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I like to watch , he said. It wasn’t surprising - lurking as he did, orchestrating the collapse of nations and the foundations of empires, she had only meant it mostly as banter when she had called him an arch bringer of chaos. And he had smirked and called it flattery.
Saphir’s tail tip flicked back and forth in a metronome of consideration, rolling the idea back and forth across her mind, trying to determine what it was about those words that had snared them so thoroughly in her mind. She liked the idea of Emet Selch looming in the shadows, watching their every move. By all rights she ought to have been jumping at every flickering shadow.
But perhaps there was a certain reassurance in knowing for certain that there was someone watching, when it mattered - when she thought she felt eyes boring holes in the back of her head along dark paths and through dim woods, it was more than likely to be Emet Selch , rather than nerves and exhaustion.
Her lips tugged into a soft frown, pushing away from her half finished meal to pace to the kettle and refill her tea. There was more to it than that, something beyond comfort and wry recognition of an… outwardly amicable, ideologically opposed presence confirming her well-founded paranoia. The Exarch could be scrying at that very moment to ensure that she was eating her fill and taking her ease, setting her fur to prickling and her hands to curling. No, it was something else.
She sighed quietly and brought the cup to her lips. It didn’t hurt that Emet Selch was rather attractive, she supposed…
Ah.
The tea was set aside nearly as quickly as it had been prepared as Saphir folded her arms across her chest, beginning to re-organize her observations. She… was drawn to the ascian. An intelligence - a cunning - on that level was difficult to ignore, for all that he was… well. He was a puzzle that drew her like a lodestone.
She retrieved her cup, mulling over the context of their interactions once more. She was attracted to Emet Selch. She enjoyed his company, and sought it out when it was reasonable. She liked the idea of him observing her, in privacy, and disliked the concept when applied to trusted companions. For a moment, she tried to imagine it- Emet Selch, lingering in the shade beyond her perception, watching as she finished her meal and prepared for bed. As she was at her most vulnerable. When she was removing her armor. Her clothing.
It was jarring to realize that the warmth setting in her stomach was not entirely the product of her evening tincture. That not only did she have the energy and aether to slay lightwardens, but apparently there was surplus enough for arousal for the first time in… rather longer than she cared to consider.
(Briefly, she entertained the thought of whistling for him as she had in Yx’maya.)
Her hand strayed to the side of her neck, trailing lightly over her jaw and back down to the hollow of her throat, tail curling reflexively, a terribly thin excuse taking shape in her mind. Just a harmless experiment, she told herself. A bit of baiting, to satisfy herself and pique his curiosity. When he could close the trap of his own accord, or leave it be. And she would be left to wonder…
Another thrill of blooming warmth. No harm in testing a hypothesis- not after discovering what she had in Rak’tika, what she had overheard. She deserved a spark of joy. However fleeting, however ill-conceived. Resolved, collected the key to her room and slipped out. She knew where to find him.
The fine arts section of the Cabinet of Curiosity was woefully underused, though the reasons were quite understandable. Nonetheless, the dimmest corner of the library allowed for, if not private, then at least secluded meetings. He always seemed to know when she was looking for him. She might have found it endearing, if she’d allowed herself to be so naive.
Saphir propped herself against the alcove, well-worn wood rasping against her hair as she tipped her head back to regard him. “I’ve a question, Emet Selch. If you’ve found yourself in an indulgent mood.”
“Another attempt at building insipid rapport, is it?” He arched a brow, then heaved the most put-upon sigh she might have ever heard in her life. As though she had interrupted a terribly important project, rather than found him lazily sprawled in a chair she was certain had come from one of the rooms in the Pendants. At least it spared her a cramp from craning her neck. “Come then, what shall it be this time?”
Her lips bowed into a smile of their own accord, though she managed to bite her tongue on the laughter that threatened to escape her throat. “Would you prefer I had come with zweihander?” She asked playfully. “Are my questions truly so onerous?”
“Need I remind you that our little accord very much hinges on your ability to eliminate the lightwardens and prove the worth of humanity?” he replied archly. “Have you no more productive means of spending your finite moments on this star?”
“There’s always a chance of failure,” Saphir allowed, easy as breathing. “Can you honestly tell me that you haven’t been watching us in expectation of precisely that?”
His eyes glittered, golden-brass and reluctantly amused. “My my, is that an ego you’ve developed, little hero?”
Her lips tugged into a wider smile, shifting her weight and dismissively flicking her fingers against her forearms and folding them across her chest. “I would never flatter myself so much as to think you watch us at every moment. You have far more schemes than I could ever count - and quite literally worlds more important thing to do than skulking in the shadows while I make myself tea.”
His expression twitched at skulking , and her tail gave a slow, smug curl to assure him it had not escaped her notice.
“When you retire to the shade,” She curled her fingers again, lifting her hands just enough to form the quotations in the air by her elbows, keeping her posture. “You may reappear very nearly anywhere you desire- correct?”
“I see you’ve elected to pick up a good habit after all.” His eyes roamed over her face for a moment, silently appraising. “Plotting, are we?”
She let her arms relax, pacing slowly over to the table he had settled beside, leaning across with a slow smile. “Every moment of every day,” she murmured.
“Ware that you don’t strangle yourself in your own webs, hm?” He smirked faintly, somewhere between amusement and the vaguest approval. “Tempting though it may be to watch, death by stupidity is only genuinely entertaining with the proper dramatic accompaniment.”
“And here I was of the impression you were just beginning to tolerate our little talks.” She grinned, tilting her head ever so slightly to bare the slope of her neck, almost a dare. “How will you have the satisfaction of getting the final word when I have no means to offer a reply?”
He arched his brow. “A silent, respectful audience is far preferable when delivering a lesson,” Emet Selch replied silkily. “Has no one yet tried to wring that insouciant neck of yours?”
Saphir chuckled softly, allowing her tail to hook and curl near her shoulder.. “Is that the only manner you can think of to quiet me, Emet Slech?”
Then she straightened, turning away with a casual flick of her ear. “But, I can see that I’m beginning to wear through your patience- I would not wish to exhaust your good will. Enjoy your view from the gallery, Emet Selch.”
His gaze was a warm pressure between her shoulders as she left the Cabinet, pulse skipping as she allowed her fingers to trail over the side of her neck once again as she made her way up the stairs.
There were a few preparations to lay- not many, but enough to take time. Finding somewhere she couldn’t be found and dragged into every little problem that arose, somewhere there would be space and quiet. A few words here and there- to Alisaie. To the exarch.
(To Feo Ul.)
She kept her linkpearl close to hand - the only concession she was willing to make for the evening, acknowledging that some horrific calamity could arise in the span of a few hours. There would be no finding her without an amaro.
Or perhaps an… indirect invitation.
Saphir settled down on the blanket, smoothing her hand across the fabric as she fished a rolanberry out of her supplies, circling back around to slide her hand up her calves beneath the satin before settling onto her back and biting into the sweet, dark fruit.
Her free hand roamed almost of its own accord, skimming across her hips and over the stomach of her bodice, tugging at the ruffled fabric at the swell of her bust. Even if she spent the night alone- the view was beautiful, a thousand, thousand unfamiliar stars spilled across the sky, the pleasant chill of fresh air and sun-warmed ground beneath her back. Her own hand would be enough, if it came to it.
That said…
She allowed a shuddery sigh as she licked the berry juice from her fingers, squeezing her breast unhurriedly before letting herself slip her fingers beneath the high slit of her skirts, teasing across her thighs. Whether he was looking or not, she could see his eyes above her, imagine the cut of his shoulders blocking out the stars above her as he watched her squirm.
A soft whine and she spread her legs, sandals kicked somewhere into the darkness to press her heels into the blanket to better rock into her own touch. She wasn’t entirely certain how to look enticing, but this wasn’t for his benefit was it? Not really.
It was deliciously selfish. She moaned and rolled herself against her palm, the sweet strain in her muscles beginning to build as she found just the angle she needed, leisurely hooking her fingers to find the right spot to compliment it…
“E-Emet-” she stuttered, dragging her nails from jaw to sternum, pushing her dress out of the way to better cup and squeeze, twist and roll. Which would be better - to see him watching, to hold something he wanted beyond reach, or to obey his commands of where to touch, where to press? “Emet Selch-”
"Well. I thought I heard my name being carelessly bandied about."
A hot thrill curled her spine and stole every gasp of breath from her lungs, her attention wrenched towards shape malingering at the edge of the candlelight. Her heart hammered.
Surely there had been no creature on the star, on any star, more smug than Emet Selch in that moment. Smirk seemed woefully insufficient to describe the blithe curve of his mouth, or the glint of his eyes. "I might have expected the usual slander, and instead I find the vaunted warrior of darkness , hidden away and making a spectacle of herself. Shirking her responsibilities yet again."
He tutted softly, shaking his head. It took every last drop of willpower to hold herself steady and (mostly) calm, reluctantly withdrawing her hands and modestly adjusting her dress. "You kept me waiting," she replied instead.
He snorted, coming to a stop at the edge of the blanket, his arms folded. Was it her imagination, or had the thick finery become ever so slightly creased by his grip? "Perhaps you ought to have been clearer in your invitation. For all my many laudable traits, mind reading is not among them."
"Nor is humility." She couldn't not say it. Saphir pushed herself to her feet, padding across the blanket to look up, and up, and up. "My sincerest apologies. Perhaps next time I'll leave something in writing? I promise to use small words."
Emet Selch stole her breath again , leaving her dizzy from the sudden shift in space, finding herself once again on her back. But the shoulders that blocked the stars were no imagined bulwark, and the eyes that burned above her were all too real.
"We shall see if you can manage even that much," he promised, low and dark, aether pooling in a buzzing cloud between them, "when I have finished with you."
Saphir laughed and arched her spine, pressing herself against him, ghosting her lips across his jaw. "Can you manage to shut me up?"
His mouth found the slope of her neck, purple and red blossoming under his lips in the span of a blink, the aether that had gathered rolling through her like a tide. Whatever excitement, arousal , had been present roiled into a maelstrom, leaving her lightheaded and giddy, pawing at him with sudden urgency.
He batted her hand away when she hooked it into the collar of his regalia, shooting her a glower and snatching her wrists in the circle of forefinger and thumb to pinion them above her head. “I am trying- ” he growled, “to concentrate. ”
“And I am succeeding in distracting you,” she replied blithely, sliding her calf along his thigh, hooking her heel over the back of his knee and drawing her hips flush against his stomach, the open belt at his waist clinking faintly as she insinuated herself beneath the heavy folds of fabric.
His eyes narrowed, grip tightening as he lowered his head to sink his teeth into her shoulder, a sharp nip of admonishment that made her tail curl, eyes fluttering shut. “Quiet.”
A lazy smile stretched across her lips. “Oh, absolutely not.”
She rolled her hips up and slotted her thigh between his legs, laughing breathlessly as he used his weight to fully pin her in place to stop her squirming, though there was little he could do about her leg pushing up against his vessel’s incredibly keen interest in the proceedings.
“I ought to reduce this to aether,” he threatened, mouth still hot against the delicate skin of her throat, teeth seeking another likely spot to mark and bruise, his free hand sliding beneath the hem of her dress, hiking her skirt to her waist before grasping her laces in his hand and rending them with one short, sharp yank. She arched appreciatively and let out another quiet gasp. “I should like to see you try and puzzle your way out of that…”
Another laugh. She couldn’t help it. Saphir rocked her thigh higher, harder, letting her head fall back beneath the advance of his mouth. “So you’re saying you’d watch me walk back to the Crystarium in scraps?”
He bit her again.
She didn’t quite laugh again, the sound caught between a gasp and a moan, though a breathy chuckle did escape as he tossed aside her bodice. “You’d enjoy that." His voice dropped until she could feel it hum as his lips dragged down to her sternum, unrepentantly tearing her dress from shoulder to hip with another yank. “No, I’m not about to reward such miserable behavior.”
“Pity.” Saphir rolled her head to the side, considering her angle before contorting to nip at the shell of his ear with an elongated canine, grinning as he let out a sharp hiss of surprise and jolted back, snapping his hand around her throat with an expression somewhere between irritation and incredulity.
And for just a moment, something she would swear might have been affection. Warm and familiar, a shade of recognition.
But it was gone in an instant, tucked away and thoroughly, critically masked behind a long-suffering sigh. He pressed his thumb along the slope of her jaw, forcing her chin up to bare her throat, holding her there with the fabric of his glove rasping against the flutter of her pulse. “If you cannot behave -”
“You’ll what?” she purred, deliberately rolling her hips again, pressing and rocking her knee and savoring the faintest of twitches below his eye as he was just slightly too slow to keep himself from reciprocating, a barely audible breath stuttering out of his chest. “You’ll leave me to my own devices? Slink off into the shade to watch my hands in the starlight?”
“I’ll inform the Exarch.”
She gave a snort. "You think I care that he knows?"
"I'm certain you'd care if he came to fetch you from this little rendezvous before you'd any chance of relieving yourself," he replied silkily.
She went still. Emet-Selch’s lips curled into another sly smile.
It was her turn to scowl, even as levin scattered down her spine with the slow motion of his thumb sawing back and forth across the column of her throat. She allowed her leg to slide back to the ground while the tip of her tail flicked back and forth in frustration.
“There’s a good little hero.”
Saphir gave him another baleful look, resisting the urge to squirm as he released her neck and wrists, gloved hands smoothing over her skin to grasp her waist. He tutted softly. “Now now, there’s no need for such venom. Simply behave .”
For a moment she considered giving into the churlish desire to shove him with her foot, or perhaps reach for one of her more martial soul stones… but he looked so pleased with himself, and the spark of promise in the brass of his eyes held her back. Perhaps just for a little while…
She huffed dramatically and curled her tail up to brush against him, sneaking under the sleeve just above his gloves, hooking around his wrist. “You might not find me so disagreeable if you would give me good reason,” Saphir suggested, just a bite of stubbornness lingering in her tone.
The low chuckle she received in answer was pleasantly unexpected, moreso the press of his hand beneath her thigh to guide her leg against his shoulder. Holding her in place with the crook of his elbow and pressed against his chest, Emet-Selch began tugging methodically at each finger of his glove, perfectly unhurried. “And you might find it equally agreeable if you could cultivate an onze of patience and do as you’re bid.” The flicker and shine of his eyes made her throat feel dry, moreso the knowing smirk that returned as he slid the soft wool from his hand and allowed her to feel the unnatural but all too welcome heat of his skin against her inner thigh.
The way his eyes tracked over her throat as she swallowed was nearly a touch in and of itself, making her stomach twist pleasantly while he pressed his still-gloved palm against it to keep her in place. For the first time she could see hunger in his expression, banked and leashed though it was, held in check in favor of whatever enjoyment he was taking from her visible struggle to remain pliant.
“Much better.” Saphir felt his thumb roll across the crease of her thigh, rubbing against the wet silk that covered her sex, coaxing an unabashed whine past her lips as she tried in vain to press back against him- and drew another chuckle from Emet-Selch in turn. “Is there something you’d like to ask for, hero?”
Her fingers twisted in the grass above her head, tail lashing and curling once more around his wrist. She could feel the flush in her face, quickly building and crawling down her neck as he continued his unhurried teasing. Nophica’s tits - his hand alone felt huge, the heel of his palm rocking then against her clit to better allow his digits to stroke against the fabric. And his eyes -
Saphir made another token attempt to roll herself against his touch, letting her eyes slide open just enough to meet his gaze, making no effort to disguise the shudder that traveled through her as she did. “I want your fingers in my cunt,” she managed to pant, teeth bright in the moonlight, digging her heel into the back of his shoulder, sliding her thighs further apart. “If you please, Emet-Selch.”
His hand stilled, and there was a brief moment where she thought she may have somehow overstepped. Emet-Selch’s eyes widened just a fraction, the tension across his shoulders tightening- but he didn’t draw away. Another flicker of something , too quick for her to properly grasp, not before his fingers were filling her and pressing just so against her walls with a flutter of aether that made her head spin, lips forming the shape of his name but not quite able to find her voice as Emet-Selch stroked the breath from her lungs. Sorcerer of Eld, she remembered distantly. Of course he’d have filthy tricks.
His warmth moved over her, bending her nearly in half to murmur into her ear. “There now. Wasn’t that easy?”
She wasn’t too proud to mewl, the sound becoming a frustrated yowl when her attempt to grip his shoulders was forestalled by his hand once more. “Emet-”
“Hush and let me concentrate.” She didn’t need to open her eyes to see his smug little smile but she did anyway, if only to glare at him with what meager heat she could muster. The adjustment at least allowed her to move her hips, finally, another shudder rolling down her spine and curtailing any reply as the bastard stretched her with another finger. “I haven’t the patience to let you squirm about trying to accommodate me, little hero. Be grateful one of us has any sense.”
Though she still couldn’t quite find words between the rock of his hand and the pulsing heat of his fingertips, Saphir answered all the same. She turned her head and bit, fangs scraping against the slope of his neck as she fastened her jaw just under his ear with a low growl, dragging her tongue over the skin and doing her level best to suck a bruise into his borrowed Garlean skin.
She was rewarded with a stifled groan, his grip on her wrists tightening almost painfully and fingers briefly stuttering to a stop before redoubling their pace, leaving her jaw clamped all the tighter on his throat, a metallic tang welling around her canines that didn’t seem to concern the ascian in the least - if he noticed at all. Her answering whimper was muffled against his skin, flexing her wrists and bucking hard into his hand, uncertain whether she was pleading or demanding.
“You little wretch-” It sounded strained, punched-out, Emet Selch unable to keep his breathing even as she loosened her jaw just enough to drag her tongue over the crescent of bruise and blunt puncture, a startled inhale when she shifted just an ilm lower and made to repeat herself. Her lips had barely brushed his clavicle when he gave in, grasping her jaw in the cradle of his thumb and forefinger, pressing her head into the damp grass with the force of his kiss.
It was inelegant and bruising, a low hum of frustration bleeding onto her tongue even as he chased the iron tang of his own blood from her teeth. The hand around her throat squeezed, holding her still as he drew back and forced his thumb over her lower lip, allowing a stuttering moan to escape unbidden. Auburn and white and gold, gold blurred in her vision as he rolled and pressed and stroked, there, there-
She couldn’t have stifled herself even if she wanted to, Emet Selch’s thumb pressing against her teeth, holding her prone as a reedy cry echoed over the hilltop clearing, Saphir’s legs tensing and twitching, tail lashing against his thigh as he ushered her mercilessly through the waves of aftershock.
Whatever restraint Emet Selch had been exercising appeared to have been swept away at the same time as Saphir's senses. No sooner had her legs stopped their frenetic twitching than she found them lifted and wrapped around malms on malms of feverish skin. Distantly, vaguely, she was aware that he had been clothed just a moment ago, but the sensation of heatpressureyesfinally fully overwhelmed any insubstantial questions as Saphir wrapped her arms around Emet Selch’s shoulders and raked down his back.
Easy. So easy. Easier than it had any right to be. Hot and slick and full, too full, it shouldn’t have been so easy-
Emet Selch’s brow rested against hers, eye to eye, gold to lilac, watching her as she struggled to breathe beneath the weight of his body above hers, her hips cradled just so, his thumb still pressed against her lower lip as he began to rock. It wasn’t euphoric, not yet, the precipice of something utterly overwhelming just out of her reach. But for a moment- for just a moment, all she could make herself aware of were his eyes, the thick-sweet pressure between her thighs. Soft. His eyes were so soft . They weren’t looking at her, not really, but something past her, maybe inside her, soft and bright and intent.
“Em-” He cut her off with a kiss, devouring the remaining syllables and driving anything remaining out of her mind with a sharp snap of his hips. Her eyes rolled back. Gods he was lovely-
Her nails bit into his biceps, heels digging into the small of his back, not enough- so close but not enough, she pushed to near breaking and pinned and it still wasn’t enough. She bucked, hard as she could, twisting and writhing. The abyss yawned at the edge of her senses and strength flooded her limbs, unwinding one leg to pivot and push, tipping them over until she could settle across his hips and let the weight of her body on his cock leave her skin prickling with euphoria. Too deep. Too much. Her head met his sternum, her legs could scarcely stretch wide enough to accommodate him.
And oh, there were his eyes again.
He stared up at her, not surprised but certainly still dazed, focused as intently as one could be when looking at something that wasn’t quite present. She bent forward, smoothing her hands up his chest and dragging downard, rolling her hips to watch his expression melt into something ravenous . Emet Selch’s hands gripped her waist- he kept doing that, holding and squeezing and pinning but it was so very, very welcome- steadying her just for a moment to meet her rocking with a thrust that Saphir could swear she felt all the way to her throat.
Another roiling wash of aether seared across her awareness, bright-hot and disorienting, leaving her feeling raw and exposed, the energy humming under her skin. She couldn’t find the breath to do much more than whimper, lifting as much as she could to drop back down, every drive of his hips that met her leaving the night a dazzled blur. The flickering points of the candles, the bright white of the stars, gold eyes below-
white hair a mess and lips parted, bruised dark by dark grapes and rough kisses.
She shattered.
Later - much later - There was heat, draped over her waist and drawn close against her. The blanket had been drawn up over her legs and her hip, something light and gentle tracing up and down her spine. Emet Selch’s skin remained feverishly, unnaturally hot, leaving her feeling… far safer than it reasonably should have.
“Wishing you had your blade, hm?” His fingers drummed an idle pattern across her shoulder blade, amusement warm and resonant, humming under her hand as she pressed it to his sternum. Her thighs were still slick.
“Considering it. It’s difficult to swing a sword that large when you can’t feel your legs.” Her hand slid higher, to his neck, letting herself peer into his eyes. For a moment, she could have sworn…
He caught her wrist, pressing his lips against her palm before curling her fingers down - as if to ensure she kept it. Held it close. Held him close.
Emet Selch’s fingers wound around her wrist, drawing it away gently to allow it to rest against his chest again. A silent boundary. She flicked her ear, acknowledging it without a word.
“You took great care to ensure the Exarch was distracted this evening, I’m certain. Gallivanting about Rak'tika? Or perhaps Il Mheg…” Emet Selch regarded her carefully, his familiar disdain making a comforting resurgence. The tenderness- impression or no- had been… disorienting.
She chuckled. “I asked my most lovely branch to keep him… entertained.” Saphir disentangled her hand and rolled onto her back, looking up at the stars. “The Scions saw my dress and my basket and drew almost the correct conclusion.”
“Shy, hero?”
Saphir glanced at the ascian, rolling barbs on her tongue like grapes. She rolled back against him instead, sliding her arms around his shoulders. “I have a problem with people taking things from me,” she replied, dragging her lips over his jaw. “And I don’t especially have the patience for listening to well meaning people try and take away a few minutes of happiness.”
“A few minutes?” He scoffed, but his arm wound almost imperceptibly tighter about her waist, tipping his head slightly to kiss her- thoroughly- before whispering against her mouth. “You insult me.”