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It's late when someone pushes open the door to the front room of Neve's office; when she glances up from her notes, she realizes the sun's already set. The office is usually closed by now, and she'd half expected her assistant Marta to have bolted the door for the night. She shakes her head, returning to the notes piled in front of her; she's close to making a connection, and she'll have better luck fitting the pieces together if she doesn't get distracted.
Still, she half-listens while Marta speaks to the newcomer. "We're just about to close," she says apologetically. "Unless you have an appointment." She asks as a courtesy only; Marta knows the contents of their appointment book far better than Neve does, and if she'd been expecting someone, she would have greeted them by name.
"I fear I do not," a man's voice replies. A voice Neve knows well, one she both misses constantly and had hoped never to hear again.
She drops her quill, splashing ink across the page, and barely notices.
"Even so," Lucanis continues, "I would very much like to speak with Neve, if she is available."
"Is it an emergency?" Marta presses. "If not, she'd probably rather you come back tomorrow."
"It's all right, Marta," Neve calls. It takes a few tries to get the words out; at first, all that comes out when she opens her mouth is a dry rasp. She isn't sure she wants to see him, but what can she do? She can't bring herself to turn him away, either.
It had been easy to do what Lucanis wanted, once, because so often what he wanted was to please her. However, she'd soon learned this only held true until the point that his happiness, or Neve's, conflicted with what the Crows wanted from him. From what Caterina wanted from him. And it had become clear, after a very short time, that Caterina's wishes always prevailed.
Please, he'd said to her, as she'd stormed out of the villa on that final night. Please. As if Neve had been the one withholding something. As if he didn't know exactly what she needed in order to stay.
He had sent her one letter shortly afterward, but after Neve returned it unopened he hadn't tried again. She hasn't seen Lucanis in nearly a decade. Hasn't heard his beautiful, infuriating voice.
But now the door to the back room opens, and Lucanis fucking Dellamorte, First Talon of the Antivan Crows, steps through, his hands clasped together as he comes to a halt in front of her desk.
They regard each other in silence, for a moment. Neve knows she looks a little worse for wear; she'd been badly hurt the year before, in the midst of a case nearly as disastrous as the one they'd both been on with Rook long ago, and a thick, dark scar now stretches from just below her jaw to her collarbone. The dark circles under her eyes haven't gotten any better since he'd last seen her; she's still living on too much coffee and too little sleep. Her robes are simple and slightly worn, chosen this morning for comfort over fashion, and she feels underdressed in Lucanis' presence. His dark clothing is simple and free of ornamentation, but so perfectly-tailored and finely made that it looks ostentatious all the same.
Lucanis looks much the same as she remembers, although his beard has started to go gray. It looks so attractive on him that she feels a sudden flare of irritation. What right does he have to show up unannounced after all this time and stand here being handsome at her?
"You don't want me to send him away until tomorrow, ma'am?" Marta asks from the doorway, breaking the silence. Neve nearly jumps, having forgotten she was there at all.
"It's fine," she manages to reply. Marta's only been with her for a little over a year, and Neve hasn't mentioned Lucanis once in that time; surely she has no idea who this stranger could be. "Go on home, all right? I'll see you in the morning."
Marta frowns at Lucanis' back, then nods and darts out of the room.
Lucanis stands silently as they listen to the shuffle of papers before she finally departs. His eyes don't leave her face the entire time.
Lucanis takes a deep breath into the quiet that remains after the door is firmly shut. "Neve."
"What the fuck are you doing in my office?" Neve asks. It comes out less angry than she had intended.
"I thought a letter would be too impersonal," Lucanis responds. He inclines his head, almost a bow. "So I am here."
Neve scowls at him. "What business do we have that's too personal for a letter?"
"Catarina is dead."
Good, Neve thinks bitterly, but even in her surprise, even as she simmers in the anger that Lucanis' presence has renewed in her chest, she knows better than to say it. Something must show in her face, though, because Lucanis nods gravely and takes another step forward.
"I had thought," he begins, then frowns. "I wanted to…"
Neve raises an eyebrow, her lips pursed together. "You came here for a reason," she says.
He nods.
"Out with it, then," she snaps. She gestures impatiently at the chair she keeps in front of her desk for clients to use. "And sit down."
Lucanis takes a seat, his leather trousers creaking softly in the stillness of the room. "My apologies for arriving without notice," he says. "In truth, I wasn't sure if you'd agree to speak to me at all."
"I'm still deciding."
"Catarina is dead, as I said," Lucanis says, recognizing Neve's impatience. He had always been good at reading her moods, something she'd found endearing even when it had frustrated her. They'd known each other so well, once.
Neve knows she should offer condolences, but thankfully he seems to understand that she has none to give in this moment. He breathes deeply and forges ahead.
"You know she never truly wanted to give up control of House Dellamorte. I was First Talon in name only, in many ways."
"I'm aware," Neve says flatly.
"Yes," he says hastily. "Of course. You saw it immediately, but it wasn't until those responsibilities fell fully to me that I realized how much of myself I'd given up. How I'd allowed myself to follow the path she set for me, regardless of my own feelings. Regardless of my own desires."
"I don't see how you could have failed to notice." Neve's tone is sharper than she'd intended, but the thought rankles her. How many fights had they had about this very issue? How many times had she begged him to make a choice for himself? To choose her, even once?
"It was easier to compartmentalize," he says softly. "Easier to tell myself it wasn't happening, that I was making these decisions for myself. That I didn't mind. I can offer a dozen different reasons, Neve, but they're all excuses. You know this as well as I."
Neve sighs heavily. "Why are you here, Lucanis?" The shape of his name feels foreign on her tongue; she hasn't spoken it aloud in years. It's foreign but still precious, as much as she might wish otherwise.
"I am here to apologize. To beg your forgiveness. To ask—" he sets his jaw, steeling himself for what he says next. His clasped hands tighten in his lap. "To ask if there is any chance you would allow me to—to be with you again."
He's beautiful, his dark eyes soft and pleading, and it would be so easy, Neve thinks, to fall into his arms. To ask him for whatever she wanted and know he would give it to her with a smile and a soft sight of relief. She remembers how it felt when he turned the overwhelming weight of his focus on her, when he poured his affection over her as if anointing her in sacred oil.
She remembers, too, when Caterina had asked Lucanis when he would tire of Neve, when he would form an alliance with another House through marriage, and he had said nothing. He'd voiced no protest, no reminder that he was—on paper at least—in charge of his own House, his own alliances. She remembers dozens of insults thinly disguised as compliments, and the fact that Lucanis had never once come to her defense. She remembers the brittle chill of his silence, the humiliation that had burned in her chest.
She remembers how angry he'd been with her when she'd dared to speak back to Caterina. When she'd repaid one insult with another.
"You found your spine at last, is that it?"
Lucanis flinches, the swiftest hint of pain passing over his expression before he blinks it away. "I—I suppose I have."
"You couldn't even manage it yourself; you just waited until she was gone. A bloody decade, Lucanis, and you never figured it out before then? You never learned to say no? Not to her, at least; you had no problem saying it to me."
"Neve—"
"No." She stands from her chair, bracing one hand on the desk as she leans forward towards him. "Fuck you. You don't get to pull the shit you pulled with me and burst into my life years later because you finally realized you made a mistake. I loved you. You may have loved me too, but I was never your priority. Do you realize that?"
"I do," he says quietly. "It is something I regret deeply. I have missed you terribly, Neve."
Neve snorts derisively. "Not enough to fight for me. Not once."
Lucanis drops his gaze to his folded hands.
"Did you think you'd arrive at my door and I'd throw myself into your arms? Forgive it all the moment you looked at me?"
"I had hoped…" he shifts his weight in the chair, a clear sign of tension. Of unease. "I had hoped you would be happy to see me, at least."
"This would be easier if I wasn't!" Neve snaps, because of course she's glad he's here. Of course she's glad he's come to her, even after so long. She's furious and deeply hurt, but as much as she hates it, something a little like hope quivers to life in her chest, a long-dormant seed suddenly starting to sprout. She doesn't dare trust it.
She sinks back down, gripping the arms of the chair. "What do you want from me, Lucanis?"
"A chance to prove myself." Lucanis rises and steps around the desk, his movements slow and deliberate as if Neve's a skittish horse about to either bolt or kick him in the chest. He reaches out a hand, as if to rest it on her shoulder, but the sharpness of her glare makes him pull it back, tilting his head in apology.
Neve stares up at him, furious at the tears that prickle at the edge of her eyes. For months—years, if she's being truly honest—she'd allowed herself the foolish luxury of picturing this very scenario, hating herself for every moment lost in a hopeless but endlessly tempting daydream. She'd hoped this moment would come, that he'd regret losing her the way he had. That he'd miss her enough to finally choose her.
In the end, though, he hadn't even found the courage on his own. Caterina had to die before he could manage it.
"What are you trying to prove, then?" she asks, doing her best to inconspicuously blink her tears away.
"I know I was a fool," he says, taking another step closer. She begrudgingly turns to face him fully, steeling herself against whatever excuse or explanation he gives.
She can't let this man break her heart again.
"A fool and a coward," Lucanis continues. He holds his back straight, his eyes never straying away from hers. "After everything that happened, the Ossuary and Illario and the fight against the gods, I thought I knew what I had to do. I thought I knew where my priorities lay. I told myself I wanted what was asked of me because I couldn't bear to fight against it." He sighs, his posture deflating. "I drove you away. I deserved it."
"Say it, then," Neve says. "Why I left."
"I chose the Crows over you, every time."
She hadn't expected him to state it so simply, but there it is, the truth laid bare between them. Neve knows she's far from perfect, knows she sometimes struggles in relationships, but she'd tried so hard for Lucanis. She'd given so much to him. And he'd given so much in return—up until Caterina's whims or the needs of the Crows took priority. And they had taken priority over her, without exception.
"And now you're sorry."
"I—" Lucanis breathes deeply, as if struggling to maintain his composure. "I have been sorry since you walked away. Since before that moment, when I already knew I would lose you."
"Not sorry enough to try and keep me."
"I would claim a lack of courage, not remorse," he says, "but the difference surely means very little to you now. My cowardice shames me, Neve, but my feelings for you have not changed. Tell me how I may make amends and I will do it."
"You broke my heart, and now you want me to tell you how to fix it?"
Lucanis does look away, finally, bowing his head in shame. "I would not presume to know what would please you," he murmurs, "but anything within my power is yours."
"You of all people should know better than to offer me anything," Neve says, thinking of another day, long ago, when Lucanis had been on his knees before her. When he'd done as she asked without question, without hesitation.
An idea—a terrible idea, surely, but one she struggles to push away as firmly as she should—begins to take shape in her mind.
"On the contrary," Lucanis says, the pleading in his voice turning to something warm and enticing, "I know very well how enjoyable it is to serve your desires, and how lucky I would be if you were to allow me the privilege once again. I know I have not earned it, but allow me to try, please."
His voice breaks on that final word, and Neve's resolve breaks with it. Fine, she tells herself. If this is a mistake, I'll let myself make it.
She rises from her chair and jerks her chin sharply at the floor. Lucanis sinks to his knees immediately, raising an eyebrow as he does so, and she wonders if he's thinking of that long-ago afternoon as well.
The trousers under Neve's robes are loose, following the current style, so they're easy enough to ease over her prosthesis and step out of; she pulls off the outer layer of the robes as well, folding it carefully as Lucanis watches. She leans against the edge of the desk in only a loose linen blouse, her arms folded as she glares at him.
"Come here," she orders, and a half-forgotten satisfaction flares in her chest when Lucanis obeys immediately. She spreads her legs in obvious invitation, and he crowds close, holding eye contact as he cautiously rests his hands on her thighs to hold her open. When Neve doesn't object, he caresses her thighs, palms smoothing along her soft skin.
Lucanis moans, taking a deep and greedy inhale as he leans close. Heat rises to Neve's face; she hadn't quite forgotten how intensely he'd always seemed to love the smell and taste of her, but she hadn't kept the thought close, either. After so many years spent trying to forget, she feels raw and overexposed in the face of his familiar, almost painful ecstasy.
It's too much.
"Get to work," Neve growls, taking a fistful of Lucanis' hair and pressing his face to her cunt. It's too forceful, probably, but the sound he makes when his mouth makes contact is so low and broken she knows it's exactly what he wants.
She isn't inclined to be gentle with him right now, not while her anger still simmers under her skin, but she knows he doesn't mind. Some part of her wishes he did, wishes this felt like a punishment to him, but she knows him too well, even now, to believe that.
I missed this, she thinks, as his lips brush against her skin. I missed you. I wish I didn't. She doesn't let the words take shape in her mouth; it's a vulnerability she can't show him anymore. Instead she breathes out a shaky sigh as Lucanis flicks his tongue along the side of her clit in the way she prefers and tries not to think about what she'd be risking by allowing him into her heart again. What she's already risking, just by allowing him this. For now, she tightens her fingers in his hair and grinds against Lucanis' eager mouth and takes everything she can from him.
His cock is visibly hard in his trousers, straining painfully against the tight leather, but he makes no mention of it, makes no move to touch himself. She appreciates his self-discipline now perhaps more than she ever has; in her anger she wants to deprive him, yes, as immature as she knows the impulse to be, but she doesn't know if she could keep the separation she desperately needs in this moment if she saw him fully undone, panting and begging for her permission to come.
The building pleasure tightens like a spring wound nearly to the point of breaking, and when Neve comes it's almost painful, a sharp burst of sensation that leaves her shaking but unsatisfied. "You're not done," she says, and while she means it to be a command it comes out as more of a whimper. "Give me another."
"Gladly," Lucanis murmurs, his lips brushing her swollen clit. He dips two fingers between her labia, teasing at her entrance. "This, as well?"
Neve rolls her hips greedily, urging him to slip them inside. Her grip in his hair has loosened, but her hand still rests on his head and she has to concentrate to keep herself from combing her fingers through it or scratching his scalp with her nails the way he likes. She can't let herself think about that now.
"Yes," she says, focusing on pulling her voice under control. "Show me how well you remember."
It's infuriating, really, how good his memory is. Lucanis works his fingers inside Neve, giving her a moment to adjust before he starts a slow, firm rhythm, pressing deep as she rolls her hips to meet him. His lips seal around her clit, sucking gently at first and then with more force as she gasps and starts to shake above him.
Neve's been trying to keep quiet, both because she knows her office's walls are thin and because she doesn't want to give Lucanis the satisfaction of knowing how good this feels, but as another climax approaches, her control slips. "Fuck," she moans, the word lasting a full exhale. "Lucanis, you—"
He moans in reply, the sound growing more ragged and desperate as he fucks her with his fingers, circling and pressing against the sensitive spot deep inside her. The motion of his tongue stutters briefly, turning unfocused for a moment, and when she looks down she sees his palm pressed to the thick line of his cock as he rubs himself through his trousers.
Neve yanks Lucanis' head back and slaps his face before she can think better of it, the crack startlingly loud in the small space. "Don't touch yourself," she snaps. "This isn't for you."
Lucanis is breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring as a dark flush blooms on his cheek. "Forgive me," he murmurs. "After so long, the sounds you make, the taste of you, I—"
She slaps him again, a little harder this time. She shouldn't do this when she feels so uncontrolled, she knows, but what's one more bad decision piled up among the others she's made this evening? He clearly doesn't mind.
"Don't come, either," she growls.
"Your pleasure only, my—"
Neve knows the moment her palm connects with Lucanis' cheek once more that she's taking things too far, but he takes the blow without complaint, instead letting out a deep, shuddering moan. The hand on his thigh flexes restlessly, as if it takes a great deal of effort not to press it to his cock once again.
"No," she says. "You don't get to call me that."
She doesn't even know what he was about to say, but she knows she can't bear to hear it, not yet. She'd struggled with pet names, at first, but as they'd grown more comfortable with each other, as Lucanis had slowly brought down the walls she'd erected so carefully around her heart, she'd come to love them. It would hurt too much to hear one now.
"As you wish." Lucanis swallows thickly, making no move to shake off her tight grip on his hair. "Please, Neve. Allow me to continue." His fingers had stilled inside her at the first slap, but now he moves them again in a slow, firm pace, and Neve can't help herself; she makes a soft sound low in her throat and rolls her hips to meet the press of his hand.
"All right," she says, and instead of tugging him back to her cunt she releases his hair completely, bracing both hands on the edge of the desk. "Get to it, then."
It feels different, when Lucanis leans back in to taste her once more. He slips a hand beneath her thigh, urging her to drape it over his shoulder, and once she's spread wider for him he licks around his fingers before pulling them out entirely. He kisses her cunt like it's her mouth, his tongue slipping between her folds and teasing at her entrance as the firm line of his nose nudges her clit.
She shouldn't allow it. She shouldn't let him be sweet to her, shouldn't let him take his time. She shouldn't let him savor her like this.
She probably shouldn't have let him in her office at all. She should have sent him away the moment she heard his voice.
But despite everything, she's weak for him. Lucanis is one of the most dangerous men in Thedas, yet he's willing to fall to his knees for her, to accept her anger in whatever form it takes, to take it without protest when she pushes him too far. She'd loved him for that, once. His devotion had won her over completely, until she'd learned how constrained the limits of that devotion truly were.
"How dare you," Neve says, her voice shaking as he drags the flat of his tongue over her swollen, aching clit. "How dare you make me—make me love you and then—fuck—"
Her second orgasm feels like an earthquake, low pulses of pleasure that leave her shaking and unsteady as Lucanis grips her thighs and grinds his tongue against her until she's close to sobbing. She pushes him away before the tears gathering in her eyes can fall, determined not to let him see, and for a moment their heavy breaths are the the only sound in the now-quiet room.
Lucanis eases Neve's thigh off his shoulder and pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes his mouth and beard before folding it carefully, as if it's a precious keepsake, before tucking it away again. Neve feels a hot, dull throb between her legs and hates herself a little for thinking about what he might do with it later, before he launders it.
He sits back on his heels, still holding her gaze. Neve's reminded once again of the first time she'd had him like this, when things between them had felt fragile and uncertain for entirely different reasons.
"Sundown tomorrow," she says, finally.
He snaps to attention, his already-rigid posture somehow straightening further. "Yes?"
"That's when we usually close." Neve closes her eyes and exhales heavily. "I'll let you take me to dinner."
"Thank you, Neve." He reaches hesitantly for her hand, and while she doesn't close the gap herself, she inclines her head slightly, allowing him to take it and press a handful of soft, tender kisses to her knuckles. His touch is a comfort, even now, even though she knows this would be easier if it wasn't. It would be so much easier if she could remain unmoved in his presence.
"This isn't a yes," she warns him. "This is a maybe."
"It is all I can ask," Lucanis says gratefully, "and far more than I deserve." He rises from the floor and presses one more gentle kiss to the back of her hand.
What do any of us deserve? Neve thinks. Maybe she deserves to let him try. Maybe she deserves the chance to say yes. She curls her fingers, giving his hand the briefest of caresses, then pulls away.
"Tomorrow then," Lucanis says, with all the weight of a sacred vow, and slips out of the room as silent as a shadow.