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Making a passable dinner out of the truly eccentric array of ingredients fate deigned to throw their way was…a challenge. But, Gale loved nothing more than a challenge. It was more than a little frustrating, feeling how limited his magical abilities had become after the tadpole’s insertion, but his mind was as sharp as ever. If he couldn’t feel the Weave flowing through him with the strength he’d previously known, he could at least give his intellect a stretch by trying to make something tasty out of mushrooms, fish, and a rather alarming amount of garlic.
It was a pity he didn’t have an actual stove to work with. The temperature of the campfire wasn’t quite consistent enough to let him really get creative. He’d tried deglazing the cooking pot with wine exactly once, and the result had left such an awful taste in his mouth, he’d spent the next half hour scrubbing away the evidence. At least they always had more wine on hand.
It did feel a bit…uncivilized that there was a bit of a dish shortage at camp, though. Or perhaps it was just that Karlach and Lae’zel (and sometimes Astarion) didn’t feel the need to put their wine into glasses. It didn’t make much of a difference, since they were usually able to finish their bottles without trouble, but the face Lae’zel made at the first sip of tonight’s choice reminded him of Tara catching a whiff of black pepper.
“T’skva,” she spat, looking aghast at the bottle. “What manner of swill is this?”
Gale elected not to pay attention to the way Astarion was giggling and glanced at the side of her bottle. It was a fairly sweet red, from what he could recall, one he’d rather liked the last time he’d tried it. He took a peek into their trunk full of food, turning the myriad bottles around until he found one he remembered her enjoying.
“I don’t think dessert wines are going to be to your taste,” he remarked, pulling the bottle from the trunk. “I’ll trade you, if you like.”
She lifted an eyebrow at him, her eyes darting between the bottle and his face. Then, she nodded tersely and handed him her bottle, taking the offered wine from his hand.
Gale held the tip under his nose for a moment, inhaling the mouthwatering sweetness and humming softly. It would pair marvelously with dinner. He took a sip to let the flavor wash over his tongue, and then gave a satisfied nod.
“Excellent,” he said. “Thank you.”
He was about to walk back to his tent and fill his glass when he noticed the way Lae’zel was looking at him.
The tilt of her smile stopped him in his tracks. There was something sharp glinting in her eyes, amused and knowing. She looked hungry.
“If you wanted to know what my lips taste like, you need only have asked,” she said, not even trying to keep quiet about it.
Gale nearly dropped the bottle on his foot, and he fumbled so spectacularly in his attempt to catch it, he had to summon a mage hand out of sheer desperation. Thankfully, it arrived quickly enough that he didn’t spill any of the (now very necessary) wine.
He was honestly afraid to look at her as he stood back up, expecting to see her interest turn swiftly to disdain. He knew she wasn’t joking; she didn’t joke about anything, and seeing him make a fool of himself immediately after a remark like that was sure to draw a contemptuous chk from her lips. It wasn’t easy to avoid it, though, and to his great surprise, there was no hint of derision in her expression. Instead, she was looking at his mage hand with great interest.
“That’s the fastest I’ve seen that spell cast,” she remarked. “Not a word or gesture involved. You will teach me your technique soon, I hope.”
He sort of just stared at her for a moment, trying to process the abrupt shift in her tone. While she didn’t sound mocking or insincere in the slightest, all the suggestiveness in her voice was gone. She looked faintly impressed, which already wasn’t a common look on her, but it was as though both his ridiculous fuck up and the comment that had caused it hadn’t happened, at all. Her focus was entirely on how swiftly he’d been able to cast the cantrip.
That was…flattering, to say nothing of the relief he felt.
After half a second, though, the idea of applying human weave-channeling methods to githyanki psionics reached the excitable part of his brain, and he was mercifully extracted from that train of thought.
“Of course!” He said. “It would be fascinating to see the kind of modifications that can be made to psionically-derived magic. Perhaps tomorrow, once dinner’s done? It’s a bit late, right now.”
“It is,” she gave him one of her decisive nods, the kind that made every conversation feel like an exchange of commands. “Very well. Tomorrow’s eve, I will refine my abilities with your instruction.”
He almost laughed, but settled for what he hoped was a friendly smile. Of course, Lae’zel would describe it like that.
“I look forward to it,” he gave her a nod in return, though his was much more relaxed, and then turned to head back to his tent.
As he sat down, he couldn’t help but crane his neck a bit to watch Lae’zel uncork the wine he’d just given her. She took a tentative sip, then tilted it back with gusto. He could hear her hum of satisfaction all the way across camp.
Maybe that was what made him hesitate, as he went to pour himself a glass. Despite how quickly they’d moved past it, he couldn’t quite forget the way she had smiled at him, the way her eyes had all but burned him. He regarded the bottle in his hand with trepidation, wondering if it would be so bad to let his cup stay clean, tonight. It would be foolishness to think there was anything left of her on the opening of the bottle. He hadn’t tasted anything but wine, on the first sip.
Gods damn it, he could feel his face getting warm. He wondered if perhaps he’d spent too long in isolation, for this to be enough to get him flustered. It wasn’t just the provocation that was affecting him, but the immediate interest in his magic, as well. Actually, the more he thought about it (and he truly could not help but think about it), he’d rather been enjoying Lae’zel’s conversation of late. She still bristled around the others, but she seemed to have a genuine interest in speaking to him. She was more than happy to talk about her home in the astral plane, about their different styles of combat…
She was so sincere. More than that, she was direct, outspoken. That’s what cut him right to the quick. Whatever she thought of someone, it was plain as day from the very start. Her intentions weren’t just easy to read; she stated them in the most blunt and explicit terms possible. Gale…was not used to that.
In the end, he reached for his wine glass, but when the bottle was a bit emptier, he might have daydreamed a little about how the night might have gone, if he’d been braver.
--
They fought a hag, the following day. It was a real testament to their tenacity (or perhaps their foolhardiness) that they didn’t leave well enough alone once they’d dispatched the red caps. No, they pushed through, past endless poison clouds and enthralled misfortunates, all the way to the depths of her lair. All to save the poor soul trapped down there with her.
And then, after they’d been beaten within an inch of their lives (and in Astarion’s case, even further – thank the gods they’d had a spare scroll of Revivify), Mayrina had berated them for saving her.
Nearly everyone was drinking straight from their bottles, tonight.
Even still, Lae’zel came to see him once dinner was done, her posture straight as ever. Under different circumstances, he might have tried to postpone their plans – he’d thrown so many spells at Auntie Ethel, he barely had it in him to cast a cantrip. As it was, he’d been ruminating on their conversation from the previous night for longer than he’d like to admit, and then there was the matter of their fight with the hag.
Just as Ethel had tried to negotiate with them, Lae’zel had bared her teeth in a snarl before charging headlong at her, sword raised high. Then, after cutting the hag down with a furious blow, she had turned to Gale and remarked about his ferocity in battle.
“Your eyes burn, when your spells strike true,” she’d practically purred the words, stepping in close to ensure he would be the only one to hear them. “It is invigorating, to fight beside one so bloodthirsty.”
He couldn’t remember what, if anything, he’d said in response to that, but nonetheless her words echoed in his head as she came to sit beside him. Her armor was gone, but there were still smudges on her skin where blood and dirt had worked their way underneath it, and there was a splash of red along one cheek that she hadn’t bothered to remove. It gave her a ferocious presence, to the point that he had to suppress a flinch at her arrival.
“Let us begin,” she said immediately, looking at him with a rather intense gaze. “Show me how you bring forth your magic with such ease.”
“Ah, yes,” he cleared his throat. “Well…”
He thought for a moment how best to introduce the concept to her. Lae’zel saw the world around her through the framework of battle, the anticipation of attack and the response once it came. It was something he was still getting used to, but he had been watching her, when she fought. Her psionics were as natural as breathing to her, as much a part of her body as her arms and legs. He wouldn’t need to help her sense the Weave, because she could always feel it. It was just a matter of getting her to notice it.
“Focus your mind for a moment,” he began. “Feel the air around you, the warmth of your own body. Not like you’re bracing for an attack. Don’t worry about the Weave, we’ll get to that. Just…attune yourself to the beat of your own heart. Feel how alive you are.”
He worried briefly his instruction wouldn’t make sense, but she seemed to understand. Her shoulders actually relaxed just a little, and she inhaled deeply, her expression turning calm as her eyes slid shut. In a matter of moments, he could feel the Weave begin to settle in more closely around her, the familiar presence of it now magnified between them. He couldn’t help but smile; he had yet to see Lae’zel falter at anything she really wanted to accomplish. It was encouraging to see her making a sincere effort.
“Perfect,” his voice was warmer than anticipated. “Now, don’t think of the incantation, itself. Think of how it feels once the spell has already been cast. Think of the result, rather than the process. Bring that feeling to the front of your mind.”
He deliberately avoided asking her to “try” anything. She had a bit of a disdain for the word, he’d found. To her, it sounded like an indicator of doubt, regardless of the intention. Briefly, her brow pinched in concentration, and he saw her fingers flexing a little as she moved her mind past the instinct to perform the familiar motions. He felt the Weave ripple around them, and before he could give her any further instruction, it was already done. With a flash, a perfectly formed hand whipped into existence in the air between them.
“Gods!” He jumped a bit, laughing in astonishment. “You’ve got it. That’s magnificent.”
“Indeed,” she said, looking at the manifested hand with a touch of wonder. “It seems there is something to be learned from this realm, after all.”
Her eyes were positively gleaming with pride, but he couldn’t bring himself to call it arrogance when she looked so sincerely delighted. She gave a soft huff of satisfaction, and her expression softened like he’d never seen before, the corner of her mouth tilting up just a bit. He hadn’t seen her smile before without there being some sort of taunting edge to it, hadn’t seen her find enjoyment without it being at another’s expense. It was a sight to behold, one that made him feel warm and joyful to his very bones.
He realized, as her gaze flicked up to his face, that she could feel it, too. Of course she could, with the way the Weave suffused the air around them like fog. There was a match-strike of a moment where he felt something shockingly soft from her, sudden as lightning and just as unexpected. He was so consumed by surprise that he hardly perceived anything else for a moment, and when his eyes focused again, her face was hardly an inch away.
The fingers of the mage hand threaded through his hair, gentle but certain. One of her real hands was on his shoulder now, not yet drawing him closer to her but clearly planning on it. Her eyes were hot and sharp, ember-colored in the firelight and crackling with intent. She showed him through the Weave exactly what she wanted to do, with vividness enough to turn his face hot. His lip between her teeth, her hands shoving him down, his body pinned under her weight.
“I would taste you,” she said softly. “I would take you.”
Her eyes flicked down to his lips, just for a moment.
“Should you wish it.”
It took an agonizing moment for his body to catch up to his mind, and then he finally managed to nod.
“Yes,” he breathed the word more than spoke it, so he tried again. “Yes.”
The mage hand pulled him down, and then she kissed him like she meant to devour him whole. Her tongue shoved past his lips, and he yielded happily, startled in the best way by both of her physical hands sliding around his back and yanking him close. He embraced her instinctively, the familiar feeling of being completely overtaken fluttering in his chest.
“Follow me,” she whispered against his mouth.
He nodded as much as he could, and then she took his hand and pulled him out of the camp. They didn’t go far, but nonetheless Gale couldn’t remember seeing the long-abandoned chapel on their journey that day. Had Lae’zel been planning this, looking for suitably private locations as they’d been traveling?
There wasn’t much time to wonder. As soon as they were through the archway, she took him by the shoulders and shoved him up against the wall. She kissed him again, hot and hungry, and her hands slid under his tunic with an almost desperate haste. The air was cool on his skin as she tugged it up and over his head, and no sooner was it gone than her mouth was on his again. With nimble movements, her hands began to unlace his leggings, and she pressed a trail of wet, impassioned kisses down his throat. He trembled; she wanted him. Gods, how long had it been since someone wanted him this way?
With a soft growling noise, she opened her mouth wide over the junction of his neck and shoulder, and then she sank her teeth into his skin. It sent a bolt of sensation right down his spine, and the sound he made was almost painfully undignified, but it only seemed to encourage her. He clung to her, his feet slipping on the ground as his legs weakened, but she remained steady and unmoving. It thrilled him.
“Gods, Lae’zel…” he gasped.
He felt a mage hand grip his hair again, tugging his head back. Was it the same one, or did she summon a new one? He didn’t have the wherewithal to guess, not when she laved her tongue up the side of his neck. She could taste the sweat on his skin, and it thrilled her, and she let that feeling flow between them through the Weave. There was a crackling question that came with it, a nudge at his thoughts that was firm, but not forceful. He accepted without a moment’s hesitation.
It shouldn’t have surprised him, that she could connect them again so easily; Lae’zel rarely needed instructions twice. What really stunned him, though, was how she hid nothing. Her desire was plain, it was genuine, ringing just as true in his mind as it did when he looked into her eyes. There was no mystery here, no uncertainty simmering under his skin. It was almost too much.
“Submit,” she hissed into his ear. “Submit to me, and I will wring the most exquisite sounds from your throat. I will pull the pleasure from your body until it shakes your very core. That is what you want, is it not?”
She nipped at his earlobe, and he shivered hard enough to knock his head against the stone behind him. His body was aflame with need, and he felt it just as strongly from her. She wished to use him, to consume him entirely, but the feeling carried the most confusing admiration with it. It was not the hunger of a hunter in search of prey; it was a hard-won game of lanceboard. She wanted him not because she thought him weak, but because his power and finesse had stirred her passion, and that was more intoxicating than a dozen bottles of wine.
Gods only knew what she could feel from him. He tried not to think about it, lest he lose his nerve.
“Yes,” he sighed.
Lae’zel hummed with approval, and then she tugged him forward by the waist, turning them both and dragging him to a bedroll already stretched out on the ground behind them. Gods, she had been planning this. She pushed him down onto his back, and then with swift, forceful motions, she pulled his boots off, then his leggings. She was still completely clothed, and despite it all, he felt a bit vulnerable. He wondered briefly if she would even let him touch her.
She winged an eyebrow at him and gave a small chuff of laughter. What sense would there be in withholding that? He didn’t so much hear the words in his mind as he felt the whole sentiment at once, and even as his cheeks felt hot, it reassured him. For a moment, he marveled at the unique flavor of the way she sounded through the Weave, the rhythm of her thoughts brassy and sharp. Was it a Githyanki trait, or was it all her own?
She stripped her own clothes off with surprising efficiency, given the complexity of her underwear, and he hardly had a second to look at her before she pounced on him. She gripped his face with both hands and kissed him again, grinding her whole body against his, her hips straddling his own and her legs pulled tight enough around him to pin him in place. He slid his arms around her back and relished the feeling of her warm, smooth skin.
The closeness, the heat and physicality of it all threatened to suffocate him. He wasn’t used to feeling everything in such a blunt, tangible manner. Fleetingly, he wished for the chance to show her what the Weave could be like, to take her to his tower in Waterdeep and beyond, but the way she pressed into him demanded his full attention. He could feel her, the shifting cords of muscle under her skin, the soft weight of her breasts on his chest, the slickness of her sex where it pressed into his hip, achingly close to his cock but not quite touching. He felt as though he could burn into nothing just trying to take it all in. A swell of pride came from her, as she flicked her tongue across his lips. She knew her own beauty, and it satisfied her to know he recognized it.
His hands found their way down her back, his fingers chancing a squeeze at her thighs, the suggestion of pulling without actually trying to guide her. She ripped her mouth from his and looked down at him with rapidly thinning patience. He felt her annoyance at his impudence after he had agreed to submit, but his hunger for her won out. He wasn’t sure if his thoughts were clear to her, and so he summoned the courage to speak first.
“Let me taste you,” it was meant to be a question, but it sounded much more like a plea.
Her irritation vanished, replaced with keen interest. With a soft chuckle, she sat upright and slid up toward his face. The absence of her touch left his skin feeling abruptly cold, but he didn’t have time to miss it before she lowered herself down to his mouth. The smell of her, the taste of her flooded his senses, and quickly he took hold of her hips and pulled her even closer, delving his tongue deep between her folds.
He barely heard the shout it drew from her, with the way her thighs covered his ears. He could see her, though, the planes of her thighs and stomach, the way her breasts swayed as she ground her hips down into his face. Her head was tilted back at first, out of sight until he slid his thumb inward to press against her clit. Then, her whole body curved forward, and he was rewarded with the sight of her face, brows tight with pleasure, the points of her teeth digging into her lower lip. The next sound she made was much louder. Her pleasure burst through the Weave like lightning.
Below, his hips bucked up uselessly into the air. She gripped his head in both hands and swiveled her hips quickly against his face, driving his tongue in deeper. An idea struck him, and he slid his mouth upwards, sealing his lips around her clit. She made a sound of dismay, but he moved quickly, using every ounce of concentration he could manage to summon a mage hand of his own. Well, sort of. There wasn’t enough room for an entire hand below his chin, but he only needed the fingers.
Her frustration vanished as his conjured fingers slid inside her. Instead, there was that flash of softness again, followed by a low hum of satisfaction. He held her hips steady with both hands and let her move with him, the warm and swollen rosebud of her clit sliding over his tongue as she rolled her hips. Out of nowhere, he felt the brush of magic sliding down his stomach. Her own mage hand was back, and it had the same shape as the ones holding his head, the fingers slim and strong as they took hold of his cock.
His hips bucked up again, and he tried to keep his focus, tried to concentrate on the curl of the fingers inside her, matching the rhythm of her movements. Still, he couldn’t keep from moaning against her, and when his eyes opened again, he saw her looking down at him with a spark in her eyes. It was a game. A challenge.
If he could have, he would’ve smiled, but he was pretty sure she understood regardless. So instead, he moved his fingers a bit faster, relishing in the way it made her gasp. She grinned at him now, her hands fisting tightly in his hair, and with a breathy sort of snarl, she began to ride his face in earnest.
The movement of her hips was sinuous and rhythmic, clearly familiar to her. There was enough force behind it that he couldn’t help but imagine her at his back, pushing his face down into the sheets as she drove into him with some strapped or summoned appendage. The idea appealed to him greatly, and he desperately hoped he did well enough tonight that it might be possible in some potential future. Distantly, he heard her gasp again; maybe she caught that, maybe not. What mattered now was rising to her challenge. What mattered was drawing more of those gorgeous sounds from her lips.
It took everything not to lose himself to the sensation of her hand around him, the familiar feeling of magic stroking across his flesh, gods, how he’d missed it. But, the hot press of her body struck a new chord in him, made him crave the feeling of her pulsing under his tongue, the scratch of her nails on his scalp. His face was dripping with her, now. She tasted so good, rich musk and a touch of salt, and he could feel every twitch and shiver that flicked through her as her lust echoed in the Weave. It was novel, how each sensation carried so much weight, how real it all felt.
Gods, he wanted to feel her come.
The rhythm of her mage hand faltered just a little, and she let out a shaking moan. Emboldened, he sealed his lips around her clit and sucked, stroking the stem of the bud with this tongue. She shouted now, and her legs began to tremble as her head rolled slowly back. She was close, he could feel it, he could taste it, and as one of her hands snapped up to take hold of his where it rested on her thigh, something clenched briefly in his chest. She squeezed it hard, bunching his fingers together, dimly painful in its intensity.
“Higher-” she hissed, and were it not for the Weave, the word would have left him confused. As it was, he could feel what she needed, and so he shifted the fingers up, delving unnaturally deep to stroke the place inside her where pleasure wound tight. This was a Githyanki trait, one he’d read about only once, and he longed to know the feeling of it with his body, if she would ever permit it.
Her head snapped forward, her hair flying into her face, and she gasped hard enough she nearly choked on the exhale. Then with a shout, her hands tightened in his hair, making his scalp sting and his eyes water just a bit as her hips began to move faster, faster, and then completely still.
A shudder of release rolled right up her spine, and she pressed down hard onto his face, shoving his head down against the bedroll even as her hands kept his mouth on her clit. She was quiet for a moment, not even breathing, but the Weave crackled and burned around them. He felt her flesh pulsing against his tongue, and her mage hand slipped away into nothing, leaving him aching but flushed with victory.
Then, with a rough shout, she let him go. Her hips lifted just enough to separate them, and then sighing, she sat down right on his chest. He could feel how tender her flesh was now, and so he dispelled his fingers without so much as a gesture. Her weight was pleasant, grounding his frayed nerves as his body protested the sudden absence of touch. She took a moment to breathe, and then she looked down at him with a grin that could almost be called smug.
“I knew you would be just as skilled in pleasure as you are in battle,” she said, her voice a bit rough around the edges. “You may satisfy me, yet.”
Gale licked his lips, catching the heady salt of her on his tongue. He was feeling a bit smug himself, knowing he had done well enough to pull the ever-present scowl from her face.
“I’ll certainly make every effort to do so,” he replied, and then daringly, he turned his head to kiss the side of her knee.
Instead of the disdainful chk he was bracing himself to hear, she actually laughed, however softly. Then, while he was readying himself to guide her back towards his face, she turned to look behind her. She took his cock in one hand, her real one this time, and as she slid her fingers up its length, she gave it a squeeze so tight, it made him gasp.
“I have never taken a human to bed,” she said, casual as anything. “You carry a heavy club where a gith would have a sleek javelin.”
Despite it all, Gale felt his cheeks get hot. He wasn’t certain whether that was a compliment or an insult. His mind began a series of frantic geometry calculations as he considered their respective anatomy, trying to remember with any precision how far his fingers had needed to travel. Gods, the absolute last thing he wanted was to disappoint her, especially after he’d done so well.
Lae’zel just slid down to his hips, pushing her hand against his chest to keep him still. She straddled him and pressed herself down, rocking gently, gliding hot and slick over his cock where it was trapped between their bodies. He couldn’t stop the shiver that went through him, his hips jerking up a little underneath her. She clamped her hands onto his waist to hold him still, which only fueled the fire. He was inches from breaking down and pleading when he heard her speak, again.
“I will enjoy this,” she all but growled, her voice heavy with anticipation.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she sat up and lifted his cock so she could slide down onto it. Gale groaned, feeling the tight grip of her body overwhelm him as she took his entire length into her at once. There was a ripple of sensation through the Weave, and he understood her earlier words: he was thicker than she was used to, and the heavy press of him against that spot deep inside her made her eyes slide shut.
She whispered something he didn’t quite hear, but before he could reply, she began to rock her hips back and forth, slow and sensual, savoring the feeling. It was maddeningly gentle after the way she’d ridden his face, but whatever frustrations his own body had, the flare of bliss he could feel from her sent a shiver up his spine regardless. His hands slid up her thighs, one staying there to hold on while the other traveled higher, squeezing and rolling over one of her breasts.
Even as overwhelmed as he was, he had the wherewithal to summon a mage hand to caress the other. Lae’zel made a sound of pleasant surprise at that, leaning into the touch as her hips began to pick up speed. She leaned back a bit, resting her hands on his legs and moving more forcefully, her hips lifting up a bit before she drove herself down onto him again.
The change in angle let her take him deeper inside, and the effect it had on her was incredible. She threw her head back with a sharp gasp, and then her eyes squeezed tightly shut and she all but whimpered. He was so deep inside her now, his cock pushed against that molten core of pleasure even as she lifted up, and the sheer intensity of it was enough to make her legs shake. There was an edge of desperation to her pleasure now, a visceral hunger that made her want more even as her whole body sang with it.
Gale made a faint noise of wonder, his head falling back far enough that all he saw was stone and stars. He’d never felt anything quite like this, before, whatever shimmering ecstasy he’d known in his past life. His body felt so hot, the warm weight of her body colliding with his, again, again, again, the hot slickness of her walls drawing upward only to swallow him up. His hips twitched uselessly as he tried instinctively to thrust up into her, but she held him down so thoroughly, he couldn’t move.
He finally got his bearings enough to turn and look at her, and he was absolutely stunned by how soft her expression had become. Even with her head tilted to one side, he couldn’t miss the way her brow had relaxed, the faint flutter of her lashes, as the rest of her body moved with almost violent determination. He saw her lift one hand to her mouth and flick her tongue over her fingertips, and as she reached down, he realized what she meant to do.
He beat her to it.
A second mage hand sprang into existence near her hips, and quickly he turned it to match the direction her own hand had been facing. Fleetingly, he imagined a second self behind her, holding her to his chest and kissing her neck while she took her pleasure of him. If he ever got the chance, he would do it. He would. For now, he brought the middle two fingertips to her clit and began to press quick little circles where his tongue had once been.
She made a sound of surprise, and then she looked down at him with amazement. Her eyes were still so soft, it made something foolish flicker to life deep in his chest, deeper than even the orb could reach. He dared to summon a third and bring it to her cheek, the fingertips just brave enough to brush across her skin. She turned and buried her face in it, sighing roughly, and with both hands holding onto his legs again, she fucked him like she meant to consume him entirely.
All he could do was hold onto her hips and feel it, the heat and friction and sweat-slick press of skin against skin. Her thighs began to tremble, and with a sharp cry, her eyes squeezed shut again. Her pace faltered, and pinching her lower lip between her teeth, she grabbed tightly onto his hand. He knew what it meant, now. Don’t stop. As though he would dream of it.
He could move just enough now to push himself up, pressing deeper inside her as she slid down to meet him. Her eyes flew open with a gasp, and then she was shuddering, her breathless moan twisted up in surprise. The suddenness of her climax overtook her completely, nearly causing her to lose her balance. She clenched tightly around him, leaning into the mage hands that caressed her still, and her hips rolled languidly, drawing the pleasure out for as long as she could. In the Weave, it was like a bell being rung, loud enough to shatter glass.
To his surprise, she didn’t so much as pause after it had made its way through her. In fact, it only seemed to embolden her, and soon she was grinding down onto him with just as much fervor as she had before. She muttered something he didn’t understand, the harsh consonants of her native tongue cutting through the air, and then as though remembering herself, she looked down at him with a lopsided smile.
“Magnificent,” she rasped. She hadn’t let go of his hand.
He wanted badly to reply, to tell her she was incredible, she was like nothing he had ever felt in his life, but his words were gone. All he could do was hold on, panting for breath, feeling the coils of pleasure winding so tightly under his skin, they were about to snap. He couldn’t keep his eyes open, and his head twisted to the side as his back curved up entirely on its own. It took everything in him to keep the mage hands alive. The moan that left him sounded nothing short of wrecked.
He heard a shaking whine from her, as though hearing how undone he’d become had affected her. Before he could believe it, she was coming again, thighs trembling, shouting louder than he’d ever heard, even in the heat of battle. He wrenched his eyes open to look at her, and her blissful expression coupled with the crash of pleasure she sent through the Weave was too much for him to take.
“Fuck!” he gasped, unable to put it any other way. “Gods, I’m so close…”
“Yes,” she growled, her grip on his hand tightening. “Let it take you. You have earned this pleasure.”
It was mortifying, how hard those words hit him. He twisted upwards as his climax shot through him, hips stuttering up against her as he moaned loudly into the open air. The way she gasped let him know she could still feel him through the Weave, though his own connection to it was blurred and hazy. He felt warm, a rapturous sizzle washing over his skin, and then at long last, his body simply fell back in exhaustion.
He was only distantly aware of Lae’zel lifting up off of him. As suffocatingly hot as he’d felt before, he found he missed the feeling of her once she was gone. He drifted for a moment, his mind washed through with fog, and then he was startled awake by the feeling of her weight settling down beside him.
She lifted a canteen of water to his mouth, and he drank from it gratefully. His head fell back with a thump, and as he regained his senses, he could do nothing but laugh with the sheer joy of it all.
“Gods above,” he sighed, still a bit breathless. “You…that…fuck. I don’t have the words.”
The smugness was back in her grin, but her eyes still had just a bit of that softness from earlier.
“Naturally,” she took a swig from the canteen and set it aside. “I am just as fierce of a lover as I am a fighter.”
“That you are,” he nodded, unable to stop smiling.
She stretched out next to him and tucked one hand behind her head, breathing deeply. She looked satisfied, close to proud, and he felt that twinge deep in his chest.
“Another night,” she said, “when we have fought well together, and our blood is hot from battle, I would seek you out again.”
The twinge spun out into a surge of elation. He didn’t think too hard about it, lest he lose his nerve. Again.
“I would like that very much,” he finally said.
“Hm,” she nodded, sitting up and stretching both arms above her head. “In the meantime, we will continue once you’ve caught your breath.”
He jolted up onto his elbows and looked at her in complete disbelief. She just lifted an eyebrow at him.
“I have a scroll of restoration, if you need it,” she offered.
“I…might.”