#vianan

For the last twenty minutes she’s been very invested in the debate they’ve been having. But now, as she sits next to Lysander on the couch she finds herself much more interested in him. It had started out as a simple conversation, but had quickly morphed into something more. One moment Lysander was explaining a concept from a book he’d been reading and the next they’d been debating the principles of truth in an argument getting more heated by the minute. 

As Lysander argues the book’s perspective, the self satisfied smirk on his face is telling enough. He knows that he’s right and he’s going to make sure that Beatrice knows it too. She’d be angrier about it if he didn’t look so handsome when he argues like this, his dark eyes shining and hands gesturing for emphasis. He’s distracting, but she won’t admit how much his proximity is affecting her ability to focus on the argument at hand. 

Normally she’d be just as determined to get her point across, but she can’t seem to focus on anything other than his lips and the words he’s speaking seem to come out as gibberish. In a moment of clarity she realizes that the words might as well be gibberish, the book excerpt he’s reading from is written in a language that she’s pretty certain hasn’t been spoken in centuries. He runs a hand through his hair as he speaks, making him look just the right amount of disheveled, and Beatrice finally decides that she’s had enough. 

“I’m not sure you’re correct,” she interrupts, though truthfully, Beatrice isn’t quite sure what she’s arguing for anymore.

“But I am correct,” Lysander counters, unconsciously leaning in towards her until their noses are nearly touching. “You’re confusing the principles of truth and validity, an argument can be valid without being truthful. It all depends on whether the conclusions follow the premises.” 

He’s got a point, and she would tell him that, but at the moment Beatrice cares much more about how close he suddenly is to her. She’s very distracted now. “Is that so,” she murmurs, noting just how close their lips are to each other. 

Lysander falls silent as he stares at her, at a sudden loss for words despite the debate he’d been so determined to win only moments ago. His eyes drift down to her lips and she watches the movement carefully, hesitating for only a second more before she leans in to kiss him. He kisses back fervently, more strongly than she’d anticipated. 

They can’t seem to get close enough, even as the space between them disappears. Beatrice moves in closer until she’s nearly sitting in his lap and her arms wrap around his shoulders. Lysander pulls her in by the waist until her body is pressed flush to his, and when she moves away for air his lips travel down to her jaw. 

They’ll call the debate a draw then, this is far more interesting.

“Are you trying to distract me?” Lysander says, kissing the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Beatrice gives a quiet moan in response and tries to remind herself to be gentle with her hands as they wander down his back. 

“Is it working?” Beatrice asks, and Lysander answers her question with another hungry kiss. 

She notices then just how much her proximity is affecting Lysander, he’s half hard already, pressed against her leg. Beatrice tries not to think too much as she experimentally moves her hips against him to gauge his response, creating just a bit of friction between them. When he gasps against her lips and his hips move up to meet hers, she does it again, seeking more contact. Lysander pulls back a moment later, panting as he looks at her with wide eyes. Beatrice blushes, shifting slightly so that her hair falls forward to hide her face. 

He’s waiting for her to say something, to discuss the line they’re so very close to crossing, so she does her best to be brave.

“Do you want to—” Beatrice pauses, feeling silly for being so shy when this is Lysander, the person she trusts most in the world. “Do you want to try something more?” 

“More,” he echoes, reaching forward to tuck her hair back behind her ears so he can look at her. His voice has gone the slightest bit deeper, and as he looks at her his eyes go the slightest bit darker. “Tell me, Beatrice, what more do you want?” 

Beatrice’s eyes grow wide and her face positively burns from how hard she’s blushing. Her mind scrambles to find a polite way to ask for what she wants, but what she wants isn't exactly polite. “I want you, all of you.” She waits for him to say something, holding her breath in suspense.

“All of me as in,” Lysander pauses, the meaning of her words finally catching up to him. “You want to have sex?” 

Hearing him say those words so bluntly has her unable to form a coherent sentence. Beatrice clears her throat, nearly choking on air in her haste to reply, “I- well, sure. I mean yes, only if you want to!” 

It takes Lysander a moment to form a response as well, her proposal rendering him equally unable to speak. “Are you sure you want to?” 

“Yes, I’m very sure. I want you,” she repeats. Beatrice forces herself to look up to meet his eyes. He’s smiling at her, and she can’t help but return the gesture as all of her fear at his reaction vanishes. 

“Then you have me.” Lysander moves his hands to cradle either side of her face as he leans in to kiss her tenderly. She sighs into it, wrapping her arms more securely around him. “Shall we move to the bedroom then?” 

“Yes,” she says, and Lysander kisses her again.

Beatrice barely remembers the walk to their bedroom. They stop a few times along the way to kiss, Lysander pressing her up against doors and wood paneled walls as she laughs and presses back against him. Ordinarily she might be worried someone would see them, but she can’t find it in herself to care at the moment. She’s half drunk on the idea of touching Lysander, of him touching her. 

When they reach the bedroom door he pulls her through and locks it behind them. He reaches for her hand again and takes a step backwards into the room, pulling her with him towards the bed. She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and pulls her shoes off before reaching to remove her stockings. 

Lysander places his hand on hers to stop her and she looks up at him in question. “Allow me.”

He kneels down in front of her, placing his hands on her legs. As his hands slide up under her dress, warm against her cold skin, Beatrice shivers. He’s watching her so intently, eyes never leaving hers as he reaches the soft skin above her knees and pulls, taking down one, then the other, stocking before neatly folding them and placing them aside.

Next to come off is Lysander’s shirt, and Beatrice stands to help him unbutton it. Her hands are a bit unsteady and she falters every now and then as he leans into her touch. As she untucks his shirt from his pants, her hands linger on his waistband for a moment before she quickly moves back up to undo the last shirt button. He shrugs out of his shirt then carefully removes the bodice he wears under it.

Beatrice lets out a breath and turns her back to him to gesture to the buttons at the back of her dress. “Can you help me with these?” she asks, turning to look at him over her shoulder. He nods and moves his hands to the task, his fingers occasionally brushing against her back as he works. When he reaches the final button he stills and presses a kiss against the back of her neck as she lets her dress fall to the floor.

Lysander leans in to kiss her again as he tries to unbutton his pants, struggling to do so while not breaking the kiss. She laughs with him as they accidentally knock teeth and he finally moves away so he can undress properly. As he steps back he takes her in, eyes roving over the curves of her body usually hidden beneath layers of dresses and cloak. 

Her face grows warm under his attention, so she decides to focus on Lysander instead of being self conscious. She places her hand on his bare chest, gently tracing over his skin as his hands travel down her shoulders. He shivers under her touch, then slowly ghosts his hand over the curve of her breast, mirroring her movements.

“You’re beautiful, Beatrice,” Lysander says, his voice nearly a whisper. His hand moves around to the small of her back, drawing her closer.

“So are you.” She smiles at him encouragingly but her heart is stuttering in her chest. It’s more excitement than nerves, but she finds herself comforted by his steady hands on her. Beatrice leans in to kiss him and after a moment he pulls her back towards the bed again.

Before she can overthink the final act of undressing, Beatrice reaches down to pull her underwear off and throws it over the edge of the bed. She leans back against the headboard and watches as Lysander follows suit, though he takes the time to fold his underwear before setting it aside more carefully than she had done. Beatrice laughs at the gesture and he gives her a shy smile in reply. 

The laughter fades into silence and then it’s just the two of them, bared to each other in the warm, candlelit room. In the dim lighting Beatrice watches him look at her, the adoring almost awe-stricken expression on his face makes her breath catch in her throat. She stares back at him, her eyes tracing both the familiar and new planes of his body. She wants to memorize him like this, perfectly silhouetted in golden light, looking at her like she's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

He’s certainly the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. 

After a moment she decides she’s had enough of just looking and she leans forward to kiss him. Her hands run over the sharp lines of his collarbones and down his arms. Lysander sits back, letting her explore him as her lips travel a path towards his jaw, then further downwards. She peppers kisses across his chest then pauses, briefly looking up at him as she ever so softly presses a kiss to the middle of his sternum. He shivers again and Beatrice pulls further back, looking a bit uncertain as she meets his gaze.

“Beatrice?”

“It’s just, I-” Beatrice starts, now staring resolutely at the wall behind him instead of meeting his eyes. “I’m not quite sure what to do.” She internally curses herself for not asking Ella for more advice before embarking on this new endeavor. 

“And you think I know?” Lysander laughs, the sound warm and reassuring. “I haven’t a clue what I’m doing either.”

Beatrice looks back at him, feeling relieved. “Then we’ll simply have to figure this out together.”

“Together,” Lysander repeats, nodding his head. 

“I suppose it’s rather simple in theory,” Beatrice says. “Though as I understand it, there’s much room for experimentation.” 

“Perhaps let’s save experimentation for another time,” Lysander smiles. 

“I think that’s a good decision,” she agrees. “Well, shall we then?” 

Lysander laughs again, shaking his head at her affectionately. “You’re so business-like.”

“I dare say we’ll be here ‘till next spring if we delay any longer,” Beatrice defends herself, and he grins, fully in agreement with her assessment.

Lysander reaches for Beatrice, lips meeting hers again as his hands find their way back to her body. He explores her, running his hands over her arms, her breasts, her stomach. She finally manages to relax as he holds her, melting against him as he kisses her. At last, his hand dips between her thighs and she gasps against his lips as his fingers work to bring her pleasure in just the way she likes, the way he’s become very familiar with by now. In this, at least, they know what they’re doing.

It’s good but it’s not enough, and Beatrice can’t help but move her hips impatiently, seeking more than he’s offering. He slips in a second finger and she can feel herself slowly but steadily reaching the edge. Warmth pools in the pit of her stomach and her breath hitches as his fingers curl into her. Her quiet sounds change from gasps to moans, and she’s nearly there. But all too soon Lysander stops and she makes a sound of protest as he pulls his fingers out of her. 

Her annoyance is quickly forgotten as Lysander moves to hover over her, his knees resting between her legs. He’s still looking at her with that awed expression, like he can’t quite believe that she’s real and that they’re really doing this. She gently runs her fingers through the curls near his forehead and leans in to kiss his temple. 

“Are you quite sure this is what you want?” Lysander asks and she pulls back to look at him, meeting his eyes in a serious gaze.

Beatrice has never been sure of much in life, but she is sure of Lysander, she is sure of this.

“I’ve never been more certain,” she assures him. “I trust you.”

“And I you.” 

They come together slowly, as in every aspect of their relationship. Lysander’s eyes are glued to Beatrice’s to watch her reaction as he enters her, and he squeezes her hand as if to reassure her, or himself. His eyes close and he gives a shaky breath as he enters her fully with a final shallow thrust. He rests his forehead against hers and they both breathe deeply, adjusting to the new sensation. They’re as close to each other as they can possibly get, and yet Beatrice would get even closer if she could. 

She reaches her free hand up to cup the side of his face. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I must admit I did not know what to expect but this is—” Lysander pauses, at a loss for words as he opens his eyes to look at her. He takes another quavery breath and reaches out to brush Beatrice’s bangs out of her eyes. “How are you?” 

“I’m perfect,” Beatrice smiles reassuringly, moving her hand down to rest on his shoulder. “You can move, I’m alright.” 

So he does, moving out of her just as slowly as he’d entered. He groans under his breath as he presses back into her and Beatrice rises up to meet him, her hand grasping his shoulder to have something to hold onto. Lysander sets a gentle pace, rocking slowly into her again and again. Their movements are both a bit uncoordinated at first as they learn what feels best, but they soon fall into sync.

Beatrice finds that she loves being this close to him, this connected. They fit together perfectly, like they were made for each other, and it feels so much better than she’d expected. Every sensation is heightened, his hand resting on her hip raises goosebumps, and she can’t look away from his eyes, so serious and attentive as he watches for her every reaction.

Lysander always gets a furrow between his eyebrows when he’s focused, and Beatrice leans forward to kiss the spot, causing his rhythm to falter. He looks startled for a moment, which is entirely too endearing, and Beatrice leans in to press her lips to his. She moans into his mouth as he kisses her and the sound seems to urge him on. 

He moves his hand down to where they’re joined and she writhes against him, gasping as he circles her clit. Lysander’s boldness constantly surprises her, and the look on his face is the same one he gets when he knows he’s winning an argument. He’s confident, determined, and perhaps even a bit smug about how much he’s affecting Beatrice. It doesn’t take long for the combination of his actions to bring her close to the edge again. 

“And you said you didn’t know what you were doing,” Beatrice says. “You’ve been reading more, haven’t you?” 

He gives her a coy grin. “Perhaps.” 

“Where do you even find these books?” 

Lysander stills to catch his breath and reaches up to brush Beatrice’s hair out of her eyes again. She makes a mental note to put her hair up next time. “You have to know where to look. Most of them are from underground bookshops, or at least shops which used to be relegated to the underground. And of course a great deal of the books on this particular subject are disguised.” 

“I hadn’t noticed any enchanted books in the library.” Beatrice frowns, wondering what else she might have missed.

“I don’t exactly keep these books out in the open where anyone might find them,” Lysander blushes, as if talking about erotic books is somehow more scandalous than the fact that he’s currently inside of Beatrice. “I would be happy to show you how to recognize them. It’s a simple cloaking spell. For example, the most detailed of the volumes I read was disguised as a history of trade routes through this region.” 

“I suspect you were looking for the history book rather than a book about sex,” Beatrice laughs. 

“You’re correct, and I’m still trying to locate the actual book, though I have begun to think it doesn't actually exist. Perhaps I can compile my own notes on the matter into a book.” The furrow between his eyebrows returns and Lysander’s mind is clearly miles away. He seems to have momentarily forgotten what it is they’re meant to be doing.

“Lysander?” Beatrice’s voice startles him out of his thoughts and his eyes move back to meet hers. “Can we talk about the history of Umbran trade routes another time?” 

“Oh, my apologies,” he laughs, and Beatrice joins in. “I promise you are much more engaging than a history book.”

“That’s quite the compliment,” Beatrice teases, but the words falter as he resumes movement. Her breath comes out in a gasp as he enters her more quickly than before, his careful pace speeding up. 

“Despite the variety of my reading on the subject, I never quite understood the appeal of sex,” Lysander says, and Beatrice wonders at how he can keep up a conversation while she feels like she can hardly remember to breathe.

“Do you understand the appeal now?” Beatrice pants.

“Yes.” Lysander’s dark eyes are wide as he looks at her, the expression one of open honesty and affection. “I didn’t know that it would be like this.” 

“Lysander.” Beatrice suddenly feels like it’s all too much, she feels as if her heart could burst at how much she loves him. 

“Beatrice.” He leans down to kiss her and she sighs happily, lost to her emotions and the mounting pleasure she feels at being with him like this. “You feel so, this is so—” 

“Good,” Beatrice finishes his sentence. Lysander looks at her, watching her hazel eyes flutter shut. She bites her lip to hold in a moan, and he notes the flush high on her cheeks and the way her fingers grip his shoulder to pull him closer as he thrusts into her. 

“You don’t have to be quiet,” Lysander says, suddenly very keen to hear the audible effect he has on her again. “It’s only us here.”

Her eyes open and she looks up at him, her mouth opening into a wide “o” in surprise. His hand reaches down once more to where she’s most sensitive and he gets his wish as she makes another soft sound of pleasure. She’s so close, the pressure and the heat growing to levels she’s never experienced before. In the heat of the moment she says a few very unladylike words, though Lysander is too far gone to notice. His lips press to hers again in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else and he swallows the rest of the sounds she makes.

Lysander suddenly pulls back to rest his forehead against hers again and she can tell he’s close. His breath comes out in uneven puffs as his careful rhythm falters once more, his movements becoming more sloppy. With a final stifled gasp he comes, and his head falls to rest on her shoulder. Beatrice follows shortly behind, her hand still holding his as an anchor, a reassurance that they’re in this moment together. 

Afterwards they lay together, Beatrice held close against his chest as they both come down from the high. His fingers gently comb through her hair, working out any tangles as she lets her eyes fall shut again. The room around them is quiet and still, the only sounds are their breathing and the crackling of the fire in the fireplace. Eventually, Lysander leans down to kiss her forehead and Beatrice beams up at him.

“How do you feel?” she asks.

“Tired.” Lysander kisses her on the cheek this time and she laughs.

“No, silly, how do you feel.”

“Are you asking how I feel emotionally?” 

“Yes!” Beatrice smiles, full of affection as she looks at him.

“I feel…” Lysander trails off, looking deep in thought. Beatrice waits, tracing over the lines on the palm of his hand as he thinks. “I feel loved.”

At his words, tears threaten to well up in the corner of her eyes and Beatrice blinks hard, determined to reel her emotions in. She’d never thought she could find this with someone, a love built on trust and kindness and curiosity. She feels so lucky to have found someone who understands her so well, someone whose presence calms her and makes her feel at home.  

Beatrice turns in his arms so that her chest is pressed to his and her arms wind around him to pull him closer. As she buries her head in his shoulder she’s comforted by his familiar scent. She can hardly believe that she’s really here in his arms, with his warm body holding hers. 

This was worth the wait, every bit of it

Lysander rubs circles on her back to soothe her, bringing her back into the present. “How do you feel?” he asks, and Beatrice thinks for a moment. 

“Completely, perfectly, and incandescently happy,” she sighs, knowing that even those big words can’t manage to convey the entirety of how she feels right now.

“That’s quite the commendation, I must have done a good job then,” Lysander laughs. Beatrice looks up at him, noting the glint of amusement in his eyes.

“I should say so. I don’t think I’ll be moving from this bed for at least a week,” Beatrice jokes.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea to me.” Lysander presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, then reaches down to pull the bedcovers over them more completely. She snuggles closer to his side, feeling content but exhausted.

“Beatrice?”

“Yes?”

“You do know that I was correct earlier, right? About the difference between truth and validity?” He’s entirely serious, but Beatrice knows that if she engages in this conversation again they’ll be up half the night.

“Lyse?”

“Yes?”

“Go to sleep.”

Lysander laughs but lets it go, though he’ll likely bring the topic up again tomorrow. Debates with Beatrice are his favorite activity, though he might have a new favorite activity now. He quickly extinguishes the candles with his magic, leaving only the glow of the fireplace to illuminate them as he looks at Beatrice. He reaches for her face, pulling her in for one last sleepy kiss.

“I love you,” Beatrice murmurs, already half asleep. 

1. wear something cozy 🧣

warm sweaters, earth tones, and of course- her trusty green cloak, compliment any autumn ensemble

2. go on an autumn walk 🎃

there’s nothing better than a crisp morning walk to the library, or to the bakery where Beatrice buys as many warm pastries as she can carry

3. find the perfect book to read 📚

whether it’s an informative textbook or a fiction novel meant to pull you into another world, Beatrice can always be found with her nose in a book

4. make a cup of tea ☕️

any warm beverage will do, but here’s her recipe for the perfect cup of tea 

5. cuddle with someone you love 💌

if she can’t convince @leila-of-ravens’ Lysander to stay in bed all day, Beatrice loves to cuddle her familiar Bramble, a sweet (and always very sleepy) rabbit 

After lying in bed for another restless hour she gives up, deciding a cup of tea and a book are in order. She’s been thinking too much, worrying about the school back in Vesuvia and whether she’s truly good enough to run it. Despite her best efforts, the disparaging, sarcastic words a noble had said to her at the Yule ball have been running on an endless loop in her head,

 “A shop owner. The education of Vesuvian youth is in good hands.”

She had stood up for herself in the moment, and Lysander had been very kind in shutting down the nobles' rude comments, but she can’t help but worry that they were right. She doesn’t have an education, not a formal one like all of the Umbrans she's met. Perhaps she really is better suited to stay at the shop forever. 

Beatrice sighs and gets out of bed, pulling her cloak on to ward off the cold air. Bramble is still fast asleep on the corner of her bed and Beatrice gently scratches behind one of her ears as she passes by on the way to the door.

She knows she’s being silly, of course she’s qualified for this. Nadia trusts her, Lysander trusts her, and isn’t the point of the Vesuvian school to provide children with an education, a chance she’d never gotten? She decides to attempt to stop thinking about it for the night, she’s on vacation after all.

Beatrice heads down the hall and the first flight of stairs, trying to be quiet to avoid waking anyone up. She conjures a small ball of light into her hand to help her navigate the dark halls, though she knows her way around by now she hates the dark. A door creaks open behind her and before she can turn around to see who it is, a shape runs at her in the dark, knocking into her legs. 

She squeals in surprise and her light spell accidentally grows in size until the whole hallway is flooded with bright light. Beatrice lifts a hand to shield her eyes and reins the spell back in until it's only a tiny orb in her palm again. She’s normally very good at controlling her magic, but being taken off guard like that had caused a near explosion of power. 

She looks down to see Lorcan illuminated in her light, happily wagging his tail at her. “Lorcan! You gave me such a fright,” Beatrice whispers, leaning down to pet him. Lysander stands in the doorway of his office and when Beatrice notices him she stands up, brushing her hair behind her ears self consciously. 

“Are you alright?” Lysander asks, his tone politely concerned.

“Yes, thank you. I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake, and I must confess I’m not a fan of the dark,” Beatrice admits. She takes in Lysander’s appearance, noticing that he’s still dressed in his day clothes. His shirtsleeves are rolled up nearly to his elbows and his face looks a bit pale, like he’s been working for too long. 

“I apologize for startling you, Lorcan heard a sound and wanted to investigate. That was a very powerful illumination you just created. I thought it might already be daybreak,” Lysander says, and Beatrice can’t decide if he’s complimenting her or making a joke.

“My apologies for the brightness, I hope it didn’t hurt your eyes.” Beatrice looks down at Lorcan instead of meeting Lysander’s gaze.

“I think yours is a perfectly common fear. Many people possess the same distaste for darkness,” Lysander says. “Though I imagine for most people, the fear is not the darkness itself but rather what might be hidden in the darkness.”

“Indeed.” Beatrice looks at the dark stairwell behind her warily, wishing he would change the subject.

Lysander gives her a kind look, as if he understands her fear. “But you’re a magician, surely you must know that you’re prepared for whatever dangers you might face.” 

“I suppose so.” She considers his statement, wondering how she’d actually fare under dangerous circumstances. She decides she’d rather not find out, she’s quite content using her magic for less extreme purposes. Lorcan sniffs at her hand and Beatrice reaches down to pet him again.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to find myself in a duel with you,” Lysander says and Beatrice laughs in surprise, that comment was definitely a joke. He doesn’t often make jokes around her and she finds she quite likes this side of him. 

“I wouldn’t like to duel you either,” she replies.

Lysander’s lips quirk up into a half smile at her comment. “I find that I much prefer verbal debates.” 

“They say that the pen is mightier than the sword,” Beatrice recites, returning his smile with one of her own.

“Quite right. I find that clichés often hold a modicum of truth,” Lysander says.

They stand there in silence for a minute, both smiling at each other before Beatrice finally looks away. Not wanting to make the moment awkward, she plans her escape. “Well, I think I’ll go make some tea, I doubt I’ll find sleep any time soon.” 

Beatrice can hardly believe her luck as Lysander starts to follow her down the hallway. “I’ll accompany you. I find myself in need of some tea as well, it’s been a busy evening.” 

They make their way to the kitchen, both remaining silent to avoid waking the rest of the household. Lorcan walks along beside Lysander, eagerly following him towards their destination. The manor is much colder at night and Beatrice wraps her cloak around her more snugly as they walk, grateful she’d thought to put it on before venturing out. 

The fire in the kitchen hearth is still faintly burning, and the room is lit with a warm glow that just illuminates the side of Lysander’s face as he peruses the tea options. Leila has provided a large selection and Beatrice watches him choose, noticing the way his eyebrows furrow in concentration as he searches for his usual Earl Grey. When he finds the correct tea blend he moves away so Beatrice can look, his shoulder brushing hers as he takes a step towards the counter.

Beatrice tries not to react, but her face flushes slightly at the proximity. She turns towards the teas, pretending to read them while she watches Lysander choose a mug out of the corner of her eye. She decides on an herbal mix designed to bring on sleep. Leila has given her this tea plenty of times on nights like this, and while it doesn’t always work, the familiar aroma of chamomile and lavender is comforting. 

Beatrice busies herself with filling the kettle, which is still sitting out from afternoon tea, and uses her magic to raise the water’s temperature to a boil. She pours water into her mug and sets her tea to steep before turning to fill Lysander’s. He thanks her and the two stand in companionable silence for a few moments while they wait for their tea.

When the tea has finished steeping Beatrice stirs a sugar cube into her mug, watching the liquid swirl around in circles. “Why are you up so late?” she asks, unable to help her curiosity. 

Lysander stirs a splash of milk into his tea and takes a sip before replying. “I’ve been occupied with grading papers, it’s nearly the end of term.” 

“I suppose I’ll be just as occupied with grading soon enough.” Beatrice takes a sip of her own tea and adds another sugar cube for good measure. “Though I’m sure grading simple spelling and arithmetic won’t be nearly as difficult as university level coursework.” 

“The Vesuvian school is lucky to have you as its headmistress,” Lysander says, and Beatrice nearly chokes on her tea. He couldn’t have known how badly she needed to hear that reassurance.

“Thank you,” she says, the words a reflex of propriety as she scrambles to collect her thoughts into a fuller sentence. “I don’t think I’ve properly expressed how grateful I am for your assistance in opening the school.” 

“Providing equal opportunity to an education is a noble goal. It’s my pleasure to give any assistance myself or Umbra can offer,” he replies, inclining his head as he speaks. “You’ve done an exceptional job with the plans thus far.” 

“You’ll have to come back to Vesuvia to see the school someday. The construction is nearly complete, I can’t believe how beautiful it’s all turned out.” Beatrice smiles, as she always does when she talks about the school. She takes another sip of her tea, missing the way Lysander’s soft gaze has come to rest on her face. 

“Perhaps,” he says simply, and Beatrice lets the subject drop.

She moves towards the doorway, turning over her shoulder to look at Lysander. “I should let you return to your work now. I think I’ll go read in the drawing room for a while.” 

“I’ll join you, if that’s alright. I believe a change of scenery will help me get through these last few papers.” Lysander takes a step towards her and she nods hurriedly in assent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t mind the company. You’re very welcome to join me,” Beatrice says. “This is your home after all.”

“True, but you are a most welcome guest,” Lysander replies, darting up the stairs towards his office before Beatrice can fully register what he’s said. She giggles nervously under her breath and tries not to spill her tea as she walks down the hall to the drawing room. Lorcan follows after her, settling down by the fireplace in his usual spot.

She’s just picking a book off of one of the many shelves when Lysander returns with a stack of papers in hand and his mug of tea precariously balanced on top. He sets the papers and his mug on the tea table and moves to the fireplace, gently coaxing the dying embers back to life with his magic. Beatrice takes a seat on the couch and watches him work, impressed by how easily he seems to manipulate the flames. When he’s brought the fire back up enough to warm the room he takes a seat on the chair in front of the tea table. He looks up at Beatrice, who is still watching him closely, and she hurriedly looks down at her book, embarrassed to be caught staring for the thousandth time since she’s arrived here. 

They sit in silence for the next half hour as Lysander works and Beatrice reads, and she finds herself feeling more relaxed then she has in a very long time. The quiet scratching of Lysander’s pen and the crackling fire in the fireplace seem to lull her and the words start swimming on the page in front of her as she struggles to keep her eyes open. Before she realizes how tired she even is, she starts to doze off to sleep.

Beatrice wakes hours later to find weak morning sunlight streaming in from behind the curtains and blearily realizes she’s still on the drawing room couch. The house is quiet and still, and someone’s placed a blanket over her. Her heart thuds oddly in her chest as she realizes it was likely Lysander. Beatrice pulls the blanket around her shoulders as she rises to a sitting position, and a smile she can’t begin to contain spreads across her face.

Beatrice sits with her back pressed to Lysander’s chest as they lounge on the couch together. His arms rest around her waist and her head lies lightly on his shoulder as she reads to him. They’ve spent most of their nights together like this, taking in the warmth of the fireplace and each other. It’s her first winter in Umbra, her first winter with him. 

She finds that for all the wonders the city contains, the opera house, the museums, even the libraries, the most wonderful thing of all is still an evening alone with Lysander.

As she continues to read, one of his hands moves to play with her hair and she smiles up at him, breaking off from the paragraph she’d been reading. He leans down to press a kiss to her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth. As he pulls away, Beatrice wrinkles her nose a little in frustration and sets the book down so she can turn to look at him.

“Now that wasn’t a proper kiss, was it?” She smiles, one of her hands going to cradle the side of his face. He laughs under his breath at her comment and leans in again, their lips and tongues meeting in a now-familiar dance. It’s a proper kiss to be sure. 

When they pull away she turns back to the book, opening it to where they’d left off. She continues reading for a moment, trying not to stutter on the words as his hands slide down her shoulders. One of his hands moves to fiddle with the ties on the bodice of her dress, and she finds it very difficult to focus on the book with him that close to her chest. He hesitates for a moment, then gingerly lets his hand rest over her breast, right above her heart. Her words abruptly cut off mid sentence. 

No doubt Lysander can feel the way her heart races as she looks up at him. “Is that- is this alright?” 

“Yes.” Beatrice lets the book drop off the side of the couch.

She exhales shakily and slowly reaches her hand to guide his a bit lower so it’s resting directly over the center of her breast. He gives a light squeeze and she breathes in sharply, eyes locked to his. He continues to carefully move his hand over her chest, hardly applying pressure as he explores, until his fingers barely graze her nipple and she gasps. He repeats the motion more intentionally then, listening to her breathing get heavier.

Lysander goes for the ties on the top of her dress again, “May I?” She nods hurriedly in response and reaches up to help him untie them. 

He presses a kiss to her collarbone as his hand moves beneath the loose open neckline. With his hands directly on her the sensations are even more powerful, and her breathing picks up as his hand continues its journey downwards. Heat pools in her abdomen as he continues to gently roll and squeeze her sensitive skin and she resists the urge to rub her thighs together for some semblance of friction.

This is new for them, but it’s something they’ve both thought about before. Tensions have been building up to this for a while, lingering glances had become longer, hands had wandered lower, and at this point- they’re ready for more. Beatrice readjusts so she’s lying more comfortably between his legs, careful not to lean against him too much and risk hurting his back.

While one hand continues to explore her chest, the other moves over her dress, travelling along the curve of her waist, the edges of her hips, until his hand comes to rest on her leg. He bunches the fabric of her dress up as he moves his hand over the bare skin of her inner thigh. With her dress pushed up past her hips he has a perfect view of her lacey underwear, something she’d taken to wearing more often lately- just in case.

“Beatrice,” Lysander says her name almost reverently, dark eyes trained to hers, “May I touch you here?” 

“Yes.” She shivers as he moves his hand further in towards her core, grazing over her gently through her thin underwear. She’s already wet and so warm, and Lysander shivers too as he gazes down at her. 

He takes a deep, slightly quivery breath and hooks his fingers around the edge of her underwear, pulling it down her legs. Before Beatrice has a chance to react to the fact that he’s seeing a part of her he really hasn’t seen before, he runs a finger up the center of her. She gasps at his touch and then he’s moving down to tease at her entrance. He’s bolder than she thought he would be, as direct in his actions as he is in his words.

Beatrice can feel his breath on her neck as he leans in to kiss the spot just below her jaw, and then the hand on her chest stills. They both pause for a moment as they look at each other, wondering at the line they’ve just crossed. She finds she’s not nervous like she thought she might be, the jitters she’s feeling are from pleasure and excitement rather than apprehension.

“Shall I continue?” Lysander asks, his finger circling but not quite entering her. 

“Yes, please.” 

He enters her slowly with one finger, his eyes trained to her face to watch for her reaction, “Are you sure?” 

She loves him for his gentleness and for making sure that she’s sure, but she wants this. She wants him.

“Yes.” She holds back a moan at the feeling of him slowly moving his finger in deeper. “Lysander, please.”

“Please what?” He pulls his finger out, then moves it back in and Beatrice turns her head to muffle a groan into his shoulder.

“Do that again.” 

So he does.

Beatrice has dreamt of this moment. She’s imagined his hands on her, his fingers in her, just like this, but now that it’s happening she can hardly believe it. She spreads her legs a bit wider and buries her hands in Lysander’s shirt, clutching at the fabric as she tries to stop herself from writhing against him.

A second finger joins the first and she’s unable to hold back her sounds as he begins to move them inside of her. He leans down to kiss her as he continues to move his fingers in tandem, his thumb moving up to rub at her. She realizes what he’s looking for and pulls away from the kiss for a moment.

“Just a little higher,” She instructs in a gasp, and he moves his finger up until there, right there, he circles her clit and she moans into his mouth as he kisses her again. Beatrice does her best to kiss him back but her mind is a bit fuzzy as his fingers continue to curl into her at a steady pace. He’s a quick learner as always and she finds herself on the edge after a few minutes.

“Beatrice, are you still alright?” Lysander asks, his eyes drifting to her face which looks slightly pained to his untrained eyes. 

“Yes, more than alright.” She looks down to watch his fingers at work. The sight of his fingers moving in and out of her nearly makes her come right then. She tries her best not to clamp her thighs shut around his hand as her legs tremble.

“I love being this close to you. You look beautiful like this, Beatrice.” Lysander’s voice is so quiet, if she hadn’t been inches from his face she wouldn’t have heard him. “I love your reactions.” 

“Lysander-” She starts, but then he curls his fingers in just the right way and her words are cut off into a gasp. 

“And the sounds you make.” Lysander’s fingers don’t falter in their circling as he converses with her. His tone sounds almost educational, like he’s making scientific observations about her behavior. He reaches out with his other hand to turn her face towards his and she meets his eyes again, noticing how much darker they’ve grown. “I find myself quite curious to know what you sound like when you orgasm.” 

“Oh,” She breathes in response as her eyes flutter closed. Only a moment later his curiosity is satisfied as she comes with his fingers still inside of her. She makes a noise that’s half a moan and half his name, and he presses a kiss to her cheek as he continues to move his fingers. As the warm feeling spreads throughout her body she lets herself lie limp against him, enjoying the moment of bliss. 

When she opens her eyes again he gently pulls his fingers out of her, inspecting his fingers with an inquisitive look. He brings them to his mouth to taste her and she watches with wide eyes. If she hadn’t just come she might be doing it again at the sight of Lysander with his fingers in his mouth, relishing the taste of her.

“You look so at peace.” Lysander gently brushes her hair out of her face, tucking an out of place strand behind her ear. His lips pull into her favorite smile, one he seems to reserve just for her. 

“I am, thanks to you, my love.” Beatrice’s face flushes as he stares at her so intently. A bit of her shyness returns and she looks away from him, but then he cups her face in his hands and she has no choice but to meet his eyes. They’re full of affection, and he looks so content as he smiles at her in the dim firelight. When he leans down to kiss her again she sighs against his lips.

“Where’d you learn to do that so well?” Beatrice asks. Lysander laughs in response, causing one of her eyebrows to raise in question.

“Books.”

“Books?”

“Yes, books. There are many rather, instructional, volumes which have been published since antiquity.” It’s hard to tell in the dim lighting but Lysander’s face is flushed pink, and Beatrice grins.

“You’ll have to show me some of these books of yours,” She says. “Maybe we can read one together.”

“Perhaps we should, we might both learn something new.” His tone is completely serious and Beatrice smiles up at him with a look of endearment. 

She reaches to hold one of his hands and her fingers trace over his scars with a featherlight touch. After a moment she gently brings his hand up to press a kiss to his palm. They lay in the calm silence, Beatrice still busy catching her breath and Lysander deep in thought. A few minutes later the last remaining log in the fireplace cracks loudly and Beatrice startles, the moment broken.

“I’ll get it.” Beatrice untangles her limbs from Lysander’s and stands up, trying not to blush as she knows he’s staring at her exposed ass. She hurriedly pulls her dress down and kneels by the side of the fireplace to add another log. She coaxes the fire with her magic a bit to help it along. When she turns back around Lysander is sitting up to watch her with an affectionate smile. He still looks pensive but when he opens his mouth to speak the words are not what she expects,

“She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes...”*

“Are you quoting poetry at me?” Beatrice wants to tease him, but the words sound so genuine when he says them.

She knows he isn’t simply trying to flatter her, but rather trying to find a way to convey his feelings for her. He continues to recite the words and she finds herself suddenly feeling quite emotional. She sits next to him on the couch, hiding her face in his shoulder so that he can’t see her face. When he’s done with the poem she feels him press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Thank you.” Beatrice pulls back from his shoulder to look at him with only slightly watery eyes. She’s thanking him for more than just the poetry.

“You’re most welcome.” Lysander rubs a soothing circle on her back. “Would you like to keep reading?”

“I think I’m too tired to read,” She replies, and indeed has to stifle a yawn a moment later.

“Let’s get to bed then.” 

“Maybe I’ll regain some… energy, when we get there.” Beatrice tries her best to smirk in an alluring way, but he just laughs.

Lysander grins, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to laugh at you but that was the least seductive look you’ve ever given me.” 

He offers his hand to help her up from the couch and she frowns at him for a moment, but eventually takes it.

“I’ll show you seductive,” Beatrice grumbles as they walk down the hall to their room.

“Is that a promise?”

_____________________

While Beatrice sits on the comfortable drawing room couch, he’s opted for the chair across from her. He’s focused on the book in his hands, not seeming to notice the way that Beatrice is focused only on him. She tries to turn her mind towards the novel she’s reading but her thoughts wander back to the man sitting across from her and how much she wishes he was next to her. 

As she glances at him from behind her book for the thousandth time in an hour she’s surprised to find that this time, Lysander is looking back at her. Beatrice blushes and immediately turns back to her book to hide her face. She mentally chides herself for her silly behavior, she’s allowed to look at Lysander now, she doesn’t have to hide anymore. It’s still taking some getting used to.

After so many months apart all she wants is to look at him, to be near him. She’s just not quite sure how to do that yet. They’ve been busy with the other Lonan family members visiting and this is one of the first moments they’ve had alone since Beatrice moved to Umbra. It’s just the two of them now, sitting together but still too far apart.

Beatrice is afraid of pushing unspoken boundaries or rushing things, but she can’t bear to have him this close without being able to touch him. So she sets her book down and looks at him again, more determined this time. She watches him read, noticing the way his eyes scan the page, the way his lips quirk up at something in the book. When he looks up at her again she doesn’t turn away. 

“You can come sit with me, if you want to.” Beatrice pats the spot next to her. “There’s plenty of space for both of us on the couch.” 

For a moment Lysander just stares at her and it seems he might stay stuck in his spot in the chair, but he surprises her by standing up to take a seat on the couch. He’s still at the opposite end and a careful distance away from her, but it's a step. He gives her a somewhat wary smile and Beatrice returns the gesture, wondering if she should prompt him more. 

Instead, she decides to meet him halfway and moves a few feet over until she’s sitting next to him. He looks at her with wide eyes, a little surprised to see her suddenly so close. Beatrice can’t help but laugh at his expression. After all this time he’s still as shy as she is.

“What is it?” Lysander sets his book down on the side table and turns to face her. 

“Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?” Beatrice sets her own book down and begins to fiddle with the sleeve of her sweater. She inspects the knit pattern as if it were of great interest, trying to distract herself as she waits for him to say something.

“Long enough for what?” 

“Long enough to be together, to sit with each other like this.” Beatrice lets go of her sleeve and reaches for his hand instead. When she meets his eyes he gives her a look of equal parts apprehension and affection. She’s about to let go when he squeezes her hand, a reassurance that he wants to be holding her hand. Before she can overthink it she brings his hand up to her lips to gently kiss his knuckles.

Lysander looks deep in thought so Beatrice remains silent, holding his hand as he thinks of what to say. “You’re right. I am simply uncertain as to what the conventions and expectations of a relationship such as ours entails.” 

He seems relieved once the words are out, and Beatrice realizes now what the problem is. Though they’re secure in their love for each other they’re both new at this. They don’t know how to be together yet, but they’ve got to start somewhere.

“Well, sitting together is good.” Beatrice closes the gap between them, scooting even closer until her leg just touches the side of his. He doesn’t move away but she hears the way his breath catches slightly at her proximity. She gives him another reassuring smile, “Holding hands is also good.” 

“It is good,” Lysander murmurs, so quietly it seems he didn’t mean to say it out loud. His thumb traces a circle on hers and Beatrice leans her head onto his shoulder. He freezes up a little in reaction but manages to relax as Beatrice looks up at him.

“You have a very comfortable shoulder,” Beatrice says, trying to find something to say to ease the tension. She cringes a little at the awkward comment, wondering why it is that her usually active brain always ceases to function when he’s around.

“Oh, thank you?” Lysander doesn’t know what to make of her comment either. He tentatively moves his arm onto the back of the couch behind her, not touching her shoulders but resting above them. 

Lysander doesn’t know what he’s doing, he wishes there were a rule book for this sort of situation. He tries to recall how he’s seen Julian and Leila sitting together. Julian always has his arm around Leila’s shoulders or her waist, they’re always connected in some way. And he thinks of how Lachlan and Ella always seem to gravitate towards each other in a room. Neither of the couples is ever apart for long. His siblings make being in love look easy, and he wonders if it will ever be so easy for him. 

Beatrice is still looking at him, and something in her familiar hazel eyes gives him the confidence to move his arm down and onto her shoulder. She moves closer to his side, the smile on her face brighter than he’s seen all evening. His arm stays stiff around her shoulder, but as she leans in towards him he finds himself relaxing despite his initial anxiety.

Lysander has to slump a bit since she’s shorter than him, but he finds that he likes being close to her like this. Up close her vanilla and violet scent is even stronger and he inhales, letting her familiar scent calm any remaining worries.

“Could you read something?” Beatrice asks. She’s often imagined sitting with him like this while he reads to her, and a part of her still can’t believe it’s happening.

He nods at her request and picks up his book, opening to the place he’d left off. As he reads, he relaxes even more and his head leans over to rest against hers. Beatrice doesn’t stop smiling as he keeps his eyes trained to the book. She feels so warm next to him, and so safe. She doesn’t know what she was worried about, being close to him like this feels right. 

Eventually the arm he has around her grows tired and Lysander shifts, wondering if it would be rude to move his arm and risk jostling her. 

Beatrice lifts her head off of his shoulder to look at him and he takes the opportunity to stretch his arm, briefly moving it upwards above his head. Beatrice laughs at the gesture and opens her mouth as if to speak. She stares at him for a moment then pauses, seemingly at a loss for words. Lysander sets the book down and waits, watching as her face flushes pink and she looks anywhere but at his face.

Finally, she seems to come to a decision and she reaches out to rest a hand on his shoulder. “I think I’d like to kiss you now, if that’s alright,” Beatrice murmurs. Her eyes dart down to look at his lips then back up to meet his eyes.

It takes Lysander a moment to realize what she’s asking, and when he does his face flushes to match hers. “Yes, that’s alright.” He stays completely still, frozen to his spot on the couch as she leans in towards him and her eyes flutter shut. He remembers at the last moment to tilt his head opposite to hers to accommodate the kiss. 

When their lips meet he’s amazed as he always is at how soft her lips are and how warm they are against his. His hand moves to gently cup the side of her face and her hand stays steady on his shoulder. When Beatrice pulls away his lips follow hers and he kisses her again, lingering a bit longer than before. 

After a moment she moves back to look at him, taking in all of his familiar features up close. Lysander stares back, his dark eyes exploring her face even though he knows every freckle on it by now. Beatrice leans in to kiss him once more and she can’t help but smile against his lips. “I’d say we’re doing pretty good at this.”

It’s getting late, and Lysander is still in his office hard at work. Beatrice had tried to convince him to take a break for dinner but he hadn’t budged, too intent on finishing the historical documents he’s been translating. She understands his passion for work, but at this point she thinks she might need to be more convincing to get him to take a much-needed break.

Lysander is so intently focused that he doesn’t notice her arrival in his office until she stands behind his chair and wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“Darling, it’s late,” Beatrice says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. His eyes are glued to the book in front of him and he doesn’t turn to look at her. She moves from behind his chair to the side so she can look at him, keeping one of her hands on his shoulder.

“I have more work to do, just a few more minutes,” He mumbles, and Beatrice would let him keep working if he hadn’t said the same thing hours ago.

“Must you do it all tonight? You’ve got plenty of time.” Beatrice sighs and leans down to kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck. His collared shirt covers most of his skin so Beatrice reaches to unbutton the top button. He turns to look at her then, his expression confused but his cheeks a bit flushed. She simply undoes another button in response and leans down to kiss the newly exposed skin of his neck.

Lysander makes a quiet gasp as she continues to kiss him and the sound urges her on. She’s gentle, applying only the barest hint of pressure with her lips as she kisses along his jawline. He’s been too busy to shave, and the hint of stubble on his jaw tickles her face as she leans in closer. His eyes widen as he looks up at her. “What are you doing?”  

“You need a break.”

“I’m fine,” Lysander argues, but he doesn’t move away. Beatrice watches as his eyes flick down to her lips and she smiles.

She leans in until her lips are nearly touching his, close enough that she can smell his familiar earl grey scent. “Well, I’ll simply have to be more interesting than your books.”

“Believe me, you most certainly are,” Lysander murmurs before finally closing the distance between them to kiss her.

He winds his arms around her shoulders to pull her closer and his lips are soft beneath hers. She kisses him back fervently, smiling against his lips. One of his hands moves to cup the side of her face and she leans into the touch, feeling very pleased that her distraction has worked.

Beatrice pulls away to catch her breath, resting her head on his shoulder. “Come to bed, Lyse, it’s late.”