Title: Before/After
Fandom: The Originals
Characters: Keelin, Freya Mikaelson
Category: Romance, Angst, Drama
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,721
Summary: A post script for 4x07 "High Water and the Devil's Daughter". Freya goes home with Keelin after THAT kiss.
Spoilers/Timeline: Post 3x07 "High Water and the Devil's Daughter"
Author’s Note: Title taken from the song playing during that first kiss. Song by Essx Station.

I haven't finished watching Season 3, but I hope I kept Freya in character through this. I find both Freya and Keelin fascinating and sweet and all kinds of lovely and have no idea where there aren't a million fics written about these two yet!
Constructive criticism welcome. :)
Warnings: None that I can think of.

*** *** ***

There’s a moment of hesitation when Keelin leads Freya into her apartment. Freya’s hand lingers over the doorknob, not letting go to close it even though Keelin’s already halfway to the kitchen. Keelin pauses, hesitates, stops where she is to see if Freya will stay.

“Please don’t go,” Keelin says between one breath and the next. She has no intention of pressuring Freya into anything she doesn’t want to do but part of Keelin is terrified, certain that if Freya changes her mind and walks out that door now, Keelin will never see her again. It’s a thought that scares Keelin more than she wants to admit. She hadn’t felt as alone as she did this afternoon, not in years, not since her pack had been slaughtered.

Freya doesn’t speak but Keelin hears the floorboard creak behind her. She waits head cocked, but not looking back to see if Freya is advancing or retreating. Solid warmth presses up against her back, seeping through the rich, soft leather of her jacket. Freya’s hand runs down one arm, fingertips so light against her sleeve that it’s only a whisper of a caress until she reaches Keelin’s hand. She slips her fingers through Keelin’s and raises their joined hands. Keelin gasps as Freya brings her lips to the inside of Keelin’s wrist and nuzzles against her palm. It burns and Keelin never wants it to stop. She reaches back for Freya, her fingers tangling in Freya’s hair as she cups her head and pulls her close.

Their lips touch again, Freya’s teeth scrape against her lower lip and Keelin moans, unable to stop herself from pressing into Freya. She wants her hands beneath that jacket, on soft, warm skin, Freya spread out before her on Keelin’s bed. Just the thought of it sends a visceral jolt through Keelin and leaves her aching.

But instead of deepening the kiss, Keelin presses her forehead against Freya’s. “Are you hungry? I know you’ve had a long day.” She wants this, wants Freya more than anything, but if taking care of Freya means pressing pause for a moment, she can do that too. Goodness knows no one else seems to be volunteering to watch out for her badass witch. Even if she can’t honestly call Freya hers yet.

Freya lets out a startled laugh and pulls Keelin closer. “Not now,” she says, cupping Keelin’s cheek. “Not for food.”

Keelin groans and lets the ache that’s been burning inside her press her forward until she can feel the line of Freya’s body pressing into her, hips, thighs and breasts. “I have a bed.” She tries to form more coherent words, but all she can manage is nudging Freya in the right direction with her thighs. “In here.”

“Do I look that easy?” Freya asks, but the smile tugging on the corner of her lips and the way she’s slipping her hands up Keelin’s side underneath her jacket and then pushing it off Keelin’s shoulders belie her words.

Keelin can’t contain her snort. “Nothing about you is easy, Freya Mikaelson.” Once she reaches back to help Freya, they make short work of her jacket and for an instant Freya stands back and stares at her like she is the sun and moon, the whole world. It takes Keelin’s breath away and sends adrenaline shooting through her. “I kind of like that about you.”

Then Keelin’s grabbing for Freya’s hands and leads her, stumbling and tripping into each other all smiles and fumbled caresses until they land against Keelin’s bed. Keelin laughs as her knees hit the bed and she lets herself go, though with the control Freya’s ring has given her over her werewolf gifts, she could have stopped herself or changed their positions easily. Freya follows her more slowly. Every motion is deliberate as she steps forward, her legs on either side of Keelin’s. It would only take a little tug for Keelin to pull Freya into her lap, but something tells her not yet.

Keelin takes the hand Freya is offering and lets Freya pull her back up to a sitting position. “What?” Keelin prods, sensing that for all her courage it’s hard for Freya to speak right now.

With trembling fingers, Freya skims her hand over Keelin’s cheek. Her fingers are cold, but Keelin wants to lean into them, to feel them all over her. Instead Freya brushes a lock of hair away from her face and strokes her thumb across Keelin’s cheek. The simple affection makes Keelin’s eyes fall closed.

“You’re so beautiful,” Freya whispers. Keelin feels the bed shift under Freya’s weight, just on one side. Her eyes still closed, Keelin can’t help but reach out and curl her hand around the back of Freya’s thigh, holding her close. “So beautiful,” Freya repeats, leaning forward, her other hand coming up to smooth across Keelin’s other cheek. Her lips brush across Keeling’s with exquisite tenderness, touching, tasting, deepening with every brush of Freya’s lips until Freya pulls back and holds Keelin’s gaze. “It was never that I didn’t care for you, Keelin. I cared - I care - so much…” She sucks in a shaky breath. “I haven’t felt this way in centuries.”

“Hey,” Keelin says, trying to smile. “That doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I’m not going anywhere. Not as long as you want me here.” And maybe she’s playing her cards too soon, letting her hand show before everyone has placed their bets, but Keelin can’t find it in herself to care. Not in this moment when Freya is still trembling in her arms.

Freya tries to match her smile, but it doesn’t work, falling away as quickly as it had come. “It didn’t work out well last time,” she admits and looks away, a little jerk of her head sending short locks of blond hair falling over her eyes.

“Come here,” Keelin says, reaching out to curl her other hand around the back of Freya’s other thigh and tug her closer. She doesn’t use her strength, does it gently enough that Freya could still pull away if she wanted. She’s almost surprised though when Freya doesn’t resist, letting Keelin pull her close until her arms are around Keelin’s neck and she’s straddling Keelin’s lap. “It doesn’t have to be the same.”

Frey nods, but looks distant still. “I spent so many years terrified to let myself feel anything.”

“But you do,” Keelin says. “You feel things so deeply. I’ve seen how much you love your brothers. You would do anything for your family.” She smiled recklessly, remembering what Freya had confided earlier. “You care about me so much it was distracting.”

Freya makes a sound low in her throat. “That can’t happen again. If anything happened to you…”

“Hey,” Keelin murmurs. “I can take care of myself.” She holds up her beringed finger. “You gave me this and made sure of that. I kicked those guys asses.”

Wrapping her arms around Keelin, Freya buries her face in her neck, breathing in the clean, sweet smell that was uniquely Keelin. “It didn’t work out - last time.”

It takes Keelin a moment to work out what Freya is saying and when she does, Keelin sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” Freya nods, but she’s gone rigid in Keelin’s arms. “Would you tell me about it sometime? If you want to.”

Freya nods again; it’s all Keelin can do not to shiver from the way Freya’s lips brush against her neck. “I don’t want to talk anymore. Can we not?” Freya asks, but it’s pleading, not harsh.

“Okay,” Keelin relents and scoots back on the bed, bringing Freya with her. Freya doesn’t resist and they settle side by side on the bed in a pleasant tangle of limbs that makes Keelin’s heart race. She doesn’t make any move though, except to stroke her fingers through Freya’s hair, content just to be here with Freya.

Freya’s hand moves over her abdomen in little circles that make Keelin suck in her breath and hold it, afraid to let it go again in case Freya stopped. On the next sweep of Freya’s hand, her thumb brushes the little strip of skin bared between the top of Keelin’s jeans and the bottom of her shirt. Her thumb catches on the fabric and draws it upward. Keelin can’t help the way her hips rock toward Freya’s touch. She waits for Freya to smooth her shirt back down, to see if the tension and passion of earlier is lost to Freya’s fear. Instead Freya smiles a glorious smile and looks down, letting all her fingers find the now-bared skin of Keelin’s stomach this time.

“Is this okay?” Freya asks, her hand dancing lightly back and forth, not yet straying any further.

Keelin nods and swallows. It takes her a second to regain her composure. “Very okay.” She puts a hand over Freya’s stilling it. “But we don’t have to do anything tonight, if you don’t want to. We have time.”

The corner of Freya’s lips quirk up. “And what if what I want is you, Keelin?”

The words are almost as powerful as the image she’d had earlier in the evening of Freya in her bed. They’re a shock to the system. It’s been a long time since Keelin has been wanted, not for death or because she was the last and valuable, but just because she was her. “Then I think we should get you out of these clothes,” Keelin says, taking the hand Freya had held against her and slipping it down to her thigh. Freya’s thumb made slow circles against her inner thigh as Keelin reached up and began unbuttoning Freya’s coat. “I can’t believe I finally got you in my bed and you’re still wearing so many clothes.”

“Finally?” Freya asks with an arched eyebrow as she shrugs out of her coat and flings it behind her. “How long-”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Keelin retorts as Freya’s hand moves up again and works at the button of her jeans. She starts to lose track of where hands are, hers and Freya’s, except they're everywhere, and gives in to the urge she’s had for weeks to trail kisses down the slender column of Freya’s throat and, and, and…

And so many things. There’s time.
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