Work Text:
“You called, hero?”
Gemma nearly collapses at the sound of his voice from behind, jerking around from where she’s pressed against her room’s vanity to find Emet-Selch lazily lounging against the wall by her window. He’s gracing her with that signature smirk she knows now all too well.
“Wh—What?” she mutters, her knuckles turning an even paler white as she violently grips the vanity.
To think he would come now of all times, and in this particular state…
He sighs loudly before pushing himself from the wall, his eyes tracking hers with a gaze akin to a predator ready to pounce upon his prey when he slowly strides towards her. “Must I repeat myself—you called for me. And so here I am.”
Her head shakes, confused at first. “I don’t understand what you’re referring to—”
Oh.
It was just moments ago, after all, that she realizes she did call his name. Only she was certain it was in the privacy of her own room while touching herself to the thought of him being there to pleasure her instead.
She hadn’t meant to, truly—for he was the Ascian she fought against and who aggravated her on a daily basis with his unnerving presence and unwanted commentary. But before long while she was lounging in her bed, hands down her underwear, his image had appeared as she was reaching her climax. Sighing his name like a mantra at the imagined sight of his looming body over her own with a dangerous and lustful presence that only excited her further. Every part of him feeling so real. Commanding her very soul and mind with his darkness.
A deep blush rushes to her face at this realization and she tries to cover her face haphazardly with a hand in utter embarrassment. “Oh gods, you—you were watching!?”
“Of course, my dear. I told you already how much I like to watch, didn’t I?” He stands tall and intimidating before her now, and Gemma cannot find any escape with her back pressed against the furniture. But a dangerous heat rises to her chest when he lifts his hand to her face, gingerly gripping at her jaw with a lascivious look in his eyes. “But then I heard such a delightful sound from your lips—and so I’ve arrived at your behest. Now tell me—have you finally come to your senses and decided to accept my generous proposal?”
This proposal of his for them to let out some steam together was ludicrous in its entirety, and she told him as such with a heated gaze when he first brought it up. To think of sleeping with the enemy goes against her very judgment and character—the hero her fellow Scions and comrades look up to who’s supposed to do good and be good should never entertain such salacious desires.
It was ridiculous. Absurd and maniacal and incomprehensible beyond belief.
And yet…
Her lips open to instinctively decline everything he’s claiming, but much to her fleeting realization, finds that she does not wish to deny it. Though she’d just finished herself, the heat begins flooding once more in her very core as he looms over her, touching the skin of her cheek and the strap of her nightgown so delicately that she could nearly melt in his arms.
He was enticing in his darkness, shrouded in mysteries that draw her further to him. She wished nothing more than to fall apart in his arms, let go all preconceptions which hold her back to desire what she truly wants.
“Mayhap I have…”
His tongue clicks in disappointment, voice low and annoyed. “That is not a yes, hero. I was very clear with my offer—only with your undeniable consent would we pursue this endeavor.”
This was so, so dangerous, being completely at his mercy in such a compromised way. But there’s a wild surge of anticipation within her that finds this bit of danger exhilarating and exciting. Whatever would her comrades think of her, she wonders—yet upon the realization she does not care in the slightest, finds the answer to her question of whether or not this was right to do.
Truly, he had her wrapped around his finger.
“Yes—I consent. You can do whatever you wish with me.”
Emet-Selch’s lips curl up in a pleased smile. “It won’t be just what I wish for, my dear.” With a satisfied expression, his fingers snap the band of her nightgown’s strap against her shoulder, and he watches her with an expectant look. “Go on now.”
Apprehension still encompasses Gemma’s thoughts when she gingerly fingers the hem of her nightgown, nervously catching his gaze with her own. As if he understands the language of her distinguished stare, he slowly lifts his hand and tugs off one of the gloves with his teeth—so, so provocatively he does it, and she cannot fathom how he manages to make such a simple act so enigmatic and sexy. To reveal his bare hand for the first time—so chiseled yet soft, and she can already imagine the feel of them against her skin, sighing at the anticipation. When he releases the glove from his teeth to drop like a feather to the ground, he offers his other gloved hand to her lips.
“Your turn.”
Doing as she’s told, her lips open to gently take his finger into her mouth and closes just enough to catch onto the fabric. The glove slides off when he pulls back, revealing his bare second hand to her. Seemingly satisfied, he takes the glove from her lips and, too, lets it fall to the ground.
“Now take off your clothes and lay on the bed.”
She swallows the last of her hesitation and shyly nods once. “Very well.”
That pleases him. “Good girl. Following my orders will make this far more pleasurable for you.”
She can only hope he’s right. In one swift movement, she lifts the edge of her nightgown to pull over her head, dropping it to the ground in a soft thud. Reflexively she shivers at the cool air hitting her bare skin, goosebumps raising along her arms and chest in response, but she’s too embarrassed to see his reaction just yet. She finishes the job, gently pulling down and stepping out of her underwear in another smooth motion. Hands anxiously rub at her forearms while she continues to look anywhere but his face, and she notices he finally moves when his hands start tugging at the collar of his attire. He quickly releases the fastenings and allows his long Imperial robe to fall to the ground, and she’s simply fascinated to see him unravel before her.
“The bed,” he commands once more.
Snapped out of her admiration, she obliges in his request to step back and fall onto the bed, finding herself into a relaxed and comfortable position before he inevitably takes her as he so pleases. Anxiously she waits while he kicks his boots off, then shrugs off yet another long layer underneath his coat, until only a simple shirt and trousers remain, and his eyes catch hers with the look of a beast about to devour her.
But he does not descend upon her as she suspects. With only the outer layers of his clothes pulled off, chest just barely peeking out of his undershirt, he instead brings up a chair from the corner of the room and plants it at the end of the bed. He takes a seat, crosses his leg over the other, and rests his eyes upon her naked form with a lascivious smirk.
“You will touch yourself again, and I will watch.”
Gemma’s cheeks redden further at his ridiculous request, both in embarrassment and fury. “What? That was not what we agreed upon—”
She’s interrupted when he snaps and procures an alcoholic beverage straight into his hands, taking a heavy sip from the glass before languidly gesturing towards her. “Well, I couldn’t see anything at all earlier with your nightgown in the way. Nay—before we continue, you will put on a little show for me first. And if you are tantalizing enough in your performance, mayhap I will join you ere long.”
A hand flies to her face in a weak attempt to hide her shame as her other hand slowly makes its way between her legs. Her heart pounding and breath increasing at a rapid rate, she cannot deny that there is a sort of thrill to the thought of him watching her—after all, he truly does seem eager beyond belief to be there, and he’s made no attempts at mocking her just yet.
And so at his insistence, she slowly begins rubbing between her legs with ease, the slick from her previous orgasm still between her folds to aid in her movements. A breathless sigh is released when the warmth begins to spread from her very core, and continuing with her practiced motions, she deigns to open her eyes a bit to steal a look at the man before her.
Sharp golden eyes are studying her furiously, but he’s in the same position as before—poised and elegant in his seat, yet his eyes so full of provocative desire and carnal lust that she feels herself turning beet red in an instant. And he hasn’t even touched her yet. It’s simply on instinct when she turns away quickly to hide her face further into the pillow and with her free hand, but she quickly finds out that he does not like that.
“To think the hero of the Source would be so prudish in bed—you shock me more each and every day.” The disappointment in his voice is palpable, much to Gemma’s fears. “Can you truly not even look at me whilst pleasuring yourself?”
She can only pant out her words in shallowed gasps as her orgasm very slowly builds. “It’s more difficult—than you think—”
Emet-Selch releases an exhausted sigh and uncrosses his legs. “Well, this just won’t do.”
Before she can inquire about his words, he tosses the glass over his shoulders. Before it crashes into the wall, he stands up from his seat to come closer to the end of the bed. He moves quickly, and with his long—and dangerously strong—Garlean arms, he has them hooked under her knees in a flash to drag her roughly to the edge of the bed to meet him. She can barely yelp in surprise before several of his fingers are pushed into her mouth, his own lips curled up in satisfaction at the sight.
“Suck on them, my dear. You do know how to do as much, yes?”
Eagerly she sucks and licks around his fingers to his command, the scandalous act bringing forth another wild heat between her legs. Truly, she should be ashamed of herself for allowing an Ascian to see her in such a state, completely tied around his finger and at his mercy. But for so long has the passionate fire within her been burned out and weak, only to be lit anew for him and him alone. She can only feel pleased beyond belief when he pops them past her lips, admiring his drenched fingers with a satisfied smile.
“Lovely,” he murmurs as he suddenly slides one of his soaked fingers into her, curling aggressively to coax out a guttural moan from Gemma’s lips. She almost stops her own movements at the shock of his finger inside her before he quickly chastises her with a click of his tongue. “I never said you could stop, hero. Keep going.”
There’s something about the way he’s looking down at her that ignites a flame to her very core, and she suddenly feels more relaxed and eager to please him. Slowly she begins letting go, allowing herself to constrict around his finger in tandem with her rhythmic rubbing, and she heavenly sighs as her orgasm keeps building up to something far more satisfying than she could imagine. Her free hand gently pinches at her left nipple, further stimulating her pleasures and wishing to put on a good enough show for him.
“That’s more like it—that look in your eyes is simply divine.” Emet-Selch’s encouraging words melt her entire being and she whimpers in response to a second finger of his being pushed inside her. “Yes, just like that…”
Slowly he stretches her further with his fingers whilst continuing to pump and curl into her, grasping at just the right spot where she softly moans in delight to the movement of her circling. Yet even then, she already wants to go further—wants even more than he’s giving her.
“Can you… more…”
Her soft begging is not yet loud enough for his ears. “What was that, my dear? Speak up.”
As though he really did hear her, his fingers aggressively curl even sharper inside her, forcing a deep moan to release from her lips. “More—please—”
“Hmm…” His lips are formed into a wide smirk as he takes in every plane of her body, resting lastly upon her begging expression with a pleased look in his golden eyes. “Perhaps you’ve earned that.”
To her surprise, he takes a hold of her wrist to pull it away from her arousal before descending to his knees, his face now perfectly set between her legs and staring with admiration at the soaking mess she’s made of herself. His fingers now pulled out from inside her, they curiously prod and stretch at her folds to allow him an even better view of her swollen core, while his other arm wraps firmly around her thigh to rest his palm against her lower stomach.
“You’re—” When she realizes what he’s planning, the quickening beat of her heart begins once more at an alarming rate, drumming continuously without end. “Oh, gods…”
“You will watch,” Emet-Selch commands with a deep voice, capturing her eyes in a stern yet lustful gaze that shakes her to her core. “If you even once take your eyes off of me, this whole thing is over. And you don’t want that—do you, my dear?”
She furiously shakes her head, the thought of him leaving and stopping completely unbearable to her now. “Don’t stop.”
Gemma’s answer seems to please him when he smirks confidently, though it only lasts for a moment when he stretches his tongue out to press firmly against her core, the look in his eyes commanding her entire being. Indeed, she is completely at his mercy, the marionette to his undeniable puppeteering. She releases an uncharacteristically enthusiastic moan at the intense pleasure of his firm and hard pressing, weakly jerking her hips up into his mouth to create more friction than he’s offering her.
But he does not oblige—instead, he takes his sweet time to harshly drag his entire tongue over every plane of the sensitive skin between her legs. The way he continues to trap her eyes within his is both intimidating and unnerving, but she finds she cannot—will not—pry her own gaze away, for she knows he will hold true to his word in stopping before they even began. She finds her words incomprehensible, her soft cries and moans all she’s able to convey amidst the intense pleasure that’s flooding through her body. Grasping desperately at his hand and hair to drive him further into her very being.
After marking her entire core with his tongue, she watches him purse his lips tightly around her clit, and she nearly convulses in response to the frightening intensity it brings forth. Not once does he give her a moment to adjust to his vigorous movements, sucking at her with such ferocity that she almost throws her head back in undeniable pleasure.
“Twelve forfend—” she groans softly, nearly ripping the dark strands of hair from his skull with the intensity of her grip.
Back and forth Emet-Selch goes between sucking profusely to flicking and licking at her swollen clit, and when he deigns to dip his tongue inside her, he switches to his hands gently but firmly pinching at her sensitive nerves. All Gemma can do is grip harder, pull him as close as possible to the point where he’d be unable to breath—as an Ascian, surely an issue that doesn’t concern him—until he’s completely muffled between her thighs.
Sighs escape her lips when she watches him lap up all her juices before pressing his fingers inside to rut repeatedly, getting back into a rhythmic movement of sucking and stretching her, pushing her as far as he can into eternal bliss. The buildup of her orgasm is fast approaching, and she is beside herself at how perfectly he finds every spot that makes her soul soar in pleasure—how he’s able to, she cannot possibly comprehend. She’s nearly seeing stars, but does her damnedest to maintain her eye contact with him, lips parted with soft moaning and panted breath at the sight of him pleasing her so perfectly.
Suddenly she feels her stretched even further when Emet-Selch at last inserts his third finger inside her, curling upwards and deep inside while he utterly devours her with his lips and a low groan. Her hips buck up in response, a high cry leaving her throat in utter bliss. His lips surround all around her swollen nub, and as his expression is painted with a lascivious look for her eyes only, she is completely undone and finishes profusely against his mouth, feeling her legs shake and convulse without control as her orgasm pulses throughout her entire body.
Gemma can scarcely regain her senses in the afterglow, utterly destroyed by his irrefutably passionate cunnilingus, that she nearly misses his words when he rises to hover above her, admiring his work with a satisfied smirk.
“You are positively radiating, my dear,” he murmurs before licking his fingers, now utterly soaked with her arousal. “Wasn’t this far more satisfying than that pitiful session on your own?”
She’s still wheeling from the intensity of her climax, and so she simply nods in response, taking care to level her breathing with deep breaths.
“Now, turn around and get on your knees.”
Though she feels weak beyond belief, she tries her best to flip herself over at his request. Pushing through the shakiness of her legs, she presses herself up on her knees in what should be an utterly shameful position. But to Emet-Selch, it seems to be anything but.
“Oh, what a sight you are, my dear,” she hears him sigh, feeling his large hands suddenly squeeze and palm at the soft skin of her ass. “To have you bent over on your knees for me—if only you could see how ravishing you look.”
She buries her face into the sheets to hide the crimson blush that’s painting her features, in turn offering him even more of a tantalizing sight of her ass high in the air, absolutely soaking in every bit of praise he offers her with eagerness.
Her ears catch the sound of a belt unbuckling while he continues to grip at her skin with his free hand, and her heart rapidly starts pounding again at the anticipation of what was to come. Before long, his shaft is tauntingly rubbing back and forth against her folds, and she can only moan softly in excitement and fervor.
“Beg for it, hero.” The commanding growl that comes from him is intensely provocative and intimidating. “I will hear how much you want this.”
“Please!” Gemma begs with a whimper, the harsh grip she has on the sheets beginning to turn her knuckles white. “I want—more—”
She hears him click his tongue in annoyance. “More what? You have to be specific, my dear.”
“More of you.” Her voice a high plea, she presses further into him to rub however she can against his cock to express her utmost desire. “In—Inside me—please—”
She’s cut off with a soft shriek when the head of his arousal is pressed inside as she’d so begged, and he speaks once more. “Like this? Say it, loud and clear!”
“Yes!” she groans as loudly and clearly as she can muster, and instantly she’s rewarded with a harsh rut as he takes her fully, completely filling her with his cock.
Emet-Selch wastes not a single moment—the time for a steady buildup was over, and he was now going to take his prize. His assault on her is feral and harsh, every time he pumps in and out of her with purpose and a hint of pain, yet she can only find herself enjoying the desperate and passionate strokes he’s gifting her. With each union of their skin slapping, a shock of friction courses through her core and further stimulates her most sensitive parts, and she simply moans in delight at her third orgasm already approaching quickly. The hand of his that rests near her shoulders blades certainly contributes to the overwhelming pleasure she’s experiencing by pushing her further into the sheets, allowing him even greater access to her rear. Sometimes he’ll just squeeze at her soft skin while taking all he can from her, though occasionally he’ll surprise her with a harsh slap that sets her entire soul ablaze. And whenever she can, she tries to match his thrusts with her own, snapping her hips back to meet his in turn.
The hand that was pressing her down is suddenly grasping at her neck and she’s pulled up from the sheets to curve harshly towards him, gasping at the sudden movement to find his breath hot against her ear while he continues to rut repeatedly into her.
“Are you enjoying this, hero?” he sneers coldly with a whisper, meant for her ears only. “To be taken from behind by me without shame?”
Gemma is utterly confounded as to why those words push her over the edge. As she tries so desperately to answer him with enthusiasm, she simply falls apart. To have her life in his hands, literally so as they wrap tightly around her neck to which she can barely gasp out a breath, she realizes just how safe she feels. How completely she trusts her fragile life to him, the Ascian who still yet desires for their worlds to be rejoined. But there’s a part of him that he’s hiding, holding back something worthwhile as he continues to praise her. Giving her all the pleasure she could ever want, caressing her chest with such fervor and desire.
And so she lets go yet again in his arms with a guttural moan, melting at his touch with her sudden climax. Her legs completely mush and without control, she would’ve collapsed against the sheets were it not for Emet-Selch pulling her tight against him, burying his face into her neck from behind.
“What a delight you are, my dear,” he praises so ardently, slowing his strokes so that he now simply rests inside her. “You take me so well—truly, as though you were always meant to. But alas, we are not done yet.”
She can barely comprehend his words, her own a slur. “What do you mean… Emet—?”
His hands handle her body like a doll, swinging it around with clear strength, and positions her exactly as he desires within mere seconds. Delirious from her multiple orgasms, she lets him do as he pleases, though even if she had the sense of mind to grasp what he was doing, finds that she would still allow him complete control to puppeteer her in any way.
Coming to her senses, Gemma weakly presses herself up from against his chest, discovering that she’s straddled around his hips while he confidently watches from below, laying with his back against the sheets with a waiting gaze. His free hand squeezes her ass when she meets his eyes with her own, the other nudging his shaft expectantly against her folds.
“You will dance on my cock until you finish yet again,” he commands with a sultry smile. “So hop on, hero—give me a riveting show.”
“I don’t think I can,” she admits with a wrought of shame, still barely recovered from his already intense lovemaking. “It—it’s too much—”
“Oh, my dear.” Though he may have otherwise been mocking her with his choice of words, he now speaks with anything but that, an almost eagerness and encouragement to his tone that grants a wave of relief in her heart. “Of course you can—and you will at my behest. After all, you wish to please me, don’t you? I can see it plainly writ in your gaze, and I’m certainly not about to finish on my own after everything we’ve just been through.”
Emet-Selch is right, of course. And put on a show, she will—but this time, she will be the one to determine the finishing act. With panted breath, she refuses to break his gaze as she rises and reaches back to grip his cock in her hand. Without hesitation she lowers herself onto him—like a glove, he fits with her so well, and she begins her dance meant for his eyes alone. Hips grind sensually against his cock, her sensitive clit rubbing against his abdomen with every stroke, and she simply sighs with delight. But she wants nothing more than to take her time soaking in every moment and so her movements continue to be slow yet purposeful.
Without thinking, Gemma’s hands are wandering against his chest, finding it infuriatingly unfair how clothed he still was before her. He doesn’t try to stop her, his own hands still gripping possessively at her thighs and ass, and so she continues to pull at the buttons to further expose the beautiful planes of his chest for her. Fingers stretched wide and deliciously over his skin, rubbing curiously against the apparent muscles of his abdomen and tight flesh of his pecs. For once, he actually responds without his usual quips—a deep moan rises from within him, and the sound is like a symphony to her ears. With a whimper, she throws her head back in utter pleasure at their passionate union, feeling as though she were about to ascend to the heavens.
But in a flash, his hand is gripping tight at her jaw, and forcing her to look back down at him with a terrifying heat in his eyes. He’s all of a sudden risen to meet her gaze, and they tell the story of a broken man—desperate and passionate, but broken.
“Look at me.”
She nearly forgets to breath at the closeness between them now and wonders for a moment if he’s about to kiss her. And with his own gaze locked with hers, a wave of déjà vu floods through her along with a sudden warmth at their lover’s embrace. But he doesn’t dare to make such a move, instead lowering his voice to something calmer yet retaining that edge of command she’s so used to now.
“Don’t even think about stifling your cries—I want to hear you scream.”
She furiously nods in his grip and tries to pick up her pace, realizing he’s now matching her rhythm with his own timed thrusts. With undignified grunts she begins to let go, taking in every slick sound of him pounding into her while gripping maniacally at his chest, fingernails nearly digging into his skin and marking him. But still, she drowns in his golden eyes, letting him see all of her—her soul, her pleasures, her entire being. All his to take.
Emet-Selch looks pleased with her, and the hand at her jaw trails down her neck and to her chest. Though he does not deign to move away, his breath hot against her face still, he watches her carefully as his palm captures her breast into his hand, two fingers fiercely pinching at her hardened peaks. She can only sigh in delight at the combination of both pain and gratification, her teeth nearly breaking the skin of her lips in response. Overcome with all the many different sensations happening all over her body, she barely notices the hand at her thigh move to her ass until his finger is suddenly prodding at her tainted area. She chokes back a guttural moan of ecstasy at the wholly unfamiliar feeling, and despite how dirty such a raunchy act should make her feel, she cannot deny how her soul is aflame and akin to utter bliss.
“Do not hold back, hero!” he growls, increasing the pressure of his fingers all over. “Let everyone in the Crystarium hear just how much you love being fucked by an Ascian!”
Gods, and was it true. Gemma loved it so, so much, as though this was always meant to be. His sinful words undo her, and with a shriek cry of pleasure, she very quickly realizes that her buildup is coming once more to push her completely over the edge. Her thoughts a cloudy daze, she relishes in the feeling of being completely full and pleasured in every possible way. She has to catch herself from rolling her eyes back before immediately capturing his gaze once more, moaning shamelessly when he quickly swirls and presses his finger in her ass. In tandem, his thrusting continues its assault on her, and she can hardly keep up with his speed, allowing him full control once more as she pants and groans her pleasures—she lets him hear it all and does not care longer if anyone else did either.
“Em—” His name—his title—begins forming upon her lips, and she will let all know it is him that pleasures her so, nearly screaming it with delight. “Emet—mmph—S-Selch—please!”
“Let go!” he commands with a booming grunt and tight grip of her body, bringing them as close together as possible, the rough edge to his voice suggesting that his own climax was rapidly approaching.
She can’t comprehend what comes over her, but it’s instinctual to grasp desperately at his face, fingers fumbling roughly against his skin and into his hair. Something strange and familiar is stirring within her very soul, and as she goes over the edge to her strongest orgasm yet, incomprehensible words begin to escape her lips without her control.
“Ha—” Her voice speaking in a stutter, a word she cannot fixate on tries to be heard as though her entire being commands it. “Had—!”
A flash of something comes across Emet-Selch’s face and he comes at that very moment, grunting and moaning his own satisfaction at his release as she rides her own waves of pleasure, convulsing around his arousal and sighing in wondrous bliss at the feel of his seed completely filling her up.
The room is quiet save for their noisy gasps of breath and Gemma is utterly, irrevocably ruined. She can’t control a single muscle of her body as she falls limp against his chest, not bothering to check if she was suffocating him in any way. But he’s nigh immortal, she eventually realizes in her daze of thoughts, though even if he weren’t, she wonders if she’d deign to move otherwise, for the weakness of her entire being was paramount beyond anything she’d experienced. Yet the satisfaction was insurmountable and she can’t deny how high it felt her heart was soaring.
It catches her off guard when she feels his hands ever so gently caress around her waist and back, the simple strokes against her skin almost akin to a lover embracing a soulmate—not what she would expect from a man that only seemed interested in the physical satisfaction of sleeping with her. But her heart swells at his sweet touches, something deep inside her fluttering in recognition, and finds she won’t question it—all she wishes is to enjoy their embrace, if only for this single moment.
Time seems to stop as though they were the only two souls left in the world. She does not know how long she’s simply laying against him when he finally moves underneath her, his hands gently handling her to lay next to him against the sheets, and she feels a pang of sadness when he’s no longer inside her.
“You look beautiful in this ruined state, my dear...” There is a humorous edge to his voice, but still he speaks sincerely when he looks down at her fondly. With a familiar snap of his fingers, a cloth magicks itself into his hand, and he shockingly starts wiping at the space between her legs to clean the oozing juices and escaping gush of his seed. Gemma winces a bit with her increased sensitivity down there, but ere long he is pleased with his work and the wet cloth disappears with another snap of his fingers.
Through half lidded eyes, she watches him rise and turn to sit up at the edge of the bed, fingers beginning to work at the buttons of his pants and then with his shirt. “Well, this was certainly worth our time, wouldn’t you agree, my dear?”
She ignores his question, feeling a deep pit drop in her chest. “Are you… leaving?”
“Of course.”
“Wait…” she whispers, weakly reaching out as though to grab him. “Don’t…”
Emet-Selch turns his head slightly to meet her gaze with a colder expression than she had hoped for, seeing him dart his eyes between her own and the hand reaching towards him. With a soft tilt of the head, the corner of his lip rises at the sight—pitiful, it must seem to him. “How amusing you are, hero.”
But Gemma does not give up. “You said—you said you would warm my bed. That was your proposal. If you leave now, you go against your word.”
A frown comes upon his lips, and something akin to both hesitation and suspicion starts to paint his expression. “Listen to yourself, my dear. Do you truly wish for this?”
Finally she’s able to grasp at the sleeve of his shirt, and she’s not ashamed when she nearly begs him with a soft plea. “Yes… please. Please stay.”
Just like before, a flash of something she can’t quite place comes across his golden eyes. It seems he’s given in to her request when he eventually sighs and crawls back beside her, lifting the sheets for them both to get under. “If you insist, hero.”
Quickly she curls up against him, pressing her cheek against his chest and immediately feeling a sense of relief and relaxation at their reunion. Truly, it was a bizarre yet strange thing—how someone like him could make her feel so utterly safe and comforted was beyond her understanding, but she would not deny this feeling as they lay together in serenity.
Gently his hands stroke the skin of her arms and waist, and he suddenly speaks with a low but hesitant tone. “What was it you were trying to say?”
She lifts her eyes to catch his, but finds he’s looking anywhere but at her with a stern expression. Confused, she furrows her brow. “I’m… not sure what you mean…”
“At the end. What word were you trying to speak?”
Realizing he’s speaking about the end of their session, she thinks carefully about what he may be asking about. “I thought I might’ve said your name—” He’s suddenly tense against her and she pauses in anticipation of what he may say. But when he does nothing—simply laying there, looking off into the distance with another peculiar expression—she tries to continue.
Before she can speak, however, she realizes she’s wrong, and shakes her head softly. “Or… no, that’s not right. It was your title, rather. I—don’t know what else I was trying to say. But it must’ve been nonsense with all the other, um, sensations…”
He doesn’t react much more to her answer aside from a low hum, but it seems he’s moved on from his inquiry when he offers her a small smirk. After another snap of his fingers, the final candles of her room are put out and the room covers in a blanket of darkness, only brightened by the soft light of the moon shining from the window. “Sleep well, hero.”
She nods lightly and rests fully against his form, finding that she’s exhausted beyond belief and rest creeping upon her very quickly. Gently she closes her eyes, concentrating only on the rhythmic yet hypnotizing breaths of Emet-Selch calming her and slowly drifting her to peaceful sleep. If it didn’t seem so out of the realm of possibility, Gemma could’ve sworn she felt soft lips gently press against her temple before she was completely lost to sleep.