Chapter Text
July 13th - Moon Nexus
She’s cold once they climb out of the water.
She shouldn’t be—in the middle of July, with the air heavy and humid—but then she had been in that water a long time, and it’s windy up on the Caldera. With wet hair and wet clothes in the wind, and without that warm air bubble spell that—
Rayla catches him in a yawn when she looks up from staring down at her stumbling feet: his eyes red from tears and lakewater, his hair limp and damp over his furrowed brow, his lips curved downward.
—that Callum is clearly in no condition to cast, let alone keep up.
Not after saving her.
Again.
Her fingers lock tighter between his as his sweet, dumb, brave face turns to her, and Rayla shudders. He squeezes back, before wordlessly—worriedly—slipping from her tight grip to loop an arm around her back, those same five fingers holding her hip.
…and her heart aches.
She’s cold…but Callum’s warm.
Warm and safe and here.
Her eyes water as she threads herself around his waist, needing him closer.
She may have lost everyone else—or not, she still doesn’t even know, after all of that…everything—
But she didn’t lose him.
Rayla lets her head land on his shoulder, slowing to a stop as he leans more weight into her too, the both of them paying hardly any mind to Ez and Soren up ahead. Ezran shoots back one more tense look, though, full to the brim with concern and cut with enough understanding that probably he doesn’t actually need to be ushered away, but Soren does that for them anyway, murmuring to Ez before they both disappear with a quiet goodnight…
…and then they’re alone.
Callum’s lips brush her forehead as he straightens up, letting her stay slumped into his embrace while he guides her the rest of the way down the path to the dormitory they’ve shared. They’re barely through the door before he’s wrapped around her again, arms steady and tight. Rayla holds on tight too—he’s still so warm and she’s still so cold—though she’s anything but steady.
She shakes, worse than in the wind, shivering and gasping, but—
He’s not drowning with her in some horrible lake, not lost in some magic moon portal, not frozen in her nightmares’ ice prison along with everyone else she loves.
He’s warm and safe and here, she tells herself, trying to calm down…and failing.
“Oh,” Callum starts when his hug loosens and she just squeezes him harder, letting a hardly-contained sob out against his shoulder. He busies himself with kisses in her hair, whispering at the shell of her ear in-between. “Oh, Rayla…”
“I-I just—” she hiccups, the words painful bubbles in her throat, her breathing ragged and shallow. “You—you could’ve—”
—died.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he shushes her, leaning just far enough away to catch her eye, and she—reluctantly—hugs him a little less tight, giving him enough range to find her hood and peel wet fabric off her shoulders, so gently, his voice so sweet and low and reassuring. “Here. I’ll help you get comfortable. Dry clothes sound good, right? And then we’ll cuddle—all nice and warm—and get some sleep, and in the morning—”
She doesn’t deserve him dying just to save her.
“I—I don’t—” she sputters, shaking her head, thoughts rushing faster than any words she can get out around choked sobs. “I n-need to—”
It doesn’t matter what happens to her, but Callum—
He’s special and wonderful and—
She gasps, vision blurred with hot tears, head swimming.
—and she loves him.
He needs to be safe.
She can’t keep letting him put himself in danger for her, over and over and over again.
“Hey…hey, it’s alright.” Callum stops her with a firm squeeze of her hands. The friction of his thumbs is harsh and hot across her cold knuckles until he lets go—just to add his damp gloves to the pile on the ground—and then a bare, careful hand lifts her eyes to his, his thumb brushing along her marking. “Slow down, Rayla. Breathe with me, okay?”
A fingertip traces a spell off to the side, and he quietly mutters the words to go with it. It’s for her and not for him, she knows, but he breathes too, showing her to purse her lips, then to hold still once her chest is full, then to blow out—
“Slow, slow, slow,” he whispers, green eyes holding her stare, then instructs her to do it again. This time, though, he draws her in against him like before, kissing her cheek—which isn’t actually magic, she knows, nevermind how much it helps. His fingers slip beneath her holstered blades to rub circles across her back—and that is magic, clearly. The tension in her chest loosens, the shaking stills, the air comes easier. “You were afraid. It’s okay. I was too.”
“Callum—” she tries again, breathing evened out, though everything that she’s—yes, afraid of—is still all bubbled up and catching in her throat. “You saved me—again. You—you keep risking your life to—to save me, and you could’ve died. You can’t—”
Rayla trembles: he can’t die.
Everyone else is gone and…he can’t.
He’s all she has, and…he can’t.
He just…can’t.
“I didn’t, though. I’m okay,” he says…and she realizes as he pulls away that he’s crying too. Their arms tangle as she reaches to hold his face too, fingers collecting tears. “You’re okay. I was…so afraid, Rayla. I couldn’t—I can’t lose you. I love you—so much.”
His hands, cupped at her cheeks, pull her in, and his lips stifle her answer.
It’s…soft at first, then harsher, hotter, his desperate embrace wound tight enough to press her flush to him. Rayla shivers into the kiss, body chilled still despite her knees melting to softness, despite his hot scalp under her taut grip in his hair, despite her center quickly aflame, and—
—and that’s—suddenly, gloriously, thankfully—all that matters.
The panic that she’d almost lost him, the wound in her heart slashed right open by what she’d found in the portal and what she hadn’t, the unresolved questions, the heartache at the idea of being so very alone…it’s all gone when he kisses her. All that’s left is passion and heat in how he holds her tighter, the care and urgency in his lips on hers, the comfortable, familiar smell of his musty scarf at his neck, and damp, dark hair hanging over his cute round ears.
All that’s left when he kisses her is Callum.
He breaks away, though—so soon, too soon.
“Sorry, I just—Rayla,” he sighs, voice low and breathy with what she recognizes as relief, his forehead rested to hers and his hand at the nape of her neck, her name like a prayer...and then he squints at her, and she recognizes worry overtaking him again. “What do you need?”
What she needs is that same oblivion back again: to not think about the portal, or her parents, or Runaan, or Viren, or—
—or anything, aside from Callum: warm and safe and here, loving her.
Kissing him is the only answer she can think to give—
—so that’s what she does.
She expects Callum to be surprised—this is almost definitely not what he’d meant by asking what she needs—but…he hardly freezes up at all, actually. He’s right back to it, in fact, arms locked tight at her middle, tongue dancing with hers, hips unabashedly thrust forward—
—and, admittedly, maybe it’s not that surprising that this is her answer to all of tonight’s…everything. After the past couple weeks they’ve had of fooling around in every second of downtime, in between nightmares and grief-stricken arguing and rebuilding magic moon portals…it’s certainly not new, being all intertwined this way. It’s…familiar, even, at this point: finding comfort and distraction and levity and love like this, in intimacy that’s built up between them, bit-by-bit, since they’d been back here at the Nexus.
If she can bind herself to killing people at fifteen, and if he can jump after her into danger over and over again at fourteen, and if they can both nearly die in cross-continental war…they can do this.
She’d decided that a fortnight ago, their first night back here, after that fight: he should get to have what they both want, and what they both want—
Callum grunts into her mouth as her palm makes contact with the obvious, familiar stiffness at his front, and she shudders with desire of her own.
—is clearly each other.
Right now, though, it’s simpler than any of that.
She just…needs him.
Callum.
Just…Callum.
Rayla sighs his name aloud too, her breath quickening again and her heart pounding in her ears. Just kissing him, just holding him…it’s escape, sure, but it’s not enough.
She needs him closer—under her hands, on her body—so she can show herself—
He’s warm and safe and here.
She pulls at his scarf the next time they breathe, unwinding it from his neck, then tugs his hands to her hips. She closes his fingers around her belt and starts the both of them over towards his bed, aching all over for him—
“Oh, uh—” he hesitates…but stumbles backwards easily at her bidding. “—okay.”
“Hold on, dummy. We’ll get the bed wet,” she realizes with a breathy laugh, catching him by his lapels before he can crash into the mattress…then leaving her thumbs there beneath the edges of his jacket. She knows his skin is hot and soft and solid under there, and she needs to touch him—really touch him.
It’s far from the first time she’s stripped it off of him, but—
“Just, uh—” Callum envelopes her hands in his after his jacket hits the floor, hair she’d mussed sticking up every which way, flushed face tilted to the side…concern cutting through the heat. “This is…what you need?”
Rayla nods, lip between her teeth…and that’s enough—apparently—for Callum to give her her hands back. She’s shaking again, she realizes…and then instantly steady the second she’s touching him, the runes on his arms as hot as she’d known they’d be under her fingers.
“I need you, Callum,” she says, steady, but…not satisfied either.
He looks meaningfully down between them…and starts unbuckling her belt like she’d wanted him to—but slowly, his hands now shaking.
“And you want…”
She’s wanted this for weeks, and he’s known that. It’ll be new tonight—going all the way, he’d called it a while ago—but…not new new. They know a little, at least, by now, about where to touch and how to please and what they like…and she’s more sure than ever.
Nothing will be as satisfying.
Nothing will keep everything else away.
She needs—
“This.”
Her belt falls to the floor…and Rayla moves closer, watching how his eyes brighten then warm, watching color creep up to his cheeks from his neck, watching his uncertain stalling turn to enthusiasm.
Callum whispers to her, smiling softly, voice shaking, touching her face again—
“I need you too, Rayla.”
—before he crashes back against her.
He follows the lead she sets—lips parted in each kiss, teeth scraping gently at each others’ skin, gasps hot and airy, hands needy and wild—
Then his pace overtakes hers, and he’s clumsy, hasty, rushed as he tugs at her bracers, her armor, her shirt—
They stumble out of their boots, hardly withstanding even just that second apart before his hands are hot at her hips, pulling her pants off while his fall into a pool at his ankle, and—
—and she’s naked.
He’s naked, and—
It’s not new, but—
It’s different than before, somehow. She’s still shivering, for one, standing here covered in goosebumps, and that’s not sexy at all, she realizes, feeling not-quite-dry teartracks still on her cheeks.
Callum, though—
Well, he’s warm, as always, for starters, and somehow still so handsome even after all their crying, and he’s hard, and—
“Here,” he says, breathless still and smiling at her despite how awkward she obviously feels. He’s familiar enough with being bare with her by now to at least pretend to ignore both of their nakedness…and he does just that, slipping an arm around her back, gently shepherding her the rest of the way to his bed. “We still need to warm you up.”
…and warm is good, but it’s not what she’s after.
Rayla knows he intends for her to sit—certainly when he reaches to pull the covers aside—but she stops him there at the edge of his bed instead, insisting on pressing her body against his.
Touch is what she needs, to keep all of the everything at bay.
“Mhm, warm’s…good, but this is the best way to get there, isn’t it?” she wonders, hands on his chest…and Callum chuckles, squeezing her a little tighter. She’s impatient with the way that he holds her, though—tight but chaste, nevermind her breasts on his chest or his obvious desire pressed between their stomachs.
She grinds gently against him, anxious to touch him, to be touched—
“Slow down a little, okay?” he whispers—a familiar refrain from these past couple weeks, especially with the heavy, labored breath that goes with it. Fingers running through her still-damp hair, he combs his way up to her horns—intimate, but still all too innocent.
“Callum,” she mumbles, resting down against his shoulder, knowing it’ll be easier for him to get at the spot she likes. A hot, heavy thumb circles her hornbed…she sighs, throbbing at an imagined echo of his thumb tracing a similar circle elsewhere. “Please, I—I don’t want to wait.”
“Just a little slower, Rayla,” Callum says…and she shivers when that same hand leaves her horn and cups her breast, the same fingertip he uses for spells teasing her. “I don’t want to wait either. I love you, and—”
She looks at him, tracing his ribs with her fingertips and ready to plead for more—he’d liked that, after all, the last time he’d touched her—but his hand finds her cheek again, and—
Oh.
Callum’s just…gorgeous, his green eyes half-lidded, his kiss-swollen lips smiling at her…
“—and I want to remember this.”
Her head swims when Callum kisses her again: how he breathes in as he does it, how his once-chaste touch drifts both lower and higher, how his tongue tastes in her mouth—
She’s still greedier than he is, arching into his touch, palming his arousal pressed to her hip… until the hand that’d rested on her backside trails away, up her back, around her waist, down her stomach, and his fingertips ease their way between her folds.
Rayla goes still, then, aside from shuddering out a breath she can’t catch, savoring the sensation of Callum slipping along her wetness. His human fingers thick and hot, he’s even more careful than in his sketchbook, even more certain than with any rune he’s traced…
“I’ll touch you first?” he whispers, slowly, slowly, slowly stroking her…
“Aren’t you already?” she sighs, halfway witless already with that oblivion she’d been so desperate for, even just with him hardly touching her. Callum smiles at her stupid teasing anyway, just leaving her more breathless…and yeah, she really ought to lie down now, she figures, not trusting her shaky, unsteady self to stay upright once he—eventually—stops going so slow.
He stumbles over her as she sits, her knees falling to the sides as his lips seal back to hers, and she sighs into him while he makes his way—still so slowly—back between her legs. He knows well enough from the past week or so what he’s doing to multitask, kissing her lazily while careful fingers drift down her cheek, across her chest, over her stomach, then finally—
“Mmm—”
She hums as he teases that sensitive little spot at the front of her sex again—a little less slowly, at least. She’s about to direct him faster when—
“Mmm!”
—Callum slips into her…and she collapses backwards with a happy little whimper as he buries his finger fully, her eyes fluttering shut.
He laughs, bending to kiss her some more, lips finding her nose first…and clearly he remembers what he’d learned the last time he’d touched her this way. Callum’s finger stays buried, and her breath catches again as it curls within her, his pattern slow still…but firm enough that she squirms anyway, wanting—needing—more.
“If we’re doing this—” he starts, and she peeks a closed eye open, shaking her head, letting her hips echo how he moves…but a beat or two faster, hoping he’ll follow.
“Not if,” she gasps, and it’s an effort: speaking, thinking, breathing. The way that him kissing her had wiped her mind blank is nothing compared to Callum pleasing her like this. “I love you, Callum. If you want to, we are—oh, fuck—”
Another of his fingers joins in, and she understands his if. He’d…hesitated the other night when they’d done this the first time—saying she was tiny and tight and that, despite her reassurance, he was worried he’d hurt her—but his fingers inside her had felt good then…and they feel even better now.
Eyes squeezed shut, she arches her back, feeling him ease into her, knuckle by knuckle, and—
—moans.
Rayla blindly feels for his arm, and that—combined with the hardly intelligible sound she’d just made—is enough to spur him on.
Callum strokes her—still barely faster, but somehow still so satisfying—and that’s all she knows for several breathless minutes, all she thinks about, all she feels.
There’s no panic leftover from the portal.
There’s no pain from still not knowing what happened to her family.
There’s no fear that she’ll lose him the way she’s lost everyone else she cares about.
No ghosts, no nightmares, no Viren.
There’s just…Callum.
Callum holding her…
Callum touching her…
Callum…so close to making love to her.
“Callum,” she gasps, hardly able to breathe with the way her whole body tightens and shudders in answer to his attentions, her head a blissful, wonderful fog of just, well…Callum. She squeezes him over a rune, urgent and sure: she’s never wanted him more. “I n-need—”
She stammers, sighing when he withdraws from within her, needing him back as soon as possible—on her, in her—
Callum moves without her even getting the words out, cooperating with her urging to shift over top of her, his wet fingers brushing her hip, lips detouring briefly to her shoulder.
“Okay,” he says, breath shaky and hands shakier. “Okay, we’re doing this. We’re—we’re really doing this. We’re really, really—”
Rayla reaches to lock their fingers together—the simplest way to steady him.
Not everything is new, but this is—obviously—and the nerves are warranted, at least.
She smiles: “We’re doing this.”
He lets out an adorable and awkward chuckle, squeezing her hand back and beaming at her…and then sighs out shakily again when she moves her knees further apart for him. Callum looks—stares—between her legs, and despite how badly she wants him there, she feels herself blush…like he hadn’t been up close and personal down there, kissing her, a couple nights ago?
This is different, though, and new, and urgency and need fall to the wayside for a second… though she can’t help the sharp breath the first time her sex comes in contact with his.
It’s…not working though, the both of them quickly realize, not with Callum precariously balanced over her on a wrist, his other fist trying to line himself up…
“Maybe if I just—?” he wonders aloud, as he leans over her on both hands, hoping, it seems, that he doesn’t need to hold himself steady?
Rayla holds her breath—again—and there’s another barely there brush of Callum against her, but…
Maybe she ought to angle her hips differently?
Callum tries again with her the same way…
And then again, with her back arched…
And then again, with her hips lifted…
…before he stops, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Sorry—”
“It’s okay,” she says, stifling her impatience, biting her lip.
“Could you—um…” he asks, sitting on his knees again, tentatively reaching for her legs and pressing them open. “And, uh—maybe if you—”
She flinches, not expecting his touch at her center again: this time his fingers spread her apart instead of sinking into her…and she gets his meaning, replacing his hand with hers.
He tries again, and she shudders this time—he’s right there, right where his fingers had been, right where she wants him.
Obviously, this is it: what they both want, what she’s so sure she needs—
Any second, he’ll sink into her…and it’ll wipe her mind blank again.
No heartache, no unanswered questions, no wondering about what might be...
Just…Callum—warm and sweet on top of her, hot and thick inside of her, both of them connected, moving together, so in love that that’s all either of them can think about…
“Let’s see if—shit.”
His thrusting just ends in him slipping unsuccessfully against her again…and before she can stop herself, she sighs.
“Sorry—” he repeats, red-faced and stroking himself, clearly impatient too…
…and Rayla sits up—also sorry, but no less eager to get back to that pleasure-brained fog.
“Callum…let me?” she says, and he looks reluctant—or maybe a little disappointed?—but he agrees and moves away to sit down beside her anyway.
“You’re, uh…okay if we do it like this?” he wonders, absentmindedly tugging on himself as she turns to face him.
“Are you?” she asks, sitting sideways next to him, legs stacked. Without further comment, she replaces his hand with hers, earning herself a shudder…and that’s almost as nice as being the one doing the shuddering.
Rayla tightens her grip, stroking him the way he’d coached her to a half moon ago…and Callum groans.
“Any—mmm—anything you want, Rayla,” he nods, lips hanging parted until she leans in to kiss his shoulder…and he’s very quickly over any reluctance or frustration, it seems, by his smile.
It’s not exactly a surprise, the pleasant little flip that her stomach does, seeing the effects of her hand wrapped around him—the way his eyes go a little glassy, the way his face deepens in color, the way he chews on his bottom lip—but she doesn’t expect how easily being touched falls out of focus in favor of touching him.
She can concentrate on this, too, Rayla decides, slowly kissing her way across his chest, her heart in her throat and feeling so fond, like she’d just burst if she weren’t already touching him.
His smooth, warm skin against her lips…
The adorably relaxed whimpers and hums she can feel in his chest…
His inexplicable scent in her nose, that’s only more and more distinctly Callum the more she goes on.
Her lips drift towards his middle, down his chest, down his stomach, until—
“Oh,” Callum gasps, hardly catching himself when his hips lift to meet her breathy kisses. “I didn’t think—oh…”
Rayla doesn’t answer.
Her mouth’s busy.
…and, yeah, this will do just fine for a little while, she tells herself.
Callum’s swollen, stiff length between her lips, its tip salty against her tongue, its heat throbbing in her mouth…
Callum’s body trembling and twitching when she strokes his middle, or grips his elbow, or lets her hand rest on his balls…
Callum’s voice, giving her gasped directions, moaning low, whining her name…
Callum’s hands busy on her body: one on a horn to help her keep pace, one lingering between her legs again…
Well…more than lingering, actually. Rayla gasps—she just can’t breathe when he touches her like that—and she’s distracted enough by a finger inside her again to lift her head from his lap.
“Mmm, Callum, love—love you,” she says, sitting up and practically panting, drawing a ragged breath before her mouth is busy again, kissing him long and deep and hard.
This is the escape, the distraction, the oblivion that she’d been after, she thinks, whimpering as he keeps touching her, as she keeps kissing him: being utterly consumed with Callum, uninhibitedly entwined…
Though…they could be more entwined.
“I love you, too,” he answers—once she lets him—and…yeah. He’s swept up too, clearly, all bleary-eyed and ravished-looking. “If you’ve changed your mind, that’s—oh.”
She grins, settling with her leg thrown across his lap, and watches his throat bob and those pretty green eyes go clear and wide.
“Not a chance, dummy,” she teases, pressing a peck to his nose…then finding his hardness beneath her, guiding him. “Ready?”
Callum stalls—of course, he does—taking his sweet, sweet time tucking her hair around her horns, behind her ears…before he holds her waist, returns that same silly kiss, and nods: “Ready.”
It’s easier this way—much easier, Rayla quickly learns. So easy, in fact, that he’s sheathed completely in one single stroke, and well…she hadn’t quite expected that after all of Callum’s false starts.
She holds her breath as he sputters out air, eyelids fluttering, and they gape at each other for a long minute—him squeezing her hips so tight that his nails dig into her thighs, her fingers gripping the rune on his bicep like her life depends on it—
They both just…stare, stunned, smiling, still—
—and there’s just Callum, just like she’d hoped.
He’s…warm inside her, and every single sense is just…completely overwhelmed with newfound satisfaction. He’s warm and safe and here, holding her, staring at her, smiling at her—
Loving her, and—
That’s all that matters.
Maybe her head’s a little too empty now, she realizes, finding herself captivated with him in a whole new way—she couldn’t have even imagined feeling this…full—and, again, unable to think or breathe or speak, but…all she feels is good.
So good.
“How’s—how’s that?” she collects herself enough to wonder, and…is he actually throbbing?
“Amazing,” he answers, and they both hiss in a pleased breath when he holds her waist again instead of her hips, shifting her just slightly. Callum’s face ducks a little closer then, and he makes that adorable doofy face, somewhere between beaming at her and smirking. “Like you.”
She scoffs, and experiments with moving around herself, just enough to lean into his chest. Is it still a hug if he’s…inside her? Either way…it feels nice too, especially the heat and closeness against that sensitive spot at her center.
“Hmmm, this is nice,” she sighs. It’s satisfying, being all full up with Callum, them both all warm and blushy, wrapped up together…but obviously the next bit’s a joke: “No need for anything else, I don’t think?”
“Rayla—” Callum starts, almost scoldingly…which yeah, she probably shouldn’t tease like that with all this so very new.
She lifts her hips then, attuned to the friction between them as her sex slips up his shaft, and—
“Ahhh—”
—obviously, so is he.
They both whimper when she’s back down and full up again—
—and Callum lets himself fall backwards against the bed, grinning at her and fiddling with her fingers fondly. She grins back, of course…and only a little bit because of the inadvertent thrust his collapse had caused.
“Is this what you needed?” he asks her, a little sarcastic but mostly sweet…and suddenly she’s back to how this had all started.
Her delightfully empty head tries to fill back up with fear and feelings at the thought of why she needs what she needs…but he’d just intended to tease her, she knows, and another stroke or two will have to do for flushing those feelings away.
…and for teasing him back.
She crashes against him—upright like that—once, then twice, humming like she’s deciding her answer—not that it’s a question at all. Satisfied with the pleased grunt he makes, she leans forward, over him, bringing them chest to chest again so she can kiss him too: “Exactly what I need.”
She tries another roll of her hips like this…and shivers.
That’s—oh.
Sure, Callum buried in her feels wonderful on its own, but that…friction, she’d just discovered…
That’s really what she needs—
—and Callum seems to agree. The wide, goofy grin on his face has faded by the time she recovers from grinding against him the way she’d just done, his lips parted, his face hot, his huge hands greedily squeezing at her sides.
“Rayla—” he starts, licking his lips, audibly swallowing. “Again?”
She doesn’t bother answering, besides repeating that same motion. She rocks backwards against him, her whole body tingling with how deep he is inside of her, how ridiculously addicting it is, being so thoroughly connected, with his warm center against that sensitive spot as she moves. She just gasps—and that’s answer enough.
He sighs contentedly, and cups her rear in his palms, the firm, unchecked pressure there clearly encouraging, his fingers spread wide over her skin…and then he moves her, easily guiding the next arc of her hips, and—
“—fuck.”
…and that’s the last thing either of them says for a good long while.
…or at least the last thing she remembers either of them saying.
There’s gasped I-love-yous, sure, between kisses, as things get rushed and frantic and heated like she’d wanted them to be all along. He whines once or twice too, she thinks, for her to keep going—faster, harder…
Not that Rayla really has any clue what she’s doing, of course.
She’s perfectly content, though, to just let herself follow whatever feels good…or whatever gets a nice sound out of Callum.
That’s all that matters, after all.
She’s horizontal with him like that for a while—it’s just so hot being connected that way, and it feels so good—and then she’s bouncing against his lap, Callum harder and harder—and seemingly deeper and deeper—with every thrust. Her hips draw circles against him when she tires, and he moans and bucks under her…which just makes her call out for more.
It’s desperate and clumsy and messy, the way his hands, rough and gentle all at once, grope her body, the way his chest heaves under her hands the whole time, the way they both gasp and squirm and sweat against each other—
—but it’s exactly what she needs.
She thinks of nothing but Callum’s warm, wonderful self under her, nothing but keeping the same rhythm with the next snap of her hips, nothing but how completely and totally she adores every second of loving him and being loved by him, nothing but fucking him—
…and, soon, nothing but finishing.
She may not know what she’s doing…but whatever she’s doing is working.
Every crash against him just brings her closer, closer, closer…
…and Callum too.
He’d all red and twitchy and hazy-eyed before long…and that’s a clear sign, she’d realized this past week or so.
He’s close.
…and she’s close.
More and more every second, it’s like she can’t quite get a full breath, like she’ll never feel this good again, like she’ll cry if this pace falters at all, and then—
“Wait, wait!” Callum says…and she bolts upright, freezing with him hilted and throbbing and hard inside her. She doesn’t actually cry, but she’s definitely glaring if the hand he holds up defensively is any indication. “Sorry! It’s just—well, I don’t want to be…done until you’re done. Until you’re…satisfied.”
She sighs and her eyes roll—he’s sweet.
“So—is it okay if I—?”
A thumb finds that sensitive spot, his fingers splayed across her belly, and—
“Oh,” Rayla sighs, leaning back slightly, Callum still sheathed.
—she’ll be more than satisfied, and soon.
“Like this?” he asks, his strokes steady and short, while his other hand wanders, settling over her breast, a fingertip circling a nipple.
“My—my horn, Callum,” she insists instead, bending into his touch when he obliges her…and soon she’s hardly breathing again, held captive by the tempo of his teasing and the pull of his palm and the swell of his sex—
That’s all she needs.
He’s all she needs.
Callum.
Just…Callum.
Her hips flick against him unevenly—
Her eyes squeeze tight shut—
Her gasps turn to whines—
She’s close, close, close, and she can’t help it: she moans his name aloud—
“Callum—”
—and breaks the surface, bucking in quick, quick rhythm to match tempo, gasping for air. Her center flutters tight around him…and then every single shred of tension is just gone. She’s just…floating—
—and there’s nothing—nothing at all—but Callum.
She’s a blank, blissed-out slate, just bobbing and bouncing along…because he’s still thrusting—under her, up into her—she realizes, and still holding his breath in contrast to her ragged, noisy gasping. His hands help her keep that tempo, keep that rhythm, her body moving maybe even more harshly against his as she lets him carry her higher, higher, higher—
—and then Callum moans, and that quick rhythm is suddenly hard and slow instead, and there’s wet heat within her that’s new…but not new new. It’s nicer, though, having his seed there rather than in her mouth or on her belly or anywhere else it’d been before tonight.
Rayla falls forward, trembling and kissing his flushed face as they both slowly, slowly, slowly go still, knowing he’s finished now too.
He gasps a string of praises as he settles—
“Wow, I just—wow, Rayla. That was—it felt—I can’t even explain it, but—”
—and she snickers along, but also braces for a flood of big feelings…that just don’t come.
Maybe because she’s decidedly warm now with no hint of the icy, wet chill that’d led them here, maybe because she’s proven to herself that Callum is safe and here by her side, or maybe because this really had turned out to be what she’d needed.
Or, maybe there’s just not enough space for those big feelings alongside everything she is full up with.
Love, mostly.
“Hey,” he breathes after a little swell of quiet has passed, heartbeat still thumping under her palm…and he’s beautiful this way, she thinks, beaming at him—his hair dampened with sweat, his eyes deep green and dreamy in full moonlight, his lips pulled into a lazy, effortless smile… “What?”
“I really, really love you, Callum.” She shakes her head, smiling and blinking away tears that’d welled. Words aren’t enough, but then…maybe that’s what sex is for, she supposes. “A lot.”
Callum giggles at her and hands that’d been clutched tight in his blanket a few minutes ago wrap around her instead, pulling her the rest of the way down against his chest. She lets a hip fall to the bed, immediately missing him…and they both sigh, wasting no time in weaving legs and fingers back together.
“I love you too—a lot, really, really,” he whispers, lips brushing her temple as he hugs her closer, against his side.
“No, no. You don’t get it. So much.” she goes on, head on his shoulder, kidding, but also…not really. “Too much.”
“Too much?” he wonders, tender, gentle fingertips ghosting along her arm…then squeezing abruptly at her elbow. Callum yawns around an apology. “Sorry—”
What Callum needs—after all of that…everything—is clearly sleep.
“Sleep,” she insists, nuzzling briefly at his cheek before tugging at the blanket beneath them. “Had a big day—performing ancient magic rituals for me, halfway drowning, getting deflowered or whatever—”
Callum snorts sleepily against her scalp.
“What? I’m just saying—we can argue about loving each other some more in the morning.”
He doesn’t protest…and she yawns too as they settle in, skin on skin, hand in hand, sleepily breathing each other’s air.
“Rayla?” he mumbles after a little while, eyes hardly open. He yawns again, then slurs drowsily: “I get it. So much. Not—not too much. Really, really. So much. A lot. Love you.”
She hadn’t thought she could be any more in love with him…but somehow Rayla softens even more.
“Shh, get some rest, sleepy mage,” she whispers, lips at the bridge of his nose.
Callum gives one more sigh and starts snoring soon after…but all she can seem to do is stare.
She really ought to be tired too, she thinks, after all of that everything, nevermind the full moon, but she’s not, somehow, and what’s better than watching Callum for a while? So, she leans up on an elbow, resisting the urge to touch his soft cheek, squished all sweetly into the pillow.
She shouldn’t: she’d meant it that he should sleep…even if it leaves her lonely, just lying there, looking at him all longingly.
He’d be happy to stay up with her, of course…but she loves him too much to wake him.
Too much.
Callum had said…not too much.
It’d been sweet a second ago, but suddenly it strikes her as stupid.
Of course he loves her too much.
It’s absolutely loving her too much—to knock himself out with dark magic to save her, to follow her off a mountain so she won’t die, to risk being lost forever just to be sure that she won’t be—
He can’t keep doing things like that, Rayla thinks, fingers outstretched to touch his face, but—
She shouldn’t, she scolds herself, set on sitting here alone with these feelings.
She can’t lose him. What’s even the point of him saving her if she loses him?
He’s—he’s all she has, and—
Without him, she’ll be alone—really, truly, actually all alone…and it’s more than just a few tears slipping down her cheeks. She tries to contain it—the shaking and shivering and gasping, back in full force—but she can’t.
She shouldn’t wake him. He’ll jump to comfort her, she knows—it’ll be the same thing all over again, like the oasis, like at the Spire, like earlier tonight…but she shouldn’t.
He’s done enough for her, all in pursuit of what she’d needed—answers about her parents, closure with Runaan, certainty about Viren—none of which she’d gotten tonight, but—
That’s on her, not on him.
He hadn’t even believed her agonizing over Viren in the first place. She’d been the sole reason for him to risk his life.
That’s enough of her burden for him to bear.
Rayla slips silently out of bed, holding back the choked sobs only just until her knees meet the cold floor on the other side of the room.
The nightmares had already been so true, too true, to life, even before. Hadn’t Callum said Viren had frozen her parents in ice? Hadn’t she been frozen, stuck, still there in the Spire’s atrium at Viren’s hand? And Viren’s alive—he must be, after that horrifying stare from that weird cocooned version of him in the portal—and if Viren’s alive…
Callum’s not safe.
She’ll lose him.
Rayla cries—overcome—sitting in the shadows, the hard floor on her bare skin bringing back that same chill Callum had just spent the night chasing away. She looks across the room, knowing she could be in his arms instead of sitting here, stifling herself in the dark, her knees to her chest.
Her smart, and kind, and brave, handsome, sweet, wonderful, dorky mage—
She shouldn’t wake him, though, no matter how alone she feels.
He’s bathed beautifully in full moonlight and fast asleep, happy and here and—
Safe.
But only just for now, and she can’t lose him. She just can’t—not after losing everyone else who’s ever loved her, not after finding herself so very alone in the world, not after all he’s already done for her. He’s given her everything: his life—very nearly, over and over and over again—and a home with him in Katolis, and so much more love than she could possibly deserve.
He’s where she belongs—and if Callum’s not safe, if Callum’s not here, if Callum’s not…alive—
She’s alone.
She might as well be dead.
Who even is she if she doesn’t keep him safe, if she doesn’t protect him, if she doesn’t have him?
She has to keep him safe and here and alive. She has to go find Viren—whatever’s left of him—and make sure her nightmares can never come true. That’s the only way, she decides.
He’s in danger—the world’s in danger—every second she stays.
—and if all this is to keep Callum safe…he can’t be there beside her, ready to throw his life away for her at a moment’s notice the way he’s proven to be all along.
He has to stay here.
She has to go alone.
A loud, ragged sob escapes her before she slaps her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down over her knuckles, and she collapses further, smearing the evidence of how he loves her across the floor.
He won’t let her go, though, and she knows it. He’ll talk her out of it, or—worse—he’ll try to go with her…and he can’t.
She’ll have to just…leave, and—
Rayla chokes on tears and buries her face in her knees, sickened by the very thought of hurting him that way—
Instantly, though, she knows that’s the answer.
She’ll go—in a few days, she figures, maybe just before they head back to Katolis. It’ll be hard: his birthday passing knowing what she’s going to do to him, counting down the days crawling into bed beside him, but—
She needs him: warm and safe and—
—and alive, most of all.
She has to be strong—for Callum—no matter what. She loves him—so much, too much—and she can do this for him. She can protect him.
And that means—
He stays.
She goes.
Alone.
Rayla lets a last few tears slide down her cheeks, looking at Callum and the empty space next to him: the only place she belongs, the only home she has left, the only thing she needs.
She swallows around the lump in her throat, heavy and harsh, her mind made up.
She has to.