As nice as it has been to take things slow, two doomed people cannot afford to wait forever.
Droullin can feel something different in the air one night as Vitalis walks her back to her room. The hellion was more quiet than usual during dinner, and Droullin suspects that it might have something to do with the expedition roster for tomorrow. They are scheduled to venture into the weald to face the Wizened Hag. They have fought diverse horrors in their time at the hamlet, but never any of such reputation. Droullin is willing to admit that she is scared.
Vitalis would never admit the same, but Droullin sees as much in the tightness of her shoulders and the rhythmic twitch of her jaw. The tension does not leave her as the door to the vestal's room shuts behind them.
Once they are alone, Droullin approaches her. She slides her hands up and down the hellion's arms in a gesture meant to be comforting. Vitalis meets her eye gratefully, but the muscle in her jaw does not still.
"Are you all right?" Droullin asks. It feels unfamiliar but appropriate to be the one to ask, this time.
The hellion shakes her head.
Droullin runs a thumb over her painted cheekbone. "What can I do?" she breathes. She has an idea, but she leaves the choice up to Vitalis.
The hellion leans down to kiss her without hesitation.
Vitalis kisses a little like she fights: wild, passionate, and sure, and Droullin is helpless to do anything but try to keep up. She winds her arms around the taller woman's neck and lets herself be pulled flush against her tense, muscled body. The hellion rewards her by sliding her hands south and squeezing, and the vestal gasps.
Vitalis's mouth trails down her jaw to the side of her neck. The single candle in the room casts the planes of her face in red and black. Her eyes, dark already, are hidden completely in shadow. She looks otherworldly, but not like the monsters of the ruins or the weald. She looks like something out of Droullin's dreams.
That thought, plus the lips on the tender skin below her ear, ignite embers deep in Droullin's gut. A telling noise escapes her throat, and her first instinct is to slap her hand over her mouth in embarrassment.
Vitalis raises her head to look at her. Droullin feels unbearably vulnerable under her stare, but she doesn't resist as the hellion's fingers close around her wrist and tug her hand away. Her meaning is clear: let me hear you.
What she says aloud is, "There's no shame."
Droullin almost laughs. Her life has been all shame; nothing but shame, for years. Even now, it crawls up her throat and threatens to choke her. The way Vitalis looks at her, so open and raw and warm, is almost enough to banish the memory of lashes on her back.
Almost, but not quite.
Droullin is tired of thinking. She flattens her palms against the hellion's chiseled abdomen and leans in again. A ragged exhale leaves Vitalis's lips at the touch. She returns the kiss fervently, almost feverishly, hands trailing to the hem of Droullin's habit with intent.
The heat of anticipation rises within the vestal. How many years has it been since she experienced any intimacy? She doesn't remember. She doesn't care. All she cares about in this moment is Vitalis, and her mouth, and her hands, and where they will travel next.
The hellion seizes the hem of her garment and peels it over her head in one fell swoop. Droullin shivers as she is left in nothing but her smallclothes. Vitalis reaches for those too, but sudden anxiety knifes through the vestal's chest.
"Wait!" she blurts without thinking.
Vitalis's hands go still.
Droullin folds her arms around herself, shame warring with her desire. "Will you…snuff the candle?" she asks.
Vitalis hears the words she does not say: I want it to be dark. I don't want you to see me. "Are you sure?" she asks, and her meaning is clear as well: after everything we've faced in the dark?
Droullin nods shakily.
Without another word, Vitalis approaches the nightstand, licks her fingers, and pinches out the candle. The only light left is the dimmest of glows from the moonlit window. Droullin can barely make out the silhouette of her companion in the dark.
It's better this way. Droullin does not have to worry about what she looks like, or what is right or wrong. She does not have to worry that the Flame will suddenly flare up and consume her for her sin. In the warm, private darkness of her room, the only thing that matters is the two of them.
Vitalis proceeds by touch, ghosting her fingers over the newly exposed flesh of Droullin's waist, following the curve up to her breastband. Droullin does not stop her this time from undressing her fully and exploring the skin beneath. She does not stifle the sounds that jerk from her throat at the touch, either. She grips Vitalis's muscled shoulders and lets the embers within her grow into an inferno.
In her haze, she does not immediately notice when Vitalis tips them onto the bed. She does notice, however, when the hellion crawls atop her and slides a thigh between her own.
"Vitalis," she says breathlessly without any real intent.
Rather than responding, the hellion traps her wrists beneath strong hands and kisses her again.
It's finally enough. With the hellion's body pressed fully to her own, their breaths mixing between scorching kisses, and nothing but moonlight illuminating their embrace, Droullin's guilt and fear dissipates.
She has no need for it anymore. She has Vitalis.
…