's too much of a good friend that it gets her into situations like this, where she gets her back blown out while one of her best friends plans a wedding on the other end of the line. ao3

nsfw under read more

Natsu’s hands fumbled with the buttons on Lucy’s blouse as hers tugged at the belt on his waist—tasks made difficult for the both of them as they remained attached at the lips and stumbled onto the bed. The metallic clang of the clasp of the belt coming undone was like music to Lucy’s ears as Natsu continued to struggle with her shirt buttons.

Running short on breath and frustrated with his fumbling, Lucy broke their kiss and urged him to take his own shirt off as she went to work on taking off her own. She managed to pop them open more gracefully than he could (and with fewer button casualties, too), and as she worked on that, Natsu kicked off his pants, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Lucy bit down on her lip as she drank in the sight of his rippling abs and the pronounced erection in his shorts, hitting him with a sultry look that had him crawling on top of her, placing a kiss on her lips before moving down her jaw and to her neck. She did nothing to hold back the moan she let out as he began to suckle on the sensitive skin while his hands worked at pushing her shirt off and undoing the clasp at the back of her bra.

Her nails dug into his scalp as her fingers threaded through his hair, and her leg hooked around his own as she fell back onto the mattress, taking him with her. Though she loved the attention of his lips across her skin, she was already growing sick of the foreplay as she ached to feel his touch in other places. She bucked her hips up to meet his own to let him know of her needs, and he seemed to get the message as he pulled away to look down upon her.

With heavy breaths, he slipped his thumbs underneath the waistband of her skirt, pulling it down slowly, taking her panties with it, but as he hit halfway down her thighs, their racy little moment was cut short by a rude interruption.

bzzt. bzzt. bzzt.

Lucy let out an exasperated sigh as she heard her phone vibrate against their wooden nightstand. Natsu paused as his eyes flicked between Lucy below him and her phone, which was vibrating so hard it looked like it was about to throw itself off of the stand.

"Who is it?" She asked him with a sigh, and Natsu complied with her request, leaning over to check the caller ID.

"It’s Erza."

A defeated groan escaped her lips as Lucy buried her face in her hands.

Had it been anyone else, she’d have not thought twice about sending them to voice mail while Natsu blew her back out, but of course it had to be the one person she couldn’t do that to right now.

Erza was in the midst of wedding planning, and as her maid of honour, Lucy had been receiving multiple calls daily to help her out. She’d failed to pick up in a timely manner once, but that was enough to have a huffy and frustrated Erza on the other end of the line.

On the one hand, Lucy was not keen to deal with a scary Erza any time soon, but on the other, she could feel Natsu’s erection pressing against her through his boxers, and all she could think about was the way she needed him inside of her ten minutes ago.

Clearly sensing her dilemma, Natsu made a decision for her.

"Answer it."

Lucy knew he was right but still let out a huff, not exactly happy about the situation either.

As she reached over to grab her phone, she felt Natsu finish what he started, pulling her panties down and off her legs.

"What are you doing?" She hissed as her finger hovered over the answer button.

"What does it look like I’m doing?"

What it looked like he was doing was positioning himself between her legs to feast on her pussy while she was about to take an important phone call, and Lucy was not about to have that.

"If Erza finds out I was having sex while I was on the phone with her, she will kill both of us."

Her voice was filled with venom as she spoke, but Natsu looked undeterred. She tried to shoot him an intimidating look to get him to back off, but he remained stoic, and with each passing moment, the chance of getting a deeply upset voicemail from Erza increased.

With a frustrated sigh, Lucy slid her thumb over the answer button and held it up to her ear.

"Hello?" She greeted, trying her best to put on a cherry voice and not give away her current predicament.

"Lucy, I’m glad to see you finally picked up," Erza replied on the other end of the call.

"Yeah, sorry, I was um-" Lucy swallowed thickly to try and suppress a moan that was about to escape when Natsu began to place kisses on her inner thighs. "Busy…"

She paused for a moment, hoping Erza wouldn’t ask her to elaborate, and proceeded to thank every star when she didn’t.

"What was it you were calling about?" She asked, hoping that whatever it was would come and go quickly.

"I wanted to talk to you about seating arrangements and table décor for the wedding," Erza said.

Lucy managed to stifle a groan at her answer. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk weddings with Erza—she enjoyed it, loved it even—but not right now. If there was anything she loved more than wedding planning, it was sitting on Natsu’s face until she couldn’t feel her legs, and right now he was teasing her with that prospect as his breath grazed her slick folds and she had to bite down on her lip to muffle any noise she might make.

"Mmhm?" Lucy hummed, trying to disguise her stifled moan as an affirmation. "And uh- what- what were you thinking?"

She shot a glare down at Natsu, who had made himself comfortable laying between her legs, his lips leaving bruises on her inner thighs as he moved up, up, up, and made her flush and squirm. His eyes flicked up to hers, and he simply smirked in response.

That bastard knew exactly what he was doing, and the worst part was that she didn’t even have it in her to get him to stop.

"The venue sent me the floor plan this morning, so I thought we could go through the guest list and...

Halfway through that sentence, Erza’s voice faded from Lucy’s brain entirely as she felt Natsu’s tongue drag across her clit. She had to quickly slap her hand over her mouth to stop whatever embarrassing noise she was about to let out. Unfortunately for her, that reaction only seemed to spur Natsu on, who let out a chortle before plunging his tongue deep inside of her.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she began to thrust her hips up into his face. She became hyper-aware of his nails digging crescent shapes into the supple skin of her thighs to match the purple hickeys that were also forming there. He was doing it on purpose, of course. He was marking his territory, making sure that anyone who got the privilege of seeing what was under her skirt would know that he had been there and eaten his fill and would continue to do so for as long as she let him (and she planned on letting him for a very, very long time).

Her hand shot down to tangle itself within his hair, pulling him even closer as he rolled her hips into his face. If nothing else, Natsu was incredibly talented with his tongue. He knew all the ways to make her writhe and squirm. He could drive her completely wild, and that was exactly what he planned to do.

"Lucy? Is everything okay?" Erza asked, snapping her back to the conversation she was supposed to be having.

"Oh-! Yeah, I uh-" She pressed her lips together as she scrambled for an answer that wasn’t about to give away what she was doing. "Natsu is just being a pain in my ass…"

It was half true, anyway. He was certainly doing this just to rile her up, to annoy her, and to get a reaction out of her, but she was certainly not about to complain about it.

"I see," Erza hummed on the other end of the line, ultimately sounding unsurprised that Natsu was being a pest.

"Hey Erza," Natsu called out from between her legs, a smug grin plastered across his face.

Lucy tried to kick his shoulder for butting into their conversation when he was already walking a very fine line between getting away with it and being exposed for fucking her while she took a call.

"Did you want to put me on speakerphone?" Erza asked.

"No!" Lucy quickly answered. Because, um- mmph! Natsu’s only input would be to uninvite Gray from the wedding."

Erza let out a sound of understanding, considering that had been Natsu’s only contribution to the planning so far, under the guise that it would be really funny.

So, uh- what were you thinking with seating plans? Do you have numbers? Tables?" Lucy asked, trying to divert away from Natsu’s presence altogether.

Though Erza’s attention may have moved from Natsu, Lucy’s certainly hadn’t. The fact that she had managed to get through that sentence at all was a complete miracle, as Natsu flicked his tongue over and suckled on her clit. Though one hand still gripped her leg, he had since slipped two fingers inside her, testing to see just how far he could take her and get away with it.

Lucy was hard-pressed to recall a time when she had to put this much focus into anything, let alone simply having a conversation. She supposed most conversations weren’t had with the world’s most prolific pussy-eater between her thighs.

Well, the guest list ended up being longer than we had anticipated, so I’m worried we won’t be able to fit everyone in."

As she spoke, Natsu pulled himself away and wiped his mouth with his arm. He moved back so he was resting on the back of his feet, giving Lucy a good view of the tent being pitched in his boxers.

Speaking of things she wasn’t sure would fit.

Lucy swallowed thickly and licked her lips as she watched Natsu’s thumbs slip into the waistband, pulling it down to let his cock spring free. He kicked his boxers off somewhere to the side before settling himself between her legs. A soft whine passed through her lips, completely disregarding Erza on the other end of the phone, and she thrust her hips up towards him in anticipation.

"Lucy? Are you still there?" Erza's voice came, reminding Lucy that she, in fact, was still there.

"Hm? Oh, uh- yeah! I’m here."

Part of her wished she wasn’t. She wanted to be alone with Natsu, where they could be as loud and as dirty as their hearts desired. She wanted to hear his sexy grunts and moans, to hear him growl into her ear as he pounded deep inside her and told her how he was going to breed her tight little pussy.

For a brief moment, Lucy wondered if it would be wrong to hang up on Erza right then and there and pretend that the call cut out so Natsu could fuck her silly. Unfortunately, that thought left as soon as it came, her moral compass not letting her go through with it.

Damn her stupid commitment to her beloved friends.

"Sorry, you uh- you cut out," she lied in an attempt to save herself. She had an inkling that she had missed something important while she was busy admiring Natsu’s cock, so she tried to play it off cool. "What were you saying?"

"I said that we were considering going with round tables to seat more people, but I like the look of long tables better."

As Erza spoke, Natsu dragged the tip of his dick along Lucy’s slick folds, causing her mind to completely blank. She could simply not care less about what shape of table Erza went with for her wedding—all she cared about right now was the fact that she needed to feel Natsu’s cock buried deep inside of her, but he was teasing her just to get a rise out of her.

She wanted to whine, thrash, and beg until he sheathed himself inside of her and made her cum until she couldn’t feel anything below her waist, but she had just enough sense to keep quiet.

"So I wanted to get your opinion," she added. "What do you think, Lucy?"

What did she think? She tried to visualise the venue from their visit, but those memories were quickly dashed from her mind when she felt Natsu’s hands grip on her hips as he pushed into her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head at the feeling of being stretched out. He moved in and out of her at an agonisingly slow pace, and she needed more—he knew she needed more.

"Lucy?"

She let out a squeak as she heard Erza speak up again. She hardly noticed that she hadn’t replied; she was far too distracted by… other things. If Lucy had ever had strong opinions on table shapes (which she wasn’t sure if she had), they had been promptly dashed from her brain, and she was left scrambling for an answer.

"Well, uh-a-ah! If-if um you, like the long tables, go with them?" She suggested.

It was getting harder and harder to maintain her composure now that Natsu was inside of her, a fact that he had clearly picked up on. His thrusts were slow and shallow when it was Erza speaking, but as soon as Lucy opened her mouth to reply, he began to rut hard into her in the way he knew elicited his favourite noises from her.

If she didn’t know better, she’d say he wanted her to get caught.

Knowing Natsu, it wasn’t something she could put past him.

If this was a game he was playing, she wasn’t about to let him win so easily.

In response, Lucy wrapped her legs around him and bucked her hips up as she tightened her legs around him, pulling him deeper inside her. He let out a pleasured groan at the sudden movement that Lucy could only hope Erza hadn’t picked up on.

For the first time since she picked up the phone, Natsu had fumbled his sense of control. Lucy smirked up at him, but Natsu was not about to let that one go so easily—he took it as a challenge.

"I knew I could count on you to make the right decision," Erza replied, a hint of smugness in her voice that Lucy put down to having her opinion be affirmed in an argument that she wasn’t even apart of. "I’ll be sure to let Jellal know."

Natsu had moved back to his slow, languid movements, but his wandering hands had left their spot on her hips and began to roam a little further north. She didn’t need to think about what his goals were before he began groping at her breasts. He gave each of them a rough squeeze—something that Lucy was more than used to at this point, so she managed to keep her lips sealed until he pinched her nipples and she let out a squeak of pain. She shot him a searing look, but Natsu only cackled at her reaction. Lucy took a little hint of solace in the fact that it was certainly not an erotic sound that she had let out.

Based on the point where Erza had left off, Lucy had thought that would be the last of it, and the only time her noises would get muffled would be when she buried her face in the pillow as Natsu plowed her from behind.

Unfortunately, she was not that lucky.

"Was that all you wanted to talk to me about?" She hopefully asked.

"Actually, while I have you, now that we’ve decided on tables, I wanted to start thinking about the table decor."

Though she wasn’t on speakerphone, Lucy knew that Natsu could still hear every word she said. She didn’t need to know about his hypersensitive hearing to come to that conclusion; she could see it on his face. He was grinning down at her like their little game was being prolonged, and he was going to win it.

Though she tried her best to lock him in with her legs, Natsu pulled himself entirely out of her, rubbing his head teasingly along her folds, watching, waiting. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was planning to do, and staying quiet would simply prolong the inevitable.

"Yeah? What were you thinking?"

He didn’t strike right away, continuing to bide his time as he rubbed his shaft over her clit, causing her to suck in a small breath.

When Erza started speaking, Lucy half-tuned out her reply as she began to tell her something about tablecloths, table runners, and centrepieces. Her focus instead lingered on her partner, who was slowly teasing her, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

It was absolutely agonising knowing that she was so close to being dicked down so hard that she forgot her own name, and the only thing standing between her and the best orgasm of her life was Erza on the other end of the call.

She wiggled and she squirmed, but Natsu did not relent, and she begrudgingly gave into the fact that she was going to have to wait until what he decided was the most inopportune moment to give her what she wanted.

"Did you have any ideas for centrepieces?" Erza asked, the question barely registering in Lucy’s brain as she spoke.

"Oh, um, centrepieces?"

As she began to speak, she felt Natsu’s tip tease her hole and she had to contain the noise of anticipation she wanted to let out. She clenched her eyes shut as she tried to concentrate on answering the question, but as he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside, everything was beginning to blur over in her head.

"You could, uh, go with flowers? Those are classic," she managed to say, barely maintaining composure as Natsu began slow and shallow movements that he knew were not enough to sate her. "Or, if you wanted to change things up, you could go with ca-ah-ah!"

Lucy had numbed herself to his teasing so much that she was wholly unprepared when he suddenly snapped his hips into hers at a tearing pace. His hands gripped at her hips as he pulled her onto his cock to meet him with every thrust, going harder, deeper, just enough to make tears well up in her eyes. For a very brief moment, everything went white with absolute, mind-numbing pleasure. It wasn’t until she came back to and found Natsu smirking down at her that she realised she had been in the middle of answering a question.

"Candles! I meant candles!" She sputtered out, hoping that Erza would simply move past her little episode.

"Lucy? Are you okay?"

Was she okay? She was much better than okay—she was great, incredible, fucking fantastic.

Not that she could voice any of those thoughts to her, of course. Natsu was doing his diligent duty by fucking her brainless, Erza just happened to be caught up in it all.

"Yeah! I’m good!" Lucy squeaked out, hand shaking as she held her phone up to her ear.

There was a moment of sceptical silence, as Erza presumably contemplated what the hell was going on on the other end of the line. Lucy could only hope that she had realised that now was a bad time so that they could put an end to their little game. Those hopes unfortunately fizzled away into nothing when Erza replied.

"So you think we should go with candles?"

To be frank, at the moment, Lucy didn’t care at all what Erza went with for her table décor. Flowers, candles—they could forego the tables altogether and have everyone sit on the floor for all she cared, but Erza needed an answer.

Before she could even begin to consider an answer, she felt Natsu pull out of her. There was one moment of confusion before another moment of surprise when she felt him flip her onto her stomach and begin pounding her into the mattress from behind.

He thrust into her so deep and hard that Lucy swore the whole world around them stopped for a moment. She loved the feeling of him drilling into her from behind, reaching in nice and deep, hitting exactly where it felt good, and right now, he was making her feel good.

Her body was beginning to shake from all the pleasures he was bringing her, and try as she might, she couldn’t quite string together a coherent sentence to reply with—but the thing was, she couldn’t quite bring herself to care. The coil in her stomach standing between her and absolute bliss was slowly being stretched so hard that it threatened to snap with each pump of Natsu’s cock inside of her.

Her free hand gripped at the sheets beneath her, and she moved her hips in time with his thrusts to get just that little extra sensation to tip her over the edge. Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes as she held them screwed shut, pleasure teasing every nerve ending in her body. She almost couldn’t stand it.

Almost.

Natsu was relentless in his pursuit of her orgasm, paying no mind to the noise of the skin slapping together with each thrust as the volume increased along with his pace. Lucy could feel his nails digging into the skin on her hips as he pulled her back onto his dick over and over again. She knew he was holding himself back from delivering a hard smack on her ass cheek, but a little naughty voice inside of her wished he would.

She knew he was pushing her as far as she could go without outright making her scream into her pillow, and she could feel herself tipping off the edge, but every moment that passed with no reply, Erza would begin to get suspicious.

Lucy could barely remember what they were talking about, let alone the question she was supposed to be answering. She wracked her brain to try and recall what she had last said through the fuck-haze that was beginning to blur her mind over entirely.

What was it? Tables… Centrepieces… Candles… Yes! That was it!

"Y-yes! Candles! I really think you should go with the candles!" She practically babbled out.

Any other time, she’d be mortified by the borderline incoherence in her strange answer, but she knew that right now, that was the best she was going to get. Her body shook and trashed as Natsu drove her to her ultimate undoing, refusing to stop pounding into her even as she clenched and tightened around him in her orgasm.

With what little brainpower she had, Lucy still had the foresight to muffle whatever moans and wails she wanted to let out. She bit down on her lip so hard that she drew blood and buried her face into the pillow.

She was vaguely aware of Erza saying something in reply, but whatever it was went in one ear and out the other, if it even managed to register at all. The only thing her mind could comprehend was Natsu pounding deep inside her and the feeling of his hot, sticky seed being released right into her womb.

A wavered breath of satedness left her lips as she came back down from her high, but the sheer relief of her release didn’t last long. Almost immediately, common sense kicked back in, and Lucy remembered that Erza was still, in fact, there, and she was not going to be able to look her in the eye for a week. Or ever. Instead of trying to continue whatever conversation they were having, Lucy just decided it was time to throw it out entirely.

"Look, Erza I- I have to go!" She frantically said. "Sorry! Bye!"

With that, Lucy abruptly pressed the end call button and flung her phone somewhere off to the side before collapsing on the mattress. Pulling out of her, Natsu collapsed on top of her and pressed a kiss to her neck, unaffected by the vibes of mortification emanating from Lucy beneath him.

"I cannot believe I let you do that," she murmured, her voice muffled by her pillow.

"Yeah, but it was fun," Natsu grinned. "Ya wanna do it again?"

#nalu #fairy tail #fan fiction #fanfic #fanfiction #natsu x lucy #ft nalu #nalu fanfic #nalu fanfiction #nalu fan fiction #ft fanfiction #nalu smut #ao3 #ao3 writer #mya writes things #i'm experimenting with tags do not mind me #i might go back to just tagging nalu we will see

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claudiaaaana · 1 year

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Tight Rope

Pairing: Nalu/Natsu x Lucy

Synopsis: Following the destruction of the monastery, Lucy chooses to join a new abbey. While there, she encounters a priest who tempts her to abandon her religious observances.

Read on AO3

—o—

It’s a long time in coming, and yet a surprise. Jude meets her announcement with silence, and on the morning of her departure, she waits, and waits, and in the end receives nothing from him, not even a farewell. Hopefully Love&Lucky will care for him.

We all make our own decisions. That’s what her mother said to her, once.

And this is hers.

Lucy stands. She casts one last look around the place she once shared with the kind old man, Makarov, and understands there’s nothing to tie her to it now.

As the carriage pulls away, she casts one last glance to the dark rubble on the horizon, to the shadow that is all that remains of Makarov and his monastery. For so long it has been a place of safety, where even a runaway like her could be given a warm mug and a place by the fire, and then, eventually, years later, a job. It was the one place she knew that was never beset upon by demons, the one place where everyone who gathered met in peace, as long as they followed the late old man’s rules. It should have been obvious to her that that kind of blessing didn’t last forever.

Already her memories are fading: the rich aroma of green liquid; the assortment of patrons, all kinds, boisterous and solemn, vicious and kind. Time is already wresting everything away. She tries to watch for as long as possible, for as long as her view remains unbroken — but just as she tries to tuck the ruins into her memory, the shadow begins to warp. Its outline churns. Lucy turns cold as she realizes that the once warm monastery is now covered in vultures and ravens, their feathers and wings seething as they feast. Even from this distance she feels she can hear the click of their beaks, like blades sharpening, and the wet sound of them stabbing again and again into fetid flesh.

She turns away, hands folding and gripping each other.

She has a new home now.

It’s supposed to be a completely new start. She cast away her things, everything, except for the keys from her mama; and, she prepared to be unprepared. But Lucy knows exactly what smile to make, and what words to say, and it’s troublesome at first to figure out how to wear the habit but even this she figures out, with grace. She learns new names. She learns the general feel and layout of her new ward, which is neither the best ward in the province, nor the worst.

The ward residents are afflicted with some darkness, but not too much. Inquisitors pass through just long enough to to scare out the demons, but never stay long enough to disrupt or dominate the way of things. Things here feel as if they had gone without interruption in hundreds of years.

Lucy kneels. As she closes her eyes, she remembers her papa again. The sharp shock of disappointment in his gaze when he finds out that she was a part of monastery. How difficult it had been to force the words through her mouth, and how she might never have said them if she had known they would become a wall between them.

”I’m tired of walking this tightrope. Tired of you making decisions for me. I’m tired of being caught between…two worlds. Lucky Lucy? Can't you understand? I'm everything but lucky! I’m making a choice. I’m choosing a side.”

Her papa said nothing. Presently, his chamber was silent too. It loses its warmth. It's cold.

It's cold, as usual, despite the fact that she is crowded on either side by devotees. Together, they kneel shoulder-to-shoulder, heads bowed in wordless supplication. The light falls across her brow, shaded only slightly by her habit. Long sleeves and long collar and still the cold sinks into her bones. The faint light provides only a little warmth.

It’s enough, she tells herself. She shuts her eyes even more tightly. As the others stand one by one and file away, Lucy remains, forehead pressed to her pale knuckles. Probably, everyone else had prayers more befitting to offer, ones that are kinder, more loving. She’s capable of those too, out in the world. She smiles and offers cups of tea to cold hands, always with the standard kind words: “Follow me, I will grant you provision.” But when she’s by herself, this is the only thing she requests. The only thing she really wants to believe.

It’s enough.

Lucy stands. She’s always the last one left here, the most devoted one, the one most purely dedicated, and perhaps, after so many months, it’s true, because she is so engrossed that she doesn’t notice she’s not alone until she looks up and realizes there’s a shadow on the altar that shouldn’t be there. She blinks, and as she watches, it grows even wider, giant. It broadens, and then stretches at its edges, like big fingers, like —

Wings.

Wings larger than the wingspan of the largest carrion eater. She screams and whirls around, but rather than some massive raven or some kind of terrible demon, all she sees is a single figure, alone. A human-shaped shadow illuminated by a plane of light cast by the open chapel doors.

“Oh…sorry 'bout that. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The person is dressed in priest’s robes. They scratch their scarred cheeks, embarrassed. “Are you alright?”

Her heart is racing. Her hand is clasped tight to her chest, impulsive, to her necklace that rests beneath her habit. What —

A hallucination, she thinks. A bit of bad luck. Just a brief nightmare, flashing its pinions when she’s most off-guard.

“I’m…fine.” She composes herself. She approaches. “Do you need help?”

“Ah…”

As she comes nearer, she sees that his hair are oddly salmon coloured, and his eyes are dark. His clothing tells her he’s a priest, but when she stands before him, he doesn’t look over her or into his book as priests do and he's not even holding one — instead, he looks at her, fully. He meets her gaze with a directness she hasn’t encountered since she arrived here and she pauses, surprised. There’s something…familiar about it.

She forgot that people could look at you that way. A wave of — of something, travels over her arms, her spine. She shivers.

“Help,” he repeats. “Yes, I think you could help me.”

He smiles, warmly.

—o—

Natsu Dragneel is a new priest assigned to their abbey, supposedly newly graduated, though when Lucy shows him around, he asks questions about the meaning and purpose of everything, like any common novitiate. Her head aches from it and she’s glad to lead him to his room, but when she shows him the shelf where he can put his book, he blinks at it.

“Oh, good,” he says. “But I don't have any use of this.”

Lucy raises her eyebrows. “What do you mean? It’s for your book,” she tells him, eyes narrowed. “Your holy book.”

He grins. “Ah…right. Of course.”

She stares at him. He stares back.

“You have one,” Lucy says. “Don’t you?”

“Priests are supposed to have one,” she continues. She only explains this to fill up a pause that was stretching too far for comfort. Natsu looks thoughtful.

“Ah!” he says, as if suddenly remembering, as if the holy book was a thing that a priest could ever possibly forget. “Right, right. My book.”

He reaches into his robes and withdraws a book so old that its cover is worn and its binding is unreadable. It’s far smaller than other books that Lucy has seen priests carry reverently in plain sight everywhere they go, and it seems so different, but Natsu holds it in both hands, like a relic, and then gently places it on the bookshelf. Not with its cover proudly outward, but just standing on its side, like he is shelving a normal book.

“Good?” Natsu asks.

As she watches, the book slides, and lands flat on the shelf with a quiet thud.

“Perfect,” Lucy says, tiredly.

The sun is setting now. She would normally be done with all her tasks by now, but now she still has everything left to do and feels particularly exhausted.

“Alright, then,” Lucy says. “I’ll leave you to get settled.”

“Thank you,” Natsu says. He turns toward her, and looks at her, again. Almost as an afterthought, he rests his hands behind his back, formal. And —

When she’s with the other priests and nuns of the abbey, it’s not like this. But for some reason, now, Lucy feels the prickle again, along her arms and spine. For the first time in months, she’s aware of the fact that she is alone in a room, with only one other individual. Summer is waning and it’s cold enough in the abbey at this time that her breath is almost pluming before her, but she realizes now that she is somehow near enough to him to feel the warmth coming off his body.

“Farewell,” she says, abruptly, and turns, and leaves. The door starts to swing shut too slowly, and she yanks it, closing it herself.

The abbey is large enough there’s no need to encounter any particular individual frequently unless absolutely necessary. Even when Lucy was a fresh novitiate, she trailed after her mentor only as long as necessary, and even now, when they pass each other in the hallway, they share only brief, polite nods. Their duty extends only as far as respect and general kindness; their devotions belong elsewhere.

This is the world she entered. So, to see Natsu so frequently borders on the surreal.

At first, it’s merely in passing — a dark silhouette in the corner of her vision — a figure surveying the grounds, meeting her gaze as he passes with the other priests to provide daily counsel and small rites to the town to town. The priests flocking to and fro had never piqued her attention before. Now, sometimes, even when she’s sweeping the yellowing leaves off the roof, she imagines she can even see the glint of his somewhat changing coloured eyes as he makes his way down.

But, they exchange no words. For a while it’s as if they had never met and Lucy wonders if perhaps they really hadn’t, but then he passes one morning in the abbey when she’s preparing coffee, and says “Good morning, Luce,” and smiles at her softly, and Lucy is so startled that he manages to pours himself tea and thanks her for it without her able to stop him and explain that the warm liquid is only for the townspeople. She looks around, slightly panicked, but no one else notices his indulgence. Before long he finishes the small amount he poured, and when he hands the mug back his hand brushes hers, and her spine reacts. The memory of that static is still strong when she kneels that evening in the chapel, a second emergency visit apart from her daily morning one. Alone, her hands make a trembling steeple in the cold.

It’s enough. It’s enough.

“It’s enough,” she murmurs, aloud, to give it more power. This is her life. She waits until she’s so numb it’s hard to stand, and then she has to wait again for the blood to return to her legs. Even after that, she waits, just a little longer. For something. Anything. A voice, maybe, to speak to her in the dark.

The chapel is silent. And cold, as usual. This is foolish. No one like her is in a position to make demands, or even to beg, for anything.

“Sorry,” she mutters aloud. “I didn’t…” She sighs. The next thought, she can’t bear to say aloud.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

At loss, she lights a candle to light her way back to her room. The illumination of it flashes in her vision when she blinks, fading, fading, fading. In the corridor, she hears the rustle of feathers.

No, she thinks. Fabric. It’s Natsu, further down. Seeing her, he reaches into his robes and withdraws that old book of his, with the air of someone straightening their clothing.

“Goodnight, Lucy.” He smiles, and for a moment it reminds her of a hundred other smiles that were once flashed at her, back before she made her decision, smiles that always meant to invite more than just a responding “Goodnight.” At the time, she always said nothing. Now shouldn’t be any different.

“Goodnight, Natsu.”

The phrase bursts out of her when he’s already walking away. It surprises him, but not as much as it surprises her. She stiffens; she almost covers her mouth, and doesn’t only because she’s petrified.

He looks back at her. Then he smiles, a little nervously.

“You know, I…that is…this is troublesome, but…I was wondering if you could help me tomorrow,” he says. “I was assigned by the Cardinal. I’ve arranged the books in the library a dozen times now at least, probably…but, um…I can’t seem to get them in order.”

“In order?”

“Well, not the right order,” he admits. “The…proper one. Whichever one is officially sanctioned.”

Lucy grimaces at him. “I don’t know why the Cardinal assigned you, and I don't understand why you’re a priest despite being this incompetent ,” she says, before realizing she is saying it. The words just slipped out of her, easily — but not without a slight creak. This old voice of hers has fallen too far out of use. Her own roughness almost makes her cough, and any normal priest might take offense and flare, but Natsu only laughs.

“Well, of course I’m a priest to…fulfill a higher purpose?” He says it like he’s guessing it. “In any case. What do you think? Will you…ah…follow me?”

He really has no idea what he’s doing.

“You say ‘follow me’ when you’re bestowing a gift to someone,” Lucy tells him. “When you’re promising to give them something from your heart. Not when you’re the one asking for help.”

“Ah…of course. Sorry. I mean, apologies.”

“It’s ‘Follow me',’” she continues. “And, ‘I will grant you provision'.’”

“What a mouthful,” he murmurs.

“Saying it takes little effort, compared to what it takes to do good for someone who needs it. In any case,” Lucy says, “of course I’ll help you.”

“You…really?”

“Yes. At least to save you from wasting even more time that you could spend on others instead.”

He blinks at her. Then he smiles, warmly.

“Right. Thank you,” he says. He nods at her, and turns, and leaves.

One thing that surprised her after arriving here was how cold the ward became, so soon. In her room, her breath hovers in the air. Even after the candle is long out, though, she can feel the heat of its extinguished flame, as surely as if wax were just about to drip on her skin.

—o—

I made a choice.

A choice that means she is devoted to the light, to a set of rules, to piety, to restraint. Sorting books with him is well enough, and probably is a necessity — the endeavor takes days, not just because of the volume of books but because Lucy insists on cracking open each of them to read them a bit, which turns out to be something he is incapable of. Suspiciously.

“You can’t?” Lucy asks. “Read them, I mean?”

“I can,” he says, defensively. The words come out sharp. He clears his throat, and tries to speak, softly, “They’re just…complicated. Anyway, I can read the book that matters.”

“I can help you,” she says, before she can even stop herself, "if you want. If you’re interested in anything other than that book of yours or the other holy ones." She's still unsure if his book is holy or just a mere book.

"Really? Would you do that for me?"

She blows on the cover of the book he’s holding, sending dust all over his face. He coughs, and rubs off his eyes, blinking hard.

“One thing at a time,” she tells him, unable to hide her amusement.

And no more talking to you, after this, she finds herself unable to tell him. She made a choice.

Her time is to be spent serving, not laughing with him over strange old titles and even stranger read-aloud excerpts that she can’t tell if he’s intentionally mispronouncing some terms. Serving, not counting the seconds their shoulders touch as she teaches him new and difficult words and its meaning, not coordinating to clean the same rooms together and finding secluded places afterward where they can comfort their cold hands on the coffee-filled mugs rather than those tea, and chat quietly over a view of the town, which she admitted was her favorite place to watch the distant townspeople, and the night sky. Not searching for his silhouette amidst the other priests as if he is any different than them. Not noticing that she has seen him read that one strange book of his except the holy ones from the library, not helping him understand the definitions of words he’d never seen before, much less heard murmured softly into his ear. Her mind at the altar is supposed to be intended for reflection and the sowing of prayer for the weak and hopeless, and not the silent counting of the seconds until she can be free again, seconds that move so much more slowly than the ones she spends in his company.

She made a choice. Rules, piety, restraint. From the abbey roof view, the trees surrounding the town turn crimson and gold and then shed to reveal bare thin branches, reaching skyward in supplication, or perhaps only reaching toward the balcony they’re on. The summer has passed now, and turned into a season of sickness; caring for the ill of the town has meant it’s been a while since they’ve seen each other last, and though Lucy is glad to see him, his face looks unexpectedly, almost shockingly gaunt. She’s shocked.

“You should rest,” she says, almost furious. She says it more firmly than she’s ever said to a belligerent townsperson working far beyond their means, but Natsu just waves her off.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Let’s go.”

He read in some old book that the moon would be especially bright tonight, and Lucy can’t dissuade him from canceling their plans to glimpse it. She prepares coffee instead of tea, and they carry it up the spiral stairs. The roof, indeed, is limned in pale gold; the moon is so large that their exhales glow and float, like spirits in the air. The moonlight itself is as rich and heavy as the cream Lucy remembers from before the days of sparse abbey larders. It catches on the strange glassy eyes of Natsu, what's more unusual is his pupils stayed glowing red rather than its usual dark shade. Illuminated like this, highlighted his natural tan skin tone.

“Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yes,” he says, feebly. “I’m fine.”

Lucy frowns. She turns back to the moon. Maybe if she indulges him especially in the next few minutes, he’ll agree to retreat and allow her to escort him to his room to rest.

“The way the moon is now reminds me,” she finds herself saying.

“Reminds you? Of what?”

“Of that line…”

The line on that very book she’d discovered he slipped into the pocket of her habit. The one that had come from his robe but had not turned out to be any holy book at all, his very book. He insisted her to read his book for him so she did. She’d read the entire first chapter aloud to him the next time she saw him in the library, and at the time Lucy felt like one of the cobwebs there when she spoke — a spare shape, swaying, billowing on every word etched on that very book.

It's not a holy book.

“That line about eggs,” Lucy says, “the one about breaking the shell of the egg so that another being gives a new life,” and Natsu grins in reply.

“What’s so funny?” Lucy demands, startled and vaguely, vaguely delighted. That type of smile is a new one. She jabs him a bit, with her elbow. He seems almost…

“You really do like these kind of books, don’t you? Other than holy ones?” He asks.

“Of course,” Lucy says in confusion. “Otherwise I wouldn’t read them, would I?”

“I'm expecting you would but at the same time, you wouldn't,” Natsu says. “I don’t…that’s new. And the coffee and tea. The teaching and talking. I didn’t think…I didn’t expect…”

“Expect what?”

But he is looking down at his clean hand. Lucy rests her hand on one of them, to get his attention, but then finds herself holding it there.

“Natsu.”

She repeats it when he looks at her, until the thoughtfulness he regards her with is not, she realizes, thoughtfulness at all, but something else. An emotion she now recognize as a sort of sorrow.

“Lucy.” His voice, suddenly, is bare. “You’re so alluring and beautiful.”

She clenches her teeth together. What is he talking about?

There is nothing about her to find alluring at all. Almost no part of her really shows, outside the habit, outside her routines. And yet, though beauty is a concept she should have left behind with everything else, she feels herself blush. And swallow.

“Luce,” he continues, with a voice as empty as the reaching branches below. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

"I- " She can feel the gears turning inside her head, screaming at her to stand her ground and guard her faithfulness. On the flip side, she can hear the pulse of that little throbbing organ to free it from its cage, bellowing at her to surrender on her knees. "I apologize," she whispers and closing her eyes.

Pursing her lips before releasing a heavy sigh. “I can’t, either,” Lucy replies. There is only a little space between them left. She bridges it, without any further thought, and kisses him.

It’s been a long time since she kissed someone. It’s certainly the first time it’s ever been like this. His lips are cold at first — he doesn’t respond — he raises his hands to her chest but it’s not with lust, it’s more as if he might push her away, but Lucy is already leaning in for another kiss, and this one is deeper. He holds his breath, and then spills it in a silvery cloud. When he inhales next it’s as if he had been drowning — he grasps her, as if for shore — and she grasps him back, just as hungry, her hands cradling his head to hers —

And then...

“Foolish daughter!” His papa bellowed often, back when he deigned to say things to her. “Why do you keep trying so hard? It’s useless. Monastery or not, town or not — there’s no meaning to it. Light, darkness, spirits, demons, it’s all for naught. You're wasting your time for that instead of submitting to me! Submit your freedom and choose my word!"

“Then why bother with anything at all?” She couldn’t bite it back, anymore. “There has to be some reason, right?”

She was so…she was so…

“I’m just…tired. Of — walking a tightrope, all the time. I’m tired of being caught between…everything. I’m — I’m choosing.”

“Choosing? Choosing what?” She’d once seen him be this furious. That was when her mother died. “What do you think could possibly make you happy?! You have everything, even warm food, fancy clothes, big houses and properties, and even a promising marriage ahead! What do you need?!”

“It’s not about happiness!” She shouted back, desperate for him to understand. “Or sadness. Or even being right, or wrong. Or even that foolish ideas of yours! It’s just — about living...What you're really trying for me to submit to is not living at all, it's not for my sake at all! It's just a mere shackles that was meant to immobilised me." She gritted her teeth, and glares back at her father. "Marriage? I don't want that! I don't want to be chained and pinned down!"

Wind, peppered with rain and freezing cold, blew through the windows. Lucy wrapped her arms around herself, tight. Fisting the fabric of her fancy dress that was once engulfed by her mother's warmth.

“I just — want to live my life. Just like what mama wants."

Lucy realizes she's so foolish. So, so foolish.

She pulls away from Natsu, breathless, not just from — from kissing him, but from her own shock. She looks at him, with confusion. Illuminated like this, his skin looks bright, soft. His eyes, most definitely, are glowing.

He licks his lips, not with relish or threat, but the way someone might after taking a sip of water. He says nothing to explain himself, and after a moment he can’t meet her gaze either. He simply looks down, and Lucy raises her hand to his head again. Maybe she just imagined it.

No, she realizes. I didn’t.

Her fingers find it, as easily as she did the first time — a short, hard growth in the mass of his salmon hair, one and then another, pointed, and positioned exactly twin to the first she found. Horns. Now that she sees them, she can’t imagine how she missed them before. Now that she sees him, truly, she can’t imagine how she didn’t identify him from the very beginning.

He sees her disbelief. “An incubus,” he explains, quietly.

“No,” she breathes. “You’re the one from ol' Makarov’s monastery.”

The one gramps had led in from the rain. The one Lucy had been instructed to supply with a blanket and a drink, despite the fact he bled so much she doubted he would make the night, much less the next hour. The one who rarely voiced anything aside from an order for warm water. The one who only wanted to be left alone while he raps his fingers on that crusty book of his.

The more she thinks about it, the more memories of him glint from the shadow of her memory: how he would always request his drink without meeting her gaze; how he always took his book to the table where she read her holy one but she had never seen him opening it to read, instead just gazed out of the window, how he always stayed the latest on the nights she prays but would stand and leave without word when it was time for her to douse the lanterns and lock up. The glow of his blood red eyes — but — she’s certain. More certain than she has been of anything in a while.

Things are fitting together now, against her will: things she’d avoided, things she never wanted to align. Things that perhaps she didn’t notice, or accepted without question, thanks to the fog that a demon’s mere presence could lay across one’s mind. Makarov and his declaration that all were welcome to his monastery, regardless from whence they came. The truth that his was the only place she knew that was never beset upon by demons.

All this time she believed it was because he had some kind of blessing to repel them. But perhaps the inquisitors’ only error was how long it had taken them to realize before they took up the torches. "This place is cursed with them!”

“You’re not a priest,” she says. “You were pretending. You tricked and deceived everyone, with your — your demon magic and spells, or something, and you followed me, all the way here.”

He swallows. “Not…not to hurt you.”

“Not to hurt me? Stop with that act. Just look at you!” She holds his wan face to the light, rubbing her thumb in the shadows beneath his eyes. The light she saw in his irises is already fading to ash. “You’re…an incubus. You’re starving, then. You’re worse than that first day the old man dragged you in.”

He shakes his head, but can’t dislodge her. His expression is looking panicked, pained. “No, I — I only —”

“Wanted to devour me? Shatter me? Drink me 'till I dried out?!” Her voice is sharp.

“No,” he says. “No. Not at all. Never…never again.”

“Then what?” she demands, when he doesn’t answer. “What?”

“M-missed you,” he blurts. “I…missed you. So bad that it hurts. So bad..."

At her silence, he continues on his own.

“When the monastery was attacked and burned down, I…wasn’t there and I regretted it. I really like that place, the people, gramps, and...And afterward…I didn’t know where you went. I had no idea, until I heard word, of an abbey and a nun, with the loves of her books other than the holy ones.”

His gaze meets hers briefly before flicking away, the way it had a hundred times before, in a different life. He swallows.

“I made a choice about what I wanted to do, that I didn’t want to…hurt anymore. But I thought…maybe…if I could just taste…at least one last time… Just this time, for this woman...”

He shakes his head. They are still close together. He tries to move her, but she is still holding him in place, and she understands now, that he is too feeble to do anything more. An understandable consequence of the lifestyle of a priest, for someone like him.

“One last taste,” Lucy says. “And then what?”

He doesn’t answer, even after she shakes him. So, she says it for him.

“Your whole plan is a whole farce,” she says. “In the end, it wasn’t enough, is it? You still wanted more. Your kind doesn't know the word 'satisfied' and 'fulfilled'. You have an endless desire and lust."

Incubi cannot be trusted. They would say and do anything to seduce you, anything to sip the life from your body, anything to leave you nothing more than a husk with a shattered, withered heart. Somewhere, she understands that an incubus doesn’t have to be beautiful or strong in order to lure someone. To serve their own needs they could just as easily be deeply incompetent. Starving.

“It wasn’t enough,” he repeats. A quiet confession. “In the end. I still wanted more.”

She can imagine her father again, furious with her. She can imagine screaming at him to leave her alone with her own decision.

It's her turn to decide for her life, after all.

“Natsu,” she says. Maybe he can hear it in her voice. His back is to the stone wall around the roof and he can’t press himself any further into it. When his face slips out of her hands she reaches up a little higher and fists her hands over the stubs of his horns and jerks him to face her. At first she thought maybe he couldn’t bear to look at her simply because of his own shyness and embarrassment, but when his gaze crosses hers and flicks away again, it’s not to the floor, or to the distance — it’s to her hand on him — to her body that she’s pressing against him — to her lips that she’s licking, carefully. His eyes are hazy. When she tilts him toward her, he doesn’t follow so much as melt. Despite his hollowness, the taste and texture of him, when she kisses him again, is soft and rich as cream.

“L-Lucy,” he says, and she kisses him again. His mouth is open — their breaths exchange — his tongue presses against hers, just a bit, and she meets it, and the next time he says it, “Lucy,” it’s as a sigh that makes her head light. He turns his head on his own, meeting her at a different angle, pressing his tongue just a little deeper, and the noise he makes when she sucks it is, she understands, the end of his reservation.

He grips her. He is direct — his arms coil around her waist, and then one hand slips to her ass, and when her body bows back a bit, losing balance, he turns her, so that it’s her with the stone wall to her trembling spine as he presses his whole body against her, and presses closer still with every kiss. Whatever weakness he had before is replaced with a growing strength that makes her heart quiver — he rocks against her, slow but sharply, a ship in stormy waters — and too quickly all her insides are becoming choppy, churning with something that feels outside of her control.

She kisses him, again, again; her hands on his horns at first were to keep him in place but now she holds them to steady herself, and after just a moment, it’s easy — the horns are growing, spiraling, filling her palms every time he takes a breath from her. She looks at him and his altered silhouette, the raw glow and hunger and focus of him on her, and embers topple from her chest to her belly. Frightening. Thrilling.

“The top,” he says, “the hood part, the…thing. Can I…could I…if it's..."

“Yes,” Lucy says, but it doesn’t take long for both of them to realize he has no idea how to do so. His fingers fumble, uselessly, until Lucy reaches herself, for the buttons tucked under a fold, and slips them free.

She pushes the habit back, unhelms it. It’s cold enough that her ears ache to meet the cold uncovered. Her hair is tied back underneath, but she reaches back and hooks a finger on the ribbon, freeing it. Her hair falls free, if a little flat, but before she can shake it loose, Natsu reaches forward and threshes his fingers through it himself. He combs through, fingertips rubbing into her scalp, and she sighs, surprised, pleasantly.

She can’t remember the last time someone touched her like that. Or like this. His lips graze her — the patch of skin beside her mouth, her cheek, her brow, but it’s at her ear that her body twitches, that her legs almost spring apart on their own, and he reads her so well. He nuzzles her again, one ear and then the other, suckling the curve and lobe of it until she finds herself making a tiny, helpless noise.

His dexterity makes so much of so little. How does it feel so good? She feels lightheaded. If it’s this good with only this…her hand drifts. He’s doing something to her, the way she feels can’t possibly be entirely natural, but if it’s some kind of magic of his, she doesn’t…feel like she’s becoming a husk. Rather than shattering or slipping away into nothingness, her heart feels strong, alive. And if it’s this good with only this, then…

His eyes flicker as her fingers move to the buttons below her chin. They both pause. Suspend.

“Do…do you want to?”

It’s her, that’s asking. She surprises herself. But he mentioned before, that he made a choice, and he swallows.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Do…do you?”

“Yes,” she breathes. “I…do.”

“Then…” He swallows. “Then more,” he says, roughly, “please,” and her hands scramble on their own, to the buttons of the habit. She undoes the first couple, of the top and of the shirt underneath, and at the first sight of skin, the mere curve of her collarbone, he kisses her. It’s cold and his mouth is like ice and then, abruptly, altogether too hot. They continue unbuttoning, all the way down, until even her necklace now is visible, and the ring on it glitters in the light. The fabric is stiff enough that it doesn’t fall away to show her body on its own, but before she can part it herself, he takes her hands, stopping her. He guides her down, her back to the stone floor. Her legs part, very naturally, around him. She looks up at him and slowly pulls the robe apart.

Her skin, exposed in front of someone else in the open, where she can see the moon and the trees and his priest’s robe, raw, and without ceremony, feels — obscene. And cold. Before she can truly register it, he sets his hands on her and his palm splayed on her breast feels sharply intimate. He raises her legs to rest apart on his waist and it feels sudden but very, breathlessly, natural.

He helps her arms out of their long stiff sleeves and when she is free she reaches for his priest’s robe, hooks his finger into the tight collar of it, helping to free him as he fumbles too with his own set of intricate buttons. His layers have to be fought off, robes and shirts that are so stiff they almost keep his shape as he struggles out of them, like a cocoon. Beneath it his skin glimmers in the moonlight, and again she thinks, obscene — the curves of his muscles, the worn scars and smooth swaths of it, and especially, especially, how firm and warm it feels beneath her hands, and against her belly when he slides himself down to rest, bare, against her.

Their skin slides, exquisite; he lies flat against her, and then holds himself aloft. He kisses her breasts and beneath them, every rib, the protrusion of the bones of her hips, thorough, setting the flare of his mouth to parts of her she didn’t even know could catch flame — the last of her ribs, her navel and the spot below it, the inner flesh of her left thigh and (as he raises it) the skin beneath it as well, and finally, where her legs meet again with the core of her, a pleasure wet as his mouth when he —

She cries out, too loud, at the first gentle touch of him, the nuzzle of the tip of his tongue, and when he purses his lips to suck she muffles herself with one fist and uses the other to clutch him, a rough handful of his hair and curved horn. She risks a glance downward and sees him gazing back up at her; when their eyes meet he proceeds again, indulgent, a long lap up over one lip and down the other before probing in-between, and this time all she notes is his face red with arousal. He sets the broad hot breadth of his tongue to her and the sound of him lapping feels louder than her desperately smothered cries. Her back arches above the floor and his fingers curl to the curve of it, tender.

He’s getting stronger. She feels her body start reverberate too strongly from his motion, feels like everything inside of her is starting to brim, she yanks him off her again by the horns and he looks dazed and slightly drunk, like he might have continued that way until — until the end, but he can’t, she won’t let him, he can’t. She spent so much time in quiet prayer and yet can’t find the words or the gall for what she wishes now, so she just pushes him, back, so that he is the one sitting on his cast-off clothing. She crawls over him, trembling; she doesn’t look down at him, just feels her way to — him, and strokes, and moves, until her knees are on either side of him, and in line with her stroking hand. He is a demon but his…hardness feels human enough, and elicits from him a very human gasp when her fingers squeeze.

One last moment to turn back. She stops, feeling the weight of this next decision. Balancing. Natsu watches her, and then his eyes drop to her shoulders.

“You’re cold,” he whispers, rubbing her upper arms with his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”

“I’m not,” she assures him, but at that moment a breezes rushes past her, freezing, enough to sweep her hair and summon a rash of goosebumps up and down both arms.

“Here,” he says, and before she can say anything else, before she could possibly brace herself, she feels his body tense, and then, from his back, unfurling as silently as shadows: two wings. They stretch, grow, to an impossible size, larger than the wings of the largest vulture she’s ever seen circling impatiently overhead. The feather shafts rasp together with a sound like bones shifting together.

He was expecting, probably, her shock, but maybe not the fear she can’t suppress, because all at once the wings tip back in an obvious cringe.

“Sorry,” he gasps, “I’ll — I’ll —“

“No,” she says. “N-no…it’s fine.”

They are…clean. Not filthy with gore or blood-muddied earth. She maneuvers her shaking hand to touch one of them and her hand sinks into it, a bit: it’s more delicate, and warmer, than she expected, not brittle, or cold. She pinches a long pinion between her fingers and the tines of it spread. The wings move in time with his exhales, and so when they freeze in place, she knows it’s because he’s holding his breath.

From a distance, wings to her only ever meant imminent death, and hunger, so prying and endless it would stoop eagerly to human bodies and devour refuse and still remain unsatisfied. But like this…looking at them like this…

“They’re beautiful,” Lucy murmurs, and the feathers floof, a little, matching his reddening cheeks. The next thing she knows is Natsu’s mouth to hers, sweet, hungry, pulling her close, enveloping her from the wind. Every feather fans her gently, tickles, stokes her, scatters wave after wave of soft embers through her body. She is, definitely, not cold anymore. His tongue seeks hers and her hand seeks his erection and now when she moves them together, closer, closer, closer, her breath staggers. She feels him, the swell of him inside of her and the clutch of his hands and the caress of his wings around her, embracing her as tightly as she’s ever been. Demon magic, maybe, or something else even more powerful, makes her gasp. Her hands clasp him harder than they ever have in any kind of prayer. Her chest ignites with light and desire and pure, pure urgency.

She moves. Gently, at first, and then, at his whispered insistence, harder, and harder, grinding, until the skin between them is slippery, until his wings ruffle her hair and streak the sweat from her shoulders. He grabs her wrists and she moves even faster, until the slap of their bodies moving together feels louder than wingbeats or even their intermingled moans. The ring with key pendant she wears around her neck swings, stamping on her breastbone, harder, harder.

She feels herself slipping, and falling, upward, upward, upward, until all its takes is a squeeze of her thighs and the bite of his teeth on her lip and their motions aligning so that he pushes in deep, and then she is crying out, and they pulse, together, not human or demon but something else, everything else: pleasure, spirit, magic.

When she descends, it’s slowly, and with the sense that all her veins are aglow. Through the wet haze of things, through the fog of their breath, she presses her hand to her chest, to her heart. It beats wildly, as if seeking escape; but it is, even after all this, still with her. Not stolen, or even shattered, or withered, but rather, beating more strongly than she can remember.

Her body quivers. Lucy bows a little, over him, still holding him. His fingers loosen from hers. The feathers of his wings are fluffed and out of place but are lustrous, almost iridescent. His hair is disheveled, the horns spiraling openly, and there’s no way, she thinks, that he could possibly hide them now.

His body is still hot. Supple beneath her fingers. She is understanding something which should be terrifying, but instead makes her feel…a kind of softness in her chest that is almost unbearable. She speaks but finds her throat is hoarse, and he leans up, weakly.

“What?” he says.

She clears her throat. “I said…it’s not enough.”

He looks at her. She looks back.

“It’s not enough,” she repeats, and as he understands, he smiles, warmly. Her spine alights.

“Then come,” he murmurs. “Follow me, and I’ll give you —”

She silences him, with a kiss, and he enfolds her, again, soft, and dark, and tight.

#nalu #natsu x lucy #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail #fairy tail 100 years quest #fanfic #Jannaaaa writes

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