Namaari yelped as Raya rushed past her and yanked her by her elbow along with her. Namaari saw the frustration worn all over her face in angry lines.
"Hey dep la, fancy meeting you here, let's go spar," Raya managed to huff out, her strides long and fast.
"Yes, I was wondering why I’m here, just outside my quarters," Namaari answered dryly. One of the many meetings of the five nations ended an hour ago and after freshening up Namaari was about to go to the market in the town.
"Wow, dep la, so funny,” Raya answered just as dryly. “ Like, I know he's been turned to stone for the past six years, but he can't treat me like an 11 year old girl," Raya started ranting while pulling Namaari along in the direction of the heart palace training halls.
It was a familiar dynamic between them. They weren't close, they weren't friends, but still something was pulling them in each other's direction. Had been for was now more than half a decade. But never casually, never gently. They pushed and pulled at each other, they clashed and mashed and it was painful and brash and Namaari didn’t know where they would end up. Sometimes she hoped for forgiveness, sometimes to never spend a second more in the presence of the Heart princess. But she knew they were too entangled in each other. Fate would see them meeting again and again, Namaari was sure.
Raya had anger inside, distrust, a darkness she did not want to show to her friends, her family. But that she was never shy to show Namaari. Her hate for Namaari had been fueling her for years, it was familiar, it was comfortable. It was deserved, a voice inside Namaari’s mind supplied immediately.
So Raya sought her out when the frustration was boiling over, when the anger inside was red hot. The fading purple bruise below Namaari's armpit was testament to that. A bruise on the back of Raya's thigh told that they were equally matched.
Namaari watched Raya circle the training hall, finding a place opposite her and slipping into her stance. The wooden blade wasn't sharp as the real deal, but swung hard it could still do a whole lot of damage. Namaari gripped her twin bamboo sticks tightly.
Raya broke the tension by charging at her with a shout of frustration. She was on her in moments, faster as always but Namaari ducked out of the way and with a kick to her back sent her farther along. Reaching the wall, Raya jumped and kicked off it to reach Namaari a second time and the clank of wood on bamboo filled the hall in the next minutes.
Raya was relentless in her attacks, the mounting pressure wearing on Namaari. She was stronger, yes, but Raya fought with her whole body and she was lithe. Namaari couldn’t help but be drawn in to her rival. Raya’s hair wild like a forest storm, her bare arms and neck glistening, her eyes like burning coal, her chest heaving. More than anything, the distraction was making her steps falter, retreat step by step.
The wooden sword clattered to the floor, along with one of Namaari’s bamboo sticks. That did not bother Raya as she closed the distance and continued to attack with punches and kicks. They were close now, arms blocking punches, chests pushing against each other, faces almost touching in moments.
They had been here before, Namaari knows where they are headed. Still Raya’s anger burns as hot as ever, blinding her, her mind stuck in scenes from elsewhere. Raya pushes and they go down, Namaari manages to push her off once but Raya holds on tight and pulls her along and they roll, ending in a tangled mess, Raya on top.
Raya is glorious, hair framing her like a curtain, lips parted, chest rising and falling rapidly, holding Namaari’s arms in place, her lower body pinning her to the ground. Looking at Namaari with hunger in her eyes.
"Why are you holding back," Raya pants hoarsely in frustration as she straddles her.
"Haven't I done enough?” Namari questions with a low voice, not even managing a whisper as she gasps for breath.
“No,” Raya answers, and plunges her lips to Namaari’s, the fight shifting gears to a different physicality. She is plundering her mouth, grinding her hips down into her, her hands slipping to Namaari's biceps and gripping. Namaari manages to push herself against one of Raya's thighs, rolling her hips and her hands go to her rival's abundant chest.
Still they are careful. There will be no marks left and the entrance to the training hall had been locked. No clothes will be ripped, their passion held in check.
Raya loosens her top and leaves it to Namaari's deft hands to find their way inside, then pulls at her to get them into a sitting position. Her hands go to Namaari's back, exploring the geography of her muscles there. Fang's fighting style relied on upper body strength and Namaari felt the way the Heart princesses eyes had been glancing to her muscles for years.
This new position left Namaari's thighs with no purchase, nothing to grip at, but that was fine, this wasn't about her anyway. She knew she would serve Raya, she would atone for a lifetime of sin so she doubled down to let the other princess release her frustrations, to bring her pleasure. A breast was peeled from the confines of the wrappings and Namaari's mouth latched to it like it was the sweetest fruit. Raya's gasps responding to her teeth finding purchase on her hard nipple, her hands massaging the other breast.
Her other hand slips downward, along the planes of Raya's toned stomach, through the coarse hair above her most private parts, wet and sticky from sweat and arousal. Her fingers find her folds, slip along outside, teasing, trying to stay in place through Raya's movement.
Above Namaari, Raya was a glorious sight to behold, and behold she did, watching, admiring. There was magic in this, a different kind than the dragons’ magic, a primal magic, both of them in the thrall of it, submitting to it, invoking it with moans, gasps, with the patterns they drew on each other's skin.
Namaari entered Raya and her own arousal flooded her as she watched the way Raya flung her head back, mouth open in a silent gasp. She bit her lower lip and keened and pulled her inside, gripping her. Her head dropped to Namaari’s shoulder and she gasped and panted louder than before.
“Fuck,” Raya said with feeling and Namaari obliged willingly. She added another finger and her thumb found Raya’s gem while her other hand teased the bud atop her breast. Raya ground heavily into Namaari, her movements jerky, far from her fluid fighting style. Raya had one arm around Namaari’s back, keeping herself steady, the other pawing at Namaari’s chest.
Namaari kept up the rhythm, pushing Raya further along, pushing, rubbing, squeezing. Finally she curled her fingers and the writhing mess atop her stiffened, squeezed, shuddered and groaned long and low. She let her ride it out, long as always, coaxing her along, prolonging until she relaxed bonelessly over her.
They still for a minute, catch their breaths, but the air grows tense, whatever respite this offered starts dissipating.
Raya stands suddenly, turns away and readjusts her clothing. Namaari waits.
“I want to let go of my anger. But it burns inside me. It turns me to stone from inside.”
“If Kumandra can be mended, so can... we,” Namaari answers. “If the dragons are flying in the skies again, anything can heal.”
Another beat of silence. “I want to forgive you.”
Namaari is breathless for a moment. “I would do anything to be forgiven,” she says softly, not sure if she could face Raya if she was turned her way.
For the first time today Namaari sees Raya’s shoulders relax for a moment.
When she turns to Namaari her hair is still wild, her eyes set. Raya holds out a hand for her to help her up and looks like she'd rather be anywhere else. Still, her hand is firm when Namaari grips it.
"C'mon dep la, let's find something to eat, I'm starving."