Chapter 236: Lily Can’t Hold it *
The floorboards in Elder Silvia’s residence creaked with every careful step Lily took, her bare feet padding silently through the darkened hallway. The moon hung low and full through the windows, casting silver ribbons across the wooden floor. Her heart thrummed against her ribs like a caged bird, her breath shallow and quick.
She had tried. Gods above, she had tried to be patient.
For weeks, she had watched him from across the dining table, watched the way his head tilted when he listened to the voices of Exildra and Alana. And every night she had lain in her own bed, burning. His door was slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness. She pushed it open without a sound and slipped inside.
Bahamut was already in bed, propped against the headboard, his white hair catching the faint moonlight. The black and grey streaks running through it made him look older than he was, wiser, touched by something ancient. His eyes, pale, sightless, and beautiful, were open, staring at nothing. He had been on the verge of sleep; she could tell by the way his breathing had slowed, the way his fingers had gone slack against the blanket.
She crossed the room in three silent strides and pounced. Her knees landed on either side of his thighs, her hands pressed flat against his chest, her body settling over his with a weight that made him gasp. His hands came up instinctively, catching her arms, his brow furrowing.
"Lily?"
"My residence is too far from yours," she breathed. "Every night I lie awake, and I can feel you on the other side of those walls. I can feel you, Bahamut. And I cannot hold it in anymore."
Her eyes were glowing. She could feel the heat of them, the foxfire burning behind her irises. Her ears were flat against her skull, her tail bristled and wild. She knew what she must look like: Feral and hungry.
His hands traveled up her arms, over her shoulders, and found her jaw. His thumbs brushed her cheekbones, her temples, and came to rest at the corners of her eyes, where the glow spilled brightest, without flinching
"I know that look," he said quietly. "You’re shaking."
"Because I need you."
His hands slid into her hair, fingers threading through the tangled red strands. She leaned into his touch like a flower turning toward the sun, her breath catching. His palms were warm and rough, calloused from training and fighting, and they cradled her skull with a tenderness that made her chest ache.
"Then stay," he said. "I’m not going anywhere."
She lowered her head until her forehead rested against his. Their breath mingled in the narrow space between them. She could smell him, sandalwood and clean sweat, the lingering trace of the herbal soap Elder Silvia made. It was the smell of safety. Of everything she had never known, she was searching for until she came to this sect.
"I don’t know what’s happening to me," she whispered. "When I’m near you, I feel like I’m on fire, and when I’m away, I feel like I’m freezing."
His lips curved into a smile. That quiet, infuriating, beautiful smile.
"Then don’t be away."
She kissed him. It started softly as a question more than a demand. Her lips brushed against his, tentative and trembling. His hand tightened in her hair. She felt his other hand slide down her back, his palm flat against the thin fabric of her sleeping shift, tracing the curve of her spine. She made a sound low in her throat, something between a whimper and a sigh.
"Tell me what you want," he murmured against her mouth.
"I want you to hold me. I want to feel your skin against mine. I want to fall asleep in your arms and wake up in the same place."
He laughed softly, a warm sound that vibrated through his chest and into hers. "That’s not so hard to give."
She pulled back just enough to look at him, at his sightless eyes that somehow always seemed to see right through her, at the sharp lines of his jaw, the way the moonlight painted silver highlights across his dark skin. She traced her fingers along his collarbone, over the dip of his throat, down the center of his chest.
"I want to memorize you," she said. "Every part of you."
"Then take your time."
She did. She kissed his forehead first, then the bridge of his nose, then each of his closed eyelids. She kissed the corner of his mouth, the curve of his jaw, the sensitive spot just below his ear that made his breath hitch. She mapped him with her lips and her palms, learning the landscape of his body the way he had learned the layout of this house, by touch, by feel, by slow and patient exploration.
His hands moved over her in return, learning her just as thoroughly. He found the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the soft give of her breasts through the thin cotton of her shift. His touch was reverent and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second.
"Your heart is racing," he observed.
"Yours isn’t?"
"It is." He took her hand and pressed it flat against his chest. Beneath her palm, his heartbeat thundered steady and strong. "I’m just better at hiding it."
She laughed, a watery, joyful sound. "Liar."
"Maybe." He tilted his head up, searching for her mouth again. She gave it to him willingly.
The kiss deepened. She felt the heat building between them, a slow and patient fire. His hands found the hem of her shift and hesitated.
"May I?"
"Yes."
He drew it up, inch by inch, his knuckles brushing against her thighs, her stomach, her ribs. She raised her arms and let him pull it over her head, let it fall somewhere beside the bed. The air was cool against her skin, but his body was warm where she pressed against him.
He traced the line of her shoulder, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hip. His fingers ghosted over her skin like he was reading a language written just beneath the surface.
"Beautiful," he said.
"You can’t see me."
"You think so?"
She kissed him again, harder this time, and he pulled her down against him, her body folding into his. The blankets tangled around them, the sheets cool and soft. She felt his hands on her bare back, her bare thighs, mapping and memorizing, and she let herself be known.
Time became strange. It stretched and distended, marked only by breath and touch and the quiet sounds they drew from each other. The moon crept across the sky. The night deepened. At some point, she helped him out of his sleep pants, and he helped her out of nothing at all because she was already bare, and they came together skin to skin, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.
There was no rush and no frenzy, just the slow, steady rhythm of two people learning each other.
She guided him inside her with a whispered word, and he moved with her as if he had always known the shape of her, the way she fit against him, the way her breath caught and her nails dug into his shoulders when he found the angle that made her gasp. She rode him slowly, deliberately, her hips rolling in a languid rhythm, her head thrown back, and her glowing eyes fixed on the ceiling while she felt him fill her completely.
His hands found her hips, guiding, steadying. His breath came in short, sharp bursts against her throat.
"Lily."
"I’m here."
"I know."
The world narrowed to the space where they joined, to the warmth of his palms on her skin, to the sound of her name on his lips like a prayer. She felt the tension building in her core, slow and inevitable as the tide, and she did not fight it. She let it rise, let it crest, let it break over her in waves that left her trembling and breathless and clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in a world made of water.
He followed soon after, his body tensing beneath hers, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close as he shuddered through his release.
Afterward, she collapsed against his chest, her ear pressed to the steady thrum of his heart. His arms stayed wrapped around her, one hand stroking lazy patterns through her hair, the other resting warm and heavy on her lower back.
The glow in her eyes had dimmed to a soft ember.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?"
"For being here. For not running away when I pounced on you."
He laughed, soft and warm. "Where would I run? I don’t have that energy."
She smacked his chest lightly, and he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
"Stay," he said. It was not a question.
"Always."
The moon continued its slow arc across the sky. The night wrapped around them like a blanket, and Lily, for the first time in weeks, slept soundly.
