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a matter of reunions

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He finds her in the washroom, submerged in a hot bath with steam curling over the rim, so breathtakingly serene with her head tipped back and eyes closed that he momentarily forgets how to speak.

Hells below .

Diavolos has long lost count of how many battles, how many enemies he’s fought, but none have made his heart pound so hard as it does when he sees his lovely wife. He tracks his eyes down the slope of her nose, the column of her throat, the fall of her gorgeous dark hair over the edge of the tub, and makes an indistinct noise in the back of his throat.

“Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to get in?”

He starts, almost falling over, and when he raises his head, she’s grinning at him, eyes sparkling with mirth, and he is breathless all over again.

Few get to see Kenna behind closed doors, get to see her quick smile and her even quicker snarl, get to see her without the heavy mantle of queen, but only he gets to see her like this: unguarded, soft, vulnerable.

In love.

It humbles him, every time, and he sinks to his knees besides the tub, always to his knees for her, and meets her for a slow, lazy kiss. His gloved hand comes up to tangle in her hair and when they break apart, he leans his forehead against hers, if only to soak in her closeness for a second more.

“Your Majesty,” he murmurs.

“Your Majesty,” she replies, pulling away to look up at him. There are charming spots of pink high on her cheeks. “If I knew you were returning today, I would have greeted you at the gates.”

“But this greeting is so much better,” he says, trailing his hand down from her hair to the base of her neck. How easily three days of hard riding and little sleep are forgotten in the presence of his queen.

Kenna leans up, pressing herself to him, and cups his stubbled cheeks with wet hands. Her mouth brushes his teasingly. “Better even if you join me,” she says against his lips. “I’ve missed you.”

There is no protest to be had when he has not seen his wife is near three months and she is here, now, naked before him and asking him to join her. He stands on his feet, discarding his gloves and his circlet as he goes, and when he begins to unbutton his shirt, Kenna makes a pleased sound from the tub.

He will tease her about it another time.

Now, however, he quickly casts aside his shirt and deftly undoes the laces of his pants, stepping out of all remaining clothes into the warm air of the washroom as Kenna watches with half-lidded eyes. 

He’s almost fully hard by the time he climbs into the tub, heady under her gaze, and settles across from her. The tub looked plenty big enough with only her in it but now with his added bulk, the water spills dangerously over the sides onto the washroom floor. Kenna outright laughs as his knees poke out above the water in his effort to leave some room for her on the other end.

“Poor, poor Diavolos,” she says, rising to her knees and slowly inching her way to him. He swallows, lowering his legs to allow her to settle on his lap. His breath hitches when she leans into him, draping her arms around his shoulders while his cock’s trapped between them.

“Not so poor now that I have you,” he says, hands finding their way to her waist. He means for it to come out in the same teasing manner she spoke in, but it comes out soft and earnest.

He has missed her too much to be anything but.

Her kiss this time is slow like before but made infinitely filthier when she slides her tongue into his mouth and grinds her abdomen into his cock, swallowing his moan. He brings a hand up to curve around her breast, thumbing at a nipple in retaliation, but she only deepens the kiss, licking deep into his mouth and stealing his ability to breathe.

She can have it, if she wants. There is nothing he will not give.

Kenna gasps when he winds a hand through her hair however long later and pulls her head back to drag his teeth down the curve of her throat. His cock twitches. “Diavolos, please,” she whispers.

“Here or…?”

“The bed, our bed--”

He gathers her up easily with one arm and uses the other to haul them out of the water. Tomorrow he will have to apologize to the housekeeper for dripping water everywhere but it's a far thought from his mind when he rips all the blankets and covers off the bed and lays his wife down on the sheets.

He climbs over her and murmurs against her mouth, "I'll not last long, I've missed you too much."

She nips at his mouth and lightly slaps his ass. "I don't care, just, inside, now, please--"

He enters her in one smooth movement, swallowing her cry with a hard kiss, and it's heaven come down being back where he belongs, in her presence, in her bed, drawing wail after wail of pleasure from her as he fucks into her, again and again, as hard and deep as he knows she likes.

“I promise,” he grits out against her neck. “I promise, never for so long again, Kenna I swear--”

At his words, she comes with a whimper and clenches so hard around him that his vision blacks out. He follows not long after, groaning as his cock spills inside her.

Slowly, gradually, awareness trickles back in as they both catch their breath. Eventually she stirs underneath him, grumbling about possibly being smothered to death while undercutting her own words by wrapping her arms around him. Diavolos only smiles in bliss, nosing at the curve of her jaw and pressing warm kisses where he can reach.

“I love you,” he murmurs against her skin.

“Love you too.”