Hey everyone, hopefully the wait for this chapter is worth it; slightly longer one than usual - with a slightly higher rating, too ;)
Mephistopheles' army of undead had collapsed only moments after him, the fighting all throughout Waterdeep coming to a sudden and abrupt end. We barely said anything as we stood there, blinking in surprise at our victory.
Valen's head had darted about the street, as if looking for the next enemy, as if not quite believing that we had won, and I'd lifted a hand to his arm, the smile already on my lips. But then, he'd returned his flail to his belt, eyes still darting all around us — and I'd realised.
He'd been looking for the same thing as me. A portal.
My finger had still been warm from the burn of my ring, but — look as I might for it — no portal had opened upon the devil's death.
At first I'd been thankful; I'd asked for just one more day, hadn't I? But then, as we began winding our way through the streets — more and more time passing since the moment that I'd upheld my end of the bargain — uncertainty began setting in.
We spent hours making our way through the so-called City of Splendours, Valen and Deekin trailed along behind me; celebrations of our victory on hold as we beheld all of the death and destruction.
We helped where we could, filling buckets with water, putting out spot fires, and passing potions and supplies to those in the greatest need. Valen had moved a few obstructions to the rescue efforts, as Deekin and I had crawled through debris, helping survivors from collapsed buildings. But, more often than not, the tiefling and kobold's appearances were met with only distrust and hate — at times, I think my human presence had been the only thing between them and an angry mob. We hurried past those groups of armed humans, towards the Dock Ward and The Yawning Portal.
More than once, I feared I had taken us the wrong way; the destroyed streets so different to what they looked like in my memory. But then I saw The Honorable Knight — the statue of a warrior in plate armour, his sword and shield raised as if he too had been defending the city from Mephistopheles' army — and I knew we were heading in the right direction.
The epicentre of destruction — despite my expectations — had been the Castle Ward, where we had been portalled by the Reaper. It was there that the host of knights and undead had been at their thickest, the piles of bodies the most unavoidable. I suspected it would be years until they could repair all of the damage wrought by the fires in that ward. But, as we moved south, the bodies of knights were less common. Instead, we were faced with the bodies of families and sailors and merchants; men, women, children who had been indiscriminately cut down.
I forced my eyes ever ahead as we continued through those littered streets, ignoring the sting of threatening tears. The sights we saw burned an everlasting impression behind my lids, and I felt as if a sheet of ash and death had settled on my skin.
More than anything, I wanted to curl up in a warm bath with a bottle of something strong.
We pushed past destroyed barricades littered with arrows and blood, stepping over growing piles of dead. As we neared our final destination, Valen somberly pointed out some new additions to the scattering of bodies; drow — some of the Seer's followers, from the armour. We slowed for these bodies, Valen turning each of them over with careful hands, attempting to identify the fallen.
We recognised none of them.
But now we knew without any doubt — the Seer was here. She'd made it.
The thought alone seemed to add speed to Valen's steps, as we wound through the increasingly narrow streets.
We followed that path of death and destruction right to Durnan, eyes hollow with exhaustion.
Him and some others had been holed up behind barrels of what I later realised were beer — one man tapping the keg with an axe and drinking straight from the barrel with great hungry gulps. Durnan had been wearing old leathers — tight around his chest and stomach — and had been elbow deep in blood as he attempted to hold together a too-still man's insides. He'd barely offered me more than a nod and a fleeting glance at my companions, before we had begun helping with the injured.
They'd taken one look at the tiefling and kobold's offered healing supplies — their own supply long since depleted — before they had found it in themselves to overcome their open distrust, allowing us behind their hasty barricade of kegs.
I didn't miss how some of the men's hands had gone to their weapons at Valen's cautious approach, even with Durnan vouching for us.
Valen didn't miss it either.
At his unsurprised expression, I brushed my fingers against his own — reminding him that I was there, that he didn't scare me. The smile he'd offered had warmed something deep within me, which the bleak events of the day had tried it's hardest to stifle.
Of the men we helped, two had been drow from Lith My'Athar, hands fisted at their chests as they greeted their general. When they had then turned to me and bowed at the waist, something akin to awe had shone on their ageless features, I'd only been able to blink at them in surprise.
As we worked, I told Durnan and those around us of Mephistopheles' death; that we had killed him. Durnan had considered me, as if seeing me for the first time, before sagging in relief at the news — having suspected after the undead had stopped, but only now letting himself truly believe that it was finally over.
I updated him on what had happened since I'd been lowered into the well in his basement so many months ago now — alone but for my knowledge of what was to come. He'd been familiar with a lot of my story, up until my death — 'thanks to the drow's Seer'. This news had gained Valen's attention, head perking up in hope as he asked after her health. She'd been in one piece, the last Durnan had seen, healing those that needed it with the priestess White Thesta. At Valen's request after Nathyrra, he had been met with blank stares, the innkeeper shrugging his shoulders, and the two drow had been in the city too long to know anything more. I hadn't dared to ask after my old companions from Undermountain — content for now to believe that they had survived the battle.
It was much, much later — the sun setting, and all of our limbs dragging — that we finally made our way back to Durnan's inn. Those with us began splitting off one-by-one, until it was just Durnan and the drow males. Without the bigger group, we fell into silence once more.
The tavern had survived most of the destruction — a true testament to the old adventurer and those Durnan had rallied to defend the docks — but signs of a close battle were there for those that cared to look.
Inside, it had been chaos — drow and humans everywhere.
The tavern had been set up as an infirmary and safe haven for those that needed it; based on the mix of faces.
Day far from over, we helped White Thesta with healing yet more injured, using the last of our potions on the worst of them. My dwindling herbs were stretched out for the rest. As we made our way through the rows of people, the noise in the room eventually evolved from one of urgency and pain to one of the tentative celebrations.
Deekin had even found a lute from one of the back rooms, setting up on a table and playing for the sea of healing humans and drow.
I was helping Durnan's daughter, Tamsil, hands in a murky bucket of water as I rubbed blood from some used bandages, when Valen's laughter shocked me from my thoughts. The tiefling, towering above everyone in the room, was bent at the waist to better hear a drow. The drow had an answering smile on his half-bandaged face, fighting through a grimace as Valen's clapped him on the shoulder.
It took me longer than I would have expected to recognise him; the yellow candles and lanterns scattered all throughout the room showing the purple tones of his skin in an all new light.
Imloth — bandages that covered half of his face and hair — had his arm in a sling and a leg propped up on a blood-crusted pillow. Reunion out of the way, I saw the commander's back as it straightened, his face turning serious as he offered Valen an update on everything that he had missed.
I hurried to finish my task, before turning to Tamsil and excusing myself.
I found a smile was already pulling at my lips as I woke my way towards the two of them.
Valen sensed my approach before Imloth, standing back to his full height and ushering me closer to them with a hand on the small of my back. The perceptive drow didn't miss the show of familiarity, only the slight lifting of his arched brow giving away his surprise.
They gave me a quick update on the troops, the Seer — who was praying or sleeping — in one of the inn's rooms, and Nathyrra — who we'd missed; the drow having left with the latest patrol. It was likely we wouldn't see her until morning.
I tried not to let my relief show at news of the latter — both that she had survived and that I wouldn't have to see her today — the disappointed droop of Valen's shoulders enough to still my sigh of relief.
From what Imloth told us, they'd been on the surface for close to three weeks.
They'd taken heavy casualties; first at the Valsharess' tower, and again in their escape from the Underdark. But their numbers had halved again after Mephistopheles' first wave against the human city. From there, Durnan and the other humans had been easy to convince of the threat and had helped against the horde of reanimated undead. A burning city tended to do that to people…
The worst of the day over, Durnan approached us again, glasses clinking in one hand and a bottle of something dark — and very, very old — in the other. He didn't even ask as he passed me one of the glasses, eyes on me as he poured. I didn't tell him when to stop, and he took the hint — filling it almost to the brim. After a moment of hesitation, he repeated the process with Valen, the tiefling dipping his head in thanks.
"None for you?" I pressed with a raised brow.
Durnan barked a single laugh, saluting me with the bottle and downing a couple of greedy mouthfuls.
This wasn't the night for speeches and words for the dead, it seemed.
I followed suit, hissing through a grimace even as I allowed Durnan to top my glass up again.
"Any rooms that aren't already taken are yours," he stated simply. I raised an eyebrow at the bottle in his hand. "The drinks too," he added with another laugh.
We let the music wash over us, drinking in comfortable silence.
"You look different, girl," Durnan said after a moment of consideration. "Almost didn't recognise you when you came upon us in the street."
I frowned, pulling my shoulders back and blinking down at myself.
When I looked up again, I caught his eyes darting away from Valen's face — so quick I almost missed it. Before I could say anything, he clapped me on the back. "But I'm sure you don't want to go over all of that with old Durnan now."
Realisation dawned on me, leaving a sickly feeling in my gut. Even Durnan finds Valen's presence uncomfortable… But then he passed the bottle to Valen with a polite nod, and I wasn't so sure.
With a smile, Durnan excused himself, making his way to another group of people he obviously knew, a too-wide grin plastered on his face.
Imloth, watching our exchange, said nothing. I offered him my glass — which he very quickly declined, eyes darting again to Valen.
I looked around the room as I drank, raising my cup in a toast to the little kobold as he grinned at me. The music was picking up tempo with each passing song, and everyone seemed to be replying in kind; the ambiance of the room being shaped by whatever magic the little kobold was weaving. I knew that it would be a while until he retired for the night — he was in his element.
I watched everyone with a small smile on my lips — enjoying the liveliness of the room, but unable to fully join in. Every blink of my eyes brought back the horrible sights of the city, and I wondered if precisely that was why everyone was so quick to celebrate, so quick to let the music wash over them.
"Let us claim some rooms, before they are all taken," Valen interrupted my thoughts with a hand on my arm. If he saw the watery gleam in my eyes, he didn't comment on it.
A nod to Imloth — who didn't seem at all surprised by our early departure — and I let the tiefling lead me through the rows of recovering survivors.
I took us on a slight detour to pick up another bottle, which earned me a raised eyebrow and secretive smile from the tiefling. I clutched the glasses tighter to my chest at the flip my stomach did in reply.
We stumbled up the stairs, feet impossibly heavy, and moved from door to door until we found one ajar.
I went to push through, when Valen caught my wrist, holding me in place.
"Jane…"
I paused, frowning.
Didn't he want to come in for a drink?
He let go, eyes roaming from me to the room beyond. He schooled his features carefully as he considered whatever it was that he wanted to say…
But I didn't give him a chance to voice it.
"Stop thinking and come get stupidly drunk with me," I urged him.
I threw the door open fully, before he could say no, surprising myself at my confidence. I hadn't had so much that I could blame it entirely on the drink; it was equal parts exhaustion and the nervous energy from our win against Mephistopheles.
That, and the growing fear that this might be it.
I'd asked for just one more day, and — at the time — I hadn't let myself truly considered why I wanted it. But, standing here with Valen, I couldn't lie to myself; I knew why I'd wanted more time.
I stepped away from him, into the room, eyes never leaving his own. I could see him weighing it all up, could see the cautiousness warring with that spark of desire.
There was a round timber tub and tap in one corner — bless Durnan and whoever had installed the internal plumbing that the inn was renowned for — and a large unmade bed next to it. The bed was pushed against the far wall, beneath a curtained window. The room was lit by a lone lantern, washing everything in a dull yellow glow.
I ignored the look in his eyes, finishing my cup before tossing the bottle and glasses onto the bed.
Hands empty, I reached back for him.
"Come on, Valen," I drew out his name. "You're not going to sleep yet. I'm not. Might as well stay awake together."
I steeled myself against any lingering uncertainty, and took his hands in mine. He looked down at them and I saw his throat bob as he swallowed.
Mind made up, he allowed me to pull him into the room.
Valen ducked through the doorway, horns grazing the timber, and the room suddenly felt smaller. Warmer.
I kicked the door shut, allowing him to reclaim his hands as I locked it, the sounds from downstairs a distant murmur. I paused at the door, resting my head against the cool timber as I heard a woman's familiar voice join Deekin's lute in song. I smiled at the beautiful music that they both made together. Yes, it would be a while until Deekin called it a night.
Turning, I dumped my pack and weapons alongside Valen's own.
I looked around again, half expecting to see a portal open up, then and there; the day coming to a definitive close.
But, as the normal room stared back, my shoulders sagged in relief.
I have tonight.
Tomorrow — tomorrow I would worry about getting home.
Whilst I got comfortable, Valen drank from the bottle. He was perched at the foot of the bed, so very out of place in this plain human room, his discomfort obvious.
Smiling, I crawled onto the bed beside him — feeling his eyes on me all the while.
Pulling my boots off, I threw them towards my pile of belongings, before tucking my feet up under me. I wrinkled my nose at the smell as Valen leant away from me pointedly.
"Sorry," I chuckled with an apologetic shrug.
I took the bottle from him, helping myself to more.
"You're determined to make this our dinner, then?" He mused, eyes on the neck of the bottle as I took another mouthful.
"You offering to scrounge something up?" I replied, nudging him with a toe.
He looked down at my offending foot, nose scrunching in distaste.
"You are aware," he started slowly, lifting my toe and moving it away from him. "That tieflings have far stronger senses than humans?"
I wiggled said toes at him with a grin, taking another drink.
"Well, you don't smell like peaches, either," I replied, sticking my tongue in his direction.
A smile creased the skin around his eyes.
"Peaches?"
"Fuzzy little fruits," I explained, placing a finger and thumb to my lips and making a kissing sound. "Pink and sweet and delish." I straightened, eyes widening as something dawned on me. "I don't even know if they have them here."
He chuckled as I threw myself back on the bed dramatically.
"I miss peaches," I sighed.
I went to take another sip from the bottle — suddenly not feeling quite so carefree.
I miss home.
I heard Valen's slightly frustrated exhale, before he stood so suddenly that the bed rocked. I spluttered as some of the liquid spilled down my chin.
Sitting up, I chuckled to hide my confusion.
"Well," I hummed, doing my best to hide my disappointment. "We should do this more often."
He raised an eyebrow at me, a smile curving one side of his lips. "We should," he agreed, eyes softening. "But you cannot get rid of me that easily."
I frowned lightly.
"I simply cannot stand the smell," he admitted with an apologetic grimace.
His eyes found the curtained window on the wall and he moved to open it.
I had a better idea — something I'd been wanting to do all day; as the ash and blood and grime from the city had started forming on my skin, layer by grimy layer.
A smile curved my lips. "Have you ever experienced internal plumbing, Valen?"
Valen paused at my words.
Crawling to the edge of the bed, I pulled my socks off, throwing them at the growing pile of belongings, before rolling my leather pants up as high as the tight material would allow.
I climbed into the tub before I could think any better of it, and turned the tap on — as hot as it would go.
There were a few moments of thudding pipes, a shrill screaming of something far off, before water began trickling out of the copper tap set beside the round timber tub.
I turned back to Valen with a smile, arms held wide.
At the look on his face, I suddenly regretted my confidence.
He hadn't moved, eyes drifting between me and the tub.
The heediness of having won, of being alive — coupled with however much I'd already drunk — obviously wasn't as good of a mix as I had thought.
Maybe I'd misread…
But then he shook his head, crossing his arms atop his chest, a smirk on his lips.
He looked like he grappled with the next words, so I was a little disappointed at what he eventually said; "I'll go find us something to soak all of this up." He motioned to the rapidly emptying bottle on the bed.
"My hero," I said with an answering smirk.
"Anything for you," he said with a little bow.
And — before his wickedly small smile and the low timbre of his tone had even really processed — he was gone, shutting the door behind him.
Mouth suddenly dry, I busied myself washing. I let the water run over my feet, before rolling up my sleeves and cleaning my hands and nails; the blood and dirt little rust coloured crescent moons. I splashed my face, grimacing at the murky colour as it drained away.
Only once it finally ran clear did I push the plug in deftly with a toe.
Sitting on the rim of the bath I returned my attention to the slowly rising water, moving my feet in circles and enjoying the sounds of the bath. As the water lapped at my calves, creeping closer to my armour, I made up my mind. I began moving before I could second-guess myself, peeling off one pant leg and then the other. Finally free, I tossed the black bundle of leather at my ever growing pile of belongings.
Feeling exposed — and all the world like I was making a mistake — I reached for the bottle, taking a couple of gulping mouthfuls.
Warmth spread through my chest and I removed the last of my armour, which I made certain landed directly atop Enserric as I disposed of it. The sword — thankfully — didn't offer any complaint.
I lowered myself into the slowly rising water, sighing at the warmth as it ran over my bare legs.
The moment of relaxation quickly passed, however, as goosebumps erupted on my skin, the underwear and thin slip barely enough to shield me against the too-cold room — or the room from evidence of just how cold I was.
It's just like bathers, I told myself, even knowing that wasn't at all how it was going to be received.
I continued drinking from the bottle, arms splayed across the lip of the tub, and back — intentionally — to the door.
Eventually, as the water filled the tub — my nerves finally under control — I let myself relax, eyes drifting shut and mind wandering. The bottle was dropping from my fingers, warm water lapping at my stomach, when I finally heard him.
Valen definitely wasn't the silent type, his bulk and armour saw to that, but it seemed as if each and every timber step groaned as he made his approach. I heard the light tap of knuckles, and then the door slowly creaked open on its hinges and I heard him as he cautiously stepped inside.
He paused.
I forced myself to keep my posture relaxed, my eyes closed. Taking a steadying breath, I raised the near-empty bottle in silent greeting.
At that, he began moving around behind me.
I opened an eye to watch his approach, noting with happiness, the tray in his hand. Tucked under his armpit was a far-too-nice looking bottle of red wine and atop the tray say two fresh glasses, a loaf of bread, and—
"Is that stew I smell?" I breathed in with a smile, water sloshing as I tried to get a closer look, momentarily forgetting to be self-conscious.
"Lamb," Valen said, his tone telling me that he had no idea what that was.
He didn't offer me any of it, depositing everything on the bed carefully.
There was some more movement, and then his boots and socks joined our pile of scattered belongings. His gauntlets next.
I chuckled at the sight of the otherwise fully armoured tiefling, at his obvious attempt at appearing casual.
"You look… uncomfortable," I snorted.
"You don't."
I ducked lower into the water at the wry twist to his words, attempting to hide to sudden rise of heat to my cheeks.
His features were schooled into a look of amused indifference, no hint that he might be feeling as alight with nerves as I was.
"We won," I assured him, moving again to lean against the edge of the tub. "Which means no more fighting. You don't need your armour."
He was giving nothing away, no way to tell what he thought of… of this.
Without a word, he passed me the stew and a fork. I dug in, grateful for the distraction.
He moved out of my line of sight, and — my assurance must have done the trick — as, seconds later, I heard the telling sounds of his remaining armour being removed.
I ate in silence, forcing myself not to think of the tiefling undressing near me. I thought of toe fungus, and infected wounds, and the sound beholders' eyes made when you shot them — keeping my attention firmly on my food.
Some time later, in only a beige undershirt and dark breeches, he passed me a glass of wine, exchanging it for the remaining stew. Using the stick of bread, he began wiping up what I'd left him.
His shoulder brushed against my own as he lowered himself against the outer side of the tub, a groan escaping him at the effort.
I flicked the side of his face with some of the water, smiling lightly. "Old man," I teased.
He flinched away from the spray, before turning his head towards me with a chuckle. I felt the warmth of his laugh all over, and I could see the mirth in his eyes — but also the uncertainty.
At that, my ring caught the light of the room and my smile faltered. Swallowing, I shook aside the shadows of my thoughts.
Valen knew everything — I had nothing, nothing to feel guilty about.
If the portal came tomorrow, nobody would begrudge me one night of celebrations.
We deserved this.
…And if the portal didn't come — my stomach clenched at the thought — well, then there was no reason to wait around and let life pass me by.
I smiled at him warmly, hoping it covered my own moment of uncertainty.
His tail flicked against the timber floor, the only sound other than the filling tub.
I found myself staring.
"How do you get your pants over it?" I asked, half surprising myself with the question. At his vacant expression, I amended; "You tail?"
He blinked at me, said tail stilling before it curled self-consciously around his thigh.
"They have slats that close. With hidden buttons," he said slowly. "Or I just wear them low." His shoulder jostled mine with a shrug, as he returned to his food.
Eventually, I turned the tap off with a toe; the water almost full to the lip and sitting just below my chest.
I watched him eat whilst I drank.
"I was expecting the portal to open as soon as he died," I eventually admitted to the quiet room.
Valen paused mid bite, lowering his bread-come-spoon into the bowl. He didn't say anything for some time, and — when he eventually did — his words were considered, careful "I was too. And yet…" he went back to his food, swallowing a bite before continuing. "And yet I found myself accepting that if it did, and you chose to leave…" he shrugged again. "I would find a way to accept it. Accept that that is what will make you happy."
Something tugged deep in my gut, and I couldn't look away from him.
"We'll, I'm happy we have more time," I breathed.
"I know." His eyes flickered. "I am... grateful too."
Eventually, he set aside his bowl, just as the water was starting to cool.
"Well, the room smells infinitely better," he hummed resting his head back against the tub and closing his eyes.
I jostled his shoulder, smiling sheepishly as water jumping over the lip onto him.
I ducked my head under the water before he could respond, determined to make the most of it before it was too cold. I ran my fingers through my hair, surfacing slowly and blinking water from my eyes.
I tried not to let my surprise show when I noticed his eyes following my every movement.
He didn't look away and I was suddenly unsure what to do with my arms, my face.
So I said; "The water's getting cold."
I stood, water cascading down my body as I searched the room for a towel, trying not to let the way his eyes snagged on me give me pause.
I had no such luck — on either front.
I climbed out, head spinning from standing so quickly and skin alive with goosebumps.
Valen rose from where he'd been sitting, stretching to pull a sheet from amongst the tangle of bedding. He passed it to me without a word, eyes suddenly everywhere but on me.
My smile was tentative as I took it from him, wrapping the expanse of material around my dripping body. The seconds ticked by as I shook from the chill of the room, squeezing as much as the water as I could out of my hair and straight onto the floorboards.
"Not seeming like such a good idea anymore?" Valen mused with a wry smile at my obvious discomfort.
A retort was on my lips, but when I looked up I realised that he was edging to leave, eyes on the door and body leaning away.
I paused, frowning. "I thought you were staying."
"I—" something flickered in his eyes. He sighed, shoulders dropping. "Is that really what you want?" he asked carefully.
I swallowed, the idea of him leaving making me feel lost, hollow.
"I don't want to be alone," I said honestly, pulling the sheet tighter around my body.
Something almost like hurt flashed across his face — his eyebrows pulling down momentarily — but then his eyes softened, and I decided I must have misread.
A small smile tugged at his lips, the space between us too much as his eyes trailed down my body.
The white sheet was almost completely soaked, water dripping from my hair.
Tentatively, I closed some of the distance between us, gauging his reaction.
He gave nothing away — just that infuriating tilt to his right eyebrow. But he didn't step away, he didn't move to leave.
I stepped closer again, feeling the warmth of his body as I tilted my chin up towards him.
And still, he didn't budge; waiting. The only movement from him was the gentle lashing of his tail.
"What is it you want, Jane?" He asked again, voice strained.
I smiled, letting the sheet fall away. It pooled at my feet as I reached up to run my hands across the back of his neck. I pulled him down towards me.
I want you.
"I want to celebrate being alive," I whispered against his lips with a smile.
I pulled his head down the rest of the way, his lips to mine, and felt his body tense. For one horrible moment I feared that I'd made a mistake, but then — yes — I felt the growl as it built deep within his throat.
With a hand on my lower back he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss.
I basked in the heat of him, even as the thin damp material of my clothes pressed uncomfortably against my skin.
His tail wrapped around my thigh — grazing so very close — as he cupped my backside with his hands and lifted. I felt him smile as I gasped against his lips.
I broke away, burrowing my face in his neck as I clung to him. Holding tight, I locked my ankles around his back as he carried me to the bed.
I felt every inch of skin that touched mine, felt his muscles as they tensed and moved, felt the dampness of my clothes leaching into his own.
"You are… very cold," he gritted out, the words hot on my neck.
I braced, expecting to be deposited immediately onto the mattress. But then I felt his nose brush my exposed neck, hand and tail grasping me firmer. His teeth grazed my throat in a lazy caress as his free hand roamed up my back, pushing its way under my shirt.
I arched fully against him, exposing more of my throat and feeling his light grumble of approval. He sucked at the skin, nipped at my earlobe.
Skin to skin, his hand found its way to the back of my neck beneath my clothes, fingers grasping gently as he moved my head to expose more of my throat to him. I melted under his attention, thankful that he was holding me, as I didn't trust my own legs.
He didn't pause when he eventually lowered me onto the bed, muscles tensing but steady. A string of kisses trailed down my throat — the knot of healing scar tissue garnering extra attention — before he made his way to my shoulder, teeth scraping gently.
I hummed in contentment, eyes fluttering shut as I shimmied back on the mattress, Valen braced above me on knees and elbows. His hands continued their roaming beneath my damp shirt, goosebumps erupting across my skin as I arched into him.
I felt a shudder go through me as his thumb grazed my ribs, and then he was peeling away my damp shirt.
I arched my back to help, pressing myself against him.
As the cool air of the room hit me, I felt something hard press against my thigh. Heat flooded me and I went taut and loose all at once.
"I have been thinking about this since that night at the Hellsbreath," he breathed against my lips. And then he growled in admittance; "Earlier."
He captured my bottom lip as his calloused palm scraped across my breast, finger idly circling.
I shivered despite his heat, despite the heat growing elsewhere.
He paused and I almost hissed in protest as he pulled away, face haloed by his beautiful red hair — almost orange in the low yellow light of the lantern. I missed his warmth immediately.
"You are shivering so hard that the bed is shaking," his voice was husky, but I could hear his concern.
"So warm me up," I protested, arching up against him. I scoffed with a smirk as soon as the words left my lips.
He shook his head, leaning away and removing his own shirt in one quick movement. I couldn't help but stare, mouth suddenly dry. But it didn't join our pile of armour.
"Put it on," he told me gruffly.
I frowned.
"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind," I said with a pout as I pulled his, admittedly, warm shirt over my head.
He ignored my complaint, placing a hand on my thigh and motioning for me to move further into the bed. He climbed in beside me, mattress groaning as his warmth poured over me.
I reached for him again, determined to pick up where we left off.
"Patience," he rumbled.
I scowled at the laughter in his voice.
And then his broad hands slid over and under me; one flattening against my stomach and pulling me around so my back was against the warmth of his bare chest, the other sliding under my ribs and arm, to band around my chest. He tangled his legs with mine, his tail settling across the dip of my waist. I could feel every wonderful inch of him behind me.
His tail trailed along a band of exposed skin on my stomach and I reached for it, running my fingers along the tough skin in curiosity. His arms tensed around me, and — emboldened — I stroked the spaded tip, feeling a twitch at my backside in time with the caress.
Heat flooded my body, as he nipped at my ear, whispering; "You will find, there are few better ways to get a tiefling's attention."
I grazed my nails along it gently, before smirking and grinding back against him at his immediate response. He growled against my neck, hand stilling in its gentle caress, fingers digging into my stomach.
"Wicked woman," he managed.
My blood thrummed and I began twisting, reaching for him, needing to feel him. But he clicked his tongue, pushing himself harder against me until there was no room for even my hand to slide into.
"I want to enjoy this first," he said, his voice so guttural I barely recognised it. "Just — let me." He slid a hand under my shirt, stroking gently for emphasis.
It was enough of a plea that I paused, yielding to his other hand as it again began tracing lazy lines on my stomach. His tail ran up and down the length of my thigh, as he slid a finger along the band of my underwear, still damp from the bath. It trailed there lazily, idly stroking, gaining no ground.
I arched towards him, felt the ghost of his smile against my ear.
His hand at last dragged beneath my waistband and the first brush of him against me dragged a groan from deep in my throat. My eyes fluttered shut.
He snarled in satisfaction at what he found, thumb circling, teasing. Brushing, but never quite —
His other hand gently squeezed at the same moment his thumb pushed down exactly where I wanted. I bucked my hips, my head fully back against his shoulder now, panting as his thumb flicked —
Another groan escaped me, and I felt his chest move in a deep chuckle.
Eventually, his fingers slid down, slow and brazen. I felt his touch in every point of my body, my mind narrowed to the point of his fingers, teasing and poised there, like he had all the time in the world.
I snarled in frustration, daring to pull away to shimmy out of my underwear, before grabbing his hand and showing him exactly where I wanted him. He was more than happy to oblige.
He hissed as I arched up to meet him, lips pressed into my neck, muffling his voice as he swore — in common or abyssal; I wasn't sure, didn't care.
I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe.
His lips traced the shell of my ear.
Needing to feel more of him, I twisted as much as I could. I found him staring at me — something unreadable in his eyes — and captured his mouth in my own.
My very existence narrowed to the feel of him.
I groaned again against his lips, spurring him on.
"You have no idea how much I—" he stopped himself, humming my name against my lips.
That was what did me in.
Valen held me tight against his chest, lips covering my gasp as he devoured the sound.
I let the heat wash over me, before relaxing against him, his hand continuing to idly stroke my stomach. Cheeks flushed and both breathing hard, I wondered idly when the lantern went out.
Only once I was sure my limbs were all back under my own control, I tried again to reach between us, determined to return the gesture.
He hugged me tighter to him, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck, a contented grumble vibrating throughout his body.
"We have time," he hummed into my ear with an amused chuckle.
I pushed back against him, feeling his body's objection to his words.
"Valen," I hissed.
My desperate retort of; we might not have time, sat on the tip of my tongue. But it didn't feel right in this moment, and left a bitter taste in my mouth.
He kissed me behind the ear with smiling lips, flattening my mess of drying hair with a gentle hand.
"Sleep," he said. He might have well as commanded me to fly.
But then he began stroking my body again — this time to soothe, with long luxurious strokes down my stomach and hips, and sleep found me faster than expected.
Maybe we will have time, I found myself thinking with a sleepy smile.
And maybe it was the wine, or the blissful release he'd wrung from me, but I dreamt well into the night and morning. Dreams of sunlight, and peaches, and Valen and I travelling through Faerûn by each others sides — not a single devil or drow in sight.