AN: NSFW warnings apply!
"Well, that certainly was awkward," Galyan said after the door closed.
"Intensely," Elanie agreed. "I hope you aren't offended."
"No, of course not," he said hastily. "In the years we've been friends, we've all heard plenty of uncomfortable details. And everyone knows how close you and Alte have become recently."
"Except Alte, it seems," she said with some rancor.
"You can't blame him for wanting to spend one night with an old friend. Or are the rumors about you and Arnaud untrue? Or Gustav? Or Nadine?"
"That isn't the point," she said impatiently. "Alte knows I have a healthy appetite. He doesn't mind when I recruit outside help to satisfy it."
"In other words, it's different because it's you."
"That isn't it at all!" she protested. "It's just that his... energy... has been falling off lately, and I worry... Well, if he's got enough timber to fire up the furnace, I'd rather he used it to heat my chamber."
"It's just one night," he said. "It doesn't mean that he no longer cares about you. Besides, I've met Liranis."
"Oh?" Elanie all but pounced upon him. "What's she like?"
"There's no comparison," he said truthfully. "It's been a while, but I could describe her, if you like. It may make you feel better."
"Please do!"
"She's pretty enough, I suppose, but she's too aware of her fine bones for beauty. She uses it as a glamour to hide what she is. She is intelligent, but her wit is cold, and it takes a great deal of alcohol to ignore her condescension."
"Is she any good in bed? Or didn't you know her that well?"
"Answering that question would be ungallant," he said.
"And your description was a model of courtesy?"
"Answering your question implies judgment, one way or the other. She has always been selective. I'll give her that."
"She can't be too selective if she crawled into your bed," Elanie said carelessly. "You've slept with half the women of the White Spire and a quarter of the men."
"And that's why I was reluctant to answer your question," Galyan ignored the insult.
"So, in other words, you know but won't tell me."
"Yes."
"So, what?" she prodded. "She's cold and unresponsive? Prudish? Repulsive in some other way? Or is she good enough that telling me would make me insecure?"
"You could hardly be more defensive than you are already, don't you think?" he said with a half-smile.
"You're infuriating!"
She leaned in and punched his ribs, but with neither force nor anger. He put his arms around her and eased her to lie against his chest.
"Think, Elanie," he whispered. "The White Spire has no shortage of strapping, indecently handsome men. You could have anyone you desire, but you choose balding, middle-aged Alte. Why?"
"And this is the part where you try to make me feel better by telling me that he loves me too?" she sniffed. "What if he loves this Liranis better?"
"I want to be there when you meet her," he said, squeezing her harder and resting his cheek on her hair. "You are going to remember this conversation and laugh yourself sick."
They sat in silence for several moments. He still held her, if only because he was too lazy to let her go. She stiffened at the sound of the door of the next room closing - Alte's room. Muffled, indistinct conversation filtered through the wall.
"I almost picked you instead of Alte," she said suddenly. "That first time I sat at the Enchanter's Table and saw the pair of you playing that game with the thimbles full of wine. You were very handsome then. Not that you aren't now, but..."
"But you've developed feelings for Alte and that changes your perception?" he suggested.
"More or less. I wonder what would have happened if I'd chosen you instead."
"Why didn't you?" he asked.
"I'd heard the rumors," she said, toying with the fastenings of his robe. "Not the ones about you sleeping with the Knight-Commander. I heard them, too, but nobody put any faith in them. It was the ones about you bedding everyone else in the tower that put me off."
"It was more or less the truth," he said, gasping slightly at the contact of her fingertip against bare skin. She had opened the front of his robe and was teasing the hairs of his chest.
"That's what Alte said," she said. "He said that you'd suffered a terrible loss and had gone a bit wild with grief."
"That does shine a romantic light on things, doesn't it?" he said. His voice was thicker now, choked by the desire her caresses were awakening. "Elanie, are you sure you want to do this?"
"Why not?" she laughed. "Alte placed me in your tender care for the night. I might as well make some use of what was offered. You don't find me repellent, do you?"
"You can see for yourself that I don't," he said, turning her face away from the swelling below his belt and making her look at his face. "But we're friends, Elanie, and I don't want to lose that."
"Are you afraid that we're using each other?"
"I know we're using each other," he said. "I see nothing wrong with scratching an itch using somebody else's nails, as long as both parties are respectful and honest about it."
"Then shut up and show me those gifts Alte mentioned," she said, growling into his beard and pulling his mouth toward hers.
He gasped at the feel of her lips against his, the first kiss he had shared in years. Her hands were everywhere, stroking him, coaxing him to greater and greater excitement. He needed little encouragement, but she provided it abundance, panting and moaning at the lightest touch. She tore at his clothing, stripping him roughly and tossing robes and small clothes away from him with force. He proceeded more cautiously, easing her gown from her body and laying kisses along the path of his hands. She responded with ear-splitting enthusiasm, screaming in voluble ecstasy as his lips grazed her thigh.
He withdrew, then rose to sit on the edge of the bed, his naked legs dangling against the bed rails.
"I can't do this," he said.
"Just give it a moment," she said, running her hands along his back. "You have quite a majestic banner, if we can get the pole to stay up."
"This isn't you," he said, turning so he could examine her face. "I've heard you and Alte make love a hundred times, and you're never this loud. Stop faking it."
"You inspire me," she said, reaching around in an attempt to fondle him back to life. He took her hands in his and drew them toward his knees.
"I wish I did," he said. "You're trying to get a reaction, but not from me. Since you can't make love to Alte through the wall, I can only assume you're trying to make him jealous. You are using me."
"I thought you didn't have a problem with that."
"Use me for sex all you like," he said. "Ride me until I collapse and kick my worthless corpse into the middens, for all I care. I won't let you use me as a weapon against my friend."
"I'm sorry, Galyan," she sighed. "I know this isn't what you wanted. Are you going to leave?"
"This is my room," he said. "And I have no idea where you threw my clothes."
"Something may have gone out the window," she said sheepishly.
"The window?" he laughed in spite of himself. "I can't wait to explain that one to the groundskeeper."
He lay beside her on the bed again and embraced her cautiously. The gesture was partially a practical one. Autumn was well underway, the narrow window was unglazed, and his room was unheated. Without warm clothing or activity, his room was chilly. She linked her arms around his waist and kissed him lightly.
"That ship sailed," he whispered, though his pulse quickened at her tenderness.
"Where did it go?" she asked playfully, kissing him again and sliding her hands down to stroke his buttocks. Her touch was lighter than it had been, more fondling and less pawing.
"Here," he groaned, shivering against the cold and drawing her body closer. He responded sluggishly, fighting the desire to send her away as fiercely as he wrestled with the yearning to part her voluptuous thighs and take her despite his conscience. He knew he was making a terrible mistake. He was not the man she loved, but now that her lust was awakened and she was truly engaged in their embrace, he found her attractions impossible to resist. She was not the woman his soul craved, but his body cared nothing for the desires of his heart. The woman he saw in his dreams was lost to him, but a beautiful, vibrant woman now lay in his arms, exciting senses he had forgotten he possessed.
For several moments, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing. Protests rose in his throat, but he swallowed them, applying himself to rousing her instead. He had touched no flesh but his own for years. He ached for the closeness, for the thrill of feeling her quiver against him. The husky purr in her moans was softer now, but it ignited a trail of fire from brain to loins. The salt taste of her intoxicated him even as her musk enchanted him. Her body was lush... soft... yielding. It had been too long.
He fought now to retain control, to prolong the moment between arousal and surrender. She rolled him onto his back. Memories awakened that distracted him more thoroughly than the pendulous sway of her breasts.
"Don't you dare!" she hissed, sensing his waning attention, but that was enough to bring him back to the moment. He pulled her lips to his once more, and gave himself over to her pleasure. She did not cry out when she found it, but he knew, and was almost ready to meet her. He could not breathe. Lava coursed through his veins and every heartbeat felt as if it might be his last. He was powerless to stop what was happening to him... but fate was not.
"You don't want to do that!" Alte's urgent voice cut through Galyan's consciousness even as emotion seized him.
The latch rattled and the door crashed open, splintering the washstand behind it and sending shards of broken crockery plinking across the floor. An armored female stood framed in the threshold, the expression of her once-familiar features, stone.
"Cassandra!" Galyan gasped as Elanie shrieked in alarm. She broke free of his grasp and leapt off him, scrambling to cover herself and leaving him to twitch wretchedly with the aftermath of his paralysis. He seized Elanie's blanket in panic, but it was too late. By several years.
"You are needed," she said tersely. "Get up."
"Er... yes," he stammered. "Let me just get dressed..."
"Now."
Dazed, he obeyed. Emotions overwhelmed him, humiliation first among them. He prayed the she would step into the corridor to allow him to dress and collect his wits, but she remained motionless where she stood, glaring. He withered under her gaze, literally and figuratively, but he forced himself to slink from his bed and look for his small clothes. Either mortification blinded him or Elanie had thrown everything out the window, because the floor was bare of everything except broken pottery. Alte tossed him a robe, which he donned gratefully. He let out an involuntary yelp as a sliver of clay cut into his sole, but thrust his feet into a pair of sandals anyway.
"I'm sorry," he said to Elanie. She cringed against the wall, clutching the reclaimed blankets under her chin and quaking in fear.
"Let's go," Cassandra ordered. It was not a request.