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Take Me Back

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It’s one of those nights that make you scoff with a bitter smiles fixed onto your trembling lips. It’s clear out and you can see the stars littering the sky, twinkling mockingly above you as if they’re trying to tell you that your loneliness isn’t supposed to make your world feel so dark. The chill in the air almost has you retreating back to your ordinary car, so that you could be on your way to your ordinary apartment, only to reach there and simply settle back into your ordinary life. But there’s something, so much greater than your contempt for black tie functions, that has you sticking around for just that little while longer.

You wrap your arms around yourself and shiver ever so slightly at the coolness of the evening that is erring on frigid. You begin to think that maybe you should have brought more than just a red shawl to keep you warm this evening, but you are barely allowed to think deeper along that train of thought when a familiar voice strikes you out of your thoughts.

It’s Prompto, decked out neatly in a slim fitting suit that does incredible things for his physique. He’s smiling that one thousand watt smile as he approaches you, the timid wave he sends your way breaking the illusion of confidence he had held. Still, his charms overflow, and you find yourself in awe of your colleague as he finally reaches your side.

“Y/N! Red, huh? It’s a really nice colour on you!” His compliment doesn’t have you blushing, but you still can’t help but smile and reach out to gently shove him away in jest.

“You’re not looking so bad yourself, Argentum.”

His freckled cheeks gather a dusting of pink in a matter of seconds and his hand rises up to rub at the back of his neck. He’s the picture of bashfulness, and you can’t help but hope that the world doesn’t scorn him like it did to you.

“Oh, stop! Anyways I came here to deliver a message.” He grins at you, and his gaze flickers to somewhere in the distance over your shoulder. You want to follow his line of sight, but his eyes are back on yours in almost an instant and you’ve lost your chance. “There’s someone waiting for you in the unoccupied ballroom. It’s important.”

He keeps his message short and concise. It’s vague, but you have an idea of who might be waiting for you at the designated meeting spot. You don’t want to go, and you say as much to Prompto. A frown immediately tugs down at the corners of his lips, and his cornflower hues turn glassy— he looks like a kicked puppy and you internally curse him for sending Prompto to deliver his message to you.

He really knew you too well— you could never say no to Prompto; he was like your kid brother after all.

“I know who put you up to this, and you know what went down between us. I don’t want to see him, nor do I want to hear anything he has to say about the matter.” You try to protest, but one look at Prompto and you know you’re going to be making your way down to the empty ballroom in a matter of seconds.

Desperation written all over his face, alongside a morose sense of sadness deep in his eyes, his shoulders droop and he clasps his hands in front of him in a pleading gesture.

“It sucked. It still sucks— I know! Or, I have a feeling I can appreciate it because you’re the one who cried on my shoulder for weeks in secret over it. And that’s why I think you guys should just talk to each other—.”

You bite the inside of your lip, unease rising from the pit of your stomach, leaving a sour taste in your throat and on the back of your tongue. You shake your head as the memories of your last conversation with Cor haunt you. His eyes were as cold as stone, the warmth his steel blue hues held for you in the past gone without a trace. His posture imposing and his arm thrust out, finger strong and unshaking as he pointed forcefully towards the front door. Your body shaking and your tears falling, cheeks all too warm and blood pounding violently in your ears as you tried to make sense of the exact moment your world fell ablaze akin to the fiery pits of hell.

“—it’s been seven months!” You whisper hoarsely. The chill is gone, but you know that this is only because you’re growing numb to feeling again. “I don’t want to face him again. I don’t want to face that again.”

You chance a look at Prompto’s face and almost feel like he’s going to relent— the compassion in his expression as he looks upon you is enough to warm you from the inside out just a little bit. But then he shakes his head and gestures towards Cor’s meeting place. A pit of dread is given birth deep inside, and it festers as you realise that maybe you have to talk to Cor after all.

How bad could it be? He couldn’t possibly say anything worse than what he had that night? He can’t do anything worse than what he’d done that night.

“Just hear him out. Seeing you might just save his life again.”

You try not to think about what Prompto’s words mean, but you don’t realise that you’re going to be forced to hear the exact meaning of them from the man himself in a matter of minutes. You’re already walking towards the destination, forcing yourself not to look back at Prompto because you know that if you do, then you’ll break down right then and there, and beg him to take you home because you really don’t want to face Cor Leonis in person.

Your relationship with him could only be described as a whirlwind. You aren’t sure when it had begun, but you sure as well know when it ended. It was unpredictable and rough, throwing your emotions up and down, side to side, and all over the place only to have them crash and shatter on the hard ground with such devastating momentum that you were still trying to figure out how to piece yourself back together in a way that could be classified as somewhat normal. He left you a husk of a human, and now he wants to talk to you— you’re not sure why he wants to see you at all, but you’re scared. Not admitting as much would be foolish.

Still, you decide to see him despite your growing fear of the outcome. If he’s going to fling bitter final words your way to end the ambiguity of the current state of your relationship, then so be it. If he’s going to say something softer… well then, the ball would be in your court to do with what you please.

Your knees shake as you walk away from the main function, and your heart pounds so hard that you feel the deafening thuds against your eardrums. You might be getting dizzy, but you’re not sure. All you do is walk forward until you’re where you’re told to be. The wooden doors look too heavy, yet they open with ease as you push forward.

There he is, in the middle of the empty room, dressed in a simple suit that carries him so well that it’s unfair. You keep this opinion to yourself and step inside, the clacking of your heels too loud for the silence filling the room.

He turns, and his face looks weathered— he’s still as handsome as you remember though, and you keep this particular opinion to yourself as well. A smile pulls hesitantly at the corners of his lips, and you’re not sure what to make of the rare gesture so willingly given.

“Y/N, you came.”

His statement is redundant as you nod.

“I’m here because Prompto said you wanted to talk. Smart, sending Prompto of all people.”

He has the decency to keep his gaze averted as he clears this throat to explain, “You never could refuse his requests. You’ve been soft on him from the beginning—.”

“You’ve been jealous of him.” It’s a statement of fact. It’s the reason why he pointed you out the door all those months ago. He suspected you of cheating, and his pride didn’t let him talk through the jealousy he felt at the mere notion of you being close with another man— even if it was Prompto; the young man you regarded as a kid brother more than anything else.

He steps forward at your statement, and his eyes hold remorse as he clasps his hands together before him. He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions the way that I did.”

You shake your head, shutting your eyes as you try to process what this whole conversation is supposed to mean for the present and for your future— with or without him.

“You should have talked to me. You should have listened to me when I tried to explain.”

“You shouldn’t have had to explain anything. There was nothing to explain.” Cor frowns as he speaks, and you notice that despite his hands being clasped, his shoulders are shaking. You step forward out of concern, realise that you have done so, and then feel awkward about stepping back to keep your distance— you remain in place, stock still with your fists clenched at your sides.

“I should have, and I don’t know how to fix what I did. All I know is that life’s been shit without you.”

He’s never been so blunt, and something ignites in your long cold heart. Your minds tells you this feeling is dangerous, but you want to stay and see what happens next. You want to bear witness to what the proud Cor Leonis says and does next.

He steps forward, and unclasps his hands when you don’t move away from him. His eyes are on yours, and his shaking hands move up and up until they frame your cheeks, touch calloused, but paradoxically gentle.

His hands are warmer than you remember as they cup your cheeks. His touch is tender, and it almost doesn’t suit him until you catch yourself glancing into his eyes. The gaze that meets you is warmer than you’ve ever seen, and the glazed look through his unshed tears of relief before they shut tightly is so foreign that you’re worried you might be meeting the wrong man. But his lips finally touch yours, and the rough movements of his too-soft lips against your own unpracticed ones feel like a long-memorised and implemented routine.

When he pulls away, you hear his breath hitch, and you feel his hands falter as they attempt to move from your cheeks to touch you elsewhere. He chuckles, and the sound makes you feel warm, and you’re not sure why your lips quirk upwards into a small smile for a short moment before falling back to their neutral position.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did. I shouldn’t have told you to leave the way I did. I was wrong. I was a fool.”

“Okay.” You agree quietly. “Sure. But I didn’t give you permission to kiss me. Or touch me. I’m not yours to do with what you please, Cor.”

The words sound harsh from your tongue, but your voice is softer than you even thought possible.  You want to mean what you say, and you want to make sure that your words him him hard just like his had hurt you all those months ago— but the more you try, the more insincere the words sound. Everything’s turning into a misunderstanding, and you want things to start making sense again, but the confusion that comes with your current situation is clouding all logic and his calloused touch is exactly what you want to drown in.

You’re not his anymore, but you want to be all over again, and that scares you.

He leans in again, but his lips remain just shy of touching yours. He’s looking deep into your eyes, his breath fanning against your lips with patience and poise that could only belong to the marshal. His fingers gently trace down the sides of your face, only to settle on your stiff shoulders. He rubs them idly, his nose carefully bumping yours as he whispers so softly that your heart aches at the sound.

“I’m sorry. Just one more kiss, for the road. That’s all I’ll ask of you. Please, Y/N.”

Your breath stutters, and you can’t hold yourself back anymore as your hands smooth up the front of Cor’s chest only to wind around his shoulders, pulling him close until his lips are barely touching your own. You keep your watering eyes on his as you close the small distance and peck him quickly before pulling away.

He smiles, but his eyes water with a deep sadness.

“That all?” His voice quakes.

You shake your head. “No,” you whisper. “If you promise to listen,” you take a deep, shaky breath as you remain steadfast in keeping eye contact with him, “if just talk to me about what’s bothering you, then there’s still so much more for us both.” You look up at him imploringly, waiting— hoping— that he answers favourably.

You don’t want this to be the end of Cor and Y/N.

You want to find happiness with him. No one else.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he nods so quickly you worry that he’s perhaps developed a crick in his neck from the quick movement. Your hand moves to gently stroke the back of his neck just in case, and he leans down again to brush his lips against yours again. He pulls back shortly and lets out a breath from his nose.

“May I kiss you?”

You blink at him. “I want more than just a kiss.”

“What do you want, Y/N? I’ll give it you. I’ll give you anything you ask for.”

The promise to deliver in his words sends a shiver down your spine, the anticipation you feel peaking as you pull yourself in closer so that your feverish body feels some sense of relief from the sensation of his firmness against you. With hooded eyes, you decide to be forward and honest. You’ve waited in emotional agony for too long to pass this up— your body is hungry for something primal, and you’re going to allow yourself the indulgence to re-christen your once damned relationship with Cor Leonis.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He pauses, eyes growing serious as he searches for any sign of contempt in you. All he sees is that familiar hunger that took control of all his mental and physical faculties in the depths of the night— all passion and pleasure, and soft heartfelt declarations of dedication through the mind, the body and the soul.

“How do you want it, sweetheart?” The pet name has you biting the inside of your lip so that you don’t whimper at how much you missed hearing the endearments from the stoic marshal. “How do you want me to fuck you?”

You cling to him tighter, breasts pressed flush against his rigid chest. The dress is a hindrance now, and you want nothing more than to feel his skin against yours. You know better than to undress here though; you will have to settle for a quick round to sate you before you could take this somewhere private.

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully, pressing your open mouth against his jaw, your heavy breaths hinting at just how badly you need him, “I just missed you. I missed feeling you. Knowing you. Having you.”

Cor tilts his head and smashes his lips against yours with so much accuracy that your heart swells with emotion knowing full well that he definitely thinks about you just as often as you do him. He still remembers you, and your responses to his actions. He still remembers where to touch you so that you write against him, pleading for more. He still knows exactly how to get you going to receive his special brand of intense loving.

His touch is firm and caring as he pulls your dress up, his fingers laying gentle traces upon the soft skin of your exposed thigh. He hikes it around his hip and pulls your hot, wanting core flush against him before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It’s all pent up passion and lustful want as he fumbles with his button and fly, only to sigh in relief when your hands wander down to assist, fumbling along with his until your shaking hand is wrapped around his member.

He feels hot to the touch, the silken skin of his cock textured exactly how you remembered. You lick your lips and boldly look up at his face, noting the flush of his cheeks under his rugged stubble. His mouth is open, panting slightly at the feeling of your hand around him, and his gaze falls to yours as he offers up a roguish grin.

“Not gonna last long; can already tell.”

You nod in agreement as you feel your own wetness pooling at your core, ruining your panties.

“Same boat, darling— oh! Cor!” You gasp as you feel his fingers rubbing at you from over your panties. The slickness that’s already pooled there creates a lewd semi-friction that has your thighs trembling every time he presses over your clit. Seeing your reaction, he palms your core from over your panties, his steel blue eyes bearing into your own as he guides you to a stumble until you’re pressed against the nearest wall.

“You’re soaked, Y/N. You’re so wet… is this all for me?” His voice is deep velvet, rough and smooth at the same time. It doesn’t make sense, but you’re at the point that you don’t want anything to make sense. You’re lost in his presence, in the feeling of his body pressed so close to yours that it hurts to have known you have been close to losing him for good— all out of stubborn will.

“A-all for you… Cor, I need you so bad. Please!”

You cry out for him, and he wastes no time slipping your panties to the side before pressing two fingers between your pussy lips, slicking his fingers with your arousal and gently easing them into your quivering heat. You moan as his thick fingers enter you, touching you so intimately that your body burns for more. Your hips writhe as you crave more of him, but you loathe to rush him when his expression is pure bliss simply through touching you again. The heel of his palm rubs against your clit, his fingers deep inside you, stretching you for the girth you missed.

“How do you want to cum?” He asks.

You moan, “Around your cock. Please!”

He hoists you up, and pins you against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands squeezing your ass. His cock is pressed up against your core, and he brings his lips down upon yours in a sweet kiss, whispering against them.

“Put it in. Please.” He’s pleading with you too, and you can’t refuse him. Not that you would at this point. “I’m going to fuck you like you want it. I remember exactly how you like it, Y/N.” He pants against your lips before taking them captive against his own.

He groans deeply as you guide him inside, and you whimper in pleasure against his lips as the stretch of his entrance sends electricity shooting up your spine. Your back arches and your hips undulate as you inch closer to him, taking him in deeper inside, eyes shut in concentration as you focus on the feeling of every inch of him sliding slowly against the plush of your heat.

“Wh-what if someone sees?” You ask, though you really don’t care.

“Let them see. So fuckin’ tight. Missed you.” His words come out in pants as he moves his hips against yours, holding you firmly so that you’re secure against the wall as he has his way with you. You find yourself moaning, reaching an almost symphonic sounding crescendo as he picks up his pace. His strokes are long and deep, and there’s sweat trickling from his brow and tracing his jaw from the exertion, but he does not let up. His eyes are intense on yours as he watches every single expression you make, as if relearning them all. He squeezes your ass firmly and drives himself impossibly deeper, the wet sounds of your coupling only causing your arousal to shoot up rather than be hindered out of embarrassment.

“Cor,” you moaned as you pressed your mouth against the nape of his neck, kissing him as you feel your climax threatening to take you far from the realms of reality, “I’m s-so close babe…”

“Hang on, just a little more… there you go. Take it. Just like that…” Cor rasps as he fucks you, coaxing out all the little moans and whines that he craved until now. You cling on for dear life and feel your vision fill with white from the flames of pleasure that consume you. You buck your hips, unable to control your body’s spasms as Cor holds you in place, groaning with strain as he pulls out before gently letting your feet down on the floor. Once your limp frame is secured between his and the wall, he takes care to hike your dress up and away from your thigh before painting it with the hot white of his release. It drips slowly down your leg as he lets it down from his grip, and you feel his fingers hook around the waistband of your slicked panties before he pulls them down.

You’re too out of breath to talk, so you raise an eyebrow instead. He looks up at you, equally out of breath, and simply smiles that toothy smile that never fails to have your heart flutter. You let him help you step out of your ruined panties, and he uses the dry bits to wipe up his release before balling them up and pushing them into his inner coat pocket with a satisfied look on his face.

You can’t help but snort, “Proud of yourself there?”

He shrugs, eyes warm as he straightens from his kneeled position, letting your dress drape down over your bare ass and legs. He tucks himself back into his pants, having cleaned himself up with your panties, and leans in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. His lips linger as he sighs in relieved content.

“You took me back, even when I fucked it up with you. I’m the happiest man alive.”

You drop your head against his chest, warm and sated. You hear his heartbeat, ear pressed up just above his heart, and you feel your throat constrict with the knowledge that this is real. That he’s right there with you, and everything you just felt and shared with him was real.

“Let’s put that behind us. Let’s start again and talk things out next time it gets rough, okay?”

He hums in agreement, and you lean against him fully, safe and sound.

“Okay. I love you, Y/N. Thank you for this chance. I won’t let you down again.”

You’re glad he had Prompto send you to him that night. You smile properly for the first time in months.

“And I won’t let you down either. That’s a promise. I won’t let us miss each other how we did again. I love you too much to go through that again Cor. I’m sorry too.”

He held you there, in the empty ballroom, and you finally felt warm again.