They call me Skee ♡

She sighed, and retreated into the light of the tower. Bare feet padding across polished stone she’d worked hard to scrub clean over the past months. Past the walls where once there had hung artwork she could no longer bear to look at. It was an ongoing process to make this cavernous building feel like a home.

Without thinking at all, Hesperia was drawn to the man who made it such.

Rolan was where he often was these days—sequestered in their shared study. Just to look upon him filled Hesperia with warmth. Even though his back was hunched, hair a little dishevelled and frown deep, he was a beautiful sight. He was so utterly immersed that he made no indication he was aware of her presence as she approached, not until her hands came to lay on his tense shoulders.

He almost jumped out of his skin.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Hesperia said with a smile.

Rolan swivelled his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her fingers, but otherwise barely reacted. This wasn’t like him, she thought. Yes, he could become intensely focused upon his studies, but he had never before felt this distant. 

As if sensing her disappointment, he said, “I'm sorry my love, I'm just so busy.”

Hesperia huffed. “I'm busy, too.”

“I know. I know.” A hint of frustration and more than a little sadness.

“You're working yourself too hard.”

It was a testament to how hard Rolan was pushing himself that Hesperia herself could utter those words. She’d never met anyone who worked quite as hard as herself before she’d met Rolan, except perhaps her father.

“But look at these ledgers! Lorroakan left the place in such a state…there's suppliers he never paid, and contractors that are hounding us for money we simply don't have.”

Hesperia pressed a kiss to the top of Rolan's head. Even his scent, his warmth, his presence calmed her. “The vaults aren't much better,” she admitted.

Long days and nights had taken their toll on them both, and with a sickening lurch she realised that it had been days since they had even slept in the same bed or ate a meal together. She was under no illusion that these early days of finding their footing as masters of the tower would be simple, nor their relationship resemble anything approaching domestic bliss so easily, but the time apart was taking its toll. Wrapping her arms around Rolan's neck, she held him tightly, trying to muster the courage to be vulnerable.

“I miss you,” she whispered.

Rolan finally stopped shuffling papers, turning to finally look at her. “I do, too. Truly. I just don't feel as if I can rest until all of this is dealt with. Piles of bloody paperwork, haunting me.”

Hesperia had expected nothing less from Rolan. She loved his passion, his drive, but he did have a tendency to prioritise everything but his own wellbeing.

“I'll help you, then,” Hesperia said, giving him a swat on the shoulder.

After a moment's bafflement, Rolan pushed his chair back from the desk enough for Hesperia to slip onto his lap. Even the slight contact was enough to warm her cheeks.

“Well I hardly think this is going to help,” Rolan grumbled, nevertheless pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

A woman of her word, Hesperia gathered a stack of correspondence from the desk. Rolan was right—it was a mess. Far from invoices, apparently Lorroakan had taken scribbled promises as contractual obligations. 

They sat like that for a while, reading and scribbling; Hesperia dictating what she could discern from the papers for Rolan to note in his immaculate new filing system. Dull work, only made bearable by the warmth of her love at her back, the delicately traced circle Rolan's thumb pressed against her waist.

Eventually, the comfort became a distraction.

“Two hundred gold owed to Cazador Szarr,” Hesperia muttered as her awareness of Rolan's tail pulled her gaze away.

Rolan huffed in amusement. “Well, he won't be needing that anymore.”

“Mmm, but the estate…I assume he had no heirs, but…from a legal standpoint…”

Her voice drifted off as Rolan's tail wrapped around her leg. The man himself didn't seem to be aware of the intimate gesture, or he was incredibly good at feigning innocence. Hesperia cleared her throat and turned back to the unread papers—Szarr’s debt could wait until they were more focused. The next was an itemised list of supplies that Hesperia could discern no practical use for, and that piqued curiosity managed to force another solid ten minutes of work from her, until Rolan shifted in his chair. Hesperia slid backwards, right into the crevice between his thighs (another subject that caused no end of distraction).

His grip tightened on her waist, tail contracting about her leg, so tantalisingly close to the soft flesh at their apex. A barely audible exhale caressed her right ear, and she noticed that Rolan had stopped writing, and so she repeated the last dictated item.

“Hm? Oh,” Rolan said, followed by the scratch of his pen.

Hesperia smiled to herself, dutifully carrying on their work, all the while focused on the hard planes of Rolan's body and the effect she had on him. Luckily, she had always been a gifted multitasker, and disciplined to a fault; and so too was Rolan. Even as he grew hard beneath her, pressed into her behind, they did not waver from their task.

What a fun little game they'd concocted, she thought. A smile curved her lips, and she imagined the same on Rolan's handsome face, a silent agreement that this was now a competition of wills. Judging by the state of his cock, it appeared that Hesperia had a head start.

“Mamzell Amira…oh, really?” Hesperia sighed in disgust. “Is this really an invoice for a brothel?”

Rolan chuckled, noting the exorbitant sum. On and on they went, Rolan's arousal never wavering but never escalating. All the while Hesperia's own lewd thoughts were becoming harder to ignore. How she'd much rather be bent over this very desk instead of sat toiling at it, Rolan's fist in her hair whilst he pounded into her tight, wet—

No, it wouldn't do to linger on that particular scenario. Hesperia breathed deeply, fingers idly toying with the ridges on Rolan's tail. Judging by his soft groan as she squeezed close her hand, he was enjoying it. The pleasurable sound slithered into her ear, tracing a path of heated desire right to her core. A pulse between her legs, a gentle ache as her body begged to be filled.

Hesperia gave a slight wiggle of her hips, partly for her own satisfaction and partly to tease more of those delicious noises from Rolan. She tilted forward, elbows resting upon the desk, and sighed as his cock pressed firmly where she needed it most.

“You'll be the death of me,” he muttered. “ If you will insist on this distraction, you might as well sit properly.”

Hesperia turned to find him grinning, all teeth, a delightful gleam in his eyes. 

A hand trailed up her leg, the crook of his finger beckoning the delicate fabric of her dress to follow until it pooled around her hips.

“How would you prefer me to sit?” she asked innocently.

Rolan huffed, gently teasing the hem of her underwear. “Preferably with my cock buried inside you. Take these off for me.”

Hesperia didn't hide her eagerness as she shimmied them down her legs. She’d prefer his full attention on her in their bed, but perhaps this would do.

Rolan soon followed suit, trousers shoved roughly to his knees. He sat exposed; lithely muscled thighs with a dusting of freckles, his cock finally untethered to lay heavy against his hip. Hesperia only had a moment to contemplate all the things she wished to do to him before Rolan's tail wrapped around her waist, and she was manhandled backwards. Only a cursory exploration to find her slick and willing, and suddenly his cock was inching inside her.

With a whimper, Hesperia sank into his lap. That painful ache ebbed, sheer relief flooding her body. Gods, he felt good. She shouldn't have been surprised, she knew his body intimately now; knew all the various ways he could pleasure her.

“Now stay still, we still have half a dozen of these to get through.” Rolan's stern voice cut through the haze. He was serious, after all.

“Fine,” she replied, her voice strained. She picked up the next paper and noticed her hand was shaking.

It annoyed her how calm and collected Rolan appeared. His script was as elegant as it always was, and though he kept a tight grip on Hesperia, he did not attempt anything more. She felt every ridge of him, hard and eager, temptation as she'd never known.

Her control wavered with every passing minute, blood pooling between her thighs until her body's urges were impossible to ignore. A tentative finger found her swollen nub, a shock erupting through her core at the slightest touch.

“Hesperia,” Rolan warned.

He should have known that tone would only spur her on. If she was doomed to failure, she would make sure he followed.

“I knew you would divert me,” Rolan muttered, catching Hesperia's wrist in a firm grip. 

He pinned her hand to the table, kissing apologetic kisses to her quivering shoulder.

“Rolan…”

“Only a few more minutes.”

“I can't,” Hesperia breathed.

What a fool she'd been to think she could resist him this way. Her hand pinned, the game lost, Hesperia decided all that was left was to take what she needed. What began as a gentle rocking to take the edge off only devolved into shamelessly riding his cock. Clouded by lust, their work lay forgotten, the desk's only purpose now to aid in her feral claiming of the man beneath her.

“Hesperia…,” Rolan groaned. “You promised you'd behave.”

He didn't try to stop her, however. The hand around her waist no longer held her firm, instead helping to push and pull, guiding him deeper inside with increasing urgency. 

“I can…stop…if you'd like,” Hesperia panted, timed with a roll of her hips.

She doubted the sincerity of those words the moment they left her lips. It really had been too long since they had defiled the furniture in this room. Hesperia vibrated with pent-up desire and tension from weeks of late nights spent working rather than indulging in life's pleasures. 

The answer to her suggestion was to be pushed upward with a creak and clatter of wood as Rolan's chair fell to the floor, and Hesperia was flung over the desk. She came face to face with their carefully organised accounts, hands scrabbling for purchase.

“Be careful with that,” Rolan chided, followed by a sharp slap to her behind that shunted her forward.

A thrill pulsed through her body, hips pushing back hard. She wanted—no, needed—him harder, deeper, to scream his name into their empty tower until every corner and crevice of it was scrubbed of its previous owner's influence. More than that, she craved his complete attention, and finally she thought she had it.

Hot breaths at her neck, teeth at her pulse. She arched her back and whispered—Rolan, Rolan—and her love answered with her name in the shape of a prayer, offered with unrepentant desire. A steady rhythm began that barely satiated the raging beast, but Rolan was ever so thorough in all things, her pleasure included.

The hard lines of his cock caressed her slick and sensitive core whilst his hands roamed, sweeping her hair away to trail a path of breathless kisses down her neck, teasing a peaked nipple between thumb and forefinger. Finally, he settled on gripping the base of her tail. 

“Getting a better view?” she teased.

Rolan only growled in response. Yes, then. In her periphery, she saw him intently watching where their bodies conjoined, face contorted with uninhibited lust. Fangs bared, eyes alight. Her nerves were on fire, consumed with a want only he could satisfy. Rolan stoked the flame, higher and hotter until he too was engulfed.

Hesperia felt his loss of control in the shaking of his legs, the urgency of his thrusts. He took her with wanton abandon, just as she'd craved. Face pressed into their precious work, claws dug deep into the worn wood desktop.

“Hesperia, gods—look what you—you've done to me.”

She smiled at that, at his complete loss of composure. As if she, too, wasn't a complete mess quivering beneath him.

“I've missed you,” she said again, this time choked with emotion. 

“As have I. So very much.”

Rolan found her lips through some contortion of their bodies, kissing her again and again before growing disgruntled. When he pulled his cock free, Hesperia made a small whine at the loss of him, but Rolan had no intention of leaving her wanting, guiding her to face him with all the gentleness he could muster. Deftly picking apart buttons until her dress was but a scrap of fabric to discard. His eyes blew wide at the sight of her laid bare, legs parted, chest heaving. As if perusing the morning edition of the Gazette, his eyes skimmed where his hands roamed, committing every curve to memory.

“You’re so beautiful. Gods. What have I done to deserve you?” he muttered, before planting a firm kiss upon her lips.

It was a romantic notion, that he thought himself undeserving of her, even if it was the furthest thing from the truth. Hesperia's reply was lost in his lips; instead she let out a long moan amongst a twist of tongues, made louder the moment Rolan swiftly reentered her. Legs braced tightly around his waist, heels digging into his back, she would not let him free again. Hesperia drove him deeper, until their sweat-slicked skin was flush, if only for the briefness of a chaste kiss before Rolan began his steady rhythm again.

She traced the ridges of his back, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard; he cupped her face with his hand like handling a precious jewel. And their tails moved as if they possessed their own needs, finding each other in the tangle of limbs. So much friction, an endless bombardment of touch. She was close to breaking, and hoped that Rolan would hold her together when she did.

“I'm going to—”

“I know,” Rolan said breathlessly, reaching a hand between them.

Fingers slid between her lips, hot and slick. The gentle strokes against her swollen clit sent an overwhelming pulse of pleasure through her core, tension winding tighter and tighter. Rolan read her like one of their myriad books, assessing every twitch of her body for the moment when he could shatter her with a command.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he said.

Not an easy task, when every brutal thrust of his cock made Hesperia's eyes roll into the back of her head. But she did—kept gazing into those beautiful golden suns with all the ferocity of their celestial counterparts. She knew she was primed, then, as her chest swelled with such affection she almost sobbed. Rolan tightened his grip on her hips, the slap of skin the only sound to fill the anticipatory silence.

Until—

“Now, let go.”

His tone twisted her stomach, and Hesperia burned; a conflagration of body and soul. She lost herself in that heady climax, clinging tight to Rolan. Riding out her orgasm with the ceaseless bucking of hips, all without averting her gaze. He came a few moments later with a guttural moan and the sharp sting of nails against the soft flesh of her thighs.

Hesperia reached down to where they joined, felt the throb of his cock as he filled her, the thick excess coating her fingers. She was dizzy, her skin burning. The feral tangle of animalistic instinct only quietened as Rolan slumped against her, leaving her full and sated.

For a while they simply breathed the stale, heated air. Affection bloomed in the scant gap between their bodies. Rolan kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips. She returned them twice over until finally they devolved into laughter, as giddy as their first time. It was a relief, truly, to know she hadn’t lost him.

Rolan looked down at the clothes haphazardly tossed to the floor, the mess upon the desk; papers scattered and crumpled, not to mention the bodily fluids.

Surprisingly, he simply shrugged. “Oh well.”

“Such a positive outlook. A little distraction was all you needed.”

Rolan grinned, throwing a pair of lace undergarments at her. Hesperia dressed with a smile upon her face, but even in the afterglow, a faint anxiety still needled at her. But if part of her expected Rolan sat down to his work again, it was proven wrong the moment he scooped her up in his arms and marched towards their bedroom.

Depositing her on the bed, he crawled up the length of her body, pressing reverent kisses here and there until he drew level with her face.

“Thank you for reminding me there are things much more important to attend to in this tower than old books and unsettled debts.”

"And of course I'm into the two people that hate each other the most in this damn group.."

It was a strange period of my life, if I am being entirely honest.

Fire had always lived within me. My magic was volatile by nature, flames curled around my heartbeat as naturally as blood through my veins, and it had never troubled me. I enjoyed it, if anything. There was a simple satisfaction in coaxing a fire to life in a cold stove, in filling an empty hearth with warmth at the flick of my fingers.

And if fire escaped where it ought not, it obeyed me just as readily. A lantern overturned at the docks, a spark caught by dry timber, a careless accident threatening to become a tragedy—I could command the flames into submission until enough water arrived to finish the work.

It is as natural to me as breathing.

Unfortunately, at that age, I also possessed a temper to rival any blaze.

For the first time in my life, I was truly free.

I had coin in my purse, no one watching over my shoulder, and a city sprawling endlessly before me. I indulged enthusiastically in all of it: good food, good wine, and whatever delightful company my gold could purchase. Freedom suited me perhaps a little too well.

It made me arrogant.

I knew I was powerful, and worse, I enjoyed knowing it.

So when someone wronged me, when they mistook politeness for encouragement and persisted after being told no, my patience often ran short. My anger flared quickly, and occasionally quite literally. Nothing serious, mind you. Usually. A scorched sleeve. A blistered hand. A brief lesson delivered through skin made uncomfortably aware of just how hot a sorceress could become when irritated.

I am not proud of it.

At least, not anymore.

And then there was the house.

To this day, I maintain that burning down an entire residence was a somewhat disproportionate response to the circumstances.

Still, it was a glorious night.