Chapter Text
Saul’s fists rained down upon the punching bag in front of him, a cascade of relentless jabs and punches following the other. Everything around him was quiet, the distant noises of the school nearly inaudible. The training facilities for the teachers were always a bit reclusive and all too often he found himself enjoying the solitude he had there. The silence was only broken by his breathing and the rhythmic dull thumps whenever his fists came into contact with the leather of the punching bag. The heavy blanket of heat from the afternoon gave way to a pleasantly cool evening, still warm but already heralding the crisp freshness of the dawning autumn. He had opted to train on the little outside matt to enjoy the cool breeze and last rays of sunshine. Unfortunately, it was doing little to cool his temper. The Specialist was panting, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead but the exertion was still not enough to quiet the raging emotions inside him. The outside area that was sectioned off for the staff included a little pond, a looped path, and multiple trees all surrounded by thick bushes to grant some sort of privacy. It was surprisingly spacious for a school, the reason for that being found in Alfeas military past. Back then, the various generals and soldiers teaching here had required a far better training set-up than a normal school would ever need. But today the headmaster couldn’t ravel in the serene nature surrounding him.
The day had started off nice enough, a typical bright late summer day with blue skies and gentle gusts of wind. He had been in a good mood, going for a refreshing morning run before breakfast. The fact that it was Friday had helped with his high spirits as well, the prospect of a quiet weekend waiting right around the corner is always something to look forward to.
And then he had learned that Farah Dowling had a date. Everything had gone downhill from thereon.
Of course, both of them had had some acquaintances in the past, but no real dates, no lasting relationships. He supposed there had never been much time for that, not with the war and then Aster Dell. Even after the initial struggle of taking over Alfea had subsided, each of them falling into a rhythm with their new life as headmaster and headmistress neither had ever shown any interest in finding a partner. Not that he was looking for anyone. No, for him there was and always had been only Farah.
But now she had obviously found someone that sparked her interest enough to go on a date. And it wasn’t him.
The punching bag swung from an especially hard hit and for a brief second, he imagined it to be this Gerard Latil before he realised, he didn’t even know what he looked like. Handsome probably. Smart. And of course, as a member of the well-known Latil family, veterans of the Solarian High Society he would be rich and charming. Not that he thought Farah cared too much about money, she had a decent amount of that herself being the headmistress of one of the most prestigious schools in the Otherworld but it could never hurt. Gerard Latil would be perfect in every way he could never be. She deserved no less.
More than anything he wanted Farah to be happy. And if that person made her happy, then he would live with that, would try to live with it. But it would hurt like hell.
At least training took off the edge. He dealt another punch to the bag, satisfied at the small tinge of pain in his knuckles. He always preferred physical pain to the clawing and merciless aching inside him. Physical pain had limits, usually, there was an end in sight, a relief from the suffering.
But there was no escape from the turmoil within him. The only chance was to numb it by distraction, exertion, or alcohol, the Specialist clearly preferring the middle option.
Well, that was not quite true. There was a cure, it was just not meant to be his. Not in the way he wanted her to be at least. But he would take whatever she was willing to give, be at her side in whatever form she wanted him to be. For that was where he belonged. At her side.
And that sounded far too poetic for the mess of emotions inside him.
After being informed of her evening plans by her assistant Saul had tried to avoid the headmistress and was surprisingly effective at that. They didn’t see each other the whole day. As much as he wished her happiness, he definitely didn’t need to hear all about her dinner date. They surely must be in the middle of it now. He had read her message that she would be leaving but couldn’t bring himself to respond and wish her fun. Not when all he wanted was to run after her and stop her from leaving.
But for what? What would he even offer her? A broken soldier weighed down by the trauma of his past? No, she had enough of that without him. She deserved someone carefree and whole that wouldn’t remind her of these dark years. Fresh pain flared and he gritted his teeth, his blows gaining force and losing rhythm, precision giving way to pure anger. He didn’t even know what his rage was directed at anymore, at that rich snob that took out Farah? At himself for being too much of a coward to tell her what he was feeling? At the cruelty of the world that had him fall in love with the one person, he could not stand to lose his partner, his friend to have her just out of reach? At Rosalind and Andreas for breaking them so thoroughly that there was no space for romance in their lives?
“Did that punching bag personally offend you?” her voice was light and amused, breaking through his haze. Surprised his arms halted and he spun around, eyes finding her familiar figure approaching from the path. She was back…early.
The headmistress sported an outfit you wouldn’t usually see on her, light training gear hugging her form like a second skin. Her cheeks were tinted red from the jogging, hair was braided back instead of her usual intricate hairstyles. His eyes lingered on her curves a little bit too long so he missed how Farah’s attentive glace slid over the lines of his body clearly visible through the tight Specialist shirt. But he managed to catch himself before his thoughts even had the chance to go into any direction that was less than appropriate. Instead, he focused on her face again taking in the tightness in her jaw.
He would be lying if her presence here didn’t feel good, the satisfaction at the fact that the date must have gone awry or at least not good enough for her to spend the night with the other man lightening his mood immediately. He didn’t know how he would’ve reacted if she only came back in the morning. He would’ve probably needed to buy a new punching back.
“No it didn’t, but you know I’d rather not end up being arrested if I do that with the real-life version.” He joked as she finally reached the training mat, handing her his water bottle. She raised her eyebrow in question, gratefully taking a deep gulp of the water.
The movement exposed her neck, the tendons rippling under the skin and his mouth went dry. Bad timing. Turning away from her he adjusted the strips of fabric wrapped around his knuckles, trying for a light conversational tone as he asked the question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “What brings you back so early. Was the company that bad?”
The woman behind him huffed and he could hear the eye-roll in her voice. “Don’t remind me.”
He tried to keep the smug smile that tugged on his lips in. Serves whoever this man was right for taking out his fairy. No, not his fairy. Not like that. He reminded himself.
“I knew it wouldn’t be pleasant from the moment Luna called but believe me this man was a proper asshole.”
Surprised Saul jerked around. “Luna?” What had the Queen to do with Farah's date?
The fairy screwed the lid back in place, her face still locked in an annoyed frown. “Yes. She informed me that the heir of the Latil family wanted to meet with me to discuss Alfea and the school's funding. And as they are one of the richest members of the upper Solarian elite…she wanted to make sure I accept his invitation to dinner.”
The mind fairy put down the bottle with a bit more force than necessary.
“As it turns out he is one of those self-centered snobs that couldn’t be less interested in Alfea, so I decided I had better things to do with my evening than listen to him glorifying his every breath.”
“So it was a business meeting?” His brain seemed to race at a hundred miles per hour, trying to remember the exact wording of Farah’s assistant. Dinner date. Of course, that could’ve very well been an ironic remark. He groaned on the inside as he realised, he had spent the whole day fuming over a misinterpretation. And it could’ve easily been cleared up if he hadn’t avoided the fairy entirely. But the biggest part of him was rejoicing that it hadn’t been an actual date. Even though he knew Luna's request for Farah to meet with the man had probably been a thinly veiled threat. His fists tightened at his sides at the audacity.
Farah's sharp senses seemed to pick up on his moment of revelation. “You weren’t aware of that?”
Squirming under her testing glance he waved it off. “It doesn’t matter.”
The headmistress narrowed her eyes but seemingly decided to let it rest at that. She had very clearly no intention to spare the meeting one more thought.
Turning to the rack he had set up earlier she pulled out two of the polished training swords, weighing them in her palms testingly. “Up for a spar? I need to blow off some steam.” The challenge in her eyes made him smile. “With you? Always.” Reaching for his own set of swords he smirked. “I even promise to go easy on you. It’s been some time.” She rose to the bait effortlessly eyebrows raised in fake outrage. “Oh well then headmaster Silva, if you’re so sure of your abilities why don’t we raise the stakes a bit.” He knew the wicked glint in her hazel eyes, his heartbeat speeding up instantly. “Whoever wins gets a favour.”
“Challenge accepted.” He answered, mirroring her confident face as they started to circle each other. He of course didn’t mention to the fairy that she could ask anything of him and he would do it, favour or no favour. This woman had him wrapped around her elegant little finger and she didn’t even know it.
The Specialist could feel the warmth in his muscles, his arms still affected by his earlier training with the punching bag as he got used to the length and weight of the blades.
Thye circled each other slowly, his eyes darting over her form, trying to detect every twitch of movement. His fingers flexed and he adjusted his grip on the sword hilts. Of course, he didn’t dare let his attention waver for one second.
The slowly setting sun in the west would provide whoever struck with their back to the blinding rays with an advantage. But surely Farah had noticed that too, maybe expecting him to strike at that exact moment. His tactical mind rose, weighting his options to take her by surprise.
“Nervous Silva?” her taunt was suave but he could sense her calculating behind the relaxed façade, ready to pounce at him should he give the slightest sign of striking.
His eyes darted to the small shift in her foot as she adjusted her stance, muscles taut as he prepared for her attack. But the Farah fell back into her circling gait the smirk on her lips deepening. Two can play that game. In a flash, he moved towards her right before jerking backward. Farah had immediately reacted, shifting and raising her swords to meet his strike so he pivoted left, striking as quick as a snake.
Their swords met, the metal reflecting the last rays of the sun and the real duel began, each of them determined to be victorious.
They fought, the clash of steel on steel a ferocious song accompanying their movements. Each swing was met with an elegant parade, each stab gracefully avoided, it was a practiced dance to them, one so familiar and still tantalizing new each time. They were so perfectly attuned to each other, years and years of fighting together making each other's style as familiar as their own. Of course, that made it also harder to defeat the mind fairy.
Farah spun out of reach of Saul’s high arc, her dual swords moving in perfect harmony as she countered with a wide swing followed by a short and fast slash to the left. Saul smirked at her as their swords met again, the vibrations running through the metal right into his arms. „I see you’re not so out of shape after all,” he joked as he pushed out of her reach, watching her pounce backward.
Farah seemed to consider for a second before shifting to the right for an attack on his open side. Of course, he had anticipated exactly that, the illusion of an opening vanishing as he let himself drop down to counterstrike. But the woman surprised him by swerving left, sliding around him. He barely prevented a hit to his back, stumbling as the force of her blow set him off balance.
Of course, she had only pretended to fall for his trap, he should've known better than to underestimate her.
“A bit slow today, Silva?” she teased. “Or is your age catching up to you?” Thinking lightning-quick he brought his other sword to his back as well, trapping her blades and pivoting around, catching her by surprise this time. She fell forwards, still hooked to his swords and he managed to trap her against his chest.
“Don’t forget you are older than me, headmistress.” His lips grazed the shell of her ear and he wasn’t sure if he only imagined the fairy shuddering as his hot breath caressed her skin. But before he could think more into the gasp of air leaving her lips she dropped her swords, sliding out of his grip like water. The steel clattered to the ground while the fairy danced out of his reach.
But her eyes turned into frozen silver before he could declare her defeat, the dual swords lifting from the ground and flying back into her grip with a motion of her palm.
“Oi! That’s cheating!” he exclaimed.
The fairy only blinked innocently. “We never agreed against using magic.” The triumphant smirk playing on her lips made him want to drop his swords and claim her lips with his own.
Sly lynx.
Instead, he charged forward again, their blades meeting as she deflected his blows. He tried to break through her defense by swinging with increasing strength, forcing her backward. But the headmistress was aware she couldn’t rival him with brute strength so ducked out of reach, her hair whipping through the air as she aimed for his legs, fast as lightning. Now it was his turn to move back, evading the edge of her swords but instead of letting her turn the tables, he blocked her blades during her next attack. Pushing her backward he ducked out of the reach of her slashing blades and countered with a low strike. Farah reacted in a split second, spinning sidewards and narrowly avoiding his sword.
The Specialist straightened; gaze already fixed on the fairy still caught in the momentum of her evasive spin. His eyes followed her fluid movements, getting stuck as her top hitched upwards revealing the glowing tan skin of her lean stomach, a thin layer of sweat making it shine.
He felt heat curse through his body at the desire to lick along the revealed flicker of skin, images of a whole different sort of partner activity flooding his mind.
His short moment of distraction cost him dearly. Farah, far too good a fighter to not recognize the opportunity seized it immediately, swords gleaming in the waning light as they moved towards him. He shifted, lifting his own sword to parry her swing, realizing too late that that was exactly what the woman wanted.
A wicked smile grazing her lips she ducked and with a twist of her body, swept away the leg his center had been resting on. Dropping one of his swords he groaned as his back hit the training mat with a thump and before he could recover, she was on top of him, pinning him down. Her thighs on either side of his flank his sword hand was trapped beneath her legs as she crossed her blades in front of his throat, the cold metal resting lightly against his skin. The blades were slightly rounded at the edges, not even able to nick his skin though that didn’t stop the rush of adrenaline at the contact. But that could also be the fault of the glorious woman currently pinning him down.
“Yield.” She murmured, her eyes sparkling victoriously as she leaned in.
All thoughts of fighting vanished from his head. He was far too stunned to move either way.
Their faces were only inches apart and gods she was radiant. Still panting from the duel her cheeks were tinted red, skin coated with a thin layer of sweat glistening in the last rays of the sun. Her hairstyle was ruffled, strands of the golden-brown locks framing her face like a halo. Farah Dowling couldn’t stop being beautiful if she tried, but in moments like this when her sheer magnificence knocked the air from his lungs, he was sure that she had to be a goddess walking this earth.
The flat surface of the dual swords came into contact with his jaw as she gently tilted his head upwards, eyebrows raised at his failure to relinquish the duel. Their position sent scalding desire flaring under his skin and before his brain could take back control, he surged upwards, bridging the distance between them. His lips pressed against hers, the contact tantalizing with its newness as he finally did what he had longed for so long.
As quick and impulsive as the kiss was it was over again, leaving the headmistress wide-eyed her grip on the sword gone slack. Saul was still baffled by his own bravado, mind only catching up on the situation now. But before fear and uncertainty could creep in the woman still sitting on top of him seemed to come to terms with what had just happened, her swords clattering to the ground as she discarded them with one swift motion before bending down, slanting her lips over his in a hungry kiss.
Where the first kiss had been quick and chaste this one was anything but, as the fairies’ hands cradled his face, their tongues moving together both moaning at the sensations. Their bond flowed between them like liquid gold, burning hot and singing as they finally crossed the line both had longed to for an eternity.
Saul had let go of his sword, his hands moving up and down Farrah’s thighs, stroking along the lean muscle, eager to explore, touch, please. They broke their kiss as Farah slid further down to find a more comfortable position on top of him, prompting the man to release a groan as she brushed against another very active part of his body. Farah chuckled, moving her hips against him with a wicked smirk. He moaned, reaching for her to draw her back down as their lips met again.
His hands still felt along the lean muscles of her thigh, slowly moving higher to find her hips. They both were caught up in the sudden rush of desire, the adrenaline from the fight spurring them on.
Brushing the hem of her top he wasted not much time slipping under it, fingers trailing over the fairy's heated skin. The woman released a moan, their lips parting, giving him the chance to move to do the sensitive skin along her throat. Opening his mouth to taste her, he nearly moaned into her skin. The slight sheen of sweat added saltiness to her taste and he licked along the column of her throat, eager to taste more. The Specialist relished in the throaty groan the fairy breathed into his ear. Her fingers were clawing at his shoulders, trying to slip underneath to feel his skin.
He flipped them so she would be able to slide off his shirt, his body now above hers pressing her into the training mat. Bracing his hands on either side over her head he continued to kiss and nib at the skin of her cleavage, skirting the edge of the fabric. Impatiently tugging up her top his lips found their way to her stomach, placing a line of kisses downward until he reached the waistband of her training leggings.
“Saul wait.” Farah's pants had him halt, looking up into her hooded eyes. She was panting, her chest moving with each breath she took. “We should…”
But before she could finish what she had wanted to say a blaring ringtone cut through the air.
Startled they drew apart, the Specialist immediately rolling off the headmistress. His heart was still pounding in his chest as he jumped to his feet, rightening his shirt. Head jerking up his gaze flickered over their surroundings and he quickly found the source of the sound along the rows of bushes, eyes widening at the two figures vanishing along the path.
“Fuck.”