Title: always slipping from my hands.
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries.
Characters: Amara/Qetsiyah, Amara/Silas.
Prompt: Duck.
Rating: M.
Length: 485.
Content warnings: Contains sexual references.
Author’s notes: Title from Spandau Ballet’s "True".
Summary: Amara compares how Qetsiyah and Silas touch her.


Qetsiyah dips her head down and shuns her from the world.

Her hands are sharp, despite their softness. Her magic is cold as it thrums beneath her fingertips. When Qetisyah touches her, she shivers and doesn’t reach for her.

She’s nothing but a mere handmaiden, wrapped in silk like she’s a caterpillar waiting to transform into a butterfly. But Amara already knows she is one. Her wings unfurl when he’s near, and remain clipped and wrapped right around her when he isn’t.

Qetsiyah wants her to forget about him.

Hiding her mouth beneath a line of purple sink, Amara smiles where Qetsiyah doesn’t see it. Her headdress hides the way her cheeks lift up and pinch in amusement when she catches him saying something particularly funny and hides away her soft laugh when he sings. Amara never laughs nor smiles with her.

Her lady hears it. Qetsiyah always hears and sees and feels everything. Qetsiyah tries to bury her smile and sounds beneath her own touch and lips. She presses her fingers sharply into Amara’s mouth to try and rip the shape from her.

Qetsiyah pins her to the soft silk sheets and tries to wrap her up tight into a cocoon with her pincers.

*

Silas hides her from the world and tips her head up to see him.

It’s in the privacy of stolen moments, of course. If Qetsiyah knew, she would wrap her infinitely more tightly in her silk sheets and between her pincers and never let him glance upon her again.

In the private escape of an alleyway, he presses her into the stone wall and her eyes remain locked onto him. He pulls away her headdress to reveal the smile she wears beneath and traces the soft pad of his thumb along her bottom lip like he hadn’t felt the weight of it a day prior.

His hands are warm as they steady her against the stone. His long fingers that pull at the strings of his lyre glide down her clothed side as he steps into her.

He shushes her and his lips curve up into a smile. She boldly presses her fingers against his mouth as if it’s hers to touch. He tells her with a devious smile they have to be quiet, my lady, and Amara’s heart flutters and she bites her tongue as he pulls apart the wrap of her dress to kiss his way down her body.

Biting her bottom lip, she peers down at him as he brushes his fingers against her inner thighs. The alleyway grows quiet except for the hum of his private magic.

His fingers are delicate as they pull layer upon layer of silk away from her, spinning her free of her cocoon. Amara dares to sigh and he laughs, bright and mirthful.

She reemerges beneath his hands and mouth and the warm press of his body that’s hers to touch.