Chapter Text
Driftwood. In other circumstances, before her capture and imprisonment at Fort Joy, Yiershe would have considered the place beneath her; dirty, dingy, loud, and rank. But now… it was unequivocally still all of those things and unfortunately more, yet she had never been happier to see some form of civilization. Despite the Magisters that infested the city, she felt as if she could walk freely, and she was thankful for the ability to explore the tangled web that was Driftwood.
And Gods, what a web it was. Every corner they turned, every building they ducked into, every tucked-away-enclave contained somebody new who needed them for something. Most of them at least offered something in return, an incentive of sorts to goad Yiershe and her traveling companions to put forward their assistance. In her eyes, they could be kind, but they were not a charity. They had their own issues to ponder over.
Shortly after escaping from Fort Joy with the mysterious half-elf Malady at the helm of the Lady Vengeance, the four of them had ventured up Reaper’s Coast with a mission: to find the Meister of Seekers.
It didn’t take long. Disoriented by their multi-realm prison escape and the horrors they’d seen during, they’d practically stumbled upon Meister Siva hanging upon the gallows just outside of Driftwood. Initially, Yiershe had been determined to talk their way through freeing the lizard, but seeing a member of her kin strung up, suffering, bleeding out in front of two indifferent Magisters… it was a quick fight.
They convened in the Meister’s cellar, where they confirmed that Malady’s information had been good, as untrustworthy as she appeared. Siva, still gravely injured and refusing healing, instructed them through the ritual that would expand their understanding and usage of Source- a deceptively simple combination of blackroot and blood that produced an intoxicating teal smoke cloud.
And then, once more, Yiershe had spoken to Zorl-Stissa. Zorl-Stissa. Their goddess, the manifestation of their sun in the sky, queen of kin. Yiershe imagined what her parents would think, knowing she’d spoken to not a priest or mouthpiece of the goddess, but Zorl-Stissa herself. That she’d been chosen as Godwoken. Her family was religious, deeply so, ingrained within their culture and of the notion that kin were generally above other species; that wasn’t to say that Yiershe’s family thought that humans, elves and dwarves had no place in Rivellion, it just meant that their idea of where other species belonged would not be popular if spoken aloud.
Yiershe did not share this idea. As a hatchling, she had heard these ideas and understood them to be true simply because her parents believed them, and her parents could not be wrong. Her current travels, however, marked the longest time she’d ever spent around other species, and it had done her a lot of good. Lohse was craftier and more verbose than she; haggling and persuasion came as naturally as breathing, and when a difficult conversation with a potential enemy was unavoidable, she was the one sent up front. Beast knew the land like he knew himself- perhaps better- despite his constant dismissals and claims that he was ‘no land lubber’. He was grounded and sturdy, optimistic in a way that Yiershe couldn’t quite wrap her head around. Previously, she’d seen those who constantly looked on the bright side as vapid or clueless, but Beast approached matters with a self-optimism, a knowledge that he was capable and strong and if he relied on his own skills he could get through most anything.
This was why Yiershe wasn’t so certain her parents would fully approve of the thoughts swirling in her mind regarding her conversation with Zorl-Stissa. The goddess had firmly maintained that she had to be the one to achieve divinity, to protect Rivellion from the void and to take everything from the Well of Ascension. Alone, Yiershe had to amass the power of all seven gods. She wouldn’t lie to herself; she liked the idea of it. Her ambition, her greed, her nobility, they all pushed her towards this, whispered in Zorl-Stissa’s voice in the back of her mind that this was what she was born to do, that she must seize this power by any means necessary.
But what of her friends? Her friends, as she’d come to know them as. Those she had fought beside, who had stuck with her since the beginning, who were fierce and smart and unique and deserving, each one of them, of the mantle of Divine? Yiershe was torn- if it came down to it, she didn’t know if she could choose one of them over herself, but she also didn’t know if she could choose herself over any of them. There was no third option. If she became Divine, what of Lohse, Beast… and Fane?
That brought them to present day. After the ritual, Meister Siva had instructed them to find true Source Masters, those who could train them to channel their Source more effectively. Zorl-Stissa had also blessed her with the ability to see and interact with spirits at will, and Yiershe was having a difficult time restraining herself from casting it constantly, finding spirits and interrogating them about life, death, and whatever was between it.
The four of them had split up after searching the house of Mordus, a dwarven sorcerer who’d managed to betray his underground smuggling brethren and vanish without a trace. His basement had proven fruitful, however, and a poorly-hidden note directed them towards his hiding spot. Conflicting instructions arose. Lohar, the leader of the band of dwarven smugglers, called on them to kill Mordus. Siva, as well as a list of powerful sorcerers obtained from the Magisters, directed them to learn what they could from the wizard.
Before they made any moves, they’d agreed to get their bearings within Driftwood, having not had a moment of respite since arrival. Now that their breakneck pace had slowed a tad, Yiershe, Fane, Lohse and Beast had agreed to scope out Driftwood and its surrounding areas for clues regarding the sourcerers they had yet to find, helpful resources, traders, campsites, and anything of value. Currently, they were camped out just outside of Driftwood, a little down the road from a chicken coop full of very chatty hens, according to Lohse.
Yiershe rubbed the back of her neck as she stepped across their camp, keeping her eyes sharp despite her exhaustion. It seemed a safe enough area, if dreary, but she would never be too careful. Such a thing didn’t exist, as far as she was concerned.
The lizard kept the essentials on her person in a small daypack tied to her belt, but heavier items stayed in camp: extra armor, certain large weapons, the majority of their food, surplus potion ingredients, etc. Yiershe’s stomach was loudly drawing attention to the fact that she could not remember the last time she ate, and so she intended to make a quick stop to tear into something substantial.
Upon approaching her pack, however, she was immediately drawn to a folded-up bit of paper tucked neatly into it. Immediately she straightened, turning this way and that to ensure nobody was creeping up behind her or peering out through the bushes- as far as she could tell, though, she was alone.
When lightly touching the paper with a claw provided no adverse reactions, Yiershe relented, feeling a little silly as she picked it up and unfolded the sheet.
’Black Bull Tavern. First room.’
It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be; she recognized Fane’s handwriting immediately. And it would be just like him, wouldn’t it, to assume she’d know his writing and feel no need to sign the note. Yiershe shook her head, flipping the note over and back again when the other side proved blank. Her eyes coasted over those five words as she thought, clacking her teeth together in thought.
They hadn’t spoken about what happened at Fort Joy- that wasn’t to say they hadn’t spoken at all, no, there was hardly any tension between them. They had to go back to normal. Considering what they were dealing with, where they were, and the dangers that seemed to follow their party, there was no room for personal issues. Whatever was between them didn’t feel like words left unsaid, exactly, but there was unfinished business that sometimes pulled her eyes to him when he was pulling off his armor after a day’s travel. Yiershe would scoff and chide herself- checking out a skeleton?- yet she couldn’t deny her odd predilection now that it had been awakened.
She kept it professional and cordial, as did he. He’d gotten into Polymorph magic, she had begun the slow process of categorizing their current armor and scrounging for new pieces, and to an outsider, it seemed as if nothing had happened.
Lohse knew. Of course she did. Yiershe had no idea how she had figured it out, but she had.
“How does it work then? With a bonebag?” she asked out of the blue one evening when the two of them were alone on Lady Vengeance.
“I beg your pardon?” Yiershe had returned, sharper than she had intended out of shock.
The human laughed, “Y’don’t need to beg, Chief, you’ve got it in spades! I’m just curious, is all. Is it a magic thing, or just… fondling?”
The way Yiershe had abruptly looked away at the mention of fondling, pretending that a crack in the wooden wall before them was simply fascinating and worthy of her full attention, apparently told her everything she needed to know. With a little smile, she sidled up to the lizard and put her hand on her arm.
“I won’t breathe a word of it. I may be a talker, but I’m not in the habit of spreading my friends’ secrets around, y’know.”
Friends. That was the first time they’d been referred to in that way. “...How did you know?” she asked quietly.
Lohse tapped the side of her head. “I’ve got intuitions about this kind of thing.”
True to her word, Lohse hadn’t mentioned it again, and with her mind racing about divinity and gods and Source wells, Yiershe hadn’t had time to mull the encounter over.
But now here she stood, with a note in her hands. She briefly mused whether or not it was some form of trap or deception, though it wouldn’t make much of a difference either way. If someone had forced Fane to write that letter, as opposed to him penning it of his own volition, she’d go regardless.
The lizard tucked the note in her belt and returned to her pack, digging through it until she produced a roasted chunk of hamhock wrapped securely in parchment paper. Perfect. Whatever Fane wanted to speak with her about, she wouldn’t be attending on an empty stomach.
A short time later, she was climbing the stairs of the Black Bull, tail swishing in the dust that coated the tavern’s floors. Yiershe hadn’t approached any of the staff on hand, nor had they bothered her, so she assumed she could come and go as she pleased. Or at least, she hadn’t been told otherwise, and in those cases the lizard often defaulted to her own whims.
The upper floor of the tavern was a good deal quieter than the first floor, though the song and chatter of the main area still floated up in snippets. Yiershe glanced over the few occupants milling around the common area, meeting the few suspicious looks she got with neutrality. Again, though, she found no outward resistance.
The lizard made her way over to the first door to the left of the stairs, pausing a moment to crane her head towards its wood surface, doing her best to listen in without making it obvious. Steadying her breathing, Yiershe waited one beat, two, three, straining to pick up any semblance of noise. Talking, footsteps, furniture scraping, anything.
Silence.
Yiershe raised a hand and knocked.
Still, silence.
She hesitated only a moment to ponder the possibility of a potential ambush, before grabbing the handle and turning it.
Inside, the room was more spacious than she had expected, alight with a warm, soft glow that- despite her earlier suspicions- put her immediately at ease. A desk and a chest sat to her right, and to her left, a bathtub behind a screen. The furniture was pleasantly worn, in a way that suggested many people had passed through the Inn and left it more rested than before. In the middle of the room was a large four-posted bed and, sitting in a chair beside the bed, was an undead with a book in his lap.
Yiershe looked him up and down; traveling clothes, with the majority of his armor laid neatly beside the wardrobe in the corner. Alongside said armor, his shapeshifting mask. That explained his ability to rent the room without being chased out of town, she supposed.
“Fane.” she said by way of greeting, padding across the room to the wooden desk.
“Took you quite long enough to get here. I was starting to worry you’d lost the gift of literacy.” Fane quipped, turning a page.
Nonplussed, she leaned against the desk, folding her arms across her chest. She felt a pull in her forearms; stars, was she destined for a life of soreness now that adventuring was her main pastime? “Yes, well, while you were penning notes and hanging around a dingy tavern, myself and our companions were scouring Driftwood for clues regarding the location of the Source masters we’re meant to find. As we had discussed previously, you recall.”
The skeleton leaned over to the nightstand beside his chair, scrawling a quick comment in an opened journal. “If you ask me, I believe every second spent in this dismal little village is a second wasted. The side of a barn holds more secrets than Driftwood. Not to mention the residents.” he sighed, “We know where this dwarf fellow is, we may as well go pummel any information he has out of him- that seems to be our methodology, anyway. And then, we need to make our way to-”
“The Blackpits, I know.” Yiershe interrupted, keen to avoid another long-winded oration, “After we’ve dealt with Mordus, we can head that way.”
He tilted his head up towards her a moment, the first time he’d properly studied her since she’d entered the room. The room was quiet for a few beats before he continued, “Hm. I’m not sure when you assumed the role of ‘group leader’, lizard, but so long as it benefits me, well…” He waved a hand as he trailed off, empty eyesockets returning to his tome. The effect of his gaze was so genuine, Yiershe often found herself forgetting that was what they truly were: empty holes.
And as flippant as he was being to her now, she couldn’t forget how he’d said her name, the strain in his voice as he warned her of his upcoming climax.
She tilted her head to the side. “What did you need? Or did you summon me here for the pleasure of watching you read?”
Fane snorted and made another note. “You already do that plenty. Don’t think I don’t notice.”
Her tail curled around her feet almost of its own accord, arms tightening in their defensive, folded position. Yiershe rolled her jaw. “Right. Well, assuming you have nothing else you’d care to hold over my head, I’ll be-”
She moved to head for the door, fully intent on leaving; Yiershe’s pride was a beast of burden, and there was nothing she hated worse than feeling chagrined.
“I need help testing a spell.” Fane said, snapping his heavy book closed. The resulting thud and the intrigue that followed was successful at stopping Yiershe in her tracks, but not at turning her back over to his side.
Her thoughts churned. A spell? Why would he need her help for that? If it were a combative spell, the worst place to attempt any sort of first-time casting would be inside a wooden tavern in a city crawling with Magisters. Furthermore, he’d never asked for her help previously, and Fane’s spells were all about as complicated as he could make them; he got some form of satisfaction from it, she assumed.
She eyed him, considering her questions before speaking. “What spell? What are the effects? And what is so important about it that it constitutes renting a room to test it?”
“Yes, yes, you’ll get your answers and a plethora more, but first, preparations are required. Would you-”
“Is this payback?” she asked suddenly, feeling as though she’d alighted on something.
Fane, halfway in the process of rising from his chair, settled back down. The tilt of his shoulders read curiosity. “Payback? Tell me, where have you dredged that idea up from?”
Now that she was away from the desk, Yiershe had nothing to lean on, no crutch to mold her posture onto. Oftentimes, when made to stand solitary, she defaulted to some form of parade rest. “For Fort Joy. Are you trying to… ‘get back’ at me for what we did?”
“Ah.” Fane dissented, shaking his head, “No, actually, I prefer to think of it as repayment for what we did. What you did.”
She said nothing, sparing a glance at the book in his lap. Knowing Fane, there were no guarantees that what he’d been reading was directly correlated to his ‘experiment’, but regardless, the cover was unmarked.
He sighed. “You’ll want me to elaborate, won’t you? Before you entertain any notion of cooperating?”
“You are correct, yes.”
It was only when he drummed his fingers on the nightstand that she realized what was a bit off about his body language, why it had been harder to read since the beginning of their conversation. He was nervous. Or at the very least, tense. Interesting.
“While I am fully aware that neither of us are terribly keen on sentiment, I suppose I’d be doing myself- and by extension, the both of us- a disservice by not offering some form of explanation.” Fane said, his index finger repeating a steady tap, tap, tap. “I… had never felt the way I did, when you…”
“When I touched you.” she supplemented.
“Yes, that. When you ran an experiment on me, with far less clarification than I am offering you now, may I say. Nevertheless, it was an enlightening experience, and one that I am… grateful for. As I said, I would like to return the favor.”
Yiershe felt herself softening, but couldn’t let his idea go uncontested. “But, that isn’t something you should feel obligated to return. I want to make it very clear that I did not go into our encounter expecting to be-”
If Fane had eyes, he’d certainly roll them. Even without them, the exaggerated way he tilted his head to the right and up got the point more than across. “Yes, yes, we understand, you’re a selfless lover. Bravo to you, and all the credit for not being… ah, what’s the word? Skeevy.” There was a short pause. Upon continuing, he’d sobered a bit. “...I’m aware neither you nor I had any understanding of what would happen, and that you aren’t the type to demand a pleasurable experience in return. However, I would… like to.”
He said it so bluntly that Yiershe had to take a moment to catch up. This was really happening? Fane had called her here to offer her, what, sex? Or rather, by the way he spoke of it, something entirely devoted to her own pleasure.
She already knew she would not be denying this, if he was intent on giving it. The way her lower stomach had begun to heat up was difficult to ignore, and her thoughts towards Fane as of late had been markedly non-collegial in nature. What was going on inside his mind? Her curiosity and intrigue mixed with her desire, creating a fascinating cocktail.
Her face gave nothing away. “How do you intend on… repayment, then?”
Instead of jumping up to pace as she’d expected, Fane retrieved his notebook and set it in his lap, referencing a page of notes scrawled in quick, messy handwriting. “Initially, I had been at a loss as far as this is concerned, I won’t lie to you. And considering our rather thrilling adventures as of late, I’ve had little time to mull it over.” he hummed, “But I believe I’ve found a solution.”
Yiershe clacked her teeth together softly for a moment. “You’re being purposefully secretive about this. Tell me what you have in mind.”
With his quill, the skeleton gestured towards the bed. “Lie down, and I’ll show you.”
There was a pregnant pause as the two of them stared at one another, each equally stubborn in their own right. When it came down to it, Yiershe didn’t think Fane would put her in harm’s way, regardless of how much he stressed that this was a test- with the new knowledge that it was meant to be something enjoyable for her, she would be surprised if he held any genuine concerns about whichever spell he intended on casting. Despite the nervousness she’d picked up on earlier, Fane seemed pleased with himself, or at least confident enough to want to allow his solution to speak for itself.
With a soft huff, Yiershe bent down to undo the wraps around her feet. The Black Bull Inn might’ve been dingy, but she wasn’t so poorly raised as to wear shoes in bed. After setting them by the door, the lizard crossed the room towards the bed; it looked comfortable enough, though after weeks of sleeping in bedrolls on the ground, she was in no position to be picky.
Carefully, as if anticipating something to grab her, she sat down and swung her legs over, settling into a not-quite supine, not-quite seated position.
“Your level of trust is endearing.” Fane remarked, flipping through pages in his notebook.
Yiershe shot him a glance that read, ‘Don’t push it.’, but remained quiet. Anticipation and curiosity coiled in her gut, along with something else further down. The wholly clinical way they’d been going about this shouldn’t have aroused her, yet something about it excited her all the more. Perhaps it was the curiosity behind it, the intrigue, the honesty behind each of their intentions.
“Alright,” Fane began, “The spell itself is not difficult; a basic-level Polymorph spell, quite trivial for even the most novice casters-”
“This is why you’ve been learning Polymorph magic?” Yiershe interrupted, incredulous. The amount of times she’d seen him with a Polymorph textbook in hand, scribbling notes and pouring over the text within, all the while refraining from using said spells in battle; it had never made sense before, but she’d waved it off as knowledge for knowledge’s sake.
Fane scoffed, displeased as always at the interruption. “Are you telling me you’ve just put that together now? Your thick lizard skull continues to astound me.”
She trained her gaze on the ceiling. Every time she’d seen him with a Polymorph skillbook, during moments of downtime or around the other members of their party, he’d been… plotting this?
“As I was saying,” the skeleton continued, “the spell itself is rudimentary, but it required alterations for… our purposes.” As he spoke, magic began to curl lazily around his phalanges- casting outside of battle often looked much different than when in combat, as the priority shifted from strictly getting one’s spells out before the enemy. More relaxed, more refined.
The spell began to coil on the floor just past the foot of the bed, and Yiershe lifted her head to try and study it. Beyond the telltale orange of Polymorph magic, however, she could pick nothing out. She cursed her own lack of knowledge regarding the school; if she’d done a little more studying herself, she might have been able to guess the spell already.
But Fane didn’t keep her waiting much longer.
From the orange rays that crested just over the edge of the bed stretched three large, tapered, glistening… tentacles.
Yiershe’s eyes widened, and she fought the urge to scramble back on the bed even as her heart thudded heavily in her chest. Tentacles. Gods above, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, but there they were, solid and tangible and real, positioned before her like three silent statues.
Her companion’s smug aura was just as palpable. He’d said nothing as Yiershe assessed her situation, allowing her to break the silence first. Though she did her best to conceal her shock, she was sure he’d caught it in her eyes, in the lack of a quick retort or comment.
The spell’s name had returned to her upon seeing them for herself, and she took some solace in knowing she wasn’t entirely lost when it came to Polymorph magic. Slowly, as if afraid that breaking eye contact would cause the tentacles to descend upon her, she met Fane’s empty gaze. “...Tentacle Lash?”
“Yes and no,” he replied, pleased. “Tentacle Lash is a basic-level Polymorph spell, the casting of which creates a single tentacle on the producer’s arm that will, well, lash in a certain direction, causing rudimentary bodily harm.” explained Fane, despite surely understanding that if she’d been able to name the spell, she would have an idea of how it worked. “This is… consider it a sustained version of the same spell. I’ve altered it to allow more control over each appendage, to function outside of its original, inelegant purpose. A vast improvement, if you ask me.”
His explanation, the acknowledgement of the thing, was the push Yiershe needed for her intrigue to overtake her caution. The lizard pushed herself into a seated position, studying the tentacles with a new interest. Each of them were identical to each other, though the one in the center was the largest by far; about the thickness of her thigh at its widest point. The other two were smaller than she’d originally thought, arm-sized at best. They tapered to a blunt point, smooth on all sides, and childishly, Yiershe found herself relieved at the lack of suckers.
She reached out, but hesitated when her mind caught up with her hand. Fane had altered the spell, though she couldn’t forget the original form of it was solely designed to cause harm. Silently, she cut her eyes towards the skeleton, unsure exactly when she’d become so sure that her questions didn’t have to be voiced for him to understand.
Regardless of his comprehension, understanding was, perhaps, not the way to describe it. “Really? Do you really believe I’d leave in the part of the spell that induced severe pain upon skin-on-skin contact, of all things?” he scoffed, “This may be difficult for you to grasp, but that was the first thing to go, lizard.”
Strangely touched, Yiershe refocused, but before she could reach out again, one of the smaller tentacles began to drift towards her, rotating slightly as it went. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the magic that surrounded Fane’s hand shift in tandem, rotating around his index finger in much the same way. Though cautious, she was unable to resist her fascination, and stayed still as the appendage ghosted over the back of her hand, curling down around her wrist and pressing lightly against her forearm.
She was shocked at the heft of it- like a well-made weapon, it had a pleasant heaviness to it. Where she had expected it to be cold or slimy- and had dreaded both sensations- it was instead warm, smooth. Yiershe studied the tentacle against her skin, scrunching her nose slightly in thought, processing the idea that she might like it. At least, it excited her. How often in the past weeks had she felt this form of caress, something soft and gentle against her scales? And how often had she watched Fane and battled with her attraction towards him, wondered if their foray had been a one-time experiment, surprised herself with her desire to see it continue?
“Alright.” she said aloud, not entirely sure what part she was agreeing to, but knowing it encompassed her thoughts on the matter. Careful not to tug the extremity making itself at home around her arm, Yiershe laid back down, returning her attention to the spellcaster responsible for it. “Did you have a next step in mind?”
“Obviously, yes,” he returned quickly, “But first- how would you describe the feeling, there?” He nodded towards her arm, using his free hand to reclaim his quill.
She frowned, unprepared to voice the thoughts that had just run through her mind. “Heavy, but not uncomfortably so. Warm- closer to lukewarm than hot. Slippery, with a thin consistency, unlike mucus.” provided Yiershe, her affinity towards experimentation and documenting pushing her to be thorough.
Fane hummed as he wrote down her words verbatim, and she couldn’t help but note he didn’t set the quill down afterwards. “Good. I assume you haven’t forgotten the nature of this- as you are helping me test this spell, I’ll require feedback.”
The lizard ran her tongue over her teeth thoughtfully, “Are you intending on using this spell again in the future, then?”
“If all goes well, yes.”
The silence that stretched between them felt indicative, significant. It made his next instruction that much more abrupt.
“Now then, please remove your bottom layer of clothing.”
Her snort was not intentional, but she didn’t think she could’ve held it in if she’d tried. It was a good reminder that as much meaning as this second encounter between them held… this was certainly not framed as a date.
Canting her hips up, Yiershe untied the leather strings on either side of her padded trousers, loosening them first before the clasp at the front. She was thankful she hadn’t chosen to wear her chainmail or heavier armor to the Inn, allowing her to slide the leggings off and set them neatly enough on the floor. Underneath she wore cloth underwear, which, despite almost certainly fitting the description, she left on.
Could one feel so exposed in front of someone who’d fought beside them? Yiershe pondered this; if she trusted Fane with her life in combat, should they not be past this point?
The tendril gently uncurled itself away from her arm, moving instead over her shoulder and across her collarbone and chest. She couldn’t help but tense at the unfamiliarity, but she had no intentions of halting this odd test she’d found herself in the middle of. It moved over the leather straps of her light chest armor, lingering before pulling away and rejoining its fellows. So caught up was she that Yiershe had to firmly remind herself that they were wholly under Fane’s control, not creatures in their own right.
“And what purpose did that serve your experiment?” she inquired dryly.
In response, the other, smaller tentacle- she had begun to think of the smaller ones as ‘secondary’ and the larger as ‘primary’- made contact with her bare leg, sliding smooth flesh against the rough scales of her shin, traveling upwards towards her thigh. Her inner thighs were far less protected than the outer section, and when the very tip of the appendage brushed the area, she shivered.
“Cold?” Fane asked.
“Faux innocence does not suit you.” she returned, “From all your studies, you know our erogenous zones perfectly well.”
She knew he wouldn’t deny that. “While yes, that is true, rarely have I had a chance to explore them myself. The benefits of a willing test subject cannot be overstated, really.” Before Yiershe could speak, he flexed his hand; the tendril against her thigh flexed as well. “May I continue?”
“You may.”
The secondary tentacle continued up her inner thigh, applying enough pressure that it didn’t outright tickle, though she had to fight to keep from squirming- she wasn’t going to give him that pleasure, at least not so soon. It glided without tugging on any of her scales, the odd smoothness of it making Yiershe feel… almost soft, in return. Certainly not something she was used to; lizards had a reputation, one they’d carefully cultivated, and it spanned from their tactics to their personas to their very bodies.
“Care to elaborate further on that, Godwoken? Seems this area in particular is having an effect on you.” Fane asked, already putting quill to paper.
Yiershe shook her head. “What does that have to do with your spell, specifically?” she countered.
To her surprising dismay, as soon as she pushed back… the tentacle stopped moving. It sat motionless against her thigh, waiting for further instruction. She realized, then, how the game was going to work.
“All data is good data, obviously. Please, do carry on.” prompted the skeleton, and though he carried no trace of it on his face, she could hear the smirk in his voice, and it nearly made her groan. She should have known he’d want a power trip.
Regardless, she was not one to offer negligent answers. Yiershe paused for a beat or two to consider the question before continuing, “As we’ve previously established, erogenous zones are prevalent in nearly all species, and the inner thigh is a near-universal example,” she said, “For lizards, specifically, our scales are softer and smaller around the area known as the underbelly, and direct contact in these places can be especially… well. Affecting.”
To his credit, Fane did seem to be writing down her answer- she could see the feathered end of his quill bobbing out of the corner of her eye as he wrote. He set it down in the notebook soon after and as soon as his focus returned to her, the secondary tentacle against her thigh resumed its journey upwards. It applied more pressure- which made her twitch involuntarily in response, surprised at the strength that the appendage held. Finally, it reached the junction where her leg met her pelvis and ghosted down the crevice there. Yiershe clenched her teeth together.
The first contact over her underwear sent a jolt through her system, a bolt of something hot and squirmy straight into her lower stomach. When had she become so sensitive? Yiershe didn’t know whether to tilt her pelvis into the touch or to jerk away from it, so she did neither.
“How did that feel?” asked Fane in a low voice.
Before she could answer, the secondary tentacle pressed in again, a warm pressure right at the apex between her thighs. It shifted, creating the smallest amount of friction, a promise of what was to come if she provided satisfactory answers.
She didn’t know what motivated her, but the next words out of her mouth were, “It made me realize… how long it’s been since I’ve been touched.”
The skeleton’s leg began to bounce, and he quickly crossed it over the other to cease the motion, but Yiershe couldn’t keep a smile off her face. She’d got him with that one, despite his attempt to play the detached scientist. “...To elaborate, it felt good. Pleasurable as a sudden jolt with a bit of a lingering effect, but nothing substantial.”
He was silent as he wrote- she swore she could see a furrowed brow, even considering the lack of a brow to furrow- before nodding. “Your thorough answers are appreciated. Now, may I continue?”
“Feel free.”
Slowly, the tentacle stroked her through her underwear, rubbing up and down her groin without making direct contact. It paused only to press briefly at the top of her slit, making her hips twitch again, before continuing its unhurried pace. The contact felt good, and all Yiershe found herself wanting to do was rut herself against the sturdiness of the tentacle between her legs until she was well spent. Her own randiness shocked her; she’d entertained hardly a single lecherous thought this entire time, and now she was overcome? This was different though, this was… an inevitability, ever since their previous encounter.
One of her hands drifted downwards with the intent of removing or shifting aside her underwear, but before Yiershe could get past her own hips, the other secondary tentacle surged forwards and coiled around her wrist, stopping her in place. The lizard inhaled sharply, turning to meet Fane’s eye. He gave nothing away, as usual. “Apologies, but I would prefer to prevent needless tampering. Is there something you need?”
Bastard. She gave her arm a weak tug- a fraction of her strength if she’d been seriously attempting to escape, and she knew he knew that, too- and when it didn’t budge, Yiershe clacked her teeth at him. “Forgive my intrusion. Please, continue your meandering.”
Fane snorted and, allowing himself to be goaded, slipped the tentacle underneath the hem of her underwear. The feeling of it, the slick skin and heaviness, it was exactly what she was hoping for. It resumed its earlier position, but its motion was different- instead of a slow trail up and down, it was circling her most sensitive area in deliberate, firm rounds. Over and over and over; Yiershe couldn’t help but groan softly in the back of her throat.
“Better?”
“Mm. Better.”
“Good to know. Now, from what I understand, and I do like to think I understand this quite well,” he said, “this area here is tender, yes? The outer area. However, if I were to…”
Finally, the tentacle made direct contact with her clit. It wasn’t as if Fane had teased her, or even taken much time building up to this moment, but it felt like eons. She curled her claws into the blanket beneath her as her next exhale came out in a huff, aching for more.
“...As I suspected. Would you say that is the most sensitive area of your body?” he inquired, preemptively beginning to write.
Yiershe nodded. “By far.” She adjusted herself a tad, and the movement made her conscious of the wetness between her legs- she’d mistakenly attributed all of it to the tentacle. It pressed lightly and began to undulate over the nub, rolling over it in slow waves. The appendage was large- certainly thicker than a finger- and so the feeling of her clit being surrounded, almost swallowed by warmth was enough to drag a proper moan from her throat.
As if in response, the tentacle trapping her wrists tightened, keeping her long form stretched out across the dingy blanket. The feeling would only intensify as its motions became more and more pronounced, stroking her properly in small passes back and forth.
Fane leaned forward slightly in his chair, his skull angled, surprisingly, towards her face. “May I outline the next steps of this experiment, as it were? I do enjoy keeping my test subjects in the know- the uptick in cooperation is worth the hassle on my end.”
Wanting nothing more than to rake her claws down his ribcage and watch him squirm beneath her, Yiershe managed a, “Go on,” even as the very tip of the tentacle between her legs flicked up at just the right spot, and her hips couldn’t help but follow along. Where had he learned how to do this? She made a mental note to scour the dusty tomes he carried along with him; perhaps they were worth her interest, after all.
There- his skull turned, and she got the impression of him skimming his gaze over her body, ending at the tops of her spread thighs. “I would like to explore more of you, see how you react. I think it would benefit both of us greatly.”
She sucked in a harsh breath, her body reacting on its own to his implication. Foolishly, Yiershe found herself craving his hands, his touch in that moment, as if skeleton hands could satisfy her the way flesh could. Though, with how worked up she was steadily becoming, perhaps that wasn’t impossible.
Fane awaited her response. She was comfortable in the understanding that he wouldn’t move forward without her express permission, so she took a moment before answering in as steady a voice as she could muster, “I agree. I would, however, like to put forward a request.”
“I suppose that is only fair.”
Her question felt a bit like defeat, but Yiershe knew she had to voice it. “...Take it slow. As I said, it has been… a while.”
“If you can believe it, lizard, I can certainly tell.” he quipped, though before she could protest, Fane continued in a more measured tone, “Yes, I will ‘take it slow’, as you said.”
The tentacle lavishing her clitoris curled deviously, and Yiershe huffed, both at the feeling and at the nerve of him. But she wanted more, and the roiling warmth in her lower stomach would not be ignored nor placated.
Gently, the hold around her wrists loosened, and Fane took a moment to note a few things in his journal as she reclaimed her hands. “If you would remove the remainder of your undergarments,” he instructed, “we may continue.”
Even as she reached down to hook her thumbs around the hem of her underwear, the ministrations between her legs maintained a slow, steady pace- rubbing and pressing and circling in a very distracting fashion. Refusing to falter, Yiershe navigated the garment off and tossed it aside, her lower half made entirely bare. The room was warm enough so that she wasn’t cold, but the lizard still fought against the desire to cross her legs or press her thighs together.
Instead, she spread them, bending her knees slightly and looking over at her companion. “Care to share a bit of what you’ve been noting down?”
Fane made a flippant hand gesture, offering her a, “If you can read them, lizard, be my guest.”, and turning his notebook around to show her the pages. Indeed, they were filled with notations… and indeed, they were all in a language Yiershe could not decipher. “No? Ah, color me quite shocked- in that case, I suppose I will keep them to myself.”
How could an insufferable, fleshless creature inspire such stirrings of desire within her? “I do recall you saying it was easier to keep test subjects ‘in the know’, if I rememb- ah!”
As she’d been formulating her response, the smaller appendage that had once bound her wrists had snuck down and pressed just the very tip of itself into her opening. Or, rather, Fane had done so; she was falling victim to viewing the tentacles as their own entity, rather than extensions of the skeleton’s will.
He moved no further, and Fane’s silence suggested he was waiting for her assent before continuing. He’d get it in the form of a nod and a subtle baring of her teeth.
It pushed further in, allowing her walls to mold around it without stretching her too far. Meanwhile, the tentacle at her apex had stilled, letting her focus on adjusting on this new intrusion. The feeling wasn’t pain, but it was a distant shadow of it that would surely fade before too long.
“I am going to ask something of you, Lizard, for both of our benefit.” Fane said, his voice rousing her attention.
She canted her hips slightly, unconsciously chasing stimulation. “After what you just pulled, I’m not sure how generous I’m feeling, but do feel free.” she returned, lacking true bite in her tone.
“Yes, yes, what I’m sure constitutes a smart response among your kind aside, I will need you to…” Within her, the tentacle pulsed, taking advantage of how she’d relaxed to stretch her out further. “Ah, how to put this. Inform me of when we’ve reached a suitable depth.”
Yiershe blinked, first up at the ceiling and then at him. She opened her mouth to question Fane, but after a beat, she pieced it together. Of course; he certainly had more tentacle than would be pleasurable or even possible for her to take. The thought was thrilling, in a strange way, to not be bound by a partner’s anatomy.
Though she’d never had to dictate the length of what entered her in the past, Yiershe thought about it for a moment before speaking. “Maybe… two or three inches more?”
He complied. The Lizard had assumed he would slowly work her up to those two or three inches, however Fane had taken her statement to mean she was ready for those inches all at once, and the resulting push made her arch her back and flex her fingers. It felt good, lingering bits of discomfort quickly taken over by pleasure as the tentacle inside her curled ever so slightly upwards.
It began to rock softly- shallow and more of a grind than a thrust. She could tell his focus was on preparing her for more, but Gods strike her down if this didn’t feel divine enough as it were. The appendage’s warm, malleable surface rubbed against the top of her core with each pass, and she couldn’t decide what direction to twist her hips in to create the sweetest friction.
When it finally pulled out of her, wetter than it had gone in, Yiershe hummed in a mix of disappointment and anticipation, eyes blinking open to the sound of Fane’s quill scratching against paper. “How did that feel?”
“I feel as though I’m stroking your ego more and more as this goes on.”
“And I believe that says far more about you than it does me; we mutually agreed that all data is good data, and I for one am keen on-”
Yiershe groaned, cutting him off. “There was a hint of discomfort at the beginning; it quickly subsided, but I’m of the mind that it would have faded sooner if you’d continued touching me with the other… tentacle, as you were before. Afterwards, I felt pleasure. The way it-...”
He’d been writing, but as she trailed off, he looked back at her, silent and expectant.
“...The way it curled within me was…satisfying.”
Fane nodded and tilted his head after he’d finished, pleased with himself. “I am glad to know my extensive studies have paid off, then, and your suggestion is… noted. Now…” He waved his hand in a short arc.
From the portal at the end of the bed, the primary tentacle finally stirred, snaking slowly through the air and nearing her spread thighs. It brushed against the inside of her knee, and she felt that it was made of that same lubricated, pliable flesh as the other two. The large tentacle hovered just before her entrance without making contact.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Yes.”
It dipped between her folds, the head of it rutting against her entrance tantalizingly before a firmer push granted it access within. It was sudden and electrifying and Yiershe threw back her head and gasped, “Ah, Fa- mmf.” as it withdrew at a slower pace.
She felt rather than saw him lean forward, a hand on his jaw, the skeletal ghost of a smug grin on his face. “What was that? One more time, if you would?”
Yiershe rolled her tongue across her teeth, wishing she could nip that sensitive spot at the top of his sternum. “‘Fuck’.” she stated, eyeing him levelly.
Neither of them believed her. That length re-entered her, offering an inch more than before, a type of unique pain so delicious it was indistinguishable from pleasure. It was akin to a pleasant strain of one’s muscles after a productive workout, or a long, shaking stretch. And what a stretch it was. It repeated the motion, leaving just the very tip inside of her as it retracted and then returned to the warmth of her velvety walls.
She’d never considered herself the loud sort, and she was indeed not being particularly loud here, but Yiershe couldn’t help a fluttering sort of moan, something that wasn’t contained by her careful self-image.
With each slow movement, now, Fane was giving her more and more to work with, letting her open up around the tentacle until- “That is about the length we agreed on, before.” he informed her, his skull tilted to better observe the tangling of tentacle and scales between her legs.
It was, and she couldn’t deny that it was filling. She couldn’t deny this feeling of being full, of the way it lit up every nerve in her just to have the thing stationary, buried deep within her core. But…
“It- It is, yes. I think… I can take a bit more, though. Another inch?” she suggested, fighting to keep her voice level, as if the idea would be mutually beneficial as opposed to solely feeding into her own desire to push herself farther.
Fane had abandoned all pretenses and was now sitting on the edge of his chair, elbows on his knees and hands clasped. He tapped his index fingers together. “I can do that, yes.”
And he did. Another thrust brought her a new wave of pure sensation, some kind of tight knot in her belly that made her cry out and turn her head away from him. That was it. That was as much as she could take, and the knowledge that she was experiencing that was a thrill all in itself.
They hadn’t even truly bore down yet and Yiershe was swimming in stimulation. Perhaps she was in trouble.
Her suspicions were confirmed as he gave her their first thrust in earnest, a coiling of the tentacle’s thick form that drove it back and then forward, emptying her and then refilling her in one smooth motion. Yiershe grabbed the mattress, bracing herself for the next one, which was blissfully merciless in the amount of pleasure it gave her.
She remembered to breathe, belatedly, as the slow, firm way he worked her over made it impossible to keep from squirming- later, Yiershe would deny it, as she was resolute in the notion that she wasn’t one to squirm.
“You- Ah, did you really learn all this from studying?” she asked with a breathless laugh. “Perhaps I’ve been reading the wrong books all along.”
He scoffed. “One simply has to know where to look, Godwoken. I’ve discovered plenty regarding your kind and how they rut together; rest assured, I’ve pieced together far more complex puzzles than you.” Fane declared, and gods above, Yiershe almost wished he was doing a worse job just so she could have something to properly retaliate with. Instead, she bit back a groan as she was pushed against, canting her hips to try and win some friction in return.
It felt so good and it felt like so much. Yiershe wished she could put together a more coherent thought, but truthfully, that about summed it up.
As her inner walls began to loosen around it, the tentacle started to adopt a more steady pace, though it hardly picked up speed. The bed beneath her had begun to creak, and she found herself wondering how long Fane could keep this spell up for, how long they could go, in theory. If he didn’t feel anything himself and boasted as much magical stamina as he claimed, who was to say they couldn’t go for an indefinite amount of time?
Yiershe furrowed her brow. Or… did she know he felt nothing? Had that been properly established? She assumed as such, based on his lack of reaction, but she supposed that until it was stated, she couldn’t reasonably act under the assumption.
Fane, apparently sensing her precious moment of clear, unburdened thought, caught her off guard.
As they’d moved ahead with entering her, the secondary tentacle that had been attending to her clit had remained at a halt, but as she relaxed into the pleasure, it suddenly came back to life as if it had never stopped. A gentle amount of pressure was applied to her apex, that undulating motion washing over her like the lapping of the tide.
“Oh my g- ah!” she gasped, feeling the tip of the tentacle inside of her curl upwards in time with its partner’s motions. Her breaths were starting to get ragged, but even through it all, Yiershe knew what Fane was going to ask before he asked it.
“How does it feel?”
“Y- You’re not even taking notes, anymore.” Yiershe protested, noting the journal sitting, untouched, on the end table.
The skeleton’s voice dropped lower. “Your powers of observation never fail to astound me. Of course I’m not, no. I’m asking for personal reasons, lizard.”
A thrill ran through her lower stomach, though that damned tentacle doggedly did not pick up its pace. The combination of internal and external stimulation would be her undoing, Yiershe already foresaw it. “You really can be insufferable, sometimes.” she groaned, tilting her head back.
“And yet, you seem to be suffering me quite well.” he mused softly.
“Good. It feels very good. It would feel better if you increased the pace.” Yiershe bit out, gazing sideways at him. She studied the magic that curled around his hands a moment, the way it pulsed in time with the motions of the tentacles. Perhaps she would never admit this aloud to him, but she was… impressed. The spell, his attention to detail, the execution… she never would have expected this of him the first time they met.
And, to his credit, Fane listened to her. Yiershe’s hands briefly scrambled for purchase against the mattress as the tentacle buried inside of her suddenly gave a hard rock and picked up a quicker tempo. She could feel her body moving with each thrust, deep and firm and perfectly molded to her. The lizard clacked her teeth sharply, baring them in pleasure as her fingers twisted in the sheets.
The secondary tentacle at her clit has adopted a steady, circular rub that ignited her from the inside out, while the other one resumed its position around her wrist. This time, it didn’t pin her down nor restrict her movement, it just… held on. As her arousal heightened, Yiershe remembered the way Fane’s hand had alighted on her arm that day in Fort Joy, how it had similarly craved contact for the sake of it.
All of a sudden, she craved that, too.
“Hold on.” she said, turning her head to meet Fane’s empty gaze. She reached out her hand, the one unencumbered. “I want- mmh.” Yiershe was cut off as he buried the full length of the thing- the length she was capable of taking- within her and held it there for a few heartbeats. Her hips arched off of the bed, a low moan escaping her throat. “Do you mind?”
It was clear he reveled in his capability to undo her, and she really couldn’t blame him in the slightest. He tilted a shoulder up in a self-satisfied manner. “Apologies. You were saying?”
The closer she got to the brink, the more difficult it would be to parse through her haze of pleasure and voice what she wanted. It was already starting to get difficult to focus. “Come here.”
He slowed, ignoring her grumble of protest, and shook his head: confused, not dissenting. “Pardon me?” he asked, voice lilting back up out of the intimate register he’d settled down into and back into the realm of supercilious.
“Alright, I’ll elaborate. I would like you to come here.” Yiershe repeated, patting her stomach, “So I can, ah, touch you, as you…” ‘Fuck me’ was left unsaid, hanging in the air between them. Both tentacles were still moving agonizingly slow, painfully unhurried.
Fane hesitated for what felt like an impossibly long few seconds. Was it impolite of her to ask? Surely not. Impulsive? Yes, certainly, but the thought of it was too good to possibly resist. She’d wanted her hands on him since they’d begun. To combine his pleasure with hers, it would be… more personal than they’d maintained thus far, of course, but surely they were past that at this point?
She soon learned that was not what Fane was caught up on. “You… You tempt me, Godwoken, but… the purpose of this was meant to be for your repayment, not to involve myself yet again.” he said, unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck.
“So, you’re uninterested in ‘involving’ yourself?”
He huffed. “You know that is not what I meant. I altered this spell with your pleasure in mind, and my intent is to fulfill that purpose. I fear I will be distracted.”
Yiershe knew it was big of him to admit the possibility of anything she could do to him resulting in a diversion of his attention. She brought herself up on her elbows, reaching down to wrap a hand around the primary tentacle, feeling it and its partner stop immediately. Exhaling shakily, she returned her focus to him. “I am laying my desires out on the table, as it were. I want this.” she stated. “I believe you want it, too.”
A silence stretched between them. Yiershe fought to keep herself still, keeping her squirming internal, contained to her lower stomach.
Then, slowly, Fane reached for the hem of his tunic, pulling it up and over his head. He folded it and laid it on the ground beside his chair, his top half now laid bare for her hungry eyes to roam over. Something about the curve of his ribcage, the angles of his clavicle, they’d become beautiful to her over the time they’d spent together, like well-constructed architecture. He was like a sculpture to her, Yiershe realized, and in the same beat understood that she could never tell him as such lest his ego inflate to an insurmountable degree.
Not taking her eyes off of him, Yiershe leaned back down onto the bed. Fane, in turn, placed a knee delicately on the mattress, using it to push himself off of the ground and swing a leg around her, straddling Yiershe in a single motion. Her breath caught in her throat, and she saw a slight tremor in his hands. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
“...I suppose I am glad we deigned to leave science by the wayside, lizard. This would severely skew the results of the test.” he muttered, gazing down at her. He was seated on her midsection, hip bones pressing lightly into her stomach through the leather armor she still wore. Yiershe was struck by just how lightly he weighed upon her, how he could possibly swing a sword or support heavy armor when she was sure she could simply lift her hips and him in the same motion.
Yiershe’s laugh broke some of the tension in her chest, and she reached up to trail the back of her finger along a rib. The skeleton twitched, turning his head away from her as if hiding an expression she had no way of discerning. She persisted, turning her hand to purposefully trace the length of his longest rib bone with the calloused pad of her finger. The grooves that littered its surface weren’t quite familiar to her yet, but Yiershe was glad to feel them all the same. Her heart fluttered with excitement.
Then, an involuntary, sharp moan was drawn from her as the stimulation around her clitoris suddenly kicked back into motion, the tentacle drawing a firm line from the top of her entrance upwards. Fane had provided her with a fantastic distraction, yet now that she was reminded of the growing pool of want between her legs, she was eager to continue.
Neither of them wasted time. Yiershe skimmed her claws along Fane’s sternum and he rocked her with a hard thrust in retaliation. She bit back a groan, as did he, and they met in the middle. Her hands cupped his torso, applying pressure and beginning to stroke inwards, each one ending just before the section of hard bone in the middle. Fane finally indulged her and hastened his pace, working her core and sensitive nub in tandem as he did his best not to squirm atop her.
It was passionate, a word Yiershe never thought she’d attribute to Fane, of all people. Pleasure swirled around her brain and stomach, the muscles in her thighs were beginning to tighten and twitch involuntarily; she wouldn’t last long, not after so much build-up and so little previous experience. At least she knew he wouldn’t, either.
”Fane,” she breathed, “I- I have something I need to ask-”
“What are you going on about now?” Fane asked, lofty even as he came undone under her hands.
She grinned. “How does it feel?”
Yiershe twisted her hand around a rib, gripping it more roughly than she’d ever handle a lover of flesh-and-blood, and Fane arched his back, pushing himself into her hand with a low keen that thrilled her. He shivered, one hand moving to rest on her shoulder for support.
“Turning this into a competition, lizard? How very- ah- typical of your kind.” he returned, drawing out of her in a slow, gradual manner and then slamming back inside all at once.
The grin fell from her face, replaced by an open-mouthed pant. She spread her legs wider, inviting more of the same treatment, wanting to chase that earlier idea of passion. For a few moments longer, neither of them were able to say much of anything at all- Yiershe could hardly think of anything except her pleasure and his pleasure and their eventual release.
Perhaps eventual was the incorrect word for it.
Pressure had been building up ever since he first laid a tentacle on her clitoris, but now it was beginning to get urgent. “I’m getting close.” she managed, leaning in to nip at the edge of his sternum with her teeth as her hands continued their dance of pushing, pulling, and scratching.
Fane nodded. “As am I. If I give you more, are you sure you’ll be able to keep up?” he asked, and she heard the taunting smile in his tone.
“I liked you better when you were a mewling mess in Fort Joy.” she growled.
From then on, there was little time for talk. Both tentacles became rougher, fucking into her and teasing her simultaneously in a relentless assault. Her body rocked on the mattress, fighting her urge to rut back against them for fear of displacing the skeleton on her torso. She drug her palms over two pairs of ribs at once, speeding up until her arms started to ache.
The lizard surged forwards and pressed her tongue against his sternum as he curved that tentacle up in just the right spot, the one that made her see stars.
And she did. Entire galaxies, she would swear on it. Yiershe’s stomach tensed and her insides tightened and then she was gone, pitched over the edge in an orgasm that utterly wrecked her. She pulsed again and again, shuddering through it with a cry that could’ve been mistaken for pain, so deep was her relief.
Fane wasn’t far behind her. She’d been able to bite down on him with the last trickle of sense she had left, and as she came, trails of Source curled around her in a fond manner as he rode through his own climax. He practically whimpered, a sound Yiershe would most certainly remember for later, hunching over her as the two of them reveled in their shared bliss.
As the magic drained out of him, so too did the spell that magic supported. Just as the sensation was teetering on overstimulation, all three tentacles and the portal they’d come out of suddenly popped out of existence, and Fane slumped, exhausted. Yiershe came down a bit more slowly, her breathing heavy and her muscles jellied from tensing over and over again. She could not remember a time where she was more satisfied.
The silence between them stretched on. Yiershe, careful to avoid any particularly sensitive areas, looped an arm around his waist. A pleasurable sort of tiredness pulled at her eyelids, something that promised warm, deep sleep. Her heart raced in her chest, though over time it was gradually fading back into obscurity. Fane was still above her. Very still.
She waited a few more beats. “...Fane?”
He made a sound between a hum and a grunt, clumsily patting her shoulder. Yiershe accepted that as an answer.
Time stretched on, an indefinite period marked only by her breathing and his gentle stirs. Other than that, they were still, content. Distantly, Yiershe wondered how long they’d been at it, whether their companions were seeking them out, if they’d be asked to leave any time soon. The lizard knew their problems were far from over, that they would need to rise at some point and resume their quest of magic and peril, but in that moment she was happy to bask in her afterglow. Yiershe figured she had earned that right, at least.
Finally, Fane pushed himself back to a seated position with a groan of effort. “...By the gods, that took a lot out of me.” he remarked begrudgingly, rubbing his skull with his fingers. “That was… quite a first test, Godwoken.”
“Did you gather all the data you had wanted?” she asked, half teasing, half genuinely curious. “Or rather, would you consider this particular spell a success?”
He scooted carefully off of her, finding an unoccupied spot on the bed to sit and catch his metaphorical breath. Stirrings of intrigue flickered within Yiershe- as her arousal was satiated, it seemed her thirst for knowledge was not. How long did it take him to recharge? Was there a limit to what he could do, and if so, what was it? Could they alter the spell still further?
“It really is so obvious when you’re mulling something over, you know. Smoke practically emanates from your nostrils.” Fane sighed. “To answer your question, I would consider that a success, yes, I don’t believe we could reasonably call it anything else. However, I…” He rolled his shoulders, and she picked up on a twinge of nervousness. “I believe we could take… things further, in terms of that spell and potentially others. In the interest of experimentation, of course?”
Fane tilted his skull at her, and Yiershe couldn’t help but smile. “It sounds a bit like you’re suggesting you’d like to have sex again, if I’m, as we’ve said before, game.”
He waved a hand dismissively. “Crude, though I suppose I should expect nothing less. Yes, then, that is what I am suggesting. Are you game, lizard?”
“Absolutely, I am.”