Lia had been busy while they were gone. The rooms are spotlessly clean, their dirty clothes gone to either be cleaned or burned. In the bedroom, the bed is turned down, the thick curtains drawn over the windows, there is a fire in the fireplace, and candles have been lit.
Dorothy clasps her hands together to keep them from shaking as she walks into the room. She can sense Lucas behind her, though he is moving silently. She kicks her shoes off, just to occupy herself while she screws up her courage and tries to slow her racing heart.
"We don't have to…" he softly says behind her.
"Yes, we do," she counters. "She'll know if we don't. And it's apparently part of the ceremony." She whirls around and pulls up short because he is right there. "But it doesn't matter anyway," she adds, her eyes focused on his neck, memorizing his Adam's apple and the little dip below it between his shoulder blades, "because… because I want to."
"Y-you do?" he whispers.
She lifts her eyes to meet his and her lips part at the want – no, need – she sees there. She lifts one hand to his face, his beard softer under her palm since his bath, and he turns his face and kisses the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb.
He leans down, his hands finding her waist as he briefly nuzzles her nose with his. He hovers there for a few seconds, drawing the moment out as her fingers move into his hair.
Then there is a knock at the door.
"Miss Dorothy?" Lia's muffled voice sounds on the other side of the door. "Please, it's important."
Dorothy exhales a shaky sigh and she steps away from Lucas and out into the main chamber.
She opens the door to see blushing Lia holding a tray with what appears to be a tea service. "Oh good, I'm not too late," she blurts, then adds, "Oh! Excuse me, Miss, but I thought you might want this." She nods at the tray.
"Tea?" Dorothy asks, stepping aside to let the girl in.
"Yes, Miss. It will prevent… um… any unwanted… results?" she tries, her pale skin flushing red.
"Oh," Dorothy says, understanding. She hadn't yet had a spare second to pause and think about contraception, so she's very glad she opened the door.
Lia pours a cup. "Drink now, then again… after," she instructs, carefully not looking at either of them. "You might want to add honey. I've been told it doesn't taste very good without it." She pauses, bites her lower lip, and adds, "Um, then if there are any… other times, you just need to drink some after." Her cheeks are so red she must feel like she is on fire.
"And these?" Dorothy asks, pointing to some cookies on the tray.
"Those are just cookies," Lia answers, still averting her gaze.
"All right. Thank you, Lia," Dorothy says, taking the cup. She sips, makes a face, then sets it down and spoons a generous dollop of honey into it.
"Miss," Lia replies, curtseys, then scurries out.
Dorothy obediently drinks the tea, grateful it isn't too hot.
"That was thoughtful," Lucas comments, walking towards her. "I was a little worried about what might happen if…"
"Yeah," Dorothy agrees. "Ugh, the honey doesn't help very much," she comments, then downs the rest in one swig, just to get it down. She sets down her empty cup and immediately reaches for one of the cookies before walking back over to Lucas. "This is good though." She takes another bite, then holds it up in front of his lips.
Lucas gently wraps his hand around hers, then bites the offered cookie. "Mmm," he agrees.
She reaches up with her free hand and brushes a crumb from his beard, just below his lip. She smiles, thinking of the day they met and the apple they shared. When she looks up at him, he is smiling back down at her, clearly remembering the same thing.
He guides their hands back to her mouth, and she takes another bite. Then he eats the rest of it, his lips brushing her fingertips as he takes the piece. After he swallows, he kisses her hand, then places it over his heart. Her fingers curl into his chest hair, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady thump of his heartbeat under her palm.
He leans forward and places a tender kiss on her lips, but doesn't linger. When he pulls away she chases his lips with hers for a second, wanting more. When she opens her eyes, he moves around behind her and begins carefully unwinding the ribbons from her hair.
His touch is almost painfully gentle, especially considering the things of which Dorothy knows him to be capable. Her hair gradually tumbles free, and he threads his fingers through it, watching with fascination as the raven strands slip between his pale hands.
She feels him lean down and bury his nose in her hair, slowly inhaling her scent. He exhales with a quiet groan, and she cannot stop herself from spinning around and catching his lips in a needy kiss.
Dorothy's hands grab his vest, fingers blindly opening the buttons before shoving it from his shoulders.
"Dorothy," Lucas rasps, "we should go into the other room."
"Yeah," she agrees, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom.
He closes the door, then sets his vest on a chair before tugging his boots and socks off. Then he slowly stalks towards her, his eyes dark and predatory.
She turns her back to him, moving her hair out of the way, and he is presented with a row of small buttons running down her spine.
He gently positions her to stand before him while he sits on the bed, adjusting for the difference in their heights. He first places a kiss on the skin of her back above her dress, then proceeds to open the buttons.
Again, he moves gently, deliberately, and with agonizing slowness, kissing each inch of flesh as it is revealed to him.
Dorothy tries to be patient, but her body is already tingling with anticipation (somewhere in the back of her mind she wonders what, exactly, was in that tea and if it is responsible for her currently heightened senses), and Lucas' slow, gentle attention is making her want to just take him, clothes be damned.
"Patience, Dorothy," he murmurs against her skin, as if he senses her thoughts.
"You are taking too long," she replies.
"This is not something to be rushed," he counters, opening the last button. He presses his lips to her spine, just at her waist, then slides his hands up the smooth skin of her back. She shudders under his caress, then pulls her arms from the sleeves.
She pushes the dress over her hips and it falls to the floor in a heap of fabric. She steps out and turns around.
"Oh," he grunts, his hands finding her hips and pulling her towards him. He begins lavishing soft, wet kisses on her breasts while she rakes her fingers through his hair.
"Lucas." She whispers his name, feeling that curiously lightheaded, over-sensitized feeling again as he sets about slowly and deliberately making her come undone.
His lips are very distracting, but not distracting enough to prevent her from tugging at his shirt. He leans back just long enough, just far enough, to tug the shirt over his head and off.
She takes advantage of this and pounces, tackling him back onto the bed. Before he can react, she covers his lips with hers, taking control.
Attempting to take control.
When she hears and feels his low growl and immediately finds herself on her back beneath him, she realizes she never had it.
"Take your time, Love," he rumbles. "We have all night. There's no need to rush."
"But—"
He kisses away her protest, then says, "The only thing I have to give you is my time."
She reaches up and caresses his face, his beard now familiar under her fingertips. "That's not true," she says. "You have given me so much," she pauses to kiss him, murmuring, "your protection… your devotion…"
"Myself," he adds, his hand sliding down her side until his fingers find the edge of the scant undergarment she has on. He hooks his fingers into it and slides it down over her long, slender legs and onto the floor. He removes his trousers and undergarments while he is at the edge of the bed, then returns to her. "I am yours, Dorothy. All of me. All I am belongs to you."
The question What if you get your memory back? threatens to spring from her lips, but it is quickly forgotten when he begins slowly kissing her once again, making her aware of nothing but him and how he makes her feel.
She sighs his name when he moves to her neck, his beard slightly rough around the slickness of his tongue. She writhes beneath him, growing impatient again, winding her leg around his. His low chuckle vibrates through her chest as he continues his unhurried pace.
He stops laughing when her fingers find him, wrapping around his length and stroking.
"Dorothy," he croaks, almost choking, her touch causing him to briefly falter and fumble. He groans, dropping his forehead against her sternum for a moment. When he raises his head, the look he is giving her is dark and feral, and it makes her blood further heat.
"Oh," she softly gasps, her hand stilling on his cock. A second later, she arches under him as he fights fire with fire, his fingers slipping between her legs. "Mmm," she moans, tilting her hips into his hand, trying to encourage him.
"Not yet," he says, nibbling her ear a bit before returning to her lips.
"You really know how to kiss," she gasps, tearing her lips away. He responds by circling his fingers just so. "Oh! Among other things."
He grins against her cheek, nibbles her lower lip, then settles between her thighs.
Hopeful, Dorothy guides him into position. Lucas deeply kisses her, then slowly pushes forward, sliding into her with a low groan.
"Ohh…" she sighs, arching up to meet him, to draw him further in. "Mmm…"
He draws his hips back, then forward again, still unhurried.
She pulls her knees up, pushing at him with her feet, trying to encourage him to pick up the pace.
"Patience," he repeats, but his voice is strained, indicating his own patience is wearing a little thin.
"Fuck patience, and fuck me," she replies, grabbing his face and pulling him down for a searing kiss. When his steady rhythm stutters and his fingers tighten on her breast, she knows she's finally broken through his carefully cultivated control.
"Oh…" he grunts. "You make a… compelling argument." He rears up and snaps his hips into her, thrusting harder, immediately picking up his pace.
She cries out, throwing her head back, her hands groping for his chest, shoulders, something to anchor herself as he hurls them both into the abyss.
It doesn't take long before Dorothy is shouting out Lucas' name, her body convulsing under him, tightening around him, when the most intense orgasm she's ever had courses through her.
Lucas manages to hold on through three more thrusts, then he stills, his body a coiled spring, every muscle taut as he surges into her.
He collapses over her, murmuring her name against her skin, his lips soft as they brush against her.
She can feel every point of contact between them, every hair on his chest against hers, every eyelash brushing her collarbone. Her body feels like it is tingling all over.
She brings her hand up, intending to stroke his hair, and sees the gauntlets, visible on her hands again. She turns her hand this way and that, watching how the red stones (Rubies? Garnets? Or are they some other red stone we don't have at home?) glow in the flickering candle flames. She slowly moves her fingers, making the gold glint before her eyes.
"Dorothy?" Lucas asks, lifting his head. "What are you? Oh," he says, turning his face enough to see the gauntlets just before they disappear again. "Did we do that?"
"I think so," she answers. "When I…"
"Yeah," he replies, nodding, then gently rolling to the side. "I felt it, too." He pulls her with him, and she rests her head on his shoulder.
She snuggles against him, and he reaches down to pull the covers up over them.
"It's good you remembered how to do that," Dorothy says after a minute.
"You're surprised?" Lucas asks, his hand lazily dragging up and down the skin of her hip and side.
"A little," she admits.
He turns his head, burying his nose in her hair. "I figured since I seemed to know how to wield my sword, there's no reason why I shouldn't know how to…"
"Wield your sword?" Dorothy finishes, giggling into his chest.
Lucas laughs, a low, rumbling chuckle that she realizes she hasn't heard nearly enough. "You have a dirty mind," he says.
"You love it," she replies, chuckling.
"I do," he says, his voice quite serious.
She looks up at him, and the look in his eyes as he gazes down at her both thrills and frightens her. She can see the words there, the words he wants to say but is afraid will make her bolt.
And she knows, deep down, that he's not entirely wrong. She might bolt if he says them.
Not that she has anywhere to go. She's slowly accepting the fact that she is probably stuck here. She's agreed to join up with the witches, for Pete's sake, so a part of her must know that Kansas is going to remain a memory.
If the Wizard is to be believed, she was born here. So maybe she does belong here..
And what's more, she's actually happy here. Lucas and Sylvie make her happy. Happier than she can remember ever being in Kansas. And while that stings, it is a small comfort in this strange place. As much as she wants to go home to her aunt and uncle, she would be equally heartbroken to leave Lucas and Sylvie.
"Dorothy?" Lucas' soft rumble draws her out of her thoughts.
"Hmm?"
"Oh good, I was afraid you'd fallen asleep. Don't forget you're supposed to drink some more of that awful tea," he reminds her, kissing her forehead.
"Ugh, right," she says, sliding out of bed. She bends down, grabs his shirt from the floor, and throws it on.
"That looks good on you," he calls as she walks out to the sitting room to pour herself another dreadful cup.