((Scene played out between Niamh and Brishen, edited and posted with permission))
Brishen's brows rose quickly while he leaned back. Her anger and all the wind whipping about was doing little to quell his concern, the admission of what she saw as guilt only made it worse. There was a pain in his heart, but it was accompanied by an anger that left him rather cold and detached outwardly. He leaned forward, hands moving to cradle her face. "Niamh, calm down."
She couldn't, the rush of anger at herself more than anything making her chest heave as she tried to fight for control over the power surging through her veins. The shutters banged violently on their hinges as her hands came up to cover his, gripping tightly. "I'll see him dead fer it, rapin' my dreams an' hurtin' ye, an?...?
"Niamh!" He leaned forward and pulled her to face him. "Niamh, calm down! Ye'll hurt yerself if ye're nae careful!" He pulled her up more, arms curling back around to hold her to him, squeezing her in a tight hug.
She clung to him, her face pressed against his chest, and it was that, more than ever, that began to calm her. The scent of him filling her nostrils, that he hadn't turned her out, staying beside her, holding her ... it filled her with a relief that was tangible. And that relief soothed her, reawakening the love in her once again to calm and soothe the fury and guilt that raged, until, at last, the power released her, letting her collapse, breathless, against him.
He still held her tight, arms squeezed around her. He bowed forward, kissing the top of her head, shushing her with quiet sounds of comfort, coos, promises, words of love. He rocked back and forward, trying to calm the inner fire that had lit up in him as well, an anger that would likely do more harm than good if left unchecked.
With the end of her anger came the tears, tears he had endured once before but never with such ferocity. "I'll ne'er forgive meself," she whispered brokenly. "M'weak an' foolish ... I dinnae deserve ye, or yer love."
"Hush, ye." He insisted, hugging tightly still. "I love ye an' curse the devil. We'll make 'im pay, love. Donae worry, donae blame yerself."
Wrapped up in his arms, Niamh spat out a curse that would have shocked her own father if he'd heard her. Frightened and angry, she held onto Brishen tightly, ashamed of the weakness that had brought her weeping into his arms in the first place. "How kin we stop him?" she asked quietly, small and vulnerable in the darkness. "He's in my head, hauntin' my dreams now. How kin ye guard against such?"
It was a question he didn't know the immediate answer to. Brows furrowed thoughtfully, eyes clenched shut as he searched his mind for answers. He had power, yes, but it was something he couldn't control. She did too, but hers was barely within her own grasp. "I donae know, love."
"Did ye..." She choked on her words, but forced herself to say them. "Did ye notice anythin', as I slept? Is't any chance we have ye could waken me, should he try't agin?"
"Nae. I stirred a bit, but I didnae wake up, I wasnae aware." He growled in frustration. "Damn Maddoc, never taught me tae use what he gave me. I cannae help ye without it."
She shivered, cuddling closer to him. "Will he come, d'ye think? Yer Pa?" Goddess, she hoped so. There was a capability about Maddoc Garridan that was easy on unsettled nerves. "Ye did send him word?"
"Aye. I did. Donae know if he's caught it, yet. But he'll come when he hears." Brishen glanced up, looking about the now disheveled mess of a room.
Niamh, too, looked up as he did, but where he saw dishevelment caused by her power, she saw a harsh reminder of what had created the fury in the first place. Shuddering, she made to pull herself out of Brishen's grip, scratching at her skin where she could still feel those unwanted caresses.
"I wish I could help ye more." He lamented, arms reluctant to release her. "I cannae make it do anythin', only when it wants tae, when m'angry." He was angry, but he was keeping it in check at the very least. "I cannae protect ye."
"If ye've a need tae go tae Maddoc, then go," she snapped suddenly, instantly apologetic. "M'sorry, I didnae mean tae ... tis unsettled I am. My skin's crawlin' wi'that touch."
"I cannae go tae him, either." He reached forward, hands falling over hers, trying to stop her scratching while he leaned to press his lips to hers. "Tell me how tae help ye, Niamh."
She almost sobbed once again as his lips found hers, disbelieving that he could bring himself to kiss her after her confession. Grey eyes, watery with guilt, gazed into his, conflicted. "I cannae ask ye," she whimpered, "tis unfair tae ask."
"What d'ye need me tae do? Tell me how tae help ye." His hands slipped to curl his fingers with hers and squeezed.
She stared at him, unable to put the urgency in her to words as her hands gripped his tightly. A moment's agonizing indecision, and she was moving. Her hands rose to cradle his face, her body lunged to his, and her lips crashed against his mouth, kissing in a furore of passion and need that had only ever been for him.
"Whatever ye need." He said when she stared at thought, his next words were cut off as their lips met with ardent passion and his arms and hands slipped back around to cling to her as the lunge of her body coupled with his unexpected surprise sent him falling back onto the bed.
She fell with him, lips hungry for his even as she murmured to him, soft words in the tongue that came so easily to her when her passions ran high. "A ghr? ... t? gr? agam duit," pressed to his jaw as her lips began to travel over his skin. "Love me, Brish ... dinnae let him taint us...?
He pushed at her shoulders, rolling her over so that he was above her. Leaning down, his lips claimed hers again, the kiss loving and yet demanding in all its entirety as his hands began to skim her sides, drawing against her with deliberate intention. His heart pounded already with passion and want and need, sparked for her.
A flash of fear shook her as he took his place over her eager body, quickly dispelled when a glance showed that it was Brishen, her love, and not some crimson-hued demon devouring her. She arched, moaning against his lips as his hands washed away any trace of the Incubus' touch, bringing with it more longing than any devil could ever create in a loving heart.
Lips left hers and roamed downward, pressing against her throat, lovingly caressing her skin with their kisses and the touch of his hands. He drew her closer to him while lowering against her, feeling her body flush against his needfully.
Her lips parted as his kisses left them, letting loose the moaning cries that were only his, painting the air with the tale of her love for him. Arms coiled about him, refusing to loose even as her body arched, welcoming the press of his skin to hers.
His breath bathed her skin in its warmth as it flooded in the wake of his lips. He curled a hand at her neck, cradling and angling her so that he would have plenty of room to spread his touch along her jaw and neck. "I know how I can help ye." He murmured against her skin, lips touching in a peppering trail to settle beneath her ear.
A low whimper left her as his hands took charge of her writhing posture beneath him, eyes that had been drifting open uncertainly now closing once again, trusting in him not to leave her vulnerable. "How?" she whispered, her voice husky and breathless as her hands roamed over his back, pulling him ever more tightly to her.
He didn't answer her straight away. His lips continued, leaving the base of her neck for her collar, hands slowly exploring, caressing, and drawing her to him while he pressed down. He welcomed her against him, reveled in the smell, taste, sound, and feel of her against him. He reached into himself, his mind, his heart and soul, searched for something; anything that would let him exhibit control if only for a short time. He drew it outward, the innate power gifted from his heritage, coaxed hers out with it, calling to her while he moved against her.
Lost in the feel of him, the scent and taste still lingering on her lips, Niamh willingly gave herself up to Brishen's loving of her, uncaring that she was trapped, only that she was trapped with him. The caress of something so indefinably his, yet so alien to her, was like a shock of electricity, bringing her eyes snapping open to gaze at him with wondering adoration. She'd felt this only once before, when his kiss had brought her from the brink of death, this merging of the powers held so deep within them both, and now with his control over it, it sent a rough shiver through her. The power so often out of her control surged to meet his, combining as she squirmed with him.
He pressed down against her again, bodies brushing while they met on that metaphysical level, combining them in a wholly different way. He lowered himself to her, truly feeling her in every sense of the word as he met her, watching with eyes filled with unconditional love, adoration, and commitment. He would forever be with her, even at the end of their coupling.
Curled against him, surrounded every way she turned with the undeniable press of his loving presence, Niamh could not but be ecstatic as she was folded in the embrace of a man she loved, whom she was certain loved her. Connected at every possible level, bliss was the only thing she was guaranteed to be certain of, clinging to him as she made her own vows of unconditional, everlasting love.
His was a power that could only be harnessed through extreme emotion; love, anger, sorrow, joy, and so on. It was the ultimate love for her, the hatred and anger for the demon, the joy at having her, and the sorrow from not preventing her pain that allowed him to tap so deeply into himself, his innate gifts, and forge that ultimate link with her. He moved slowly, hips rocking in a rhythm that was matched by the caress of his hands along her skin, lips seeking to brush against hers as the final amen to the end of his promises.
And it was a link that could not be easily undone, now it was forged. Her power and his, each inaccessible to them in its own way, now clung tightly, merging into a bond that transcended power, magic, life and limb. Niamh moved with her beloved Brishen, following each motion, seeking to match it, to challenge him even as they rode their passion together. "Always ye, only ye," she moaned against his skin, feeling that moment come swift upon her, clutched in his arms.
His arm held her to him while he bowed over her; each movement was punctuated by a whisper, a murmur, or a kiss holding promises of love, devotion and protection. I will never let anythin' hurt ye again. His thoughts rang outward, nearly audible in their definite certainty, even as he lost his sense of thought with being so caught up in her.
Her voice filled the air as he drove her to new heights, lost in the gasping lull that came after as she subsided into his arms, holding him close to her breast as her lips adored his cheek and jaw. His promise, though unspoken, rang through her in the heaving aftermath as she curled him to her, stroking hands against his skin.
He pressed to her, holding tight with possessive need, unwilling to let her go so soon. He shifted and moved to her side, lips finding her cheek, her jaw, her lips even, meeting them with another kiss as he relaxed beside her and let the bliss of the calm and warm afterglow wash over him.
There she lay, pressed tight against him, arms coiled about him even as his remained curled possessively about her. Her ear found his heartbeat, lulled tenderly into half-waking by the thump beneath his skin. And that other, less easily found thump, of Water and Air meeting and melding, merged into a bond to keep them together.
His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his heart still pound against his ribs, slowly falling to its slow, steady beat. He breathed in deeply; she filled his nostrils with her scent, something entirely familiar but wholly refreshing. Turning, Brishen touched a kiss to her jaw, lips curling into a small smile for her.
Her eyes opened, lifting to meet his as her own lips found a smile she would not have believed herself capable of only an hour before. Her hand reached up, stroking errant curls from his face as she clung to the sweet lethargy he had given her. "Thank ye," she whispered tenderly, and that tenderness seemed to bubble over, rippling along the link newly forged between them to tug at his untapped power.
"Love ye, Niamh. Always." He leaned into her, a great sigh of relief was exhaled while his body curled against hers, all but merging into a finely meshed line while he watched her, eyes open despite the lazy want to close.
She nuzzled lovingly to him, breathing in the scent of him as her senses returned to that near-sleep lull. With the sense of his presence both within her and surrounding her, she hovered on the brink of slumber, feeling protected. "Love ye tae th'ends o'th'world, Brish."
