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crowrean fic: femrean years later
crow/femrean; two years later siegfried
To say that Rean hungers for him is an understatement.
She starts her life with Siegfried - with Crow - fearing that he’s going to leave her if she doesn’t keep her eyes on him at all times.
The anxiety that fills Rean any time she wakes up without Crow at her side is enormous enough to make her immediately want to throw up until Crow comes in to their room from the baths, freshly bathed and curious about her wellbeing, and that reaction of hers lasts for at least two weeks before she’s even vaguely okay with Crow waking up early and leaving their bed. “Death kinda threw my entire body clock on its head, so— sorry. It’s not something I can fix right away.”
Rean understands that, so she’s able to move on as long as Crow returns to their room - her room as an Instructor - and eases her childish fears.
Gently, as if she were as delicate as a butterfly, Crow comforts her with his presence and touch in his towel, running a hand through her hair and his lips over her forehead.
“Shhh... it’s your free day, isn’t it? Just sleep in a little bit longer. I’ll stay.”
It’s almost strange how quiet Crow’s gotten in the last two years. Where before he was vibrant and full of energy, he’s full to the brim with a dark, restless sort of life, and she is left to wonder if Crow will ever be the same again. Whatever Nebula did to him is something he carries around like it’s the world on his shoulders and Rean never has the heart to breach the subject.
How are you alive again?
Will you be okay?
Did they do something to you?
Eventually, though, Rean comes back from her own shower to Crow peeling his clothes off and quietly folding them up proper as he sets them aside on the bed. She’s so entranced by his movements that she doesn’t realize she’s staring at the hard lines of his back until he’s fully naked, immediately drying out her mouth with cotton. Oh, she realizes, her entire body flushing, he’s hot.
She still feels like she’s walked in on something sacrilegious and keeps her mouth shut.
The somber air is the only thing that keeps her from reaching out to him, watching as he reaches out for another set of clothes to the side of him and meticulously puts on each layer. Rean watches his boxer briefs find the curve of his behind, sees his muscles shift as he slips on his shirt - a black, sleeveless one to further accentuate his freedom that clings just right to his muscles and finds itself halfway up his neck - and notes how nice looser pants look on Crow’s legs. He winds a belt through the loops of his pants before he slips on his socks and boots, tying them over his calves as they rest right below his knees, and he takes the red jacket next to him, similar to the one the vest he wore years ago, sliding it on and zipping it up halfway. Rean thinks it’s a shame because he’s so well-defined, but she wants Crow to be comfortable and red looks very good on him.
Crow’s back hits the bed and his arms fling out, coming to fold and rest over his eyes. Rean’s concern shoots over her arousal and she finally approaches Crow, slipping onto the bed next to him and laying her head down over his stomach. The material of his coat - a rough jean-like feeling - rubs against her cheek, but she finds it refreshing rather than repulsive. One of Crow’s hands finds her head and she feels him pet her for a bit, contenting herself to listening to him breathe, the rise and fall of his torso beneath her head relaxing.
When she does speak up, however, it’s to say one thing:
“I can’t believe you put your old clothes back on.”
Crow snorts, his stomach briefly caving in, before he responds, “It was just reflex, but go ahead: laugh it up. They were convenient at the time and I didn’t hear you complaining.”
Rean turns her body to look at Crow’s chin, slanting a look his way even as his hand continues to pet her head.
“I didn’t have time to complain. You were always running away.”
Crow’s arm falls away from his face and moves behind his head to pillow it instead. She can see his quirked lips easier this way, full and absolutely kissable—
“I dunno... you looked like you were too busy staring at my body to even think about complaining.”
So, he can still crack a joke... Rean’s eyes narrow and she moves from her laying position to instead crawl over Crow all on all fours, caging him in beneath her with her hands on the bedding at his sides and her knees digging into the mattress near his hips. He looks up at her like she hung the moon, red eyes alight, and she can’t help feeling a little tickled despite his words.
She leans over, then, her hair falling over her shoulders while she’s brushing their lips together in a chaste kiss.
“I missed you, Crow.”
His eyes close and he returns her kiss with a soft smile, raising the hand that had been left behind in Rean’s move to trace the back of it along her jaw. She wonders if he understands the depths of her longing and loneliness, of all of the things she felt while he was dead and gone, but she doesn’t think to ask in light of his mood. Rean doesn’t know what will make Crow sink any deeper than he is right now.
She doubts even Crow knows, as wreathed in darkness as he is.
“I missed you, too,” he says, finally, craning his neck to kiss the tip of her nose. “I really think you should put some clothes on though, Instructor Schwarzer. What if one of your students just comes busting in here like all Hell broke loose? They’ll see you scantily-clad in a towel, hovering over me like some dark angel—“
“Crow—“
“—and I’m not too keen on anyone but me seeing this much of my girlfriend’s skin,” he continues, eyes open and not minding Rean’s flabbergasted expression before and after he utters the words. Crow smiles for her and moves both hands to her face, ghosting his fingers over the exposed skin of her neck as he drags them down in a butterfly-wings-beating-like touch. A flush descends on her from the tips of her ears to the cheeks of her face, following the ghost-like touch of Crow’s fingers to the hollow of her throat.
His next smile is sultry and (hell’s bells) seductive as he lays fully back, admiring the view from below her and saying, “Damn... you’re still pretty sensitive, aren’t you? How long’s it been, anyway— two years? One? Can I still say you’re my girlfriend, or did you find someone else while I was out? ...just checking.”
Rean frowns amidst her sudden embarrassment (and arousal), sitting directly over Crow’s hips and placing her hands on his chest. (Warm, live-beating heart, dancing underneath her fingertips.)
“You— as if I could...”
“You could’ve,” he notes solemnly, his fingers moving to pry gently finger the knot near her arm that holds the towel together. “I wouldn’t be mad if you did. You’re one hell of a catch, you know that?”
“Crow...”
One determined tug is all it takes. The towel unfurls and falls down to her hips, Crow’s smile more soft than shit-eating as his eyes take it all in: dusky flushed skin over her chest, duskier, hard nipples, pinked skin from the shower all the way around and down—
“You didn’t, though,” he concludes quietly, moving his hands away from her body and reclining into his folding arms. She feels like a woman under his eyes, closely admired for her beauty by the man she’s loved for nearly three years. “That’s good.”
What’s so good about it? Rean wants to ask, but instead she leans over Crow again to kiss his smile, feeling herself throb in her core. He’s teasing her, she realizes, and slowly - as if she hadn’t thought about it before - she notices that his brand of seduction has changed.
Where before he was all bold declarations and even bolder touch and a flirty mouth, he’s now soft, promising touch, gently enticing the desire inside of her. Rean finds a thrill in the way Crow plays his games and while she’s interested in seeing how he continues to wind her up— he’s right in his subtle words. Today isn’t the day for it as much as she wants him to make love to her, as much as she wants to grind right over his groin and accept him inside of her, and she leans over for a sweet kiss that he obliges.
Crow holds her, slips his mouth over her cheek and to her ear, riles her up with sweet nothings, and she forgets her anger, forgets forgiveness— he remembers for her instead, holding back, and she supposes that's enough.
—
Crow changes wardrobes the next day.
Rean goes shopping with him, pawing through men's clothing until Crow - weaving through the aisles with his arms full - excuses himself to the changing rooms with a quick kiss on her cheek. Red begins to spread along her skin as she follows him, happy to wait outside for him until he's finished trying everything on. She doesn't expect him to dip outside, but when his hand waves out the door she obediently follows, though confused, and lets herself be tugged inside.
She sees Crow in blue and cream, a jack with dark fur that stands stark against his pale skin. It's so Crow that Rean laughs and reaches out to straighten his jacket out, going to tease him about it, but falling short when Crow's hands come up to cup her cheeks and his face came in close to meld their lips together. Her heart flutters and she leans up into him, following his lips when he pulls away and slipping her hands beneath his jacket to come around and press her palms flat against his warm back.
"I love you," he murmurs, kissing her again just as gently as the first. His smile is as soft as his voice and she shamelessly melts against his chest, standing on her tip toes to kiss him again and again.
When she backs off for breath, Rean whispers her answer.
"I love you, too. Always."
Crow's smile is worth the admission, him kissing her one last time before letting her go and pulling away from her hands with a red tint to his cheeks. He turns in a complete circle, his jacket flaring out with him before he stops and holds his arms around. His boots reach beneath his knees, his pants a milky sort of cream held up by a black belt hiding beneath the tips of his shirt. There's another belt around his waist that hangs low on his hip, with a thinner one underneath, going around his hip and disappearing with the other beneath his jacket, and he's wearing layers, she realizes; it resembles his old clothes. A blue vest, a white undershirt peeking out beneath, his chest mostly visible with an inverted teardrop necklace dropping over his skin and touching the white of his shirt.
He knows what he looks good in and it steals Rean's breath away.
"Well?" He prompts, bringing his gloved hands over his jacket to pull it in against his chest. There's a belt looped around his left wrist and it's just like Crow. "How do I look?"
Her answer is the only thing on her tongue.
"You're beautiful."
—
They arrive home two weeks later, Crow following closely behind her as her ever faithful shadow, dropping his keys on the stand near the door. She can feel his eyes on her and, in anticipation, she shivers under his heated gaze. Feeling brazen, she slowly shrugs her jacket off and lets it trail down her arms. Rean feels Crow's eyes follow it, keeping his gaze on her arms as she hangs her jacket up. The swish of fabric behind her follows, Crow's jacket following hers, the heat of his body at her back.
Close. So close. She can reach back and he'd be right there. His hands come down, landing on her shoulders and rubbing over them as his chest touches her back.
Desire ignites, swollen up from his constant teasing from the days and weeks before, and Rean is lost.
She twists around pastes their fronts together on her tip toes, burying her fingers in his hair and tugging insistently even as his arms
His hands slides under her skirt, warm skin against warmer skin, and her fingers tighten in his hair while her tongue slides over his. Rean whimpers when Crow pulls back, hands squeezing her inner thighs, and sliding her ever closer. Her hands slip down from his hair, moving between them quickly and tugging at the button of Crow's pants as if she can't wait to have him seated inside of her. She can remember that feeling of fullness like Crow was inside of her last night and, craving it, Rean slips her palm into Crow's pants to rub over him firmly.
Crow's hands snap out to grab her wrists and pull her hands away from his lower half, earning himself another whine.
"Not yet, baby," he murmurs against her lips, kissing her wetly. "Not yet. Have some patience-- we have all the time in the world to fuck like rabbits, so let's take it slow for now, okay?"
Crow's definition of 'slow' is for Rean to obediently follow him over to their room with her hand in his, her skin still tingling from his touches. He gently pulls her against his chest when they're inside and cups her face to resume kissing her. Rean obliges with enthusiasm, though she remembers what he said about 'taking it slow', and keeps her movements and kisses as tame as his.
To say that Rean hungers for him is an understatement.
She starts her life with Siegfried - with Crow - fearing that he’s going to leave her if she doesn’t keep her eyes on him at all times.
The anxiety that fills Rean any time she wakes up without Crow at her side is enormous enough to make her immediately want to throw up until Crow comes in to their room from the baths, freshly bathed and curious about her wellbeing, and that reaction of hers lasts for at least two weeks before she’s even vaguely okay with Crow waking up early and leaving their bed. “Death kinda threw my entire body clock on its head, so— sorry. It’s not something I can fix right away.”
Rean understands that, so she’s able to move on as long as Crow returns to their room - her room as an Instructor - and eases her childish fears.
Gently, as if she were as delicate as a butterfly, Crow comforts her with his presence and touch in his towel, running a hand through her hair and his lips over her forehead.
“Shhh... it’s your free day, isn’t it? Just sleep in a little bit longer. I’ll stay.”
It’s almost strange how quiet Crow’s gotten in the last two years. Where before he was vibrant and full of energy, he’s full to the brim with a dark, restless sort of life, and she is left to wonder if Crow will ever be the same again. Whatever Nebula did to him is something he carries around like it’s the world on his shoulders and Rean never has the heart to breach the subject.
How are you alive again?
Will you be okay?
Did they do something to you?
Eventually, though, Rean comes back from her own shower to Crow peeling his clothes off and quietly folding them up proper as he sets them aside on the bed. She’s so entranced by his movements that she doesn’t realize she’s staring at the hard lines of his back until he’s fully naked, immediately drying out her mouth with cotton. Oh, she realizes, her entire body flushing, he’s hot.
She still feels like she’s walked in on something sacrilegious and keeps her mouth shut.
The somber air is the only thing that keeps her from reaching out to him, watching as he reaches out for another set of clothes to the side of him and meticulously puts on each layer. Rean watches his boxer briefs find the curve of his behind, sees his muscles shift as he slips on his shirt - a black, sleeveless one to further accentuate his freedom that clings just right to his muscles and finds itself halfway up his neck - and notes how nice looser pants look on Crow’s legs. He winds a belt through the loops of his pants before he slips on his socks and boots, tying them over his calves as they rest right below his knees, and he takes the red jacket next to him, similar to the one the vest he wore years ago, sliding it on and zipping it up halfway. Rean thinks it’s a shame because he’s so well-defined, but she wants Crow to be comfortable and red looks very good on him.
Crow’s back hits the bed and his arms fling out, coming to fold and rest over his eyes. Rean’s concern shoots over her arousal and she finally approaches Crow, slipping onto the bed next to him and laying her head down over his stomach. The material of his coat - a rough jean-like feeling - rubs against her cheek, but she finds it refreshing rather than repulsive. One of Crow’s hands finds her head and she feels him pet her for a bit, contenting herself to listening to him breathe, the rise and fall of his torso beneath her head relaxing.
When she does speak up, however, it’s to say one thing:
“I can’t believe you put your old clothes back on.”
Crow snorts, his stomach briefly caving in, before he responds, “It was just reflex, but go ahead: laugh it up. They were convenient at the time and I didn’t hear you complaining.”
Rean turns her body to look at Crow’s chin, slanting a look his way even as his hand continues to pet her head.
“I didn’t have time to complain. You were always running away.”
Crow’s arm falls away from his face and moves behind his head to pillow it instead. She can see his quirked lips easier this way, full and absolutely kissable—
“I dunno... you looked like you were too busy staring at my body to even think about complaining.”
So, he can still crack a joke... Rean’s eyes narrow and she moves from her laying position to instead crawl over Crow all on all fours, caging him in beneath her with her hands on the bedding at his sides and her knees digging into the mattress near his hips. He looks up at her like she hung the moon, red eyes alight, and she can’t help feeling a little tickled despite his words.
She leans over, then, her hair falling over her shoulders while she’s brushing their lips together in a chaste kiss.
“I missed you, Crow.”
His eyes close and he returns her kiss with a soft smile, raising the hand that had been left behind in Rean’s move to trace the back of it along her jaw. She wonders if he understands the depths of her longing and loneliness, of all of the things she felt while he was dead and gone, but she doesn’t think to ask in light of his mood. Rean doesn’t know what will make Crow sink any deeper than he is right now.
She doubts even Crow knows, as wreathed in darkness as he is.
“I missed you, too,” he says, finally, craning his neck to kiss the tip of her nose. “I really think you should put some clothes on though, Instructor Schwarzer. What if one of your students just comes busting in here like all Hell broke loose? They’ll see you scantily-clad in a towel, hovering over me like some dark angel—“
“Crow—“
“—and I’m not too keen on anyone but me seeing this much of my girlfriend’s skin,” he continues, eyes open and not minding Rean’s flabbergasted expression before and after he utters the words. Crow smiles for her and moves both hands to her face, ghosting his fingers over the exposed skin of her neck as he drags them down in a butterfly-wings-beating-like touch. A flush descends on her from the tips of her ears to the cheeks of her face, following the ghost-like touch of Crow’s fingers to the hollow of her throat.
His next smile is sultry and (hell’s bells) seductive as he lays fully back, admiring the view from below her and saying, “Damn... you’re still pretty sensitive, aren’t you? How long’s it been, anyway— two years? One? Can I still say you’re my girlfriend, or did you find someone else while I was out? ...just checking.”
Rean frowns amidst her sudden embarrassment (and arousal), sitting directly over Crow’s hips and placing her hands on his chest. (Warm, live-beating heart, dancing underneath her fingertips.)
“You— as if I could...”
“You could’ve,” he notes solemnly, his fingers moving to pry gently finger the knot near her arm that holds the towel together. “I wouldn’t be mad if you did. You’re one hell of a catch, you know that?”
“Crow...”
One determined tug is all it takes. The towel unfurls and falls down to her hips, Crow’s smile more soft than shit-eating as his eyes take it all in: dusky flushed skin over her chest, duskier, hard nipples, pinked skin from the shower all the way around and down—
“You didn’t, though,” he concludes quietly, moving his hands away from her body and reclining into his folding arms. She feels like a woman under his eyes, closely admired for her beauty by the man she’s loved for nearly three years. “That’s good.”
What’s so good about it? Rean wants to ask, but instead she leans over Crow again to kiss his smile, feeling herself throb in her core. He’s teasing her, she realizes, and slowly - as if she hadn’t thought about it before - she notices that his brand of seduction has changed.
Where before he was all bold declarations and even bolder touch and a flirty mouth, he’s now soft, promising touch, gently enticing the desire inside of her. Rean finds a thrill in the way Crow plays his games and while she’s interested in seeing how he continues to wind her up— he’s right in his subtle words. Today isn’t the day for it as much as she wants him to make love to her, as much as she wants to grind right over his groin and accept him inside of her, and she leans over for a sweet kiss that he obliges.
Crow holds her, slips his mouth over her cheek and to her ear, riles her up with sweet nothings, and she forgets her anger, forgets forgiveness— he remembers for her instead, holding back, and she supposes that's enough.
—
Crow changes wardrobes the next day.
Rean goes shopping with him, pawing through men's clothing until Crow - weaving through the aisles with his arms full - excuses himself to the changing rooms with a quick kiss on her cheek. Red begins to spread along her skin as she follows him, happy to wait outside for him until he's finished trying everything on. She doesn't expect him to dip outside, but when his hand waves out the door she obediently follows, though confused, and lets herself be tugged inside.
She sees Crow in blue and cream, a jack with dark fur that stands stark against his pale skin. It's so Crow that Rean laughs and reaches out to straighten his jacket out, going to tease him about it, but falling short when Crow's hands come up to cup her cheeks and his face came in close to meld their lips together. Her heart flutters and she leans up into him, following his lips when he pulls away and slipping her hands beneath his jacket to come around and press her palms flat against his warm back.
"I love you," he murmurs, kissing her again just as gently as the first. His smile is as soft as his voice and she shamelessly melts against his chest, standing on her tip toes to kiss him again and again.
When she backs off for breath, Rean whispers her answer.
"I love you, too. Always."
Crow's smile is worth the admission, him kissing her one last time before letting her go and pulling away from her hands with a red tint to his cheeks. He turns in a complete circle, his jacket flaring out with him before he stops and holds his arms around. His boots reach beneath his knees, his pants a milky sort of cream held up by a black belt hiding beneath the tips of his shirt. There's another belt around his waist that hangs low on his hip, with a thinner one underneath, going around his hip and disappearing with the other beneath his jacket, and he's wearing layers, she realizes; it resembles his old clothes. A blue vest, a white undershirt peeking out beneath, his chest mostly visible with an inverted teardrop necklace dropping over his skin and touching the white of his shirt.
He knows what he looks good in and it steals Rean's breath away.
"Well?" He prompts, bringing his gloved hands over his jacket to pull it in against his chest. There's a belt looped around his left wrist and it's just like Crow. "How do I look?"
Her answer is the only thing on her tongue.
"You're beautiful."
—
They arrive home two weeks later, Crow following closely behind her as her ever faithful shadow, dropping his keys on the stand near the door. She can feel his eyes on her and, in anticipation, she shivers under his heated gaze. Feeling brazen, she slowly shrugs her jacket off and lets it trail down her arms. Rean feels Crow's eyes follow it, keeping his gaze on her arms as she hangs her jacket up. The swish of fabric behind her follows, Crow's jacket following hers, the heat of his body at her back.
Close. So close. She can reach back and he'd be right there. His hands come down, landing on her shoulders and rubbing over them as his chest touches her back.
Desire ignites, swollen up from his constant teasing from the days and weeks before, and Rean is lost.
She twists around pastes their fronts together on her tip toes, burying her fingers in his hair and tugging insistently even as his arms
His hands slides under her skirt, warm skin against warmer skin, and her fingers tighten in his hair while her tongue slides over his. Rean whimpers when Crow pulls back, hands squeezing her inner thighs, and sliding her ever closer. Her hands slip down from his hair, moving between them quickly and tugging at the button of Crow's pants as if she can't wait to have him seated inside of her. She can remember that feeling of fullness like Crow was inside of her last night and, craving it, Rean slips her palm into Crow's pants to rub over him firmly.
Crow's hands snap out to grab her wrists and pull her hands away from his lower half, earning himself another whine.
"Not yet, baby," he murmurs against her lips, kissing her wetly. "Not yet. Have some patience-- we have all the time in the world to fuck like rabbits, so let's take it slow for now, okay?"
Crow's definition of 'slow' is for Rean to obediently follow him over to their room with her hand in his, her skin still tingling from his touches. He gently pulls her against his chest when they're inside and cups her face to resume kissing her. Rean obliges with enthusiasm, though she remembers what he said about 'taking it slow', and keeps her movements and kisses as tame as his.