It's after the war that worries him. They're planning on taking out the king, the crown prince, all the higher nobility. As the time draws closer, the plans more finalized, people start whispering about who will guide them through this, who will help them rebuild. The soldiers have started looking to him, and it scares the shit out of him.
Sam is no leader.
Captain Makara laughs at him when he mentions it. “You dumb motherfucker, if you’d have been born with different blood, you could have been king. Things will work out,” is all he’ll say about it.
Sam tells Porrim everything, so of course he tells her this. “Would you want to be queen?” he murmurs to her later when they're out in the courtyard, his wings draped over them both for enough of a cover that they can sit close together.
She runs her fingers through his feathers, absently, as she considers the question. He appreciates that she thinks about the question instead of just denying it outright, as the rebellion they're both a part of says she should, or telling him of course, as the court they both still serve would expect.
He appreciates her touch on his wings more, though, and it's hard to concentrate as every brush of her fingertips over them sends little shivers down his spine. She notices - of course she notices - and her smile is slow and contemplative.
“I'm not used to it,” he says by way of explanation, and they both know it's far more than that.
But the courtyard isn't the place, and now isn't the time to do anything about how much he wants her, and he draws in a deep breath and holds himself still.
“No one's ever?” she asks.
“Not for a long time.”
Her hands drift over his feathers one more time before she pulls them away, a quiet air of regret between them that seems to grow stronger every day that passes by where they can do nothing about what could be between them.
“The nobility respect me,” she says finally. “The soldiers respect you. And the people look to us because we are the only choice they have.”
We both know the people deserve their own choice, neither of them say - even out here, where no one is listening, it's too dangerous - but it's an answer all the same.
---
The people choose a shepherd to govern them, a preacher who called for the kind of things the rebellion fought for long before it was started. The one who was responsible for organizing the distribution of the supplies that Sam and Porrim and others smuggled out of the city, he learns, and even Captain Makara has stars in his eyes when he talks to him.
Porrim takes her seat next to him as his advisor, the bridge between the old nobility who still hold some sway and this new, burgeoning government. The soldiers look to Sam as their general, and it surprises him when Captain Makara steps back, settles into a place at the new leader’s side.
“I thought it might be you,” Sam tells him.
Makara shakes his head. “The soldiers fear me. It was what we needed then, but things are different now. We respect you.”
Sam smirks, just a little. “I never feared you.”
Makara’s smile is as sharp as it ever was, even though his tone is fond. “Dumb motherfucker.”
---
The first night they have fully to themselves, where they don't have to be satisfied with quick and desperate, she pushes him face first onto their bed, wings spread as wide as they’ll go.
“Did you think I would forget?” she whispers into his ear as she covers every inch of his wings, until he's left panting into the sheets, hips rocking helplessly.
“Could you come like this?” she asks as she rakes her nails through the soft down on his back at the base his wings, and he could, he almost could, except -
“I can't see you,” he breathes back, shaking his head.
Her hands still, and suddenly he needs to see her face more than anything. He starts to twist, and she backs up enough to let him tuck his wings in so he can turn around, sitting up.
“Charmer,” she teases, but she swallows past the emotion lodged in her throat, and her eyes are gleam dark and soft.
He pulls her into his lap and she presses against him as he wraps his wings around them. He means to kiss her, but she tilts her head back and he can't help but follow the line of her neck with his lips, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat and following it up with his teeth.
She gasps against him, nails biting into his shoulders, and as though she was reading his mind, uses them to push herself up enough that she's looking down at him. He tilts his head up to mouth along her collarbone, down her breast to graze his teeth across a nipple, soothing it with his tongue.
He could get drunk off the sounds she's making, he thinks, and he tells her as much as he presses inside of her. He murmurs nonstop against her skin as they rock together, his face buried in her neck as her body pushes down against his and he thrusts up to meet her. Everything from I love the way you smile before you open your mouth and tear someone apart to your eyes put the stars to shame to I forgot what it was like to have a reason before you.
She bites the base of his wing when she comes, and he follows after with her name on his lips, fingers holding her hips hard enough to bruise.
Afterward, as they lay with her head pillowed on his chest and his wings draped over them like a blanket, he slides his fingers through her hair and whispers, “I love you,” for the first time, even though they've both known it for longer than Sam can tell.
She chuckles quietly, lacing their fingers together as she whispers back, “I love you too.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Porrim/Sam - NSFW royalty/guard AU epilogue
Sam is no leader.
Captain Makara laughs at him when he mentions it. “You dumb motherfucker, if you’d have been born with different blood, you could have been king. Things will work out,” is all he’ll say about it.
Sam tells Porrim everything, so of course he tells her this. “Would you want to be queen?” he murmurs to her later when they're out in the courtyard, his wings draped over them both for enough of a cover that they can sit close together.
She runs her fingers through his feathers, absently, as she considers the question. He appreciates that she thinks about the question instead of just denying it outright, as the rebellion they're both a part of says she should, or telling him of course, as the court they both still serve would expect.
He appreciates her touch on his wings more, though, and it's hard to concentrate as every brush of her fingertips over them sends little shivers down his spine. She notices - of course she notices - and her smile is slow and contemplative.
“I'm not used to it,” he says by way of explanation, and they both know it's far more than that.
But the courtyard isn't the place, and now isn't the time to do anything about how much he wants her, and he draws in a deep breath and holds himself still.
“No one's ever?” she asks.
“Not for a long time.”
Her hands drift over his feathers one more time before she pulls them away, a quiet air of regret between them that seems to grow stronger every day that passes by where they can do nothing about what could be between them.
“The nobility respect me,” she says finally. “The soldiers respect you. And the people look to us because we are the only choice they have.”
We both know the people deserve their own choice, neither of them say - even out here, where no one is listening, it's too dangerous - but it's an answer all the same.
---
The people choose a shepherd to govern them, a preacher who called for the kind of things the rebellion fought for long before it was started. The one who was responsible for organizing the distribution of the supplies that Sam and Porrim and others smuggled out of the city, he learns, and even Captain Makara has stars in his eyes when he talks to him.
Porrim takes her seat next to him as his advisor, the bridge between the old nobility who still hold some sway and this new, burgeoning government. The soldiers look to Sam as their general, and it surprises him when Captain Makara steps back, settles into a place at the new leader’s side.
“I thought it might be you,” Sam tells him.
Makara shakes his head. “The soldiers fear me. It was what we needed then, but things are different now. We respect you.”
Sam smirks, just a little. “I never feared you.”
Makara’s smile is as sharp as it ever was, even though his tone is fond. “Dumb motherfucker.”
---
The first night they have fully to themselves, where they don't have to be satisfied with quick and desperate, she pushes him face first onto their bed, wings spread as wide as they’ll go.
“Did you think I would forget?” she whispers into his ear as she covers every inch of his wings, until he's left panting into the sheets, hips rocking helplessly.
“Could you come like this?” she asks as she rakes her nails through the soft down on his back at the base his wings, and he could, he almost could, except -
“I can't see you,” he breathes back, shaking his head.
Her hands still, and suddenly he needs to see her face more than anything. He starts to twist, and she backs up enough to let him tuck his wings in so he can turn around, sitting up.
“Charmer,” she teases, but she swallows past the emotion lodged in her throat, and her eyes are gleam dark and soft.
He pulls her into his lap and she presses against him as he wraps his wings around them. He means to kiss her, but she tilts her head back and he can't help but follow the line of her neck with his lips, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat and following it up with his teeth.
She gasps against him, nails biting into his shoulders, and as though she was reading his mind, uses them to push herself up enough that she's looking down at him. He tilts his head up to mouth along her collarbone, down her breast to graze his teeth across a nipple, soothing it with his tongue.
He could get drunk off the sounds she's making, he thinks, and he tells her as much as he presses inside of her. He murmurs nonstop against her skin as they rock together, his face buried in her neck as her body pushes down against his and he thrusts up to meet her. Everything from I love the way you smile before you open your mouth and tear someone apart to your eyes put the stars to shame to I forgot what it was like to have a reason before you.
She bites the base of his wing when she comes, and he follows after with her name on his lips, fingers holding her hips hard enough to bruise.
Afterward, as they lay with her head pillowed on his chest and his wings draped over them like a blanket, he slides his fingers through her hair and whispers, “I love you,” for the first time, even though they've both known it for longer than Sam can tell.
She chuckles quietly, lacing their fingers together as she whispers back, “I love you too.”