Chapter Text
Between all the fighting, scrambling, looting, sneaking, and general peril of an average day on the island of Fort Joy, the importance of rest often got lost somewhere along the way. When one was unaware whether Magisters or undead swashbucklers or Void-infested creatures lay just around the next bend, it proved difficult to lay down for a quick snooze- yet, despite the limits they could reach, each body did have just that: limits. Not to mention the mind, overridden with stress that was often written off as a ‘product of the environment’, something to push through, overcome, and return stronger than before. But without rest, none of that was possible.
And so, the latest escapees from the infamous Fort found themselves squatting at a long-abandoned makeshift camp, a mishmash collection of bedrolls and overturned chairs, old food and empty potion bottles. It was something, and to the weary, harassed, wholly exhausted travelers, it seemed like a safe haven. They rested the first night, the four of them- Lohse buried underneath as many semi-clean blankets as she could get her hands on (“I get chilly when I sleep- if you see a good pair of socks somewhere along the way, gimmie a head’s up!”), Beast moved his bedroll to be closer to the main path leading up to their little campsite (“Ah, don’t you worry none, I’ll rest better knowin’ I can keep an eye out.”), Fane, for whom sleep was unnecessary, perched in whatever chair was least rickety, lit a candle, and settled in for a night of reading and note-taking (“I do so hope none of you snore. Eugh, what a foul habit.”), and Yiershe curled up into as small a ball as she could manage and draped her tail over her nose, drawing comfort from the way she used to sleep as a hatchling.
An odd group they certainly made- human, dwarf, undead and lizard- but so far they proved to be an efficient team, having bested the horrors of Fort Joy and beyond.
When they were awake and roused, Beast and Lohse set off for the Sanctuary of Amadia, keen on gathering supplies and picking the brains of those who found shelter there. Of course, finding respite at the Sanctuary itself had been discussed among the party, but the general consensus had been that the enclave was a bit too crowded for everyone’s liking, and sleeping among complete strangers wasn’t preferable to sleeping among… not-quite-strangers. Truly, they hadn’t been together for long at all, but fighting- and nearly dying- alongside each other did wonders for a group’s sense of camaraderie.
So, the two more sociable members of the group set off, their lively chatter drifting behind them as they went, leaving Yiershe to begin mending a pair of footwear- finding good legwraps for lizards was a lifelong struggle, godsdamnit, and she wasn’t about to let these go so easily- and Fane to continue musing over a new Necromancy skillbook he’d been learning. Something about raining blood. It intrigued her, but she had to remind herself firmly that she had her claws tied with Pyromancy and Geomancy, and had neither the time nor brainpower to get into another school of magic.
Yiershe wasn’t particularly antisocial by any means; in conversations she tended to listen more than she spoke, but she thought she gave quite decent advice. Like many lizards her age, however, she’d been raised in the world of battle strategy and studying, history and practical skills, which left very little time for fraternizing or bond-building. Her parents had ensured she wasn’t stunted by any means, and so they provided a few friends her age for her to entertain herself with, but Yiershe still needed a bit more time to recharge before throwing herself so willingly back into a group setting. The time alone was welcomed, giving her ample time to think about their next move and future paths to take, as well as her companions and what they’d told her they needed.
Fane on the other hand, was antisocial, and he was not afraid to brandish that like a weapon. From their first meeting he was prickly and holier-than-thou, treating her and their group members as if they were below him in some way. Perhaps they were, considering what he’d told her about his people, yet during battle he still stumbled, still missed spells, still got wounded the same way they did. And even in the relatively small time they’d been together, Yiershe had noticed a change in him. He was less defensive going into conversation, able to drop that sense of competition or that drive to let everyone know just how intelligent he was in favor of genuinity. Yiershe wondered if he felt just as lost as the rest of them, and masked it with snippy remarks and grumbling complaints.
Actually… Her hands paused between one stitch and the next, head tilting as a thought came to her. During her idle thoughts, she’d noted that he got wounded the same way they did in battle, but in truth, she wasn’t sure if that was the case. Sure, she knew he took damage and felt pain, if his occasional demands for healing or pained groans offered any evidence, but to what end? He didn’t bleed, nor had she ever seen him crack a bone for example, plus no skin meant no nerve endings, didn’t it? Or, was that even a factor? What caused him to feel pain? What-
“Can I help you, lizard?” Fane said pointedly, and Yiershe blinked back to the present, realizing belatedly that she’d been squinting across the small clearing at him. He hadn’t looked up from his book, but even if he had there was no guarantee those hollow eyesockets were returning her gaze.
She shook her head, clearing it. “No, sorry. Just lost in thought.”
Fane turned a page indifferently as she returned to her work, mending a seam in her leather legwraps that had split open sometime between one hasty retreat and the next. “Next time you’d like to partake in thinking, please do it somewhere else. I can practically hear the rusty gears in your head turning, and it’s quite distracting.” he quipped.
Yiershe said nothing, content for the interaction to be over, and Fane followed suit. She turned the wrap over in her claws, examining it this way and that, carefully noting what had been done and what still needed work. Unfortunately not enough to hold her attention for much longer; perhaps she should have gone with Lohse and Beast after all… though, she couldn’t deny that the relative silence was quite relieving.
Without anything to satisfy it, her brain plucked at the last interesting thread she’d been following. How did their pain thresholds differ, considering their makeup? Yiershe almost felt as if she should know this, seeing as they’d fought side-by-side in more instances than one, but to her credit her attention had been quite focused elsewhere- not dying, for one, and making sure her fireballs didn’t burn up her own party, for two. Her scales must defend her more resolutely than his bones, as with Fane there was nothing to defend. Her hard exterior guarded fleshy bits like her underbelly and throat, he possessed neither of those.
If she gave him a solid thwack on the skull for example (as she occasionally dreamed of doing, when he got particularly uppity), would the resulting pain be a dull, faraway ache or a biting, sharp sensation? Moving away from violence, how did other feelings register? Yiershe knew that humans had certain areas of their physique that were more sensitive than others, and though Fane would sharply rebuke her if he knew she was comparing him to something so insignificant as a human being, that seemed the most equitable one in her mind. Humans were… what, ticklish? Sensitive at least, on the bony parts like the ribcage, pelvis, kneecaps. At her age and considering her scholarly background, Yiershe had assumed there would be little in life left to ponder over. She was glad to be proven wrong, even if it was over something so inconsequential.
Quietly, the lizard set her work aside, determined now to get the answers she so desired; perhaps it was the result of her noble upbringing that suggested that if Yiershe wanted something, she was going to get it one way or another.
Just as she was piecing together how to approach the topic, Fane again sighed- sighed? Without lungs? Yiershe blamed her lack of previous questions on the aforementioned peril that'd been plaguing them- and said, “What.”
“Do you feel pain?” she asked, her ponderings cast aside in favor of the most straightforward question she could think of. No use beating around the bush, and besides, could Fane really berate her for her curiosity?
As it turned out, he could. “…Do I feel pain? ” he repeated, tilting his skull to the side incredulously, “I’m sorry, have I given off the impression that I’ve enjoyed the last few battles we’ve been in? Or that my requests for healing are because I think the three of you need something to do? Of course I feel pain. Is that really what you’ve been loudly musing over all this time?”
Perhaps she should have expected that. Still, one question answered was one question answered, no matter how barbed the response was. “Partially.” Yiershe squinted her eyes in thought, the tip of her tail curling and uncurling. “Mostly though, my thoughts centered around how you felt pain. How it manifests in relation to other species, I could specify.” He didn’t jump in to interrupt right away, and so she continued, “For example, a dwarf’s pain tolerance is higher than a human’s, and a lizard’s is higher than that- generally speaking of course. Elves fall somewhere in the middle. The way we react to pain differs as well, because of our physiology. That’s all been well-documented. When it comes to undead creatures, however…” She trailed off, inclining her head towards him. There wasn’t exactly a wealth of information there, she was implying.
Fane mulled that over for a moment, and to Yiershe’s surprise, his next words held more restraint, a bit more care. “I suppose I can’t fault you for being curious. After all, as I said before, I am unlike anything else you’ve ever seen, hm?” Smugness crept into his tone, reflected not in any expression but instead in his body language, the way one shoulder raised slightly in a sort of self-indulgent shrug. “Have you come to a hypothesis?”
The word piqued her interest still further; there was a supposition somewhere within her brain, but it hadn’t formed into words yet, more of a hazy concept than a hard thought. “I believe…” Her squint narrowed further, and Yiershe clacked her teeth together sharply; she remembered the first time she’d done the somewhat mindless gesture around Lohse, and how startled the woman had been. “I believe your tolerance is higher than a human’s, dwarf’s or elf’s, but less so than a lizard’s.” she stated.
She was under no assumptions that Fane would agree with her hypothesis, and that notion was proven right almost immediately when the undead scoffed, “Really? Is that what you think? You know how long I’ve been alive, don’t you? That a mortal creature would-“
As he spoke, Yiershe got to her feet, grabbing the back of her chair as she did, and Fane cut himself off, switching gears. “What are you doing?”
“I’d like to test my hypothesis.” Before he could protest, she continued in a lighter tone, “Nothing that will actually hurt , mind you. Especially if I’m correct.”
It could go one of two ways, as far as Yiershe was concerned. On the one claw, he surely considered himself above such petty trivialities- he was, to be fair. They both were. On the other, she knew that Fane was driven by his ego, and even the mere suggestion that he might be below a mortal race in any category was difficult for him to stomach. It was a downright silly path this train of thought was leading them down, she wouldn’t deny it, but after what they’d been through perhaps there was nothing wrong with that.
He said nothing, nor did he shift away from her. Not an admission, but not a flat-out refusal either. The lizard crossed the small clearing they’d made a temporary home in, setting her chair down within tail’s reach of Fane and reclaiming her seat on the hard, wooden surface. “May I see your arm?”
A melodramatic sigh passed through her traveling companion, and she could practically feel his desire to get back to his book. “Fine, fine. If it gets you over whatever odd curiosities have taken hold of you and ensures we can move past this, then alright.”
Still, Yiershe reflected with an internal little smile, he could have just said no from the beginning.
Fane rolled up the sleeve of the robe he wore; on the road, he had armor like the rest of the party, not to mention a large sword to boot, but during their rest it was piled up neatly beside the chair he’d staked out for himself, awaiting their next exhausting adventure to begin. How did he carry all that weight? Stars above, he didn’t have any muscle, how did he swing that sword around? So many questions, so little tolerance from the source of said questions.
His arm was, well, exactly as she expected, and exactly as she had seen before. Bone connected to bone, just humerus, ulna and radius. No magic thrummed from within, no secret bands of tissue interlocked the individual parts, nor was his skeleton a well-concealed exo skeleton for some hidden underbelly, at least not as far as she could see. Yiershe rested a hand on his forearm, noting how small it looked when compared to her own extremities. Humans came in many shapes and sizes, and elves were notorious for their height and lithe frames, but lizards were the champions of size when it came to the races that inhabited Rivellon.
She did nothing, letting the silence stretch between them until Fane opened his mouth, snarky comment at the ready. Then, before he could speak, she pricked him, hard, with a claw.
No response. Not a jump or a flinch, not even a wince.
“Hm.” she mused. “Did you feel anything from that?”
“No, obviously not.” Fane retorted instinctually. He hesitated a moment before it seemed his scholarly nature got the better of him, refusing to allow data to go unreported. “...I felt a bit of pressure. Like you were jabbing me with a finger, and not a claw. Which, by the way, you’re quite lucky that didn’t hurt.” Indignantly, the skeleton canted his skull to look over his arm, checking his bones for any damage caused by her experiment. None jumped out at him, and so he left it where it was, underneath Yiershe’s hand. “Are you finished?”
The lizard hummed, looking him over and allowing an earlier thought to float back to the surface. Every creature had weak spots, and generally they were centered around the front of a creature; neck, stomach, groin. He’d proven that undead beings had some form of tolerance over fleshy ones- any human would have certainly flinched under the sharpness of her claw. Sure, perhaps she’d been taking a risk prodding him that hard, but the risk had paid out and so to Yiershe, it was worth it. This next risk might pan out the same way, or it might not.
“One more test, if you’ll indulge me?” Yiershe dared. If she was being honest with herself, she wholly expected a no… which attested to the ripple of surprise that passed through her as he made a gesture with his skull, tilting it back and away from her in a rolling motion that suggested he’d have rolled his eyes, if he had any eyes to roll.
Though it might have appeared dismissive, she knew him well enough at this point to know it was a gesture intended to appear more begrudging than it really was, and that it preceded an, “Yes, alright. It’s not as if I were learning a spell crucial to our survival come next battle, no, please carry on distracting me with your makeshift… honestly, I’m not sure if I can call this science. I don’t think I should. ” He eyed her through hollow, black sockets. “I do hope you won’t consider your hypothesis proven or disproven after this. To say your evidence is lacking would be a grievous understatement.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her maw, angling her long neck and head down so she could eye him right back, taunting. “Does that mean you’re volunteering yourself for more data-gathering experiments? It’s not like I have many other undeads to work with.”
Fane snorted. “Hardly. I possess all the knowledge you’re wasting your time looking for, I hope you know that. I would have simply given you your answers, but you seem determined to painstakingly unearth them from underneath the rocks of obstinance. You lizards do so love doing things the hard way.”
Yiershe half-listened to his tirade, instead eyeing the skeleton to judge her next point of focus. Ideally, she would have gone for his ribcage, but doing so would mean asking Fane to disrobe, and that felt… why did that feel indecent? He was, quite literally, a walking bag of bones with no decency to cover. Perhaps it was due to a deep, inane knowledge that he would make a mountain out of that particular molehill, and she already knew she was pushing it.
As she’d established previously, one’s neck was a common weak point regardless of species; lizards had thick scales to protect the throat, dwarves grew thick beards to ward off lesser blades, nearly every bit of armor she’d seen had pauldrons or gorgets of some kind to protect the wearer’s throat. The simple robe Fane wore left the seven small, interlocking vertebrae that connected his skull to the rest of his body exposed. If anywhere were to garner a reaction, some form of proof that undead creatures did feel some modicum of pain like their mortal counterparts, it would be here.
Without further thought, Yiershe lifted her hand from his arm and let it rest against the side of his neck, claws brushing a few of the middle vertebrae. Fane tensed. It was difficult to parse when a creature made solely of hard edges became tense, but Yiershe had developed an eye for it. It was oddly… intimate was the first word that came to mind, just like her notion of indecency earlier. Where had all this emotion come from? She supposed touching anyone’s neck in this manner would get a bit personal, but out of the creatures to get fidgety about, Fane was quite an unlikely candidate.
Yiershe refused to let herself think about this any longer. Deep ponderance was what got her brain stubbornly pushing down its current path, allowing herself to entertain whatever this idea was would only lead to trouble. That was how her mind worked after all; once a thought got lodged within, even she couldn’t persuade herself to let it go.
So, she quickly pricked the side of Fane's vertebrae with the tip of her claw. Whether it was due to her previous thoughts or just the expectation that this spot would yield more telling results, the pressure she applied was gentler than her previous test.
The skeleton tensed again, shoulders twitching upwards, and then properly flinched away from her hand, turning his skull fully towards her both out of shock and out of an unconscious desire to put something in-between his neck and her claws.
“Interesting…” she said, at the same time as Fane remarked, “What was-”
Both lizard and skeleton broke off, staring at one another. It must have hurt, then, judging by his notable jump, and Yiershe was satisfied with the knowledge that he did have some form of differentiation in his body; certain parts were weaker than others. She could point to this experiment and observe that when faced with the same- or similar- amount of stress, Fane’s arm bones did not stir up a reaction, while the vertebrae of his neck did. Tougher arm bones didn’t produce pain, weaker neck bones did.
So, she was utterly baffled when Fane spoke, not the usual belittling or complaints she was expecting, but something completely different, something very carefully neutral, which for him was more off-putting than a rant or a rave. “...Lizard, I am going to request… a favor from you. Cherish this moment, because it certainly will not happen again.”
Yiershe squinted slightly, glancing from his eyesockets to his neck. No noticeable damage, but Fane still hadn’t relaxed. Had it hurt him that much? Perhaps she’d made an error. “Have I hurt you? Fane, truly, it wasn’t my intention to actually-”
“Hush. Listen to me, and understand what I am asking of you.” When he was met with no resistance, he continued, “I need you to do that again.”
For a heartbeat, all she could do was stare before her mind caught up with her. Again? When clearly it had caused some type of reaction in him? He’d gone from reluctantly accepting this entire experiment to heralding it? What had changed? Yiershe thought it over. Fane had claimed he’d held all the answers to her queries, but what were the chances he was bluffing? Had that small pinprick of pain shown him something about himself previously unknown? But… Yiershe wasn’t so naive to think that one small jab of her claw would manifest a scientific breakthrough; for all his grandstanding and boasting, he was an esteemed scholar, one who had faced more technological and magical advancements than she would know in her lifetime. There was no possibility this could actually…
“Lizard,” he was saying, tone sharp to get her attention. ”Pay attention, won’t you? The last thing we need is another one of your brilliant ideas.”
That, at least, was familiar, and his dry sagacity loosened her tongue. “...Why would you like me to jab you again?” she questioned, needing answers before she made any sort of movement back towards his neck.
“It’s not that I’d like you to, it-...” Fane huffed, seemingly wrestling with… something. “Void take me now, I am not going to spell this out for you, I shouldn’t even be asking this of you.” he muttered, “I’ll put it this way. What you did, just then? It didn’t… hurt. But it was a sort of feeling I… Hmph.”
It was clear he was still putting the pieces together himself, and that it all stemmed around that relatively simple touch. His words had only confused her further; it didn’t hurt? Then, what could it have…?
One thing was for certain. Further testing was required.
Yiershe reached for him again, repeating the same motion as before, but this time she drug her claw a centimeter or two down, feeling the tip of it catch slightly in the worn grooves of the bone.
He shivered. Shuddered, nearly, and again his shoulders pulled upwards, his shrug not a movement to shake her off, but an involuntary reaction to something coursing through him. No, his movement to shake her off was very much voluntary, reaching up to shove her claw away and cover the affected area with his own hand.
The silence was heavy. If Fane could truly hear Yiershe’s brain working, there had to be a cacophony of sound emanating from her thick lizard skull.
It didn’t take her long. If it wasn’t pain that he was feeling, what else could elicit such a reaction? Being ticklish? But if he was, why would he ask her to repeat the gesture? Besides, something about the scene she replayed in her head didn’t feel like a tickling response. It felt like…
Yiershe’s eyes widened and she said, softly, “Fane, was that…”
She didn’t need to finish her sentence, and even if she did, she wouldn’t get a chance to. The undead pushed himself out of the chair he’d been seated on, moving a good few strides away and immediately beginning to pace. His hand remained at his neck, clasped there as if it were the only thing holding him together. His gaze remained distant, focused anywhere but at her, and she put a bit of weight in her feet as if intending to follow him, yet she stayed seated, resulting in an odd, uncomfortable hover.
“Let’s get one thing perfectly clear: we are never going to talk about this again. You and I will not discuss what just happened, neither indirectly nor directly, and most definitely not around our mutual traveling companions. Might I remind you that you were the party who initiated this, and I was very much against it from the beginning, finding the whole situation trite, pointless, and-”
“But you did ask me to do it again.” Yiershe interrupted, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward. She spoke again before he could continue, “Allow me to be specific, you asked me to prick your neck with my claw a second time, whereas if left to my own volition I would have stopped after the first time.”
He folded his hands behind his back. “Indeed. I did. I should not have, and I knew in the moment that it was wrong, yet I wanted to be certain of… what I was feeling. Furthermore, I do want to stress that you did not just repeat the prick, you drug your claw downwards, which is an entirely different…” Fane paused, unable to produce a word.
“Sensation?” she provided.
If a skeleton could blush, she was sure he would have. Instead, he carried on, dogged as usual, “If you’d like to call it that, fine. Point being, I will accept that we both carry blame for this unfortunate situation we now find ourselves in; you for initiating this frankly witless ‘experiment’ and myself for forcing your hand- or, well, claw.”
Yiershe was beginning to understand where those thoughts from earlier had stemmed from; words like indecent, intimate. She’d assumed them misplaced because of Fane’s nature as a fleshless being, someone who could not by nature be carnal, who could not experience physical gratification. Because of that knowledge, the concept of closeness in that way was downright foolish- he was a skeleton, for the Gods’ sake! But now… That flicker of something had caused a flicker of something in return, and Yiershe was not one to shy away from an intriguing notion.
“...You didn’t force my claw, though.” she returned quietly.
“What?”
“You asked me for a favor, and I accepted the request. I possessed all of my liberties as I do now, I could have easily denied it.”
His pacing slowed, and then stopped, bringing him to a halt before her, though still far out of arm’s reach. “I suppose you could have, but of your own words, you would have stopped after the initial contact had I not… requested otherwise. What, then, caused those little gears in your brain to turn the opposite direction?”
Instead of answering outright, she asked another question. “Do you feel guilty?”
A long pause followed her words, and it was difficult to read Fane’s body language. Eventually he managed, “Yes.” and left it at that.
“Don’t. I did it because I was curious.” Yiershe tilted her head, looking him over. “I still am curious.”
Slowly, Fane moved back towards the chair he’d abandoned, taking his time in sitting back down. They were no closer than they were before, but it felt like it somehow, as if the air between them was denser, stiffer.
He chewed over his next words for a moment and Yiershe let him, passing the reins of their conversation back over to Fane for the time being. “…Admittedly, I must say,” he began, “I don’t know much about… arousal, in this body.”
The lizard blinked, and she held back another thoughtful clack of her teeth; if her suspicions hadn’t been indirectly confirmed before, they certainly were now. He had named it now, put the word out into that tense air between them, and it made her heart beat just that much faster.
“I didn’t even think it possible for a time, and to say such matters haven’t been a priority recently would be an understatement. Even throughout my extensive research, I’ve strayed away from topics of lascivious nature.” Fane continued, tapping a finger against his jaw, “In truth, I was never interested in it as a creature of flesh and blood either; as you know, I did have a family, but… again. My priorities did not lie with them.”
“What have you noted so far?” she prodded, well aware that dredging up memories of his wife and child- or rather, his past treatment of them- would only lead to dejection.
The skeleton huffed a dry chuckle. “Not much. You seem to have picked up on a factor of it by accident; location. There’s also the method of contact, which, well…” He trailed off, but luckily for him Yiershe was more than willing to fill in the blanks.
“I have an inkling of understanding on that front, too. Seems like we’re on quite level ground here.” she noted, letting the hint of a smile creep onto her face and infect her tone. Her idea regarding sensitivity in certain areas for undead had proven correct, just not in the manner she had intended.
After Fane’s expected huff, however, she sobered up to ponder the implications of what they were suggesting. She had no reason not to believe what he’d said; if Fane had claimed he knew very little about this aspect of himself, she would take him at face value. Not only that, but he’d affirmed his indifference towards carnal matters in the past, though she already knew of his preference to bury himself within textbooks and scrolls. With those thoughts in mind, she carried on, “If you’d prefer, Fane, we can just talk this over. There’s a lot here, and I have no issues with-”
“Not backing out on me now, are you, lizard?” Fane quipped, “I believe neither of us are fans of idle chatter when there’s real results to be uncovered. I’m game so long as you are.”
And she was. Yiershe leaned forward again, tall form bridging the gap between them, and positioned her hand where it had been before: the side of his neck. No pressure yet, just hovering. She watched him fight against the urge to tense up, ruminating on exactly what she was looking for that would suggest a skeleton was tense versus relaxed. “During my previous experiment, I noticed that you reacted more strongly to the second contact here compared to the first. Any idea why?”
After a moment’s thought, he replied, “I believe it was because you sort of… drug your claw downwards, for lack of a more concise way to describe it. Covered more ground, vertebrae-wise. I’d suggest doing the same thing again, to start.”
Yiershe couldn’t hide a smirk. “I’m sure you would.”
Because when it really came down to it, this was a sexual act, wasn’t it? They were experimenting with undead arousal; they could call it whatever they wanted to, but Yiershe was about to knowingly and readily give Fane his equivalent of a handjob in the name of… science? Why did she not feel more put-off about this? What was she even hoping to gain?
It should have been awkward, the way they addressed it, the odd sort-of-friendly relationship they had that by all intents and purposes should not have been able to support intimacy, the clinical way they were going about this. It should have been, but it was not. Perhaps, for creatures like them, this was the way to go about things.
Extending her claw, Yiershe made initial contact with the side of Fane’s neck, and noted the lack of visual reaction- he must have been expecting it by now. The movement was what got him, the slow and gradual path from the top of one vertebrae to the bottom, during which Yiershe let the tip of her claw run along whatever grooves they found along the way. Whichever path felt right was the one she followed, not necessarily a straight line up-and-down. The skeleton, more reserved now that he wasn’t entirely caught off-guard, rolled his shoulders back as if to mask the twitch that ran through them, shifted a bit in his chair.
The first thing Yiershe thought of to ask was, ‘Did that feel good?’ but something made her hold her tongue. Instead, “How was that?”
“Same feeling. Pleasure.” It seemed Fane was grappling with the same realization she’d been, that they were really doing this, and that they were doing it in the most roundabout and convoluted way possible. For the sake of their studies, of course. “I’m trying to piece together whether the sensation will remain anchored solely at the point of contact, or if it spreads to other areas over time. Do carry on.”
His airy nature, ironically enough, helped ground her swirling thoughts; the idea that this was something deeper than face value was difficult to hold onto when Fane was being so casually dismissive. It did not make her want to stop.
In a measured fashion, she let her claw follow that same path up, but this time, instead of stopping once she’d completed the motion, Yiershe repeated it. Down- slow, unhurried- and back up- a bit quicker, just a tad. Fane said nothing, didn’t need to say anything; the way he tilted his head away to give her more room, the way his hands tightened into fists and then quickly relaxed, that said all she needed to know.
Leaning in, the lizard rested the pad of her rough finger against a vertebrae, dragging it around the back of the small bone to wrap around the other side. In this grip, she could almost pinch Fane’s neck in-between her fingers and thumb, and she applied a small amount of pressure, focusing more on a gentle rub than a pinch. She swirled her thumb in a circular motion, getting familiar with the peculiar rivets and outcroppings of her traveling companion’s neck.
Who, speaking of, had jerked the moment she made proper contact with him, shuddering as her fingers made their short journey. Fane lifted one hand in a quick, reflexive motion, reaching for her arm but stopping halfway through and returning it to his lap. His skull was tilted back, and every so often he’d twitch just a hair. It seemed as though he was hardly aware of how to process what he was feeling, and Yiershe couldn’t blame him- if this truly was his first intimate experience in dozens upon dozens of years, he had every right to be sensitive. “So, centralized or dispersed?”
“Hm?”
“How you’re feeling. You said you were piecing together if they remained at the point of contact or-”
Fane groaned. An exasperated groan, not a pleasured one. “Gods help me, now you’re getting smug about this. That is the last thing I need, you getting self-important.” Despite her continued ministrations, his tone was even, regular. Yiershe wasn’t sure why, but a need flared up within her gut; the need to hear him quite thoroughly shaken.
Innocently, she shook her head- she was indeed feeling smug about this, but the last thing she needed was for him to know he was right- and returned, “Forgive me for checking in. I’d assumed you’d wanted to keep discussing this, it being your first time feeling sexual arousal in this body.” It thrilled her now, to address it directly.
Fane twitched again and grumbled, ”Yes, well, perhaps I should have left it to the wayside.”
A thought suddenly struck her, one that made her hand still to a near-halt. He moved questioningly underneath her, tilting his skull to eye her, or so she figured. For once, Yiershe didn’t mull over her notion before putting voice behind it. “You said that this was your first time feeling pleasure upon being touched.”
“Ah, so you do pay attention. Excellent work.” the skeleton retorted, voice as dry as the bones Yiershe continued to idly stroke.
“But- you’ve been touched in this manner countless times over the years, surely. Even during your time with us, I’ve seen Beast put a hand on the back of your neck, or Loshe stick a finger in your ribs,” She expected a grumble or a remark here, yet got neither, “You may argue that now the difference is intent, but when I first put my claw to you, I wasn’t intending on creating that kind of reaction. So, what changed?”
They stared at each other for a long few seconds, during which Yiershe figured it out. Of course, as soon as she’d posed the question she’d held onto a half-formed answer, but now that piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. It was her that had made the difference. Her touch. To know that Fane, a creature solely of scientific exploration and mental aspirations, somehow wanted her in such a way, it made her drop all pretenses and begin to act in earnest.
In one smooth motion, Yiershe was out of her chair and before Fane, knelt on the grass that carpeted their makeshift campsite. Here, on her knees, her head came up to his clavicles; the perfect height for what she wanted. She’d just put her hand on his knee to guide his legs apart when he spoke.
“Yiershe…” Not ‘Godwoken’, not ‘lizard’. Her name.
She looked up at him, holding his empty-socketed gaze with her own, letting a bit of what was in her heart and in the bottom of her stomach represent itself on her features. Or, that was her plan at least. “May I continue?”
Fane’s shoulders relaxed, and to her surprise, he reached down and patted her hand with his. It was an odd gesture, a bit nervous and supercilious even when he wasn’t trying to be, but she appreciated it all the same. “You may.” he decided, spreading his legs enough so that Yiershe could fit between them. “Here, I’ll even help you.”
Her only verbal response was a hum, far more intent on the task at hand. She reached up to take the lapels of his robe in her hands, parting them to reveal his bare ribcage. His rib bones showed more signs of wear-and-tear than his upper vertebrae had; the various hard physical and magical blows he’d suffered would have plenty to do with that. Yiershe herself had gained a myriad of scars during their time on Fort Joy; some she was proud of, some she was not.
Neither of them spoke as her hand neared him, starting once more with a single claw and running it down one of his upper ribs from sternum back towards the scapula. His body seemed to stutter a bit; jerking as if to lean into the motion, pulling back, twitching forwards again. Unlike before, Yiershe had no intentions of holding off- there were no pretenses surrounding what this was, and she wanted to bring him to the brink of… whatever edge he could reach. Could he reach some form of climax? Either way, she was going to find out.
She reversed the motion, bringing her claw back the other direction, and then adjusted her hand so that she was fully gripping the bone, pressing two finger pads and her thumb into the hard surface and beginning to stroke it in long, slow movements. Years of work and her own scaly nature made her fingers calloused and rough, though her grip was light enough to avoid any undue friction. Her fingers explored the whole surface of the rib, strokes thorough and intent.
Fane was keeping it together, but just hardly. Yiershe learned quickly that he made up for his lack of facial emotion through body language, and the way he was reacting to her touch told her what she needed to know; one hand briefly pitched upwards as if to hold her own, a twitch here and there, his skull turned slightly away from her, as if embarrassed, as if she could see a blush or a bitten lip that did not exist. On her next stroke, she twisted her hand a tad, added a little more pressure between her fingers and thumb up where the rib met sternum, and was rewarded with a throaty hum.
“Seems you’re enjoying this,” she commented, breaking the silence between them.
“Seems you’re enjoying this,” he shot back, glancing her way. “We’ve discussed my involvement in this to the heavens, haven’t we? I think, at this point, you just enjoy hearing it. Typical, for a lizard.” grumbled Fane. He was about to say more, but she timed a quick, rough caress at just the right time for him to cut himself off and turn away once more.
The lizard huffed. “Forgive me for being an attentive partner.”
Her other hand found its way to the opposite side of his ribcage, claiming a rib there to work on in tandem. Initial explorations had proven fruitful; now it was time to apply what she had learned. Whereas too much friction was something to avoid in most intimate settings, it seemed to be a boon here- and luckily for Fane, her calloused hands were the perfect candidates for the job. Abandoning her gentle hold, Yiershe let the full weight of her fingers embrace him as she stroked, a grip that would certainly harm a creature of flesh-and-blood. Fane, in response, arched his back into the touch, letting his head tilt back until his cranium hit the backrest of his chair with a dull thunk. His jaw parted but no sound emerged, hands once again fluttering upwards towards hers and finally making contact; the first time that path had been completed since they’d begun their experimentations. Fane made no motion to guide her or dissuade her, only held on as if needing confirmation that they were there.
As she continued, a small, choked groan escaped him, and then another, like he was unfamiliar with the noise. Yiershe scooted closer to him, pausing her ministrations only to run both sets of claws down his chest, starting at the clavicles and curving down towards the floating ribs. She made sure to curl her fingers around those, swiping a fingerpad over the tip on one side and giving it a small flick with her claw on the other.
“Th- Ah, gods, that’s…” Fane managed to get out, breathy and terse. She was sure he’d get overwhelmed quickly- or rather, found herself wanting to overwhelm him quickly. Her hands traveled, skimming back over the edges of his ribs and up to her target; the sternum. Below her, Fane stilled- perhaps he’d be holding his breath if he had any- though as soon as she made contact, he was back to curling up into her hand like a pleased cat. Yiershe drew her palm across the flat surface, up and then down, adding the faint scratch of her nails as she went. This time, when she took a rib in either hand- different ones; she wasn’t sure if the novelty of a previously untouched rib would make a difference- and continued with her long, firm strokes, Fane groaned, loud in the relative silence of the day.
It was then that Yiershe realized that they were, indeed, in broad daylight. Out in the open, nothing but their own measly camp set-up and a few scraggly bushes to hide them. They weren’t technically doing anything salacious as far as she knew; an outsider seeing them from afar might presume she was checking Fane for injury or performing some type of magic on him. Beast and Lohse, though, would not be so fooled.
The thought made her pick up the pace, causing her companion’s spine to cave as if shirking away from her hands. Yet, the presence of his hand on her arm urged her onwards, as did his soft, occasional moans. She did her best to ignore the warmth in her lower stomach, the growing urgency between her legs that instinctively had her pressing her thighs together to try and sate it.
“Yiershe,” he said thickly, “Something is… Mmh.” He twitched, fingers dancing over the scales of her arm for a moment. “I’m building up to something. I can feel that… well, urgency start to…”
“Do you have an idea of what will… happen?”
The skeleton quivered, his pelvis rolling near-minisculely in long forgotten instinct. His next moan was bit back, trying to compose himself. “I don’t. I assume it will manifest magically, if it- if it does at all, as I’ve got no other way to- agh, do you mind?”
Yiershe peered up at him innocently; again, she’d timed a deliciously hard, rough caress just as his attention was beginning to waver, finding it tantalizing beyond belief to trip him up whenever she could, urge forward any wayward noise or twitch she could get. His nature, the way he was always wrapped up in himself and his own goals, it drove her to try harder in taking him apart. Fane was collected at all times, and wore it with an air of vanity, as if looking down on those who weren’t as self-possessed.
As she quickened her pace, her strokes became shorter, hands loosening to allow her to work him more urgently. With a twist of her wrist, Yiershe curled her fingers around and around the bone, discovering which areas were more sensitive than others, what resulted in a twitch, a sound, a tightening of those bony hands laid almost delicately against her scales. The lizard could indeed feel something building- there was a certain taste in the air, something that swirled around the two of them and made her tingle with energy.
It was evident in Fane, as well. He rolled his hips again, as if seeking friction, and Yiershe made a mental note of that for next time. Next time. If she had her way, this would not be the last time she was in this position, knelt before her skeletal companion. He lifted one of his hands to his mouth, pressing the back of it against his teeth and angling his skull away from her to muffle the sounds that escaped him. His voice had always been pleasant, in a learned, highbrow sort of way, but his tone pitched up when he was overstimulated, resulting in a lovely, musical quality. She hadn’t managed to coax anything too loud out of him, yet even this was immensely gratifying, hearing the verbal proof of how her hands were affecting him.
“What?” he asked, a tad sharp, and Yiershe realized she’d been caught staring again.
In that moment, she might’ve preferred a snarky comeback or a smirk, but it was impossible to keep the smile off of her face. “You sound lovely,” she murmured.
Caught off-guard, Fane choked, covering as much of his face with his hand as he could manage for a brief moment- it was clear he was trying to compose himself once more, but at that point, he was too far gone. He was close, close to whatever climax an undead could reach- she just needed to push him a little further.
As her hands continued to work, Yiershe bent closer, leveling her nose with Fane’s exposed sternum. She parted her jaws and pressed her rough tongue to its surface, licking from the middle up to the top of the solid bone. It was a bit of a risk- she didn’t know whether the feeling of her tongue would be as pleasant as her hands, but she recalled his reaction to her palm, and figured it worth a shot.
Beneath her, Fane gasped, a sound he’d be mortified of if he were in his right mind, grabbing the back of her head with his free hand and applying pressure. More, said the gesture, even if he was too shy or proud to ask for it himself. She obliged, running her tongue down along one side of the sternum, tracing over the spots where his ribs connected.
Yiershe let him build up and up and up for a beat or two and then, like a snake, she pounced. She’d been keeping an eye (an ear? A sense?) on the buildup of energy that surrounded them, that potent magical essence that, as it grew, she recognized as Source. It felt as tense as he was, like a dam about to break. Fane jerked upwards with a small, near-desperate whine, and she knew he was about to spill over.
Sacrificing speed for friction, Yiershe tightened her hold on his ribs, pulling and pushing from root to tip in a long, rough motion. At the same time, she bared her teeth and bit down none-too-gently on the very top of his sternum, right between the collarbones.
That did it.
Fane practically exploded with Source, like a firework going off earlier than one had expected. It curled and streamed out of him, mainly his hands and skull, leaking from between his ribs and up through his pelvis. The green magic passed through Yiershe, imbuing her briefly with that tantalizing strength before wisping up into the air and vanishing. He cried out, quivering, practically rattling with the force of the first orgasm he’d experienced in eons, hands clutching at nothing, head thrown back and mouth agape. First he arched up, spine curving away from the chair as he spasmed, but after a moment Fane curled inwards, almost cradling Yiershe’s head as he rode out the last waves of his climax. The Source emanating from him began to slow, ebb, and then finally disperse. As it did, all of the tension, all of the stiffness and twitchiness he’d been carrying vanished entirely, leaving him slumped over.
Yiershe let go as soon as he was spent, resting her hands on his femurs. Though she could feel fatigue seep into her own bones, the lizard remained still, letting Fane use her as support until he could put himself back together.
She was breathing hard, both from adrenaline and heat, the heat that burned at her core and pooled between her legs. It was all she could do to keep her hands where they were at, but her desire to check on her companion overrode her base needs- for the time being. Still, her tail twitched with the effort.
There was a long silence. Then, above her, the undead stirred. “...I’d say those results were quite conclusive, wouldn’t you agree?” Yiershe questioned.
Fane snorted, pressing a hand to her shoulder and pushing himself upright. “I suppose I am in no state to argue, much as I’d like to.” His voice was shaky, though he pressed on. “That was… I’m not even sure I could put it into words. Just forming sentences is taking all of my considerable brainpower, goodness, is this how you always feel, afterwards?”
Sitting back, Yiershe flexed her hands and rolled her shoulders, a bit of a smirk playing over her features. “When it’s done right, yes.”
He scoffed, “In your complacency, you seem to have conveniently forgotten that we were both going blindly into this experiment of yours.” Despite his words, she could see exhaustion in every sharp line of his body, the way he angled comfortably, unconsciously towards her, how they still inhabited each others’ space when it was no longer necessary. Yiershe didn’t know what had shifted, but something had.
“You didn’t seem to mind too much- as I recall, you were-”
But, their little bubble had to be popped eventually. Both of them heard it at the same time- voices, coming up the path. They were easily identified as Lohse and Beast- each of them had distinctive voices, to say the least- and though while that negated any literal peril, it still meant trouble.
Yiershe and Fane shared a glance and then, wordlessly, sprang into action. The lizard stood, ignoring her knees’ protest after bending for so long, grabbed the back of her chair and drug it over to her bedroll and pack, situating it haphazardly and snagging her long-forgotten legwraps. Fane could do little but readjust himself, tucking his robe back snugly around his chest and sitting up to appear somewhat presentable.
At least, with skeletons, there was very little in the way of clean-up, Yiershe noted appreciatively.
“We’re back!” Lohse announced as she stepped into camp, arms laden with potion bottles, food, and various other trinkets. Beast followed close behind her, a new dagger at his hip and a pleased expression on his face. “Don’t move a muscle, either one o’you, I’ve got this.”
“She means that, too. Must’ve offered a right dozen times to carry somethin’, same answer every time.” commented the dwarf, heading over to his belongings to sort out his new purchases.
Lohse teetered over to the center of the clearing, carefully setting down her goods into a semi-organized, haphazard pile. “Whew! The day really got away from us, but they sure don’t call that place a Sanctuary for nothin’! What’ve you two been up to all day?” Before either of them could answer, however, the redhead’s eyes fell onto Yiershe’s lap with a frown. “Jeez, Chief, you were working on those legwraps when we left, weren’t’cha? You ‘n Bonebag must’ve found something real interesting to talk about.”
Yiershe couldn’t tell whether the human’s tone bordered on knowing or not, but she glanced at Fane. Luckily for them, the undead often remained silent during what he called ‘idle group conversations’, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to remain wordless. It’d just read as his usual distant nature and not what it truly was- utter fatigue.
“We did, yes. I’d been puzzling over something for a while now, and Fane helped me learn a bit more about it.” the lizard replied carefully.
Lohse tilted her head. “Oh? Come to any momentous breakthroughs?”
“...Mm. You could say that.”