Emmeryn/Robin Tender Loving

	The rain beat down on the field of tents. It was cold, wet, and worst of all had been both cold and wet for the last thirty six hours. The Shepherds had run into Ylisse' rainy season on their return march to Plegia and the Dragon's Table, and it had been raining on and off (mostly on, if she was going to be honest) for the last month that they had been traveling through the country. And so she hobbled through the rain, as quickly as she could while trying to avoid twisting an ankle in a puddle or tripping over a muddy rock, covering herself with the rough brown cloak she had carried with her as long as she could remember, sheltering the royal garb she had been found in from the cold downpour as she rushed, slowly, painfully to her tent.
	The trip from the kitchen tent to her tent was not a long one -- maybe two, three minutes at most -- but it still took her nearly ten minutes to make it back, trying to avoid being hurt in the cold and the dark of the outdoors, clinging to the memory of the warm fire in the kitchen tent and to the promise of warmth and dry shelter of her bed. The entrance flaps to the tent were sealed (not uncommon in the least, especially over the last month) and a warm flickering light from a candle was present, visible even through the thick burlap of the tent. Not unusual either. Her husband had an unhealthy tendency to get up early and stay up late, working the entire while. The flaps yielded before her scrabbling hands with little effort, practiced as she was with their mechanism, and she quickly ducked inside. Letting go a breath she didn't know was held in and carefully removing and placing her cloak on the hook, she turned to observe her husband sleeping on his map and notes, candle moments away from guttering in it's own wax.
	This was, sadly, also a fairly familiar sight. Sometimes, she wondered if he had ever actually made it to bed before they were betrothed. Quietly and smoothly she put out the candle with the stopper, swept the papers into a somewhat tidy pile, and -- with difficulty -- slowly lifted her husband out of his chair, and slid him over onto their messy bed, dropping him with a grunt of exertion and a muffled thud. Robin twisted a little, mumbled something incoherent and smacked his lips, but failed to wake. She unceremoniously pulled off her royal garb, dumped it in a pile onto the single piece of non-desk furniture that they had (a small dresser, a wedding gift from Chrom) and dropped to the bed in her smallclothes. The petrichor had been overpowered by the scent of candle wax and Robin's scent (which was  pervasive in his tent indeed), and the cold had been mostly replaced with the dry warmth of candle-dried air, but she still shivered slightly, having gone from a heavy overcloak and clothes to almost naught but her skin in a manner of seconds. Scooting along the bed, she slid close to her husband and into his open arms, pulling the other arm over her person as she hugged him close to her chest, warm skin against hers.
	Robin's eyes flickered, and he surfaced from the dream -- but slowly, like a man burdened with irons. He had moved in his sleep, he noted drowsily. The left of his face was sore and flat from the desk which he had probably fallen asleep upon. It was also significantly warmer than sitting in his chair, and much darker. Lastly, but certainly not least, his wife Emmeryn was pulled close to his chest, arms wrapped around him and wearing very little, a small part of his brain noted. She had been watching him wake with a small smile on her radiant face, before she gave a stuttered giggle and kissed him on the chin. It took his brain about three seconds (two seconds too long, he decided) to actually wrap his arms around her instead of hanging them loose over her frame. Her warmth and the faint fragrance of her hair -- some perfume or soap, probably from Lissa or Lucina -- was intoxicating, and it dug into his mind as he lay there in the comfortable darkness with her, the faint light from thunder in the distance and the soft purple glow from the Brand all the light in the tent.
	And yet, something rose within him. A hunger, neglected over the past few days as he had worked frantically on his plans, shaping and revising their potential victory. A hunger amplified by his wife's cute murmuring and giggles, and the warmth surrounding them. And, based on the flickering of Emmeryn's eyes across his face and chest, she felt it too. And so a single hand quested it's way down his wife's side, slowly, carefully and steadily, sliding softly along the hills and valleys of her body. Eventually, his hand reached her hips and below, slowly tracing circles into the soft skin of her upper thighs, slowly, s l o w l y teasing her, locking his gaze with hers as her face flushed deeper and deeper, little noises coming out of her mouth as she tried to conceal them, her arms still wrapped around his chest. It was only a matter of time before she gasped an actual word. "R.... Robin..." That was his cue. Robin slid slightly away from her, freeing their arms from their undersides and gently laying Emmeryn on her back. He gazed down lovingly at her for a moment, smile playing across his face at her heavy breathing and reddened face staring up at his. Then, he went in for the kill.
	His lips clashed with hers, smoothly interlocking and tongue darting into her mouth, starting an all-too-familiar dance between them. He held the kiss, exerting a touch of dominance over his wife with just his tongue, and with a free hand slowly dragged his fingers across her midsection and taut, flat stomach to tease her inner thighs for just a little longer -- maddeningly close to her lower lips, close enough to enflame her passion without actually sating it, a moan forced it's way out of the Exalt's mouth, muffled as it was by his own. The same hand slowly slid her smallclothes down her legs, exposing all of her to him. Her eyes were pleading and her face was shockingly red, flushed almost completely solid. One of her hands clawed uselessly at his chest in the throes of passion, while the other had entwined with his own spare hand, fingers interlacing and squeezing with the pulse of her  lips. The kiss broke as it eventually had to, and Emmeryn's heavy breathing filled the near-silence of the tent, soft rainfall filling the gaps between breaths.
	And then his fingers slid to her cleft, and her breath jumped. Her arm fell back from his chest over her face and eyes, her breath held as she waited for him to move. She didn't wait long before the slow, rocking motion of his fingers against her lips began, and his palm planted itself on top of her hood, carefully stimulating and rubbing to produce the most exquisite of her reactions. She was hot, hotter than everything else in the tent, and her wetness had begun to spread from her lips to her inner thighs, slicking Robin's fingers just in time for the next stage of his onslaught. Steadily, he pressed his index finger inside of her, sliding down one finger, and then, after several moments, another. His fingers curled upwards and began a steady beat of pumping in and out of her entrance, and Emmeryn's cute tiny sounds and heavy breathing quickly gave way to deep gasps with long, loud moans between them. The arm at her face had fallen back, too aroused to bother attempting to conceal it, and her hand laced with his was twitching and shaking with his rhythm.
	All at once she came although it had been building slowly since their first kiss, her back arching upwards, giving her the opportunity to seize his head and yank him down for a long, deep kiss as she moaned his name into his mouth. His wife's insides had tightened and pulled on his fingers in short, sucking motions preventing him from leaving her until she had finished entirely. Eventually, after a matter of seconds that seemed like eternity, she gracelessly dropped back to the bed, hands untwining from him as she sat there, shivering and twitching as she came down from her high, clouded eyes watching him but barely seeing as he removed his fingers and tasted them, licking her clean from himself. And then, Robin realized, he was overdressed. Silly of him. He stood and his wife desperately shifted to try and cling to him. "D... Don't... go..." A warm smile flitted cross his lips that she likely could not see. "Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere." His clothes were a frustrating, confining affair that were quickly removed by almost all standards, but for the two of them it was not quite quick enough.
	Kneeling over her again, Robin took a moment to appreciate the view. She had shifted her smallclothes to just one of her legs, exposing her entrance to him as she spread wide for her beloved, and had hurriedly yanked down her remaining lacy top to reveal her royal bounty to him. An entertainment for another time, he pondered. She was panting still, and the heat and musk from her lips was intoxicating, dripping as it still was from her recent adventure. "P...Please, Robin. Can't... wait..." she begs him in a voice that wavers like it will break at any moment. She pushes towards him as best as she can, his length taunting her. Flushing himself, Robin wasted not a moment as he lined himself up with her. With a grunt, he slowly pressed himself into her. Her voice and breathing had hitched, and didn't un-hitch until he was hilted inside of her entirely, head pressing against something soft deep within her. Her legs had unconsciously locked around his waist with what little strength they had left, keeping him inside of her, filling her up entirely. Her mouth hung loosely open, eyes unfocused, tongue  lolling out from pleasure. And then he began actually moving.
	It took him a few thrusts, long and slow, to find the rhythm that he desired. He was setting the pace on his own tonight, slightly faster than usual. He was leaning over her now, hands planted on either side of her body. He panted and gasped too now, although his were drowned out by her queenly exclamations, some of his name, and some of nothing but sound and happiness. Her hands scrabbled uselessly at the blankets, trying to find the purchase she so desperately sought as he rocked her back into their bed. Robin made sure to grind upwards on each thrust in, rubbing her hood to hear a deeper, longer gasp each time. It was almost too easy to force her reactions, he thought in a haze, although that was not a problem at all. Tension built like him in a spring, and he was forced to slow his pace, lest he disappoint his love. Emmeryn moaned beneath him and grasped fruitlessly at his torso, trying to reignite the speed that brought her so close. The long and slow thrusts returned, although longer and slower than before, spreading every part of her inside and filling her completely with his warmth and length.
	And slowly again his speed built, driving her further back along and into the bed as he rammed deep along and into her. Again, his pants grew and her moans grew louder, sweat dripping off of her face. Again, the tightness proved nearly too much for him and the steely tension in the pit of his stomach forced him to slow. Again her frustration built, and again it continued. By the fifth cycle, she was a panting wreck, barely able to speak except to moan his name and make the wordless cry of the properly fucked. As he began to slow for the fifth time, she pulled herself up as much as she could and dragged him down on top of her all at once, the remainder of her strength spent. "R... Robin... I... I can't.... Please..." she pleaded to her husband, who flushed deeply. "I, I'm sorry Emm, I'll..." He trailed off, face set, and resumed his ministrations. When the tension built to a crescendo, she half expected him to slow once more, but his speed built. She almost didn't believe it as he hammered into her faster and faster, expecting him to stop once more before she came with a crash and a scream of his name a the top of her lungs.
	Amazingly, she continued to come as he continued to pound into her depths, another orgasm touched off by the previous and the continued efforts of her dear husband, her greedy depths sucking and pulling at his length. Legs kicking wildly and arms wrapped around him as he clutched tightly to her, she came again once more, howling like a banshee all the while before he grunted with finality, slammed his lips against hers, and came deep within her, inner depths opening for his ropes of seed. Emmeryn lay there, accepting his questing tongue as he thrust what seemed like countless more times, each one depositing a thick layer of seed in her womb. It was rare that he would dare to come inside of her, but tonight he had filled her enough for three such times. She quickly drifted off to sleep, kiss breaking only as her consciousness faded, arms still wrapped around him. Robin fell to sleep soon after, still inside of her with drips of himself still slowly spilling out of her.
	They would both later agree that it had been a Good Night, despite the rain.