Chapter Text
“Maybe if… if this all works out, you and I could…?” Tav had asked hesitantly, curled against Rolan’s side.
“Oh- yes. That… that would be quite wonderful.”
“Well. That settles it then. I’ll go take down the big brain. And then when the dust settles…”
Rolan’s answering smile was more genuine than any she’d seen on him before. Even with the bruises and scratches and marks of how he’d suffered - Rolan was achingly beautiful in that moment. Not cocky or blustering. Just raw, hopeful optimism and affectionate warmth.
He’d leaned in to press a gentle, lingering kiss to her forehead.
“When the dust settles.”
Tav had kicked herself on more than one occasion that when the brain and the tadpole were finally gone she hadn’t run straight back to Ramazith’s tower.
But things had been so hectic. One thing after another as their little found family fractured and splintered on to the next adventures.
Wyll and Karlach to Avernus. Lae’zel into the Astral. And she, Shadowheart, and Gale had helped Astarion and the other spawn make it into the Underdark. Found them a safe place to set up their own community… And then Shadowheart had left to help Halsin with the refugees. Gale left to take care of the crown - though he came back numerous times in the weeks Tav was helping in the Underdark.
Tav had only stayed until things felt settled. But before she knew it, 6 months had gone by, and they were all back at that first dusty campsite. Visiting together to celebrate. And reuniting had felt so good.
She won’t deny it had stung that Rolan hadn’t come to the party. Tav had felt silly she’d looked up hopefully so many times, expecting him to stroll in. He hadn’t even sent a letter…
Tav had just assumed Rolan must’ve changed his mind. Realized the flirting and the sex was nothing serious for him. Just a but of fun or stress relief. He could do better than a scruffy rogue from Baldur’s Gate now that he was an arch mage, anyway.
So she’d buried her head in the rebuilding efforts. Only thought about those stolen kisses and longing looks when she caught the tower’s silhouette in the corner of her eye.
Pointedly tried not to think about that awkward (perfect) drunken evening they celebrated being alive after the goblin’s attack on the grove… Or the night they’d fallen into each other after Moonrise like desperate magnets… And especially not that incandescent evening before the final battle or the way they’d stayed awake wrapped together until dawn warmed their skin and made his fiery golden eyes glow like-
Tav tips her head back to breathe in a deep, steadying breath, shaking the nervous energy out of her hands with quick flicks.
It’s been a whole year. A whole year since she last saw him.
Tav’s been in Baldur’s Gate trying to avoid all the attention of being a ‘hero’ and putting her head down. And now she was standing in front of the portal to Ramazith’s Tower, trying to psych herself up into crossing though.
The letter she’d received from Rolan is practically burning a hole in her pocket.
He wanted to meet. But it was so gods damned cryptic. No explanation of why or what about. Or why he’d been so frustratingly absent!
A whole fucking year!
Although, to be fair, she had not sent any letters to him either. Or stopped by the store. Or went to the bars she knew he would spend time in.
Definitely not avoiding him.
Nope.
But when she finally gives in and steps through that portal to emerge into Rolan’s tower foyer, the deep steadying breath she took seems sucked right back out of her lungs.
It was all so…grand. Gleaming marble and towering staircases. She’d almost forgotten what it looked like - but Tav is also quite sure Rolan’s made changes. OF course he did. Was it always so…big?
But there was nothing so worthy of her agape reaction as the tiefling standing at the top of the staircase.
He let his hair grow out. Looks less…gaunt. Not haunted or bruised or injured.
Rolan smiles - broad and decidedly happy. Like nothing had ever happened, no time had passed.
Happy and healthy and gods so handsome.
“Tav! You're early.” His voice calling her name with such joy sends her heart into her throat.
"Not too early, I hope." Tav strolls in at his ushering, eyes unsure whether to fixate on the splendor of his new study or on the tiefling himself.
Rolan beckons her up with a wave of his hand, and a teasing, “Always such a trouble maker."
Her eyes snag on the long drape of his sleeves as they move. And inevitably follow the garment the rest of the way up as her eyes can’t help but feast on him as she ascends the stairs and follows him through high arched doors into his study.
The arch mage's robes look...remarkably good on Rolan. A gorgeous dark blue velvet, trimmed with fine silver embroidery and beading sewn in. Adorned with rows of thin, draped, silver chains that glimmer in the light as he moves.
Red skin soft and pale, freckled face framed by chestnut hair that gleams golden in the evening sun. Warm like the sunset beyond the windows, and swathed in the billowing waves of a brilliant, cloudless night sky full of constellations made to fit Rolan's form.
And does it ever fit... Much better than the student’s robes and silver mantle she was used to. Rolan truly looks the part of a powerful young wizard. Come into his own and bolstered by a confidence shaken loose before being forged in fire.
And holy fuck is it ever hot.
He waves a hand dramatically at the bookshelves behind him - all precisely organized and glowing faintly with arcane wards. Tav looks up at the rows of tidy shelves upon shelves, stretching up to high ceilings and framed by gorgeous stained glass that looks out over Baldur's Gate below.
It’s only when he pauses his gestures and turns to look at her that Tav realizes she’s been staring instead of listening to him giving her a tour of his grand office.
She clears her throat softly, pointedly turning her gaze back to his face and offering a lopsided smile. "You seem to be settled in quite nicely."
Rolan straightens the cuffs of his robes with a self-satisfied smirk. "Mm, yes. Took me months to banish every trace of that arrogant bastard's aesthetic from the place."
Rolan gestures to an armchair situated across from his ornate writing desk, encouraging her to sit with a smile she hopes she can call affectionate.
His golden eyes flick over her with amusement as he pours two glasses of wine.
"It's quite an improvement," she returns with a grin, accepting the offered glass from him.
"And you... still running through Baldur's Gate like some sort of folk hero? Or have you finally learned to sit still for more than five minutes?"
Tav huffs a half laugh as she thinks on his assessment. The teasing is familiar, but there's something softer in his voice now - none of that old, simmering irritation he’d carried in the Grove or beyond.
More patient, perhaps.
Tav almost felt disappointed at the lack of sharp bite. Almost.
"I don't know if folk hero is quite the right word for it. Our fight with the brain caused quite a lot of damage...” Tav pauses, sipping her wine and enjoying the tartness on her tongue. “Just feels. I dunno... right to help put everything back together."
Rolan leans back against his desk and crosses one slender leg clad in chic, dark trousers over the other. Her eyes trail from his eyes to his lips, down to the sharp lines of his jaw. Even in just a year he looks so much more...mature. Well suited to power and an earned confidence. It helps, of course, he's not covered in bruises.
He gazes at her over the rim of his glass, swirling the dark liquid. The wizard hums thoughtfully before taking a sip.
"Mm, ever the savior, aren't you?" Rolan huffs. "Of course you're the one helping put everything back in order. No surprise there."
Tav holds her hands out with a shrug and a light-hearted half smile. “What can I say? Wrong place, right time?”
Rolan chuckles and Tav can’t help but join him.
It feels…nice. Not the awkward unpleasantness she had worried over. Though also not the feverish romantic reunion the little voice in her heart had cried out for when she read his letter, either.
Just... comfortable.
Tav settles a bit more comfortably in the plush of her chair - trying to keep her eyes from wandering too much. But damn.
Rolan takes a sip of his wine, his gaze steady on her as he murmurs, almost too casually, "So... have you met anyone special? Since all the insanity."
Tav's taking a fresh swig of her own wine when he asks - and she promptly chokes on some of it. She covers her mouth and coughs, fighting the burn of alcohol going down the wrong pipe.
Rolan snorts a laugh, unable to contain himself as she sputters with a near spit take of wine. A smug, mirthful little smirk plays on his lips as he watches her recover.
When she does, she gives him a half glare of embarrassed chagrin before pointedly staring into her glass as if the wine might take some sort of pity on her.
Why would he ask that? As if she hadn’t been-
"That's-" she coughs again, clearing her throat. "No. I haven't."
Rolan looks ready to say more, but pauses when he notices the soft flush across her cheeks. Is that from the coughing, or…?
His smirk widens and he arches a finely manicured brow, leaning back and crossing his arms.
"No one? Really?" He cocks his head at her, golden eyes glinting with mischief and a surprise she can’t decide is real or fake. "Not even a passing fling to fill the time?"
Tav composes herself, sitting up slightly straighter and schooling her expression. Trying not to feel like a chastised schoolgirl sitting in her grubby-by-comparison clothes in a chair too big for her frame while he looms over her in that outfit looking like the very model of elegance and put-togetherness. She takes a proper sip of the wine before answering.
"No," Tav replies as casually as she can manage, "I'm not much interested in 'flings'.”
She looks up at him with a pointed gaze. Hoping he hears the undertone she means - ‘never have been.’
“It's not that I couldn't, if I wanted to,” Tav clarifies. “Just prefer when it's... someone special, y'know?"
Rolan's smirk falters for a brief moment - but it vanishes, masked by a long sip of his wine.
"Ah, the hopeless romantic," he teases, though his voice lacks its usual edge. "Of course you'd say that, wouldn't you? Waiting for the one, the fairy tale, all that nonsense."
He raises an eyebrow, his golden gaze searching your face. "You know most of those tales don't end well, right? Or did they conveniently skip over that part in your heroic education?"
Tav rolls her eyes at his teasing, making a rude gesture with one hand that makes him laugh.
"I'm not looking for a fairy tale," she huffs back. Her lips twist with an almost bitter indifference and she takes another sip of wine before she continues, "I just don't have any interest in the folks that want to lay with the 'Hero of Baldur's Gate' just to say that they have."
The way she says the title is mocking at best.
Rolan lets out an actual laugh - not his usual scoff or dry amusement, but a rich, warm sound of true mirth. Her lips tip up with a soft smile - the sound sends something warm fluttering through her chest. It's almost...cute. And it's a bit unfair for Rolan to be cute and charming dressed like that.
"Ohhh, is that what this is? Our mighty savior can't tell if someone wants her... or the legend?" He shakes his head with exaggerated sympathy. "Poor thing."
Rolan’s playful teasing doesn't help matters much. She can't hold back her own snort of laughter.
His smirk softens slightly as he tilts his head, considering her with an almost sudden softness. A brief flash of the smile she’d seen a year before.
"For what it's worth," he murmurs into his wineglass before taking another sip, "I'd know the difference."
Tav meets his gaze with a soft surprise at his declaration. Shocked, briefly. Before her lips curl up with a wider smile - pleased.
"Yeah, I guess you would," she murmurs fondly.
His golden eyes flicker with something unreadable, and for once, Rolan seems to have momentarily lost his usual smugness. He clears his throat and straightens the already impeccable sleeves of his robes again—his nervous tell.
One that draws her eyes despite herself. Catching the flash of crisp white sleeves beneath the heavy robe.
"...Of course I would," he mutters after a beat, trying to regain that usual condescending air, though it falls slightly flat. "I did know you before all that hero nonsense."
He hesitates—just for a second—before adding in a lower voice: "And I might have... preferred you then.”
Tav huffs a laugh, playfully antagonistic grin slipping back into place. Trying to cover the flash of hurt that tugs at her heart. Is he saying this gorge between them was her fault?
"Oh, have I lost my touch?" Tav smirks, playing it up. "The Hero of Baldur's Gate too good for you now, Master Rolan?"
Rolan makes an incredibly undignified noise—somewhere between a scoff and a choked-off laugh—and nearly spills his wine. He shoots her a glare, but it lacks any real heat.
"Don't start," he grumbles, pointedly straightening. "And don't call me that unless you mean it."
But the tips of his ears darken slightly with... was that a blush?
Oh, that is too good. She should’ve guessed.
"Well it is your title," Tav replies, smirk growing smug, "Master Rolan."
Rolan's golden eyes are quick to narrow into a glare, but there's a hint of a smirk on his lips now too.
"Are you trying to start something, hero?" Rolan leans in closer, looking down his nose are her with a put-upon condescension. His voice dips as he goes on. "You're awfully bratty for a supposed 'hero', you know. Someone should put you in your place."
Oh, that's rich coming from him.
But his voice stirs something in her. Things she has rather pointedly tried not to think about. For months. Something about his thinly veiled threat has her cheeks warming. And those damn robes aren't helping.
Tav takes a slow drink of her wine, relishing the way it burns down her throat and bolsters her nerves. She sets the glass down and pointedly flicks her gaze up to his.
"No one's ever managed before," Tav replies, lowering her pitch and volume to match his.
Rolan stares. For a long, heavy second where she can’t tell what he’s thinking. Until golden eyes flicker down to her lips and back up again. And the shift she sees in him sends a slow shiver down her spine.
His smirk deepens, slow and dangerous.
"Oh?" he murmurs, fingers tightening slightly around his wineglass. "Maybe they just weren't clever enough."
Rolan leans back with deliberate casualness - but there's something in the way he’s watching now that feels... different. Like a challenge waiting to be picked up.
Tav chuckles softly at his bait. She arches a brow imperiously at him, slowly crossing one leg over the other with controlled grace. Sees Rolan watch the movement, infernal eyes following the lines of her body with an almost predatory focus now.
"You think the problem is just that someone needs to outsmart me?"
Tav doesn't bother controlling the way her eyes wander down the column of his throat, following the narrow vee of the high collars of his robes. Admiring the delicate silver chains that cross over the gap which shows that alluring soft red of his skin.
His own gaze roams, taking in the lithe lines of her body in a way that makes her smile twist with satisfaction. Casual grace with an underlying strength obscured in dark leathers... he averts his gaze for a moment - pretending to be interested in the contents of his glass.
His usual arrogance falters for a beat before he schools himself back into that infuriating smirk. Preening. Then he murmurs back in a low, velvety voice, "Among other things."
His voice alone is enough to make her heart flip.
And she wants to know what will happen if she pushes more.
"Other things?" She challenges him again.
Tav can hear the aborted sound Rolan bites back in his throat at her response - something low and wanting. She can see the way her challenging gaze and teasing smirk riles him up by the way his tail flicks.
He takes another slow sip of his drink, maintaining eye contact with her as he swallows. Drawing her gaze to his lips and the bob of his Adam's apple towards the vee of his high neckline again.
Those vexing, perfect robes… they hide so much.
Rolan lowers his glass, licking the wine from his lips before responding. His voice is a rough purr when he eventually murmurs "…Many other things."
Tav chuckles once more. She can hear the heavy thickness of his desire. Rolan is taking her bait - and she hardly had to push.
This is just too good. And she can’t resist.
"That's the sort of answer you give when you don't actually have things in mind," she teases in a low murmur.
Rolan's eyes darken when she taunts him. And Tav feels a hot thrill in her stomach as she watches his gaze lower, lingering on the bare skin revealed by the low collar of her shirt and the shape of her legs where the leather hugs her muscles.
Then his eyes narrow and he leans forward just enough for the silver chains on his robes to clink softly. The delicate rows over his collar and chest hang and sway in the air as he dips closer to her. She wants to reach out and use them as a handhold to pull him in-
"Or," he counters in that damnable purr of his, "It's the answer when there's too many things in mind..."
Rolan tips further, leaning in just close enough to murmur in her ear, "Try me."
His breath is warm against the sensitive skin, and his damnably soft lips just barely brush the tip of her pointed ear as he pulls away with deliberate slowness. Taunting. Challenging.
She holds back the shiver that threatens to shake down her spine at the barely-there contact. But only just. It leaves sparks fizzling under her skin.
And she wants more.
Tav leans forward in her chair, a mischievous glint in her eye as she watches Rolan. Assessing him closely for his every reaction.
"That still sounds like bluffing."
It’s so familiar. This teasing tension was there before - at the party, at Last Light, here... and now here it is again. Hotter. Coiled tight and ready to snap.
Rolan's eyes rake over her - taking in her every reaction to his taunts. Tav can tell it’s taking every ounce of effort Rolan has to maintain his composure.
Gods help them, they both know what they want. But they're both too stubborn to bend.
Rolan stands, straightening, and strides around his desk to sit heavily in his ornate chair.
"Is that you doubting me, hero?" He purrs back in a taunting tone.
Rolan spreads his legs deliberately - acting casual, but clearly making sure Tav’s eyes are drawn to the way his robe parts around his hips and shows off his pants.
And she could swear even in the shadows beneath his desk she could make out the outline of his straining length.
"Oh, I would never," she returns coyly, hand to her chest theatrically.
Rolan huffs a laugh in return, and she delights in knowing that he still enjoys the way she can keep up with him. The way they can banter and tease…
She grins to herself as she swirls her glass, enjoying their game. Her heart drums against her chest and in her ear as the tension keeps ratcheting. "It would be impolite to doubt the arch mage and master of the tower I'm in, after all."
Her gaze is fixed on Rolan. On the way he so effortlessly oozes power and control, leaning back in his chair with a propped hand supporting his jaw. The effortlessly smug pull of his lips to one side and the way his eyes almost pin her in place.
And when a pair of hands unexpectedly settle on her shoulders she jumps.
Whirling around to find-
Rolan?
Tav swears under her breath, her heart kicked into overdrive with both excitement and a heady spike of alarm.
Rolan chuckles again- the Rolan at his desk- thoroughly pleased and amused. His eyes are alight with mischief watching her react to the touch of his simulacrum. He leans back lazily, sipping his wine and watching with predatory amusement.
"Impolite indeed..." he purrs into his goblet.
Tav’s attention is quickly drawn in by the simulacrum once more as it leans in close over the back of the chair and squeezes her shoulders.
"You didn't think I'd let you get away with all that cheek, did you?" It asks in a perfect mirror of Rolan's sultry murmur.
The simulacrum whispers sweetly against the shell of her ear. "Not when you're sitting right here... begging for me to put you in your place."
"Gods-" She presses a hand to her chest as she tries to calm back down, but the simulacrum's touch and sultry whisper only send more heat rushing through her.
Looking back and forth between them, she feels her stomach twist. She's in way over her head...
But, gods, if that isn’t thrilling.
"A simulacrum is hardly fair play," she manages accusatorially.
Rolan chuckles at her reaction, watching her with a smug tilt of his head and fiery gold gaze twinkling.
"Who ever said I played fair?" He retorts in a silky tone, his eyes lingering on his simulacrum's hands gently rubbing the tension from her shoulders.
The simulacrum leans down and murmurs into her ear once more, sending a sharp thrill down her spine. "What's the matter hero? Can't take a little double the trouble?"
Tav's shoulders raise slightly as her ego is challenged.
"Sure I can!" Tav blusters, face setting with determination even as her cheeks flush.
She won't be so easily overcome.
Tav turns nimbly in her chair and reaches up to grab the simulacrum's horns - holding him steady and pulling him closer to bring their lips together.
The simulacrum responds immediately. Its hands grabbing and pulling possessively. Groaning against her lips the way he always does and angling her head just a little further.
Tav can't help the soft whining moan that slips free as the simulacrum deepens the kiss. It feels like coming home. This wasn't even really him and it was incredible.
Tav arches into the touch, a needy little sound falls from her each time they part for breath.
But then the simulacrum breaks the kiss suddenly, nipping her lower lip with a sharp fang and murmuring a soft tsk. "Not so fast, my little hero."
"What?" Tav raises a hand to her lip in dazed surprise. Her brows furrow and she looks from the simulacrum to Rolan and back again. The wizard grips his wineglass tightly, staring at her with dark eyes.
Had she fucked this up already somehow?
Rolan snorts at her bewildered expression. He leans back in his chair, swirling the remaining wine in his glass as he watches her. His eyes rake down her body, taking in the flustered state of her after that kiss.
His simulacrum chuckles softly. Its hands resume gently rubbing her shoulders, almost soothing in their touch.
"You haven't earned it yet, hero... you've been a little brat."
Tav scoffs slightly, brows furrowing but lips curling in a smile.
"Oh, I see," she drawls, narrowing her eyes at Rolan. "Cheeky, aren't you."
Rolan chuckles, his mouth curling up in turn. The simulacrum behind her responds with a low chuckle as well, fingers digging into the muscles of her shoulders just slightly in reply to her bratty response. Tav rolls her shoulders - the massaging fingers feel pretty good, actually. But she's doing her best to stay focused.
Its gentle touch is a sharp contrast to the way Rolan’s eyes rake over her figure; possessive and hungry in a way that makes her stomach flip.
"Biting words for a girl in her current position, hero.” Rolan raises an eyebrow with a sharp smirk, before taking another slow and deliberate sip from his glass. “Be careful. You're not in a position to be giving sass."
"Says a wizard who needs to make a duplicate to try to handle me," she snarks back. Tav holds her hands up in a cocky invitation. "Not gonna come touch for yourself?"
Rolan’s eyes flash at her words—golden and predatory. He sets his wineglass down with a sharp clink, rising from his chair in a fluid motion.
"You're digging your own grave," the simulacrum murmurs with a sharp smirk, tightening its grip and pushing down to keep her seated. Tav watches, heart in her throat, as Rolan strides over with purpose, gorgeous robes billowing.
Oh, please…
"Oh, I'll touch." Rolan reaches out and Tav jolts at the first contact of Rolan’s hands on her skin. His fingers trail up Tav’s neck before tangling into her hair. He tugs just enough to tilt her head back and make her look up at him. "But you won't like how rough I get if you keep being this much of a brat."
"You're rather confident," Tav returns, voice straining slightly with the stretch of her neck. She looks up at him with a soft grin.
The blazing yellow fire of his eyes and the deepening red of his skin as he flushes with desire - set against the gorgeous navy and silver of his robes- he's almost ethereal in his beauty.
Tav would play this game all day if he wanted... Just for a chance to look. To touch. To see.
Rolan’s fingers tighten ever so slightly in her hair, keeping her gaze locked onto his. This close Tav can hear when Rolan’s breath hitches at the way she looks up at him. Soft, cocky smile and adoring eyes. He exhales sharply through his nose and pulls just a little harder on her hair.
"You're testing me," he growls low in his throat—half warning, half plea. "And it's working."
"Good," she answers breathily.
Trapped in her chair between two enthusiastic Rolans... Tav's pretty sure she's dreamed this before.
"You’re such a little brat."
Rolan growls low in his throat again as he tightens his hold on her. Tav's breath grows thinner - heat coiling through her tighter and tighter at just this much.
"Yeah?"
"You won't be able to walk tomorrow when I'm done," Rolan growls in reply. His eyes flick up to the simulacrum, giving it some silently commands. "Biting off more than you can chew."
The simulacrum’s fingers move, slipping under the edges of her shirt. Rolan’s eyes rake over every ounce of bared skin as his simulacrum slowly pulls the collar of her shirt down and open, baring her shoulders.
"Promises, promises," Tav returns with a soft grin.
Tav can't tear her gaze away from Rolan. From the intensity of his hungry gaze on her. The want she sees written all over his face.
She feels like she might go insane at the feel of those long, slender red fingers against her skin. She's squirming, trying not to shiver. But her breath hitches with the barest of his touches - Tav can hardly think straight, so pent up with her longing.
She lets out a breathless gasp as the simulacrum dips its fingers further under her clothing, sliding beneath her shirt to cup her breasts.
"I'll make good on them." Rolan’s low murmur is nothing but certainty. A promise so full of heat she feels like she might melt beneath him before her clothes are even off. "You're playing a dangerous game, Tav. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
"Maybe not," she breathes back, "But I'd like to."
Rolan's breath catches at those words - and it feels like victory. He groans, soft and guttural, almost pained. His fingers grip tighter in her hair, keeping her gaze on him, keeping her focused. Although it’s hard when the simulacrum plucks and teases at her nipples beneath the loosening fabric of her top.
"Zurgan. Gods damn you, Tav," Rolan growls through gritted teeth. "You drive me mad, you know that? Utterly mad. With that clever tongue and those damned pretty eyes of yours. I want to put that smart mouth to better use."
Tav's breath catches and her eyes blow impossibly darker - his words stroking the flames within ever hotter, ever higher. She feels almost out of control with desire.
The simulacrum pulls her shirt completely open at last, revealing more soft skin to Rolan’s hungry gaze. Her lips part with a shuddering exhale as her mind spins with everything he might do. Everything they might do...
Rolan lets out a sharp breath between his teeth.
"Fuck," he mutters raggedly. "Look at you."
Tav groans softly - not sure if the sound is pulled free by the simulacrum's touch, or Rolan's hand in her hair, or the sinful way he speaks to her now. And Rolan echoes the sound.
“You have no idea how bad I've wanted to hear you make that noise for me..."
Rolan leans down - close enough that she can feel the heat of his breath against her lips when he murmurs another dark, silky promise.
"You asked for this, Tav. Don't you dare back out now."
"I wouldn't dream of it," she answers softly.
The simulacrum behind her leans in to trail its lips down the side of her neck. Rolan nips at her ear on the other side. Four hands explore. They trace over the bare skin of her stomach and chest, kneading, squeezing, stroking… And the long drape of those velvet sleeves teases and brushes over her skin as they move, so colorful in contrast to her pale skin.
Tav moans in earnest at the assault to her senses. Touch and kiss and sound and sight… Beautiful, beautiful sight…
"You're going to be the death of me, you know that?"
"We're in the right place," she manages to reply playfully to the dark groan, her own voice husky, "I'm sure you have a scroll for that."
Rolan pulls back and lets out an actual laugh - sharp and startled, his grip loosening slightly in her hair.
"Oh, that's how you want to play this?" He grins at her - genuine and wicked at once. "You’re making jokes now? While my hands are all over you?"
His golden eyes burn into hers as the simulacrum pinches one of her nipples hard enough to make her yelp. Just to prove his point.
She squirms under their touch, feeling the growing slick between her legs as her core aches. Gods why is antagonizing him so fucking hot?
"You’re not nearly as funny when you're screaming my name."
"You don't know that," Tav returns with a breathy laugh, teasing further, "I could be."
Rolan laughs again in response, and damn if it isn't the hottest sound she's ever heard. He leans closer and grips her hair again—pulling just hard enough to tilt her head back and expose her throat to his gaze. She can see him contemplating the soft skin.
"Are you trying to get a rise out of me, Tav?"
And gods, she hopes that look means he wants to bite her. Tav wants him to mark her, claim her, ruin her - leave her wrecked and screaming for more.
The simulacrum pinches her nipple again when she doesn’t answer with anything more than a pleased laugh, harder this time. Tav yelps and hisses a breath through her teeth.
"Fuck-" Tav shakes it off as best she can. Then huffs back, "Maybe.”
Rolan growls at her answer, his hands tightening in her hair enough that she can feel the pull on her scalp. Just shy of real pain.
"You have no idea how much I want to bend you over that damn chair right now," he mutters, his gaze roving over her flushed face. "No idea how many nights I've ached to see you look at me just like that."
Tav moans at the soft admission, squeezing her thighs together. Gods damn him.
All this time - all these months of longing, of silent pining - and he’s been dreaming of her. Even when she'd been right there. Waiting for him. Aching for him to call her name.
Why didn’t he ask? Tav would've come the moment he sent word.
"You could've invited me sooner," she returns breathlessly. "I've wanted this too..."
Rolan stills, eyes widening slightly and lips parting with a shock that borders on disbelief.
Tav's heart flutters and squeezes as his touch turns suddenly tender. Rolan exhales sharply through his nose before pressing their foreheads together. She almost can't believe it when he presses in so close and sweet. Even the simulacrum stills its touches in favor of just holding her gently.
"Idiots," the arch mage mutters under his breath. He pulls back just enough to look into her eyes properly. "Both of us."
She almost can't stand it. But she wants more. Gods damn him she wants anything - everything - he'll give her.
Any side of him. Every side of him.
She has to close her eyes and push thoughts away before they can overwhelm her with whatever truth lies beneath. Tav can’t be vulnerable like this. Can’t let him know how pathetic she’s been over the last year. Pining like a lovesick fool.
So she masks it with humor.
"I'm just a humble rogue," she murmurs, "What's your excuse?"
Rolan snorts, turning his face away before he lets out an actual laugh. When he turns those infuriatingly beautiful eyes back to her he brushes long fingers over her thrumming pulse.
"You're anything but humble, Tav," he teases her back, "You're the furthest thing from it and you know it."
"I think that's the pot calling the kettle black, Master Rolan," she murmurs with a soft smirk.
"My excuse is that you drive me crazy."
Gods damn him. He shouldn’t be allowed to look at her like that. Smug and playful and incandescently happy. It makes her heart do stupid little flips.
Tav can't help herself. She reaches out to grasp the big bell sleeves of his robe and tugs. Urging him even closer as she murmurs, "I'd like to drive you further, if you'll let me."
"You already are," he mutters against her lips, breath hot and ragged. "Fucking hells, you're going to ruin me before I even get a chance to touch you properly."
That's close enough to permission for her. Her hands slide up that sinful velvet to his shoulders, then to his face - a sharp lance of feeling going to her core when she feels his soft, warm skin against her palms.
"Good," she breathes out lowly, before tugging him forward and surging up to meet him for a fierce, hungry kiss. And Rolan groans low in his throat as she finally - finally - kisses him.