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While settling up some business in Minrathous with Neve, Rook spots some familiar faces in the market.
"Is that Taash?" Neve asks. When they approach, it's to find Bellara and Harding piling more and more food into the bags Taash is carrying.
Rook bends down to pick up a bag of candy that had fallen. “Wow, all the makings of a well-balanced meal,” she quips, pointing at the large selection of snack food.
Bellara leaps up behind Rook as she deposits it back in the bag and hugs her. "Health has no place during girls and non-binary pals night! You and Neve are invited." She looks around the market. "Bring cheese. We're having trouble finding the kind Lace likes."
"I have a guy," Neve says, jutting her chin toward a side alley.
Rook’s brow quirks. "A cheese guy?"
"Absolutely."
“You never cease to amaze, Gallus,” Rook says with admiration. So much so, Taash and Harding elbow each other unbeknownst to the rogue.
"Yeah, yeah," Taash says. "You idiots gonna bat eyelashes, or help us prep for the most fun you can have at the end of the world?"
Rook can’t fight the smile on her face and shrugs, eyes on the mage. “I guess we can push our meeting with the Shadow Dragons, right?”
Harding rejoins them, embarrassed. "Oh, this isn't until later tonight. Go to your meeting, come to Taash's room at the Lighthouse after! Just bring the cheese!"
They part ways shortly after. Rook strolls up close to Neve’s side, hands in her pockets. “So… do you really have a cheese guy?” the elf whispers.
"Of course. Hermelin is always who you go to for the good stuff."
Rook hums in approval. “What other secrets is Neve Gallus hiding?”
The mage in question smirks, dipping the rim of her hat to Rook. "Wouldn't you like to know..." and she slips off toward the Pawn Shop.
‘I really would,’ Rook thinks, but the words don’t reach her lips. Instead, she follows Neve silently, deciding it wouldn’t do to reveal just how down bad she is.
"Look, it might seem frivolous to you, but you shouldn't knock it until you try it, especially when I can just conjure the ice." Neve and Rook did go shopping after their meeting with the Shadows, Rook insisting on a quick stop to another country for some tequila. Luckily, the limes were already available in Minrathous, as well as some pineapple and the requested cheeses.
“Neve, I drink tequila to feel it, not savor it. A shot will loosen me up much quicker than sipping on it iced,” Rook says, carrying the bags. She pauses as they enter the library. “I’m going to change out of my armor. Don’t think I’ll be needing more than three knives on me for this.”
"See you there... Rook." Neve waits to see if the other will stop on the way to her room, and once she's out of sight, draws a fine Antivan knife from within the sleeve of her coat. Flipping it in one hand casually, Neve whistles a tune of Cida's as she goes.
Taash's room is picked due to having the most space. They've already got a roaring fire going for all of them to crowd about, everyone piling in with pillows and a mouthwatering spread of food. By the time Rook arrives, Neve is slicing the fresh fruits, eyes flicking toward her with a smirk and one of the Crow’s knives in her hand.
Rook freezes mid-step, staring wide-eyed at Neve. She instinctively pats down her body for her concealed blades, wondering which Neve had taken… where her hands had wandered… until she remembers she’s not even wearing the same outfit as earlier. Instead, she’s opted for black leather, matching well with perfectly reapplied eyeliner. She’d taken the time to adjust her hair as well, tying it up in a messy bun with pieces framing her face.
“Wh- How?” she asks Neve.
The other wipes juice from the knife casually, offering it back to her. "I had just finished anyway." Pointedly not answering.
Rook’s eyes narrow playfully. “And that’ll be the last time you pull one over on me,” she says as she opens the tequila. Without actual shot glasses, she pours small amounts into various mismatched cups.
“Doubt it,” Taash replies unasked, taking a glass and shooting it back while Neve laughs. “Damn, that’s good.”
“Taash, you shoot it with the lime and salt,” Rook says. She passes cups and limes to Bellara and Harding before finally taking some for herself and Neve. “Ready, everyone?”
“Maybe you should demonstrate! So, you know, we do it right!” Bellara suggests as she refills Taash’s empty glass.
“Mm!” Rook hums in acknowledgment, setting her glass down. “I nearly forgot.” She fetches the salt shaker near the snacks. “Take your lime and rub it on your hand like this,” and the rogue demonstrates. She goes around to Harding, Taash, and Bellara, applying a bit of salt to their hands.
When Rook approaches Neve, she doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath. “May I?” she asks, gesturing to the mage’s hand.
Neve holds her hand out with that delicate smirk, never looking away from the elf’s eyes.
Rook gently takes her hand, heart racing as soon as they touch. She returns her smirk as she adds the salt, trying to make the moment last. The softness of Neve’s hand, the way her teal nails perfectly complement her outfit… Rook realizes she’s probably been taking too long, letting go of Neve’s hand with a slight blush up her ears.
Once everyone in the circle is set, Rook raises her glass. “Salt. Shot. Lime,” she says, explaining the order.
They all nod, following Rook’s lead. But just as the rogue lifts her hand, Neve snatches it, licks the salt from it, and knocks back her tequila before Rook’s skin has even cooled from her touch.
The ringing in the elf’s ears combined with the flush of her cheeks is… overwhelming. She stares, mouth hung open as she watches Neve down her shot. Rook can’t even comment on the smallest drop of tequila at the corner of the other woman’s mouth. She just raises her lime dumbly, offering it for Neve to bite.
Neve leans and takes it, slowly sinking her teeth in and plucking it from her fingers.
“Told you it wouldn’t be the last time she got you,” Taash says, pointing as Neve pulls the lime from her lips with a pop.
“Thanks, Taash…” Rook mumbles as she reminds herself to take a breath. Her eyes drift to the spot Neve licked. With her tongue. Neve’s tongue. On her…
The salt is all but gone.
Neve notices this too, holding her hand out, a patch of salt still there. “No reason you should go without.”
This must be some crazy dream conjured by the Fade, but Rook doesn’t argue. She takes Neve’s hand firmly, raising it to her mouth and dragging her tongue across the salt. Her eyes remain on Neve’s daringly, to show she can give as good as she gets. Rook smirks, tossing back her tequila while she continues to hold Neve’s hand.
Neve merely raises a brow… and a slice of lime to Rook’s lips with two fingers.
Rook takes the lime between her teeth gratefully, pulling it from Neve’s hand. She moans, and not just from the perfect shot combo. Looking around, everyone else had long since finished theirs and are just watching.
“So, Taash, what’s the plan for tonight?” Rook asks abruptly.
Bellara looks away, giggling.
“Truth or Dare?” Taash actually sounds a little unsure. “Lace and Bel had more of the game ideas. I’m in it for the food.”
Harding nods enthusiastically. “Let’s start with Truth or Dare!”
Rook laughs, assembling herself a snack plate and mixed drink. “I can’t be held responsible for what comes out of this.” She takes a spot on the floor where a bunch of pillows are gathered.
Neve perches delicately on a pillow tossed on a crate right next to Rook, drinking something far stronger than she’d have guessed the mage would favor. The height difference in seating happens to put her ass quite close to Rook’s head.
The rogue looks up at her as she leans back on an elbow, dangling her glass lazily in her fingers. Bellara claims a large pillow on Neve’s other side while Harding dangles her legs off another crate. Taash brings over the tray of snacks to set in the middle, munching on a piece of jerky.
Bellara rubs her hands together. “Who wants to go first? And are there any rules?”
“No dangerous dares,” Harding cuts in fast.
“Aww,” Taash whines.
“Okay, dangerous by whose standards? We can still keep it exciting!” Rook says. She leans closer to Neve. “I really want to see Taash use their fire to toast some marshmallows…”
Neve can’t help a small smile crossing her face.
“I mean… you’re a Crow, so I’m sure knife stuff wouldn’t be a big deal, but no one goes jumping off the edge of the Lighthouse, ok?” Harding looks a little nervous.
Rook and Taash nod their heads enthusiastically. “Alright, Harding! Truth or dare?”
“Um… dare? Let’s start it strong!” Harding blushes a little, but Rook knows it’s an act. She’s traveled with Lace long enough to see her shoot someone in the eye while upside down in midair, coming out of a backflip. The scout is dangerous when she wants to be.
Rook thinks for a moment. “I dare you to let Taash tickle you for a minute. If you laugh, you have to take a shot.”
“A minute is long when you count it off.” Neve lifts a brow, sipping her drink. “I think she’d buckle by 30 seconds.”
“Not if it’s Bellara’s version of a minute,” Rook says, nodding at the other elf.
Bellara nods rapidly. “Oh, she’s right. I count fast. Probably too fast.”
Rook looks to Neve, eyebrow quirked. “Satisfied?”
Neve spreads her hands in surrender. “Up to Harding now.”
The dwarf looks to Taash, who shrugs. “You’re on.”
Taash leaps to their feet, wiggling their fingers menacingly. Bellara looks to Rook, who nods. Then the counting starts. It’s so quick, it’s not even seconds. It’s as if Bellara were taking inventory—like counting the perfect freckles on Neve’s face…
Rook gulps, thankful eyes aren’t on her. As she thinks it, Neve turns to her, pointing at Harding. “Does that count as laughing?” Lace gives a high-pitched squawk.
Rook’s eyebrows shoot up. “Hm—oh! Yeah, it absolutely does! Harding, take a shot!” At this point, the dwarf and Taash are in a fit of giggles on the ground. Rook pours her a glass. “Valiant effort.”
Harding takes it, downing it easily. Taash grabs one to match her, belching fire after, causing more giggles all around.
“Ooh, me next!” Bellara’s hand shoots up. “Truth!”
Harding takes her seat back on the crate. “Ooh, okay. Bellara, tell us about your worst kiss!”
Bellara groans dramatically, taking another drink as if to purge the memory. “So, Irelin and I used to be together—”
“Wait— did I know that? I’m not sure if I knew that,” Rook says with a hint of surprise.
“I suspected,” Neve comments, a lyrical lilt to her voice.
“Yeah, she’s really… serious. Anyway, we were scouting pretty deep into Arlathan. We were sharing a tent.”
“Camping can be fun,” Harding starts.
"I mean, yeah, if your tent partner remembers to tie the flaps shut well enough to keep critters out." Bel sips her drinks. "Especially when the artifact you just recovered is in the tent with you."
Neve chokes on her drink.
Rook holds up her hand. “Umm, what kind of artifact are we talking about?”
"Well, we're both alive, clearly. But I was really annoyed."
Taash is listening with rapt attention.
The rogue looks to Neve, who’s wiping her mouth. “You good?” Her question is more confused than concerned.
"Absolutely," Neve replies. "Imagination just got away from me."
“Neve Gallus, how dirty of you,” Rook says with an exaggerated voice, but she looks… impressed.
"If you think that's dirty, you'd be shocked to really get to know me," Neve quips back.
Bel, meanwhile, continues as Rook's attention is hijacked. "—o yeah, that's why I needed a new shirt and had to cut off a couple inches of my hair." She takes another sip. "And why I have a grudge against the squirrels in Arlathan."
Rook lets out a long exhale, but not from Bellara’s story; she’ll have to get the full version from Taash later. Glass in hand, the rogue goes to make another drink. She eyes Neve’s glass. “I’d offer to get you a refill, but I have no idea what you’ve concocted in there.”
Neve points with her cigarette holder to the odd assortment of ingredients she got from Lucanis' stash in the kitchen. "Smoked Blood and Sand... if you know how to make it." Her smirk is friendly, but it still feels like a challenge.
“Not a clue in the slightest,” Rook says, taking Neve’s glass. “Care to walk me through it? I’m a quick study.”
Neve’s smirk remains in place, and she holds a hand out to be helped up.
Rook struggles to carry both glasses in one hand to free up her other for Neve. Her thoughts drift to how that hand had tasted, and how it would taste without the salt…
"Dare!" Taash roars in challenge.
"Um... 50 pushups without a break?" Harding ventures.
Neve looks over her shoulder at the same time Bel speaks up. "Too easy," they say in tandem.
Rook clears her throat as she helps Neve to her feet. “Taash, I dare you to finish your drink.” They look at her like she’s stupid. “While doing a handstand,” Rook finishes, walking Neve over to the bar hand in hand.
Taash taps their chin. "Deal. But... give me a minute. I gotta... figure out how that works."
“I’m sure a straw could help!” Bellara chimes in, already plotting out the logistics.
Taash snaps their fingers in agreement. “Hey, Neve! Bring me a straw.” Harding nudges them. “Please.”
Neve chuckles, passing one over as she and Rook reach the makeshift bar. She then takes up a position behind the other, pointing out the ingredients.
Rook follows along with care, though with Neve’s proximity, and her breath on the rogue’s neck… maybe extra care is needed to keep her on track. She turns to Neve, ingredients assembled in the shaker. “Some ice, if you would, my lady.”
Neve summons a few large frozen drops into the shaker, falling directly from the air. They hit the concoction with a plop. "I'll have to thank Lucanis for the wine reduction already being prepared."
“He’s certainly… thoughtful,” the elf mumbles as she shakes the drink.
Neve slips a bit of the blood orange between her lips. "We'll not tell him I'm mixing it and his sour cherries with whiskey."
From behind them, Harding helps prop Taash up, feet in the air, as their muscles strain to lower themselves within range of the straw in the glass beneath them.
“True, this may insult his delicate Antivan sensibilities.” Rook swaps the shaker’s top to properly strain the drink in both glasses. “Lucky for you, I’m a bit of a degenerate.”
Neve grins at that. "In another life, I'd have met you in the most run-down, fun bar in Dock Town, wouldn't I?"
Taash gets their lips around the straw and sucks their drink in as fast as they can.
Rook laughs. “I’d have tried to buy you a drink so fast,” she says amongst the cheering. A slight blush colors her cheeks as she hands Neve her cigarette holder.
Neve reaches out just to push it back toward her. "Light it up. Draw out some smoke. Blow it toward the drinks. I can handle the rest since we don't have anything to cap them with."
Taash flips back onto their feet, flexing, glass empty. Scooping it up, they elbow Rook teasingly at the bar, and pour themselves straight whiskey. "You gonna drink that, or make out with it?"
The Crow scoffs. “Please, this drink would be lucky to make out with me.”
Neve holds her tinder box out to the other to light her tobacco. Rook lights it, taking a solid inhale. She savors the feeling for a moment before exhaling over the glasses.
As soon as the smoke escapes her lips, a gesture from Neve encloses the glasses in a bubble of magic, the smoke contained. “Give those a moment. Promise it’s worth the wait.”
“Guess I have no choice but to believe you,” Rook says with a smile. “Whose turn is it?”
“Neve! Truth or Dare?” Bellara asks.
Neve taps her chin with a finger, pondering. “Truth.”
The Veil Jumper claps her hands together. “Ooh, okay! Hmm… oh! I’ve got it! What would be your ideal date? Like if someone wanted to sweep you off your feet, what would they have to do?”
Neve’s brows shoot up, and she must have lost concentration as the spell encasing the smoke pops. The mage wouldn’t see, but behind her, Bellara notices Rook’s ears twitch.
“Well now.” Neve grabs her drink. “A clear day in Minrathous? A long walk through town. Someone that can remember the names of my friends.” She takes her seat again. “Fresh fried fish from Hal’s and a good spot to eat down on the docks.”
“But what if you had a case?” Bellara asks, “You could catch a perp together!”
"I can do that without dating."
“Come on, Neve. Use your imagination!” Harding says, still interested in playing hypotheticals with the mage. “What if you’re having your date on the docks, and you find a clue! You wouldn’t just leave them there?” the dwarf asks with a giggle.
"I mean, of course they'd come along if they're the type I let get close at all." Neve shrugs.
Rook walks over with her drink in hand, leaning against the wall. “I could see you leaving some poor sucker in the dust if you thought they couldn’t keep up,” the rogue says, her mouth turned up in a sly smile.
"They'd be in the dust long before a date. I research my prospects." Neve smirks at the sight of her cigarette holder still dangling in Rook's fingers.
The elf takes a slow drag, then exhales as she subtly raises her glass in Neve’s direction.
“It’s your turn to ask now, Neve!” Harding says.
"Well... you're the last one left that hasn't picked yet, Rook. Truth or Dare?"
Rook’s eyebrows rise as she takes a small sip. “That’s really good. I think I want to enjoy it for a bit, so… truth.”
Taash boos her from their spot on the floor.
Neve crosses her legs and hums in contemplation. "Were you... the Crow that killed the Narcissist of Nessus?" The blood mage who was more infamous in death when exposed for their illegal practices, hiding it all under bluster and gold in life.
"No working!" Bel throws a pillow at Neve, who catches it without even looking away from Rook.
Rook laughs, shaking her head at Bellara. She winks at Neve from behind her glass. “Alright, Bellara’s rules. No working cases at a party.”
Neve rolls her eyes. "It's not really a case if I'm not getting paid for it. Gods forbid a girl have a hobby."
“Okay, okay. If it’s easier to think of a dare, go for it.”
Neve makes a sound. "I suppose if I'm killing the vibe, I should be the one to pay." She stands and walks to Taash's well-patched punching bag, withdraws her lipstick from her pocket, and draws an X on it. Neve spins on her heel and stands, her head next to the mark. "One knife. Right here. Thrown from 20 feet."
“Pay with a knife in your head?” Taash asks, to which Rook takes offense.
“Excuse you, but I think Neve wants to find out if I’m as good as they say I am.” Rook withdraws a knife from her belt, twirling it in one hand and her drink in the other. “Though, I have been drinking. Could affect my aim… still feeling brave?” she asks Neve.
"I mean, you can take a shot of that tequila without the salt or lime if you feel like you need to back down."
Rook scoffs, walking to the bar and setting down her glass. She pours herself a shot of tequila, throwing it back—saltless, limeless—and slams the cup on the table.
“Degenerate. Remember?” Rook walks to the designated spot and assesses for a moment while twirling her knife, truly taking Neve in.
Neve stands a bit flushed with her hips canted, one hand on them, the other holding her drink. Maybe it’s a different shirt than her usual, but Rook could swear she sees the outline of her nipples behind white linen, framed by the supple leather straps of her harness...
Rook licks her lips, playing it off like she’s calculating distance with one eye closed. The rest of the room is silent with anticipation, eyes darting between the two. Rook knows she can hit Neve’s target, drinking or not. But it’s not interesting, it’s expected. It wouldn’t get the mage’s heart racing.
Without warning, Rook swiftly throws the knife. It shines as it flies through the air, directly at… Neve? The knife barely misses the mage’s head, instead grazing the collar of her shirt. Bellara squeals loudly until the knife embeds itself in the wall behind the mage.
“That loose thread hanging off your collar was bothering me, thought I’d take care of it for you,” Rook says coolly.
Neve doesn't flinch... but Rook would see her breath catch before regathering herself. She steps away from the knife and dusts her shoulder off, watching as a single thread and a few strands of hair fall to the floor. "Hm. Other ways to fix that you know. Should take some sewing lessons from Fred."
Harding goes up to Rook and slugs her hard on the arm. “I said nothing dangerous!”
"We also noted knife throwing is child's play for an assassin." Neve shrugs. "I'm not bothered."
“Damn, Harding. I wouldn’t have thrown it if I were even a little worried,” Rook says, rubbing her arm. She walks up to Neve, backing her just slightly towards the wall. Her eyes trail from Neve’s face, down her neck, to the collar of her shirt. She reaches one hand forward, close to touching, and pulls the knife from the wall. “Sorry if that was too much. You can get me back with some ice magic.”
Neve smirks and taps her nose with a finger tip, and a puff of snow bursts between their faces. "Nothing I didn't ask for."
Rook stands facing the wall as Neve walks away, her face a mix of surprise and… lust. She takes a breath and returns to the group.
The game continues for a few more rounds with a variety of consequences. Harding reveals her most embarrassing moment in the Inquisition. Bellara concocts a cocktail that actually makes Taash gag. Rook even burns her fingers, holding onto a match for as long as she can. Luckily, alcohol staves away some of the pain, and Neve’s mix of healing and ice makes for a comfortable recovery.
They laugh, they imbibe, they make progressively more ridiculous decisions. The food is starting to get picked over, and more than a few bottles are empty. The questions come back around to Neve.
"Dare," she challenges the room. "You'll not get any more case secrets out of me tonight."
“I dare you to kiss Rook!” Bellara yells immediately as if she’s been wanting to say it all night.
The smile falls from Rook’s face as she looks to Neve, awaiting a reaction. She sees Neve delicately arch a brow, stand, and head toward the bar. She pulls a less-than-fresh glass to herself and pours some of the tequila.
“Ouch,” Taash whistles.
Rook stays still on the floor, leaning against a pillow. To her surprise, Neve pours two glasses and takes them both in hand. Walking to Rook, she offers one up. "Degenerate, right?"
Rook smiles, relieved as she makes to stand. She takes the glass gratefully. “You’re damn right.”
Neve shoves her back down before she can fully rise, straddling her lap with slow, purposeful motions.
Bellara’s squealing can hardly be heard over the blush rising to Rook’s cheeks and the sound of her own heart racing in her ears. She holds herself up by an arm, staring at Neve. Her breathing slows to the point she’s not even sure she’s doing it.
Neve lifts her glass between them, the heat cradling Rook below the waist notable.
Rook lifts her own glass to meet Neve’s as she’s drawn closer, their faces inches apart. “Still feeling brave?” the rogue asks.
Neve hooks her arm around the other's, bringing the glass to her lips. "Never faltered."
Rook follows suit, bringing the glass to her lips, unable to hide her grin. “To us, then.” She tosses back the tequila, one small drop falling from her lips to her chin.
Neve throws hers back as well, a bit cleaner. Once it's empty, she puts the cup rim down on the floor, grabs the front of Rook's shirt, and looks her over for just a heartbeat before pulling her close. She licks the drop from Rook’s chin before pressing lips to her own, tasting like the most dangerous indulgence of the evening.
The rogue’s eyes fall shut as every sense in her body sparks. She drops her own glass, bringing her hands to Neve’s lower back. Her head swims partly from the alcohol, but mostly from the earth-shattering experience she’s dreamt of for so long. The flavors of tequila and tobacco dance across her tongue as it swipes along Neve’s.
Neve's mouth opens a bit more to welcome her, and everyone notices.
"Wow, I didn't even specify tongue," Bellara says.
Taash whistles long and low. Harding squeaks.
Rook holds onto Neve and this moment as long as she can. The alcohol makes capturing every perfect detail much more challenging. She can’t even suppress the moan from deep in her throat. At some point, one of her hands move to cup Neve’s cheek, so soft and warm under her touch. But she could feel it: the end. Nearly there and entirely too soon.
The touch seems to startle Neve, just a little too tender, and she leans back with a gasp of air. “Well then!” She stands on shaky legs, adjusting her shirt obsessively, and clears her throat. “So, Rook… Truth or Dare?” A little too desperate to change the subject.
Right. The game. When Neve asks her, Rook meets her eyes boldly. “Dare.”
“Any suggestions?” Neve asks the rest of the room.
“Nope, I want it from you,” Rook challenges.
“It’s getting late. I dare you… to walk me back to my room.”
“That, I can do.” Rook wishes everyone a good night before opening the door for Neve and escorting her out into the stillness of the library. The whispers are explosive behind them, but they both succeed in ignoring them.
Rook walks with her hands by her sides, looking at Neve with an easy smile and kiss-stained lips. Every door on their way to the courtyard, she opens for the other. “Thanks for showing me how to make that drink,” Rook says in a low voice.
Neve smirks back. “Of course. We can share a round again sometime.” She winds a hand around Rook’s arm to unnecessarily steady herself as they walk.
The elf leans into the touch, more than she would if she were sober. “We’ve established being degenerates, but I’ll have you know I can still be a perfect gentleman.”
“And what if tonight I’m not in the mood for a gentleman?” They’ve almost reached her door.
“Then I’d say ‘good’...” Rook grabs her by the hips, turning Neve until her back is against the door. She leans in to whisper in her ear, “Because then I could give you everything you could ever want.”
Neve reaches beside herself for the handle, opening the door to allow them both to stumble inside.
Rook kicks the door closed behind her with a foot, hands further wrapped around Neve. Her breathing is heavy as their eyes meet. “Do I need to dare you to kiss me again?”
One hand runs up Rook’s back into her hair. The other makes its way under the hem of her pants. “Not my first time, Rook,” before she crashes their lips together again.
The way Neve feels and tastes is somehow even better than before, maybe because Rook didn’t think there’d be a second time. She moans into her mouth as she walks Neve back toward her desk, pushing until she is practically seated amongst various papers and notes.
Neve’s hand pushes deeper, shamelessly teasing Rook’s folds. “You don’t get to call the shots in my office, little Crow,” the mage murmurs against her lips.
Rook inhales sharply as Neve’s fingers trail where she’s been wet all night. For her. “You would speak that way to your boss? The leader of this team?” she whispers with kisses down Neve’s neck, onto her chest.
Her nails graze Rook’s scalp as Neve tightens her grip in her hair. “You’re not in charge of anything tonight.” She manages to stand from her desk, looking down her nose at the slightly shorter elf, nodding to the spot she just left. “Bend over.” Her tone brooks no argument.
It could be the alcohol or the daring events of the night, but the rogue feels like pushing her luck. Her fingers graze the side of Neve’s face, much like they did earlier.
“Why don’t you make me?”
Rook barely has a second to behold her smirk before the hand on her head shoves her down on the desk, and the other hooks about her waist.
“And they call you ‘The Darling of Dock Town,’” Rook challenges, despite spreading her legs further as she supports herself on her forearms.
There's a crackling in the air, and Neve's hands run down Rook’s shoulders over her arms. Ice arcs over them, holding her to the desk. She thoughtfully keeps it over her sleeves to keep it from getting too cold. “Still a darling if I’m giving you what you clearly want.”
“Eager,” Rook quips, her body tingling at the ice as the rest of her heats up.
"Can you blame a girl for wanting to unwind a bit with the kind of work we do?" Neve plants a knee between Rook’s legs, pushing her thigh against the other's core while working her belt apart and her trousers open.
Rook grinds down on her leg gladly. “Is that all I am? A means to an end?” She asks, voice low with desire but still playful.
Neve leans down over her, chest flush with her back to whisper in her ear. "Got a problem with that?"
”The opposite. It’s easier this way.” Rook shivers, pushing up against Neve as much as she can.
The way the leather of her shirt glides... Rook is certain the other must have bared her chest while she was forced to look away. She struggles against the ice even when she knows there’s no point. She’s pictured it plenty of times, but she has to see Neve for herself. But it doesn't give.
"You're adorable like this." Neve finally starts working Rook’s pants down over her hips, having to practically roll them down, they're so tight. "We should have done this sooner," she mutters, fondling her ass in appreciation.
Rook groans, the cool air feeling so good against her skin. She leans hard into the mage’s touch. If Neve insists on having her way, she had better worship every inch. “I always thought we would after those sparring sessions. When I’d get you on your back, pinned under me.”
"Why didn't you say anything?" Neve asks, voice low. "Never tried to give the impression I was some blushing virgin. Or are you into that?"
“I’m into you.” Rook chuckles, another press of her ass behind her. “I don’t like rejection.”
"Well..." and her fingers cut a slick path between Rook's legs. "You're going to regret waiting so long for this," Neve replies, two fingers slipping inside easily.
Rook tries to stifle her moan by biting her hand, but her teeth cut into ice. She moves back, wanting Neve deeper, harder. “I regret not taking you… as you stood… in your dome of ice,” she pants. “But, world-ending ritual and all.”
Neve chuckles at that, slowly pushing deeper, exploring her, looking for just the spot to drive her mad. "Really? Lust at first sight, then?"
“I’d spent all night hearing your name, and when I finally saw you… I wondered how it’d sound coming out of my mouth, screaming.” Rook gasps when Neve’s fingers drag against one spot.
Neve notices immediately, rubbing that spot with focus. "I promise you won't have to wonder before this night is over."
Rook starts riding her hand faster, her legs shaking under her as she pants. She needs more, but she isn’t ready for it to be over. “Neve,” she whines, “I… I need…”
She can hear Neve panting in time with her right until it breaks into a chuckle. "I know," she replies, reaching around with her other hand to rub Rook’s clit, their bodies fitting together so perfectly.
“Oh fuck! Yes!” Rook cries as Neve’s hands on her, in her, make her legs shake. “Please, you feel so good.”
The fingers inside her withdraw just to thrust in swiftly again, still twirling at the end of their reach over that favorite spot. “Damn right I do.” Rook can feel kisses pressed all along her shoulders as the other sets a relentless pace.
With the right flick of her clit and fingers reaching exactly where she needs, Rook comes hard.
“Neve!” she yells. Screaming her name is better than she could have imagined. Neve has her aching, begging for release like nobody has before.
Neve moans in her ear as she shouts. "That's it... that's right..." She continues stroking her gently as Rook clenches firmly about her fingers. Her hand only leaves her clit after a long moment to reach up and crack the ice on her wrists.
Rook feels the ice give, but she doesn’t break free, not yet. It’s all she can do to keep herself from sinking to the floor. She whimpers through Neve’s final thrusts until she’s spent. Rook finally breaks free from the ice, wasting no time before turning around to chase Neve’s lips.
As Rook turns, it's just as Neve is pulling her cigarette holder away from her lips, looking an absolute vision. Better than Rook imagined, shirt hanging open, breasts framed by soft leather, teal nails grazing the hem open a teasing inch further at a time, a bit of the elf’s own slick trailing from Neve’s fingers across her chest. The mage eagerly lets the other taste her. Smoke pours between their mouths.
Rook breathes her in greedily, biting Neve’s lip and pulling as she does. “Your office, your choice,” she says. “Where do you want me to eat you out?”
“I’d say the chair looks perfect for that… don’t you think?” Neve toys with her hair appreciatively.
“It’ll look even more perfect with you on it,” the elf says, pulling up her pants. “Legs spread.” Rook takes Neve by the hand, walking her around the desk. “And my mouth on your cunt.” She starts undoing the buttons of Neve’s pants. Rook lowers to her knees as she pulls them down, until they stop at her prosthetic. She looks up at Neve from the floor, her hand gently tracing the cobra.
Neve lowers herself to sit with the same grace she does everything, stroking Rook’s cheek on the way. She slips her cigarette holder between her lips, freeing up her hands to work the prosthetic off herself. She’s quick about it; almost shy. Just long enough to slide her trousers off the leg and put it back on.
Rook barely has a moment to take her right leg in before removing the boot on her left. She doesn’t say anything, wouldn’t say anything, not before Neve is ready. But she does what she can to make her feel seen. As Neve removes her boot and pants, Rook kisses up her other leg witha tenderness she wasn’t expecting to feel, but it’s worth it.
Neve leans back in her seat, exposed and clearly wanting, but downplays it, continuing to smoke. Her other hand cards through Rook's hair, far more gentle now than she was before, but with a smirk that is just as domineering. "You're awful pretty on your knees, Rook."
Rook turns to say something playful, but her breath catches in her throat as she takes Neve in. The way her shirt has fallen open, the light shining off her slick as she smokes. “Wow,” she says, running her hands up Neve’s thighs to part them even further.
Neve’s smile grows at how struck the other is. She offers her a pull from her cigarette before she continues.
The rogue rises just enough for her mouth to take it, inhaling nice and slow. Her eyes glisten as she returns to her knees, a small stream of smoke escaping her lips as she exhales. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get enough of you,” Rook whispers as she places a kiss on wet lips.
"Then you better take what you can get, Rook."
“I’ll take all of you,” Rook says, her tongue finally gliding between Neve’s folds. She moans at her taste, her warmth, and it fuels her ego just how evident the other woman’s desire is. The rogue hooks her arms around her legs and feasts.
Neve hips begin to rock immediately at her touch. She throws her head back and groans, legs hooking about the other to drag her closer. "Fuck, Rook..."
It spurs the elf on as she picks up her pace, exploring all of Neve that she can with the flat of her tongue. Rook doesn’t even try to disguise the filthy wet noises coming from her mouth. She laps up, swirling the tip of her tongue around Neve’s clit slowly.
Clearly too slowly as the other tightens her grip in Rook’s hair and inches her hips forward, trying to grind against her face desperately.
Rook pulls her tongue back, chuckling. “Neve Gallus, did nobody teach you patience?”
"Fuck patience when the world is ending." Her nails graze Rook's scalp, which takes effort given how short they are. "You've got until I sober up, or the gods knock this floating island from the sky."
“Haven’t you heard? We’re going to save the world.” Rook runs the flat of her tongue up her cunt with one long stroke. She ends where Neve needs her most, but she’s off it again too soon.
Abandoning her grip of Rook's hair, Neve reaches down to shamelessly rub her clit herself while the other keeps trailing her tongue elsewhere.
Rook smacks her fingers out of the way with a tsk. “You really are desperate, aren’t you?” Her fingers glide through the perfect patch of hair above her slit, dragging down as she coats herself in slick. “You’re adorable like this.” Rook dips two fingers inside, her own breath catching from the feel of her.
Neve sits up suddenly with a cry as she's filled, and doubles over. Her hair hangs about Rook's head like a curtain.
She pulls back with a slow drag of her fingers. As she goes to pump back into her, Rook takes Neve’s clit with her mouth greedily. Her tongue matches the quickening pace of her fingers and she moans.
Rook has a front row seat to the way Neve's abs clench in excitement, her cries mere inches above. She puts her cigarette out with a shaking hand to toss it and its holder onto her desk and take the rogue's head in both hands. "Don't stop... don't... please..."
The rogue’s eyes look up at her with desire and a hint of something else, something unnameable. Rook’s eyes shine as she uses her mouth to suck, alternating with strokes of her tongue.
Words escape Neve, her own eyes drifting closed. There's something too tender about whatever is hiding behind Rook's gaze that she just can't bear to see right now. But she doesn't stop writhing. It has been far too long since she's done anything like this.
Rook’s eyes don’t stray, wanting to see Neve come undone by her hands. She pants heavily as she curls, laps, and sucks fast to match the mage’s frenzied movements. The burn in Rook’s arm can’t match the one in her heart, the one bursting at the seams.
It's obvious when Neve comes, throwing her head back once more with a cry, palming her breasts with one hand and cradling Rook's head with the other. The latter's face is soaked with the other's need, one she knows she can fill well based on this reaction.
The rogue slows the strokes of her tongue, her fingers curling as Neve’s hips shake. With one final kiss to her folds, Rook sits back and releases the other woman, wiping the slick from her face with a satisfied grin. Her eyes roam up to Neve’s, beaming.
Neve is panting hard, face still upturned, but there's a grin on her face plain as day.
“To think that after the night ended, I was just going to go back to my room and make myself come on my own,” the elf says.
"While... thinking of me?" Neve is still panting. And still smiling.
Rook rises from the floor and leans back on the desk, chuckling. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Neve sits back up with some effort, looking the other over before reaching toward her desk to tug a drawer open. "And what if I did like the thought of that?"
“Then I’ll be sure to tell you the next time I do,” Rook says, her gaze following Neve to her desk drawer.
She pulls a flask from it, sitting back again while unscrewing the top. "You really think you'll do that now that you know there's a... greater than zero chance you could have the real deal instead?" Neve takes a sip before offering a drink to Rook.
The rogue takes it gladly, moaning at the mix of the taste of liquor and Neve on her tongue. “Oh? How much greater than zero?” She asks, handing the flask back.
"You might need to create a few more data points to figure that out for yourself."
Rook pushes off from the desk, leaning on the arms of the chair and hovering over Neve. “That’s going to take a lot of time and energy. I’m nothing if not thorough,” she says, leaning down slowly to kiss the mage.
"I don't think I'd like you as much if you weren't."
“I like you too,” Rook whispers, smiling as she presses her lips to Neve’s. Her hand reaches up to cup her cheek, stroking her thumb across softly.
Neve returns the kiss... but her smile turns coy as she turns out of the other's touch, and stands. She's gorgeous like this: half undone, a complete mess, and her makeup now smeared on another's face. But it’s clear she isn’t the sort to neglect putting herself back together after.
Neve takes another drink before leaving the flask on the desk near Rook, fingers brushing the other's shoulders as she passes. She heads toward her cot, pulling a wash basin out from under it. "Afraid accommodations here are a bit lacking if you were angling to stay the night."
Rook walks around to the other side of the desk, arms crossed. “Do you want me to?” she asks, trying to maintain the playfulness from before.
The mage just shrugs, fishing a robe out of her bag next. "If you'd fucked me out back of a bar in Minrathous, we'd either be going our separate ways or getting a room at the Swan. I'm flexible, but I'm not sure if the Lighthouse is."
“Maybe next time we visit Dock Town, I can treat you to my best back alley fuck.”
Neve chuckles at the thought. "Maybe." The quiet after as she fills the basin from a few water jugs she'd kept on hand hangs between them awkwardly.
The elf’s eyes dart to the ground. “Right, well… I’ll leave you to it,” Rook says with a soft smile as she heads to the door. “Goodnight, Neve.”
Neve's smile is just barely visible in profile. "See you around... Xan de Riva."