Rating: R
Characters: Cain/DG
Summary: She stares at his face, his mouth and remembers the hot coil of his breath against her skin as she leans forward.
Authors Note: jazmin22 is the most amazing beta in the world. She helped me through this and was kind enough in the end to still correct my appalling grammar.

At the coronation there is dancing and celebrating with wine so sweet it leaves her belly heavy and head light. She takes her turns around the room with endless hands and faces, all so eager for what she brings, with her laughter spilling out from some place deep inside. The air swells with her happiness and she feels like she will never come back down again. The hours pass, trickling through her hands and it isn't until his hand rests on the small of her back, warm and firm, that she stops. She blinks in surprise at his face, shadowed in the dull moons of the terrace as her body becomes something heavy and real in his hands.

His face looks more worn then she remembers but the pull of his mouth is truer then she has seen since their journey began. "Cain," she says, but her voice is almost lost to the joyous mirth inside her banquet hall behind them. She shivers in the cold breeze of the balcony before he steps her forward, the golden light from her childhood home warming his features.

"You did well, Princess," he says without his usual teasing warmth but she doesn't correct him, just feels her smile falter with the music behind her. He touches her cheek as the hand at her back finds the slip of bare skin between her dress. She feels the rough edges of his thumb against the base of her spine and swallows at the slow, careful movement. He leans forward then and she stills, accepting the warm press of his mouth against the crown of her hair with a tinge of sadness. "Go back to your subjects," he whispers against her smooth brow.

He is gone before she feels his loss, ringing out inside.

-

Her dress is tight, uncomfortably so and DG longs for jeans and pants of her former life as the parade of well wishers continues on past her. She waves, smiles to the people so happy for her return. There is no room for the fear she feels growing inside, for a failure that looms on the horizon. She is not her mother, she could never be, and this world is still so new and alien that she worries she will not do right by these people.

She stares at the crowds, the colorful mix of subjects until she finds him, riding a few feet ahead. She can picture his face and the deep frown across his smooth lips. She remembers the feel of his hands, the burning of her skin and feels flushed, lightheaded again until Glitch 's cold fingers land on her elbow. "Don't slouch," he reminds her, so quick and sharp now with the return of his brain and DG smiles, blinds her eyes to the crowd.

-

In the following weeks, suitors come from the O.Z. and beyond, seeking her hand. They lay jewels and gifts at her feet but she sees none of them. She retires early to her room with Glitch quick at her heels, questions and itineraries that she puts off for tomorrow. She lets the heavy dress falls from her shoulders, puddle on the floor before she slips into warn jeans and a faded shirt, frayed by time. She longs in that moment, so briefly, for her youth but it passes. This is her home now, something she feels bone deep but she still feels lost, adrift. Like she is waiting for something.

Head in her hands, knees curled to her chest she dozes in her chair and dreams of her mother's face and the weight of her own fears pressing in. She wakes after midnight, a warm hand on her exposed neck. There is a tremor of surprise but like many things it passes, she knows only one person Cain would let pass to see her this late.

"This is how I remember you, in this outfit," Cain says and the softness in his voice so unexpected that she turns around to face him. "Well, maybe not so quiet," he offers after a moment and she smiles, gives him a quiet laugh.

"I'm worried," she tells him. "Worried that-"

"Princess," he cuts her off, hand on her arm, stilling her rising form. The pressure on her wrist is light, superficial, so she stands, taking a bold step towards him. She can feel the warmth of him this close and smell the leather and the sweat that clings to him. She stares at his face, his mouth and remembers the hot coil of his breath against her skin as she leans forward.

The kiss is soft, hesitant in a way that surprises her at first. His grip on her waist is gentle, careful even and she presses her mouth against his, eager and wanting, tongue dancing along the seam of his mouth. Her hand fists in the cloth of shirt, impatient and wanting. When he pulls back she can only hear her own short, harsh breaths. Her cheeks burn when she moves to kiss him again, and the hand on her waist turns to steel, holding her in place.

"Cain," she warns, feeling her own impatience and uncertainty as she twists in his grasp. She can't read his face, his thoughts but she isn't surprised when his hand moves to her neck, holding her in place. He stares at her, an expression she doesn't know falling across his face before he bends his head towards hers and presses his mouth against hers harder than she expects. He tastes like the whiskey from dinner, bitter on her tongue and the hand on her neck has moved to her hair, twisting the intricate knots free.

She feels his other hand slide along the arch of her back, fingers cold enough to draw a little gasp of breath from her lips and an involuntary jerk of her hips against his. She can feel the vibrations of his laugh; feel the curve of his smile against her mouth before he pulls away. He touches her face carefully, weighs her cheek in his hand as he walks her backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed. She tumbles out from under him as he moves to kneel over her, his hands on her hips and his mouth against her neck.

When she reaches for his face and the short crop of hair across his crown he smiles, a grin she hasn't seen before. "I think I like you speechless," he tells her, rewarded by her laughter and the feel of her small hands on his back.