For the incredible @sucksinlosers, who requested a little pre-spice steam for her OC Lysa and Gale Dekarios - thank you for your patience, you're a star!
Stay
The Weave pulsed in the air all around, caressing skin and mind and soul with tender sweetness and the barest scent of rose petals, teasing Lysa to surrender herself to the magic within and without all over again. No matter how often she did this, it never lost its wonder to her, this unknown dimension of magic she might never have known about, were it not for the wizard that drew her every step of the way.
Gale’s hands lay sure on her own, his chest pressed to her back as he guided every gesture to its proper place, peppering the golden sway of her hair with the suggestion of kisses she was pretty sure he thought she could not discern in the Weave’s tactile embrace of them. His voice lulled her with tales of the magic he had wrought in the past, and his hopes to weave still more wonders with her when their time was once again their own.
In these moments, gathered close into his arms and enveloped by the Weave, it was possible to forget for just a little while that the lands in which they camped were poisoned with shadow and death. That only the light they held about themselves kept the tormented creatures that roamed here at bay. Here, enclosed in the flimsy walls of Gale’s tent, Lysa could forget that there was anything in the world but herself and her wizard, enthralled by the magic that bound them together, her mind and soul just barely brushing his as they shared everything but their physicality together.
“Do you hear that?” His breath warmed her neck as he crowded closer to her back, sending a flood of shimmering tingles to play over her skin and awaken parts of her she had been trying very hard to ignore recently. “Just on the edge of the Weave ...”
“What?” Her voice was barely more than a breath, her ears straining to hear what it was he had caught as they lingered together. “What is it?”
“Shh ...” His lips brushed the curve of her ear, and she felt a squeak try to erupt from her throat, swallowing it ruthlessly even as she squirmed in his embrace. He had to know what he was doing to her, right? He couldn’t be so focused on the magic that he had forgotten the loving, willing, eager woman right there in his arms. Could he? “Just listen ...”
Fighting the urge to turn in his arms and demand the kiss that her lips were aching for, Lysa obediently closed her eyes, hoping this might make it easier for her to find the echo of whatever it was he had heard. But, alas, her hearing was not the only one of her senses to flicker into deeper intensity the moment her sight went dark.
On her tongue, the darkly rich metallic chocolate of the Weave tasted thicker, more intoxicating. Her nose twitched at the notes that mingled with the rose petal fragrance of her own magic, of the sandalwood musk of Gale’s skin, the faint waft of lavender from the oils he used on his beard and hair, the complement of the bitter cling of smoke from the campfire clinging to his clothes. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she saw herself in his arms, imagining this night the way she had hoped it might go, with a merging of more than just minds and magic and an abandonment he seemed so shy to share with her.
Too late, she remembered that each thought she conjured of sharing anything with Gale was shared in moments like these, when they were as close as could be without fully giving way to their desires. She felt his intake of breath against her ear, the momentary tightening of his hands on her own; the unconscious tilt of his hips betraying that he was not so unaffected as he might at first seem.
“Lysa ...”
“Stay with me -”
“Shhh.”
It was such a gentle sound, designed to shush her and calm her and succeeding with both, even as his hands retreated from her own, the warmth of his body easing away. She couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped her lips, saddened by the loss of his proximity due to her own careless thoughts. She could almost see the gentle smile on his face as he spoke, her body unconsciously leaning toward his even as he circled to stand before her once more.
“You have done nothing wrong,” he murmured. “Gods above, you never could. Look at me, Lysa. Feel me.”
Her eyes snapped open, a flicker of diamond reflected in the grey as she focused on Gale, standing barely two feet from her, his own eyes intense with a heat she had only seen a few times, more often banked and controlled than allowed to burn. His lips quirked into a knowing, almost teasing smile, watching as she drew in a slow breath to calm herself amid the rippling of desire as it worked its way through their little corner of the Weave.
Feel him? What did he mean? How could she feel him when he was out of her reach? Had he done something to the Weave that she hadn’t noticed? Was she disappointing him by not knowing straight away what he meant, what he desired from her?
Her questions fell away even before she could give them voice as he raised his hands once again, each motion sending a ripple of its own through the sparkling Weave to brush pure magic against her skin. His palms curled to the air an inch from her cheeks, thumbs stroking nothing but air, and yet she felt the echo of that touch as though some ghost-like part of him was truly touching her.
“You are so beautiful, Lysa,” he whispered, his eyes burning into hers, daring her without words to hold that connection. Do not look away. “Not only in your face and form, which are magnificent indeed, but in the heart and soul kept close within. You have saved me in ways I could not even begin to describe, given me your trust when I scarcely even began to earn it. How can I ever hope to repay such kindness?”
As he spoke, his hands moved, slowly descending to trace the curve of her neck and shoulders, never once truly touching her yet every movement followed by that ghost-like caress that set her skin aflame with the same shimmering tingle she had felt from his breath on her neck. From the rounded rest of her shoulders, down the supple line of her arms and back up, teasing fingertip touches along her clavicle and finally further downward, making a delectable mockery of cupping the air to see her gasp and sway toward him as a devilish smile took its place on his handsome face.
“To know you are so responsive to even the suggestion of my touch ...” Gale breathed out, and this time she could hear the stagger in his breath, her own quickening at the realisation that he was not as unaffected as he seemed to pretend. “I will not deny that I think of you, dream of you, long for you in each hour of the day and night. I cannot stop myself from hoping ...”
He stepped just a little closer, his hands falling away with the last brush of that ghostly touch skimming her hips to tease her more.
“My sweetling, my dearest Lysa ... will you forgive me my reticence in the Grove, and allow me this night to show you how very much of myself is entirely yours?”
She swallowed against a dry throat, her eyes blinking slowly as lust warred with logic in her mind. There was no doubt in her of her own reasons, her own desires, her own yearning, yet he had been so clear when the tieflings had come to celebrate with them. He had been so sure that to go this far or beyond would doom them all and yet ... here and now, all she heard was him asking her for what he had already denied them once.
“I-if you’re sure,” she whispered, her voice growing in strength as she found courage in her desire. “If I am what you want, Gale ...” Her own lips curved into a winsome smile, all invitation and warmth of her own. “I think this is the part where you kiss me.”
This time there was no hesitation, no second-guessing, no excuses. Hands clutched, lips met, and the Weave and the world could well have exploded for all she cared. Her senses were filled with Gale, her heart and mind and soul tangling with his through the magic he had shown her so much of. Whatever the consequences, here and now, this was her choice, their choice.
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