She digs into the cake instead with a happy little sound, perhaps a little erotic if one is to think about it. Of course she’ll leave Bo some but… he could have ordered his own dessert, really, couldn’t he? “Okay, I love this place. Food’s good, nature’s gorgeous, the bed’s big enough I could probably sleep in it sideways, the tub could probably fit both of us… It’s a shame we can’t just live here.” Sure she loves Strixhaven but she’ll enjoy these little luxuries while they have them. “Wait, why did you bring it up?” she finally asks between bites of ice cream with bits of cake, a little suddenly. “I’m curious.”

"It's the same for me, too. That's why I hope I didn't ruin that particular aspect for you. I only brought it up because... well, that's not important." He nods his head enthusiastically at the offer, happily picking at the remnants of the plate. He likely could have eaten three servings of this dish before becoming truly full.

”Okay.” She takes a deep breath, intentionally relaxing every muscle in her body. It’s not Bo’s fault his innocent comment brought her mind back to less-than-great memories. “I’ll try not to. I get… hmm. I get enthusiastic about food. It’s one of life’s great pleasures to me.” In her heart, Helaena simply wants to enjoy life, to the fullest. Good food is a huge part of that. The duck is almost gone, and there’s only a few bites of the gratin left, but she knows Bo’s appetite far exceeds her own, even as he’s cleared the plate of pasta in front of him seemingly without noticing. “Do you want the last of it?” she asks, not unkindly, a fond smile on her lips as she pushes the plate closer. “I’m full, anyway.” She is almost full, but she’s saving a bit of appetite for the cake. Sue her, it looks incredible.

"Oh, not at all," he replies. "I love when you do that." Simply holding hands in public used to embarrass him, but he quickly got over it once he realized how much Helaena relies on constant touch for reassurance. It might arouse a bit him, sure. And being aroused in public is somewhat embarrassing, but he thinks he's very good at hiding it. The happiness he gets from Helaena unabashedly enjoying something outweighs a silly little thing like embarrassment. "I suppose having it pointed out to you is making you self-conscious," he surmises as his girlfriend takes a bite out of the duck as if she just put a landmine into her mouth. "But please don't hold back your enjoyment around me." There seems to be a double-meaning there.

Close. Close enough to make my heart race. She is doing her best impression of a tomato as she cautiously reaches for another bite of duck, intentionally stifling any verbal response she might have to it. Is it really that bad? “Is it, um… does it bother you? I can… I can try to stop, if it embarrasses you, especially in public.” Augustus found all sorts of things she did embarrassing, whether it was her small shows of affection or her hair or what she liked to eat. She’d never been comfortable enough with him to make any sounds remotely like the ones the potato gratin got out of her, in bed or at the dinner table. At least not any that were genuine.

"Normal for you, I suppose," he scoffs. "But I have never moaned like you do when I eat, and you know I love to eat." He might normally back off, interpreting the shocked look on his girlfriend's face as a wholly negative one, a sign that this was something she was self-conscious about, but he only feels like teasing her further. "I wouldn't say they're the exact same sounds you make in the throes of pleasure," he muses, enjoying the gratin that she's hesitating to eat. "But they're close. Close enough to make my heart race whenever you do it."

”You wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite,” is all the retort she manages between bites of her own. As if there’s any chance of that. She’s not sure she’s ever seen Bo turn down food. If she wasn’t blushing before, she certainly is now as he points out something she’d never quite thought of in those terms. “What?” she half-squeaks. “I do not- I make completely normal sounds of enjoyment!” she insists. Oh, that’s mortifying. Now she’s almost scared of having another bite of the gratin, in case her little moan makes her sound like she’s fucking the potatoes. “I don’t- do I really sound the same?” She’s been teased before about being vocal about her food enjoyment, but usually in fond and playful terms. Damn, Lae, do we need to leave you alone with that chicken? Ahaha, I think Laena’s having a religious experience with that cake. Toril to Laena, still with us? The sushi didn’t take you to another plane of existence? But the sounds she makes have never been called erotic before.

“What? I just got done saying we have this whole room to ourselves. I thought this was a safe space where I could enjoy dessert just a little early.” Just to playfully spite her, he easily reaches over grab another bite of that cake while she’s in the middle of her typical food moans. Speaking of her food moans, they make can excellent case for him to finally dig into the gratin. He hums instead of full on moans, of course. “Oh, gods,” he sighs. “I could eat this everyday for the rest of my life, I think.” He takes a sip of water, because hydration is impotent, before drinking more wine. “Are you aware of how erotic you sound when you eat something you really like?” he asks, honesty fueled by the wine in his system.

”Bo, dessert before finishing your dinner? What would our mothers think,” she scolds playfully, moving the plate of cake a bit away, but still well within his reach. “Come on, switch up, I haven’t tried that gratin yet.” She steals his plate, but offers her own in return. Yes, she’s thinking about what may or may not come after, but she’s determined to enjoy the now. And the now happens to include sinfully creamy cheesy potatoes that make her want to make sounds more appropriate for the bed she can’t stop thinking about. “Fuck m- Hells, those are good,” she exclaims as she reaches for another bite. “I could eat a whole plate of just those, really.” Helaena, enjoying food vocally? Say it ain’t so. “I’m also very pleased we have our privacy. It means I don’t have to pretend at any manners or decorum and can steal things right off your plate with no reservations,” she jokes. Yes, they can technically share even at a restaurant, but if the price tag gets high enough they would get looks for it. Here, they can do as they damn well please. If she wants to refresh the stasis spell she put on the ice cream and fuck him silly before dessert, she can. It’s tempting, but she really likes almond cake.

“Very much so,” he answers happily. “I’m so glad I decided on room service.” He winks awkwardly as he pours another glass of wine. During their first dinner date, the sexual tension was so thick, one would have to cut it with a knife. Having to endure that in public was downright tortuous for the both of them. But here? They’re in their own little world. Pleasant conversation, good food, decent wine, total privacy… Helaena isn’t the only one thinking of one of the many ways the night could end. “And I’m so glad that we have this entire room to ourselves.” He eyes the almond cake for a moment before deciding to take a small bite of it. “Mm! Now that is good, too…”

”You are most certainly on that list, my love. You might even rank above Laeral Silverhand.” It’s fun, to tease and spar and flirt. She enjoyed conversations with Bo long before they were like to end with her getting to see him shirtless in her bed, even if all they do is sleep. It is a very nice view. She’s only mortal. Then it’s her turn to blush a little, mostly at the thought of all the things they might get up to in the very nice bed in this hotel room. It’s quite a bit bigger than either of theirs back home at Strixhaven. The novelty has in no way worn off with familiarity, even if they’ve been moving slowly between their busy schedules and communicated desire to take their time. That doesn’t mean she’s forgotten the promise he half-growled in her shower right after making her come so hard she lost use of her legs. “Do you, um. Are you enjoying the food?” she asks, clearing her throat as she reaches for her wine.

“Yes, love, I’m referring to your passion for everything that you care for,” he replies fondly, idly swirling his wine around in its glass. “Laerel Silverhand, food, Ella Fitzgerald, me…” ”Laena, she... She never does anything by half. She puts her whole heart and soul into everything. Respect that. Honor that.” He does more than respect and honor that. Sometimes, it feels more like he worships that, like her passion is something to learn from and live by. Perhaps his cheeks are a little bit of a deeper shade of orange now, just because he is verbally acknowledging that he among one of her many passions.

She wants to ask what particular line of work that is, beyond from what she’s gathered is some amount of disregard for academia. But then she’s distracted by his last comment, and, well, potentially difficult conversations about problematic parents can wait in favor of seeing if she can get Bo to blush the color of a ripe pumpkin again. “My passion for Laeral Silverhand?” she asks with an arched eyebrow and a grin. “Is that what you find attractive about me? Why Bo, here I thought you were a Spellplague specialist. Or maybe it’s more the passion than the topic?” she muses, thoughtfully twirling another bite of pasta around her fork.

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1

Steffi 🍄 [Tavs:Mushroom Mob]

.mushrooming

🎃

Close

"Hmm, sometimes having family in the same line of work would make it less appealing, I bet," he says after another sip of wine. "I certainly did not have any interest in my father's line of work." He follows suit, taking a bite of the duck. Yep, Helaena always seems to make the right call when it comes to food. "I'm glad you are were you are, or we might not have met otherwise. As a law student, you'd be in the Silverquill house, after all." Well, his ex-situationship was in Silverquill, so that actually might not matter, but still. "But a woman whose eyes light up at the mention of Laerel Silverhand was just destined to study history. Your passion has always been attractive to me, really."

”It’s a shame I’d have been bored to death, law is somehow drier than Netherese history,” she jokes. “My sister and dad are lawyers, so…” Symon had been paving his own path well before he made it to Strixhaven, but Helaena had played it safe with an undergrad that gave access to most of the graduate degrees in the humanities and social sciences. “I decided on history and arcane studies in the end,” she concludes with a smile as she reaches for a bite of the duck and potato gratin. Mmmm. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’d have done well with the law. I prefer burying myself in a pile of archive texts in the library to massaging egos or, gods forbid, speaking in front of a judge. I’ll leave that to my sister, thank you.”

When he takes the bite, his tail thumps between the the legs of his chair. He has to hold back a snicker as he chews. “A lawyer?” he chokes out after a swallow. “Miss Helaena Cresswell, attorney at law?” Now, his mind is imagining Helaena arguing her case in a courtroom while wearing a pantsuit, glasses, and tight bun. He starts to laugh. “I can definitely see it. You’d be a menace. An adorable little menace. Those crusty old lawyers would definitely underestimate you. And then… BAM. Counterpoint after counterpoint.”

Helaena fills her fork with a perfect mouthful of sauce-drenched pasta, topped off with a rich, fragrant grilled shrimp that she even shells for him. "There's a reason I considered law school," she counters as she extends the fork within his reach, grinning shamelessly. "I always was too stubborn to quit."

Even if Helaena doesn't have a tail, Bo's wags for the two of them, anyways. It swings faster in response to her enthusiasm, to the way her eyes light up even before the cover comes off. "You always argue you case well," he says with a smile. Without thinking, he leans forward and opens his mouth slightly. -# I don't claim him.

She wants to protest she doesn't need an easy trail... But maybe she does for her to actually enjoy it instead of it being a deeply uncomfortable and mortifying experience for everyone (her) involved. Sure, she could cheat with magic, but that seems unfair, doesn't it? ... She would if it was to see a specific place she couldn't otherwise, though. Screw it. Magic exists to make life easier, etc. She's about to ask what he means about just this, they're simply drinking wine and waiting for their dinner, nothing that can't be interrupted with a quick bout of moogling, but then their dinner is here, and the scent of garlic-fried shrimp makes her drool a little. Helaena Cresswell is a simple woman. And she really like a good shrimp scampi. If she had a tail, it would wag too. "Oh my gods, I need that in my mouth immediately," she declares before they've even removed the last plate cover, immediately pulling the shrimp over. "Mmm mm mmmmm, it's still just as good as I remember," she declares two bites in. "Oh, you have to try this."

"Oh, no... that sounds like *torture,*" he fake-groans. "Just holding your hand and looking at historical artifacts or works of art for hours? Makes my skin crawl..." The next image his mind conjures up is one of Helaena lost in thought as she reads a placard, her nose crinkling up in the way it always does when she's focused. He'll have to bring his camera. Candid photos only, of course. Next, he laughs at her little protest. Her hikes were likely much less torturous than his own. The Galena Mountains were not for the faint of heart. But the image he conjures up related to that makes him smile, too. Helaena standing there, clad in an adorable outdoorsy outfit (leggings...) looking out from the top of a mountain with a look of wonder on her face. He definitely needs to bring his camera whenever that happens, too. "This place probably has some nice, easy trails," he finally answers, having spent enough time in Bo's Mind Palace. "It would be nice to take a walk with you, since you said you didn't mind. I'll do some research on that later. Tonight, however, is dedicated to just *this.*" He takes another long sip of his wine when there's a knock on the door. His tail starts to wag at the smell of the food that wafts in from the gap underneath the door.

"Hmm, yes, definitely museums. I want to take you to every single one within portal range, which is a lot of museums." Still, it's not like she'd mind that. She really likes museums. "I've gone hiking before," she protests at his words he can't imagine her hiking. "It's not always equally _enjoyable_, especially if the weather's poor or there's a lot of bugs. I prefer biking, personally, for exercise, but I can do it." She's not very fond of exercise, and she's certainly not as active as Bo is, but she does do it. "I'm not a fantastic skater though," she warns. "And it's been a while. So hiking might reduce the chances of my ass getting bruised for the least fun reason possible."

He briefly imagines Helaena doing each of those suggested activates, the imagery spanning from peaceful walks in the snow or amongst works of art, to the panic-inducing idea of having to spend several nights in the hospital because of an ill-fated ski accident. Or worse. Oh, stop that, brain. Don't ruin this. "All better things to spend your money on," he agrees. "A museum trip sounds like a dream. It's hard to imagine you hiking, but that would be enjoyable to me, too. But you know? I've never actually skated before. That might be fun to try." It's certainly less risky than skiing. Plus, the image of Helaena dancing around on the ice is a pleasant one that makes him hum to himself. Maybe she wouldn't be "dancing," but that's how he would see it, even if all she did was trip over herself.

"You know me, always planning ahead," she jokes lightly. It's a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing when she's the one who has a napkin when someone sneezes or a spare toothbrush for a surprise guest, it's a curse when she has to bring a Bag of Holding on a three-day trip to fit all of the what-ifs her brain won't let her leave behind. Still, this was a pleasant bit of foresight, done in the hope of a nice night in like this. It made her smile to stock up on slightly indulgent snack foods they could enjoy together, a wine she hoped he'd like. "I'd rather spend the money on another dessert," she admits. "Or a museum ticket. Orrrrr a ski rental, hmm, no, bad idea, I'd prefer not to break my legs, skates then, maybe, or snowboots if you'd like to go hiking. Honestly, I'm open to almost anything if it's with you," she tells him, her voice teasing but the words genuine.

After the cheer, he takes a nice, long sip from his own glass. "Mm, that is good," he hums with satisfaction. "Bless the gods that you had the foresight to smuggle in your own wine so that our budgets could live to see another day." Something about being with Helaena makes the normally frugal Bo somewhat fast and loose with his money. She makes him want to indulge. He was really about to buy some overpriced wine without too much of a second thought, just because he was so elated by the idea of spending the rest of the night pleasantly wine drunk in a lovely hotel room. He couldn't put a price on that. Ramen for the rest of the tenday would have been worth it.

”Oh, fine,” she concedes, but only because she really wants both duck AND shrimp and he’s handing her the chance to on a silver platter. They’d been coworkers and costudents even before they were friends, so Helaena’s well familiar with his professor voice. She quite likes it. The steady drone of it is comforting to her, even if she’s read the same student evals calling it sleep inducing and has helped him make his lectures a bit more lively. She raises her own glass with a smile, gently clinking it against his. “To a thousand more nights of being lazy and ordering in because we can’t be arsed to cook,” she counters cheekily.

“We can order my picks tomorrow,” he smiles, calling in their dinner with his way-too-serious professor voice. “There. Now, I think it’s time for a toast.” He raises his glass, swirling it a bit before holding it out towards Helaena’s. “To eating wonderful meals together for the rest of our lives.”

”I can’t let you give up your crab cakes and ribeye!” she protests. “That’s not sharing fairly.” Still, they’ll be here for a few days more… They could conceivably have the ribeye and the crab cakes tomorrow. Ohhh, decisions are difficult… “Grab an order of that almond cake too,” she finally says. “With ice cream.” Helaena Cresswell is, and always will be, a slut for dessert.

“Helaaaaena,” he whines sort of pathetically. “You’re making this decision way too hard.” It’s been a while since he had some good pasta. Is he really going to abandon his two original choices in favor of his girlfriend’s? Of course he is. “Alright. Roast duck and shrimp scampi. Anything else?” he asks, the old school corded phone already in his hands. Seeing that dry red in the glass makes his tail wag happily underneath his seat.

”Oh, we can’t disregard the value of a good potato au gratin,” Helaena agrees as she pours them both a glass of wine, the white chilled with a quick cantrip. They’re both screw tops, no opener needed. Student budget. “The shrimp scampi is a pasta though. And I happen to remember this place makes excellent pasta.” She sips at her wine with a happy little hum. She doesn’t care if liking semi-dry whites only adds to that grandma status she has going on, she just does.

His eyes widen in interest, and then he grins. “Helaena… what a brilliant mind you have. I could totally kiss you right now,” he compliments. “And yes, Cormyr has the perfect climate for Malbec grapes. No other country makes it better.” It’s adorable how Helaena had to look around as if she smuggled some contraband into their room. He’s pretty sure the hotel allows guests to BYOB. There’s even some wine glasses by the minibar (with snacks that he will not be touching, because ain’t no one got that money). “So, we are definitely getting crab cakes. But as for the second dish… hmm.” He looks back at the roast duck. Seems like it comes with a potato gratin. The ribeye comes with asparagus. “I’m actually thinking the roast duck, and mostly because of the potatoes…”

Helaena glances to one side, then the other, then as if she’s doing something wrong, pulls two bottles of wine out of her bag, that may or may not be slightly magically enhanced. “You like Cormyrian Malbecs, right?” It’s cheaper than room service, was her reasoning. Or she just wanted to get a bit tipsy with her boyfriend without having to interact with another person or leave their room. “I know it’s considered a bit… uncouth, but student budgets and all that. And yes, sharing sounds fantastic.” She’s fine not sharing wine, though. She’ll keep her Luskan Pinot Grigio all to herself, thank you.

“Doesn’t have to be now,” he shrugs. “I can wait if you’re not starving yet.” Shrimp scampi sounds amazing, too… curse my limited budget. “We might have to do that thing again, then. You know, just share so we don’t have to commit to a single dish,” he says while putting the menu down. When he does, the wine list printed on the back is facing upwards. “Wine? Now that is tempting…”

Helaena looks up from rifling through her bag for one of the multiple books she brought. Yes, she has a Weave-Reader, but it’s not the _same_. “Hmm, I was torn between the roast duck and the shrimp scampi. The crab cakes do look good too, though.” She smiles at the very grandfatherly image he’s cutting in his argyle cardigan with his glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He’ll probably be so handsome when he starts to turn grey. Wait, where did that come from? “Are you hungry now? I could eat.” He’s seemingly always hungry. There’s a reason she’s upped her snack game, always carrying at least one bag of nuts or jerky or gummy bears in her purse. Between his high activity levels and the tiefling metabolism he burns calories without trying.

Strixhaven spares no expense for their students. Boletus and Helaena have gotten a modestly-sized couple’s room, complete with a king bed, a full sized bathtub, and a surprisingly comfortable sofa situated in front of a small fireplace fueled by magic. Bo sits at the table located in the corner of the room, studying the room service menu even though he decided what he wanted the day before. With the way he has his ankle resting on his knee, he sort of looks like a dad reading the morning paper. “I know I said I wanted the bone in ribeye, but… gods. The crab cakes are calling my name, too…” The ribeye would be more food, though. “What were you going to get?”

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“Love you, too.” The head scritches continue until right up until Helaena is asleep, keeping his arm prisoner for an indeterminate amount of time. Thank goodness he got his head out of his ass enough to embrace his magic again. Mage hands shovel popcorn into his mouth, turn on that Moonstars documentary, and take over Helaena-head-massage duty, all while he simply lays there and enjoys his own personal paradise.

"Watched it already," she admits in a mumble. "Just wanted to watch it with _you._" She could have been a consultant for this. Probably. She's been asked for fact checking on publications a couple times, it's not completely outside the realm of possibility. Laeral's life just runs a little later than her usual period of study of the Netherese Empire and its survivor states. Well, the last revival attempt did run during her life, but she's too tired to think of that right now. Still, Laeral Silverhand's a personal interest of hers. She'd have accepted in a heartbeat. It would have been an honor. "And I put the math in a spreadsheet. Can send you the link. Was almost even before dinner last night." She makes a happy little sound as Bo continues to gently scritch-scratch at her scalp. It's so nice to know she doesn't have to go anywhere. Do anything. She can just... Be. Be happy, be in love, be comfortable, take a nap just because she wants to. "Love you," she mumbles. She's asleep well before the end credits roll.

1

Steffi 🍄 [Tavs:Mushroom Mob]

.mushrooming

Close

“Hmm. I would like to see this math of yours,” he demands. Lightheartedly, of course. Because if there’s any significant disparity… “Fighting about bills is inevitable, I think. But we can save it for later, since you seem about as susceptible for a good head scratch as I am.” He’s not even sure if Helaena is still on the same plane of existence as him, judging by her blissed out face. When he’s called a “weirdo” in the most affectionate way possible, his tail slaps her lightly on the back of her leg. “We might have to rewatch this,” he jests. “Or not. You probably could have been a consultant for this movie.” The head scratches continue, just because he likes the way her hair feels through his fingers. “You can fall asleep if you want. I’ve got nothing but you planned for today.” He’s has books to read, other documentaries to watch… Bo is a very exciting guy.

"Hmmm?" She barely hears him. She is in one layer of the heavens or another, utterly lost in the sauce of being petted like a spoiled lapdog. It's lovely. "Food? Oh, it's fine, it evens out," she insists with a sleepy little hum. "Did the math. Didn't wanna fight about splitting bills." It's lucky she's pretty well versed in the life of Laeral Silverhand or she'd struggle to keep up with the plot, utterly comfortable and lazy as she is, just on the edge of dozing. "Don't have to earn marshmallows. You can have all the marshmallows you want... weirdo." The word is said with deep affection. She's thrilled to have another set of preferences and quirks to consider on a daily basis now, because it means she's sharing her life with another person, if not de jure then de facto. It would be really nice for it to be official, though. She'll send that tenant's association an email in the morning. She'd say later that day, but the drag of staying exactly where she is is strong.

He silently rolls his eyes in protest. Seems like he’s in denial. It’s because it’s his father’s same laugh. “Oh, I feel like I might need to do something extra to earn those beloved marshmallows,” he chuckles. “Something like…” From how she’s cuddled up to him, all he can really think to do is reach over with his free arm and gently massage the top of Helaena’s head, claws gently scratching against her scalp. “… this. And I don’t use that many marshmallows.” He laughs at that. He absolutely knows he goes wild with them. There’s just something about marshmallows… maybe it’s the fact that they’re made out of gelatin, which is made out of animal-derived collagen. Or he just likes the taste. He has a sweet tooth that’s atypical of a lot of tieflings. “But you know, I do eat a lot of your food. I feel sort of bad about that…”

"You absolutely have the same laugh. That deep, happy belly laugh. It's adorable." If her weight relaxes him, the gentle pressure of his arms around her feels like home. It's not a place anymore, it hasn't been, really, not since she left her childhood home. It's a person. It's this. A steady heartbeat under her ear, the soft cotton of his shirt, washed with her detergent, a tangle of limbs in the same bed they woke up in, together. Should it be terrifying, how quickly he's become so important to her? Or was it simply a matter of time, as soon as she let herself feel the affection, the love that's been growing in her heart for longer than she likes to admit? It just feels right. It just feels good. It feels like pieces clicking into place, like finally finding someone willing to see the whole of her and loving her not in spite of it, but because of it. Boletus is her home, now. She chuckles and hands him the popcorn. With a peck to the tip of his nose, just because. "Don't worry, babe, you can have any repayment you'd like for the privilege of your dutiful service as a pillow. If you're really lucky, well, I did restock on marshmallows, you seem to use half a bag every time I make hot chocolate," she teases.

He scoffs at that. How dare Helaena make such an observation?! “We do not have the same laugh,” he argues. As far as shared facial features goes, he never gave it much thought, having to spend the majority of his life explaining how it was even possible that the two of them were related by blood. If only Boletus knew that he often slips into that Zales laugh when his guard is down. Now, being constantly used as a pillow by Helaena is not some noble sacrifice. Not by a long shot. There is nothing quite like having someone so adorably small and soft curling up on him like a tiny dog. It’s like she’s on a never ending quest to sap the unlimited heat from his core. The weight of her body on his relaxes him like nothing else. It’s as if that weight smothers all of the lingering thoughts in his head that serve him no purpose. “A fair trade,” he replies in a dignified sort of way, offering out one well-toned arm for her to destroy with the weight of her head as she pleases. “Now, I expect my payment in full.” The biopic seems to be using this older version of Lady Silverhand to recount the memories of her youth under the guise of an interview. A simple, yet effective setup- one that allows her to narrate the events as they happen on screen. This is probably the best Ninthday of his entire life.

”You have the same laugh, you know,” she muses as she finally pulls up the movie they agreed to watch. “Something in the nose and jaw, too.” She already knew Otidea was his sister when she saw them together, but the familial resemblance isn’t hard for her to see at all, tusks and horns aside. Her grin is shameless as she happily snuggles into the firm-soft chest of her favorite body pillow. “I’ll freely admit I’m happy with any position where you have your arms around me, but I am very fond of using you as a pillow. You’re my favorite pillow by far.” No other pillows are this warm, or smell like woodsmoke, or have hair that smells just a bit like her favored citrus after he used her shower. The opening credits begin to roll, a close up of Helen Mirren’s face as an aging Laeral starting the movie proper. “And this is where I offer to get you fresh supplies of popcorn in exchange for the at least one limb I’m about to leave completely numb,” she quips.

His tail fully wraps around her waist with a gentle squeeze. “Now that sounds useful,” he teases. “It’s really hard to ask my sister these questions because she just barks a laugh at me. At least you don’t judge me for my ignorance.” If he has to hear that “bahaha” one more time… “Well, enough teasing you for being vertically challenged. I’m going to get comfortable now. You know, make myself a suitable living body pillow for you.” So he lies down flat on his back, an arm behind his head to prop him up just a bit.

"It's exactly what it sounds like, love. Someone very short." She cuddles shamelessly into one of those lovely broad shoulders. She doesn't even have to lower her head to do so. Standing up, the top of her head just barely reaches his collarbone. Tall. Or she's just unusually short, but she doesn't like to consider that too deeply. "Ooooh, you're hired on the spot, darling. I'll call on you the next time the grocery store gets uppity and puts the good yoghurt too high." She grins up at him, then ducks in for a brief, teasing kiss. Just because she can. "Maybe I can, I don't know, crawl into narrow spaces in return. Or explain some of that newfangled slang all the youngsters keep making up."

“A shortstack? What is that?” he asks innocently. “Another slang term I’m not aware of? How does anyone keep up with all of this?” Perhaps if he didn’t have a weird amount of knowledge about fighter planes and the architecture of 14th century Cormyr, he might be able to know all of these words. He leans down (since he has to) to speak directly into her ear, his tail curled around her body. “So, does that mean I get the job? Your personal Tall? I would be happy to be at your beck and call should someone tall ever block your view, or if something is on a shelf too high for you to reach.” He is not half joking. He is wholly serious.

"Gods, is it dumb I love you even more for it?" she wonders as she grabs a handful of popcorn and nods at the Unseen Servant in gratitude. "Bo, I've spent a solid decade disappointed I am firmly a shortstack. I somehow never considered that the solution was acquiring a tall person to reach things from the high shelves for me." She grins as she waves her hand, indicating their height disparity even sitting down. Boletus is just... large. Yes, he's relatively tall, but it never ceases to amaze her how broad he is. Broad shoulders, broad hands, giant feet. Where she was made in soft curves, seemingly not a single part of her free of excess fat, Boletus is a creature of firm muscle covered in ridged cartilage. The contrast is stark when you compare them directly. "Are you applying for the job? My own, personal Tall? Gods, how much easier won't that make my life..." She's only halfway joking. Magic can do a lot, but if she's exhausted and just wants the damn granola someone put on top of the fridge, even a mage hand is a lot of effort.

He’s still on top of her, but he’s pulled back a bit, propping himself up on his arms. “Your eyes…” he mutters in awe. “Your eyes flash with some sort of light when you cast. It’s so beautiful…” But it was so brief. Like lightning. It doesn’t stay long enough for me to truly appreciate it. He climbs off of her and sits on the bed once the servant is back with snacks, because of course he does. Cue the tail thumping. “Hey, I try to be conscious about it,” he counters. “It’s why I’m usually in the back at concerts and such.” He starts to laugh when he imagines Helaena being height-blocked at a movie theater. “Love, you know… you never have to worry about that ever again. That’s because I’ll let you sit on my shoulders or… I’ll pick you up. I’ll be your personal step stool, even.” He would happily block someone’s view to make hers better. Someone’s got to look after the shorties, after all.

Helaena laughs into the kiss, messy and excited and flavored with bacon and tea and syrup. Her breath is a little heavy as he withdraws, too, but she just grins up at him, happy and in love and light as a feather. “Popcorn it is,” she agrees. “And never be sorry for wanting to kiss me. I want to kiss you most of the time, too.” She kisses him again, more a gentle press of lips than anything else, just because she wants to. Just because she can. Her eyes flash with a bright light for a split second as she directs the Unseen Servant to make them popcorn. And to bring a few other snacks from her stash. And more tea. No such thing as too much tea. “I do like popcorn, but I like it even better when I don’t have to sit in a dark, cramped movie theater filled with people whispering with someone as tall as you in the seat in front of me to enjoy them,” she jokes. Movie theaters are not designed with height disparities in mind. A true tragedy for the vertically challenged.

They literally just ate, but Helaena is already thinking about snacks. It makes Bo want to kiss her, and they’re in her room with the door closed, so what’s stopping him? He quite literally knocks the phone out of her hand from the force of his approach as Helaena is pushed onto her back, his kiss is impulsive and messy in a way that’s quite unlike him. The syrup still on her lips makes him linger longer than he plans. His tongue makes a few sweeps across her bottom lip just to indulge in that sweetness he didn’t know he was already missing. “Sorry. I think that was me saying I agree with you,” he pants. “Popcorn is a wonderful idea. It’s the perfect movie snack for a reason!” With the way he’s on top of her, tail wagging happily in the air, he embodies all of the energy of a giant, excitable dog.

”We can watch as many documentaries as you want, but if I get too comfortable I might fall asleep,” she warns with a laugh. Doing the dishes herself would take far too long, so she sets the Unseen Servant to doing it while she tugs Boletus by the hand back towards her room. She’s well aware he’s never wholly comfortable in the shared spaces of the suite, one ear always turned towards the possibility of one of her roommates showing up, even briefly. It’s better in her room, especially after he spent the night there the first few times, but still. Another argument for living together in her book. A space they only have to share with others when they choose to, with warning, sounds wonderful to her. She sits down on her bed, scrolling through her phone for the right movie so she can project it onto the wall. Oh, the wonders of magic… “Oh shoot, should I have brought snacks?” she wonders out loud. “I do have some popcorn somewhere, I think… Or we could make more tea.”

“Oh!” His tail starts to wag excitedly. “I wanted to watch that, but the start of the semester is always such a busy time, but we’ve got all day! I’d love to watch it with you.” How lucky is he? He munches on his bacon at lightning speed, because if breakfast is over, that means the next phase of the day can begin: a riveting cuddle session with a woman who matches his nerd freak. “There’s also a documentary on the Moonstars… maybe we can watch that one after? It’d be relevant!” Wag, wag, wag…

”I love you too. And I can’t promise not to worry, but I will try to talk about it. I can do that.” Her smile is soft, but no less genuine for it. It means the world to her that he cares to listen. That his instinct is to reassure her instead of dismissing her concerns or even belittling them. She bursts into laughter at the words Netflix and chill leaving the mouth of Boletus Zales. Gods, she loves this utter grandpa of a man. “That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest, my love. But yes, curling up and watching a movie sounds perfect. Did you see that biopic of Laeral Silverhand got released to streaming? The one that won like, half a dozen Oscars?” He might not be beating the grandpa allegations, but she’s at least as bad as he is. Her idea of a pleasant day off is watching a 3-hour long movie about the Witch-Queen of the North, one of the most controversial figures of her (unnaturally extended) time. Especially if it means she can return to her state of being as a “cute little limpet” clinging to her boyfriend.

He is happy to repeat this phrase as often as she needs to hear it. “You could never be too much for me.” He’s not even surprised to hear that she’s thought about it, too. “I don’t expect you to ever stop worrying, but you know I’m always happy to talk about these things, right? I am very committed to you… or maybe I should just say that I love you. They sort of mean the same thing.” With his waffle destruction over, he moves on to snacking on perfectly hot and crispy bacon. “So, ‘Netflix and chill’ after this? Kidding, kidding…” he chuckles. “I just found out what that phrase meant like… a few months ago. I’m not beating those grandpa allegations.”

If she had a tail, it would be wrapped around his ankle, hugging him in a gentle reassurance. Instead, she returns his smile and reaches over to squeeze his hand. “It makes a lot of sense,” she agrees. “And I won’t deny more end-of-tenday mornings cuddling in the kitchen making breakfast isn’t part of the draw.” Lazy afternoons curled up on the couch, quiet evenings where they’re both too tired to do much but zone out watching a documentary, a grocery list with an unholy amount of bacon next to her preferred brand of yoghurt. “And don’t be sorry for bringing it up. It’s been on my mind, too, I was just getting in my head about it being too soon or too much. So thank you for saying it.” She squeezes his hand again before returning to her waffles. She left the stasis spell on them, so they’re still scorching hot and perfectly crisp. Perfection. “I think I just… still worry. I’m not sure I’ll ever stop. But talking about it helps, it really does.”

That wall comes down just a little, and his face starts to look more like Helaena’s. He can only look at her with love behind his gaze, his tail wrapping around his own leg just because it wants to hold something. It doesn’t go away even as he shoves an obnoxious amount of food in his face.

Mark your calendars. Helaena Cresswell is actually distracted from her food, at least for a few moments, to give her boyfriend an utterly besotted look. Yes, he’s making a very practical and logical argument for it. But this is still Bo, the sweetest man in the world, whom she loves more than anything, saying he wants to live with her. She’s been informed she’s not too terrible a roommate, but there’s a big difference between a roommate and cohabitation. Living together is… a million tiny arguments over nothing, his books and hers mixing together until they forget who originally owned which ones, a bag of bugs for Dauneth next to a kong filled with tuna for Ros in the freezer, trading off him doing the dishes for her doing the shopping. A life together. It’s not something she’s ever had before. It’s not something she’s ever wanted before. She’s always cherished her space, her alone time. She likes being alone together with Bo. “I’d like that a lot,” she finally says. “I, uh, I tend to save money regardless, but yes. I’d like that. I can make a few inquiries, I might be able to get on a wait list for the same tenant’s association my Gran lives in, they have a few different buildings around the edge of campus.”

“Of course,” he says without hesitation. “It would be easier than taking turns sharing dorm rooms.” Bo kept his same exact dorm from his second year onwards- a single room with a shared bathroom- only because his nightmares had made having a roommate difficult. He never saw a need to move off campus much for the same reasons as Helaena had: too much space for a single person. He always had his lonely privacy here. But now? He finally wants to share that privacy with someone else. Moving in together is not something he is considering “moving too fast.” A big decision, sure, but a logical conclusion reached after months and months seeing each other almost every day. “It’s something I’m very open to. Maybe we can look into it soon? Tour places, do research, save money… that kind of thing.” He shovels another pile of waffles into his mouth.

She almost chokes on her tea as he casually mentions something she’s been considering but thought was far too soon to bring up. Still, that tracks for them, no? Months before the first kiss, sharing a bed the same night, sleeping together almost every night well before they slept together. Hells, they saw each other almost every day well before they even dated. Their emotional and physical intimacy has always moved faster than their sexual intimacy. “Uh, yes,” she manages after a second and a too-hard gulp. “Yes, it would be really nice. The suite is a lot nicer than a regular dorm, but… I’ve considered getting a flat off-campus before.” It just felt like too much space for one person. She worries she’d get lonely, with just her and Ros there. And then travel time and costs put her off it entirely. Plus, she loves her suitemates. But, well, if the alternative is a place for just her and Bo, well… “Is that something you’d want? Eventually? Living together, I mean. Sharing a space more permanently.”

His tail slaps against his seat excitedly as he digs right into his syrup with waffles mixed in. “Mmmf, you should be ecstatic,” he says with a muffled voice, table manners be damned. “This is exactly want I needed.” All decorum goes out the window once food is involved. And it’s food he and Helaena made together. “It’d be nice if we lived together,” he mentions offhandedly. “Imagine what we could do in our very own kitchen…” …. Without the vague anxiety of having to interact with suitemates, even if it’s only happened a few times and they were all really nice. He’s just shy outside of his academia persona.

”Okay,” is all she says. Giving him grace about things he’d rather not discuss is the least she could do. It’s not as if she’s told him every part of her past or history, either. Especially not the ugliest parts. No one needs to hear of those. She struggles to talk to them even with her therapist. She whines playfully at his acknowledgement of the fact it will be difficult to have breakfast still wrapped around each other like this. “Oh, fine, but only because you called me cute,” she teases. When she lets go it’s with one more fond squeeze around his middle. If she had a tail it would be wagging in excitement too as she plates up her first waffle and drizzles it with a healthy coating of syrup. She makes a conscious effort to hold back the sound she wants to make as the taste of the crisp, buttery waffle coated in almost-too-sweet syrup hits her tongue. She washes it down with a gulp of tea instead. “Should I be happy I made a double portion?” she teases as Bo sits down across from her. “Or did I make too few?”

Strangest? It’s not strange for him to talk about, he thinks. It’s just sad, and he figures he spends enough time being sad about things he can’t control, so there is no point in dwelling on them when happiness is right in front of him. Or rather, behind him. “I would rather not talk about it. Thank you,” he replies sincerely. Bo is always thankful for the outs he is given. He just needs more time. Or maybe there will never be a time, because he still doesn’t see the point in sharing the more upsetting aspects of his childhood. He watches the blob of magic work, relishing in the last few moments of the feeling of Helaena behind him before they’ll have to break apart to eat. At least after they eat, there’s nothing or no one that can stop them for indulging in each other’s embrace. “Love, I will be happy to hold you to your heart’s content after breakfast. But for now, you’ll have to stop being a cute little limpet.”

”Your fire spells do feel different,” she muses. “More… instinctual.” The small flame he’d produced to keep her warm the night of the winter formal had felt as if it was drawn from the very core of his being. The same way her storm spells feel. Right, in a strange way. It’s difficult for her to put into words. “It’s hardly the strangest thing we’ve discussed over breakfast,” she counters. She presses a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades, through the soft cotton of his shirt before continuing. “But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She has a million questions. If his mother first made him interested, did said interest stop when she passed? Is embracing magic another thing he allows Otidea, but not himself? But they can wait. They have all the time in the world. She smiles at the way his tail wags in anticipation of the food, the fluffy tip occasionally smacking against her calves. A spell muttered under her breath ensures she can cling to him for a bit longer, as the Unseen Servant makes tea and sets the table. Magic to her is, well, magic, a source of wonder and awe even in its most mundane applications. She can’t imagine living without it.

“It’s okay. I pull it from the Weave, like most wizards,” he begins to explain, tail barely swishing back and forth. “Except for my fire spells- that’s from my heritage. My mother sparked my interest in it, but…” He shrugs, adding another waffle to the rack. Helaena’s instinctual use of magic always fascinated him. Maybe he would have pursued magic further if he were allowed, but it was enough for him that Otidea got the chance he never could. “Sorry, this is a heavy subject for breakfast. I’m just happy to be able to use it again without…” Feeling ashamed. Feeling weak. Feeling like less of a man. Instead of finishing his sentence, he pours the last of the batter into the iron. “Ah, the finish line is in sight!”

She hums happily as her arms tighten a little around his waist. His chest is too broad for her hands to easily meet. Her frown at his words is hidden in his t-shirt. "Gods, Bo, I hadn't realized. I thought... Well, I could feel your magic? It feels different than a sorcerer or a wizard, but... I could tell it was there, I just wasn't sure of the source. It's hardly an exact science. You mostly just feel like _fire._" A product of his fiendish heritage? His personality? Pure chance? To her, it's as much a part of him as the shape of his horns or his preference for comfortable knitwear. It just is. Her grasp of her _magic radar_, or whatever you'd call it, is more instinctual than anything anyway. Like a tingle in the back of her head, a knowledge that this person can touch the Weave, too. "I suppose I thought you just preferred not to use it in public. Or maybe that you had a largely untrained Source of some sort. Some people aren't even really aware of it. But then you started using it around me, and..." I thought it meant you trusted me. "I'm sorry your father felt that way. It should be obvious that, well... I never really had the option of a viewpoint like that, even if I had been exposed to it as a child. I use magic without thinking, the trouble is just ensuring it's channelled in actual, controlled spells instead of... a mess." She winces at the thought of the surges of magic her childish tantrums or teenaged meltdowns had caused. It was fortunate her Gran had been able to put a lid on it, so to speak, whenever necessary, as a powerful wizard herself.

There are only a few situations where Bo would actually mind Helaena’s clinginess. Now is not one of those times. “I will. But right now, I want the same thing as you. To be close.” He glances over at the bacon, a faintly seen field of magic surrounding it. “I still need to get used to that,” he remarks. “Using magic all the time like that. I hadn’t used mine until we started dating, actually. That time you were having a bad day… it was the first time I had used it in *years*.” With another waffle done, he uses a mage hand to place it onto the rack that’s just a bit out of his reach, so that neither he nor Helaena has to move. “My dad had very narrow-minded view about it…” he says quietly, pouring more batter onto the buttered pan. “A shame.”

”Hmm? Oh, the bacon. I put a spell on it so it won’t get cold,” she promises. She’s still just… hugging him, a gentle cuddle with no purpose but closeness. It’s doubtful she’ll ever get tired of being close to him. “Tell me if I’m being too clingy, okay? I just… really want to be close to you right now.” It’s progress. Just a month before she’d have apologized for being clingy in advance. Maybe it’s okay to want something and express it. Maybe it’s okay to be a bit much sometimes. Maybe it’s okay to ask for communication instead of apologizing in advance. She doesn’t mind when Bo wakes up wrapped around her like he’s trying to completely envelop her body in his own. She doesn’t mind when his tail constantly strays towards her waist, her legs, her wrists, whichever part of her is closest. Maybe it’s okay, because he’s a little clingy, too.

The very end of his tail smacks itself between the open space between Helaena’s ankles from the contact. “A little less than half of what we started with, I think,” he answers without tearing his eyes away from The Iron. Thankfully he has had his entire life to practice being patient, because not only does he have to make every waffle one by one, now there’s bacon. The savory, salty smell only makes his mouth water in a way that might result in him drooling if he wasn’t keeping his mouth so tightly shut. “Gods, that smells way too good…” he mutters.

The dual scents of cooking bacon and waffles begin to fill the kitchen as they stand side by side, watching a pan and an iron, respectively. Her stupid brain still can’t help but take these little moments of wonderful domesticity and run with them. I want a thousand Ninthday mornings with bacon and waffles. I want a space we’re both wholly comfortable in, where we bicker over who used the last of the milk or whose turn it is to empty the dishwasher. It’s barely been a month, and she’s daydreaming about cohabitation. Absurd. Waffle after waffle begins to fill the rimmed baking sheet she set up for the same purpose, avoiding stacking them so they don’t get soft. The bacon’s done around the time there’s a solid dozen. Because magic exists to make life a little easier, she slaps a stasis spell on both to keep them from getting cold. Her arms wrap around Bo’s waist from the back, gently hugging him as he watches a waffle. She just wants to be close to him, today. “How much batter is left?” she asks, her voice soft. If she could in any way reach, her chin would be resting on his shoulder. Pressing her face between his shoulder blades would have to do, instead.

He just tilts his head a bit as he puts the spray away. Spray seems less messier and easier to apply to the iron. Besides, don’t they make butter-flavored spray if taste is an issue? But he knows better than to argue. He reheats pizza in the microwave. He was not going to not ask for more food, but Helaena is offering meat to a tiefling. It’s physically impossible for him to say no. “Sure, thank you! And… you’re right again. Syrup all the way. I probably use an amount that’s concerning to most.” Is there ever a time where she’s wrong…? He thinks the only time Helaena is ever wrong is when she says that she is a horrible, unlovable person. Otherwise? Bo happily adds a bit of batter to the buttered iron and closes it. The first of many… Like a soldier on guard duty, he does not let his gaze stray from the iron. It would just ruin his day if even one waffle got burnt. Not really, because he’s the kind of guy who is willing to eat his mistakes. Many a day was spent eating burnt food when he first attempted to learn how to cook for himself.

”Nuh uh, mister, we use butter there, too. Tastes better,” she explains as she adds a pat of butter to the hot iron. It sizzles just right. “Plus, it’s a handy way of testing when the iron’s ready, you can tell from how fast it melts.” She doesn’t trust the little light. She prefers the evidence of her eyes and ears. For a wizard she really is a bit of a traditionalist in the kitchen. “There, that’s perfect.” If she had a tail it would wag in excitement as the iron closes around the first waffle. “Did you still want bacon? I’ll put the kettle on. And, oh, you strike me as a syrup guy but I’ve got jam if you’d prefer.” She’s still humming along to the music, her hands twirling a little in tune with the melody. There are few things she loves as much as cooking while listening to music.

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll just live in my sweet land of ignorance…” It’s not like an obscene amount of calories matters to him. Muscle mass plus increased body temperature equals one insanely fast metabolism. It takes him a while to answer Helaena’s question, his ears so focused on her unabashed singing. “Oh, uh… it’s on? And hot?” he replies, his hand almost touching the iron to check, which isn’t even necessary because there’s a light on the machine that tells you when it’s hot enough… he did say his brain was on vacation. He shakes a can of cook spray a few times in anticipation.

”Please don’t ask me how much butter I put in this,” Helaena warms as she removes a bowl of melted butter from the microwave. “It’s better not to know.” The hand mixer whirs as she mixes everything together into a thick batter smelling faintly of vanilla. And butter. The song switches as she checks the consistency by lifting the whisk and seeing how the batter drips. Perfect. “_Goodbye, stranger, it’s been nice, Hope you find your paradise, Tried to see your point of view, Hope your dreams will all come true…_” She’s in too damn good a mood to stop herself from singing along, her socked feet tapping in tune with the melody. “How’s the iron looking?” -# https://open.spotify.com/track/67oyFnjJnn78fZP9KjeZx0?si=AM-_nIZxS5OEm-itMhgwRA&context=spotify%3Aplaylist%3A37i9dQZF1DZ06evO2aNAaI

His tail swishes along to the song as he tries to hide a smile on his face. Helaena’s music preferences rival his own when it comes “old person taste”. He really only knows the one Supertramp song, though… Since he’s on iron duty, he goes to plug it in to heat it up, looking over at Helaena mixing the batter like it’s second nature to her. ” Oh, won't you sign up your name? We'd like to feel you're acceptable, Respectable, oh, presentable, a vegetable…” He’s not really listening to the lyrics, instead focusing on the melody. That’s a shame.

-# https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=low6Coqrw9Y

She laughs at the sight of him losing any sense of decorum the moment food is within reach. "Help yourself, there's plenty of food," she teases, gently bumping him with her hip on the way to the pantry. "I think Rhi and Archie had some plans that involved hiking boots, some sort of waterfall. I don't know about the rest, though." Maybe she should make thirty just in case Meadhbh comes out and has the munchies... The satyr has been very fond of waffles lately. Eh, she can be selfish, for once. She'll leave them any leftovers, but she doubts there'll be many. She turns on some music as she begins to whip up a double portion of batter. She really does have the musical taste of a woman in her 50s, at minimum... "_When I was young, it seemed life was so wonderful, A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical, And all the birds in the trees, well they'd be singing so happily, Oh joyfully, oh playfully watching me..._" -# https://open.spotify.com/track/6mHOcVtsHLMuesJkswc0GZ?si=b762f9d71cf64905

The growl of his stomach tells him that Helaena is absolutely right. The poor man is, unfortunately, very susceptible to being hangry. So he lets go with only a slight pout. “Okay, I think I can manage if I get some of that salmon as a pre-breakfast snack,” he concedes. Out in the kitchen, he helps himself to the half-empty package, slurping up the fish like some sort of bear. “Mmmf, I hope your suitemates don’t want any. I don’t think I want to share these either.” Bo might just be feeling a bit selfish today.

He absolutely did. The memory of it will be replaying in her dreams for months, most likely. Him being on his knees at the time really added to the experience. "I do have more salmon. I think I have a bit of bacon, too, if you want." So what if her grocery budget's basically doubled, mostly in the sheer amount of eggs Bo eats on a tendaily basis, she loves him and it's worth it. It's severely tempting to summon an Unseen Servant to make them waffles. But they should probably leave her room at least for a bit today, right? Even if only for as long as it takes to make breakfast. She groans in frustration and squeezes his arms where they're wrapped around her middle. "We should probably go make breakfast, love. I know you'll get hungry and then cranky soon."

“… I begged?” Oh, I did. Hoo boy… “Never mind. Um… wait. Stocking your fridge?” What’s left of his brain is trying to come to some sort of conclusion here. Unfortunately, it does not. “For me? You’re the sweetest woman in the world…” he says fondly, tail starting to wag excitedly behind him. “Do you have any more of that salmon, too?” He still hasn’t let go, but he’s going to have to if he wants waffles. What a shame.

She hums happily, leaning into the hug. There’s nothing like being hugged by your very warm, very large, soft-but-firm boyfriend, who smells like an intoxicating mix of his normal woodsmoke-and-pine and her citrus soap. It’s something she could easily grow addicted too. She can’t help but snicker like a 12-year old at his comment about something to eat later. Maybe sex made her a little stupid, too. “I’m sure we’ll find a way to sate even your appetite, love. I have started stocking my fridge for a Bo-sized appetite,” she teases. “And don’t worry, I think mine left the building around the time you begged to eat me out, we’ll make do.” He might have promised to be good. She didn’t.

One man’s “unattractive” is another man’s “utterly adorable.” He can’t help but hug Helaena from behind, tail wrapped around their legs, with his chin resting on top of her head. How can someone feel so nice? There’s nothing like hugging someone soft in an oversized T-shirt. His T-shirt. It still makes his heart pound whenever she puts one of them on. “I think 20 is enough,” he says somewhat seriously. “If it’s not, I’ll have something to eat later…” Gods, what am I saying? Is love making me stupid? “Sorry. I think my brain is officially on vacation today… I’ll try to be a good boy while I’m on iron duty.”

Helaena pulls on soft, comfortable, utterly unattractive pajamas. One of Bo’s shirts, yoga pants and a pair of knitted socks. She’s done feeling self conscious about being fully or partially naked around him. It’s officially nothing he hasn’t seen before, and she loves it. There’s something wonderful about getting dressed together, going about their morning routines in the same space, sharing breakfast. It makes the part of her mind already thinking too far ahead wonder what it might be like to share a space in a more permanent sense. She slides her own glasses onto her face and puts her damp hair in a ponytail to keep it out of the way while she’s in the kitchen. “I just need to know if you’d like me to make more or less than twenty,” she replies to his warning, stretching as languidly as a dog rising from a nap. “The recipe’s for multiples of ten.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he agrees. Maybe he’ll get to see some of that “bossy” Helaena in action… Back in the room that’s staring to feel more and more like his own, clutter and all, he wastes no time getting dressed in his pajamas and one of his T-shirts that had been held hostage. “I hope you realize just how many of these I want,” he warns, putting on his glasses for the day. “Because whatever number you’re thinking of… double it.” He’s only half joking.

”I do have a waffle iron,” she confirms. “Still not beating the granny allegations.” Maybe it’s a good thing if they cook themselves, because she sure as hells won’t let him pay for delivery after the bill from their dinner the night before. It’s sweet that he’s an old fashioned sort, that he wants to look after her, but she’s a grown woman fully capable of paying for her own takeout. But instead of having that out, she’s been quietly feeding him out of her own grocery budget whenever she can. This has the benefit of letting her cook for him, something she loves doing, and her running tally shows the cost to be about even, apart from rare splurges like their dinner date. Boletus eats a lot, especially for breakfast, as she’s found. “I should have everything necessary for a batch of waffles… I’ll whip up the batter if you’re willing to man the iron?” she offers. She’s done with her hair, and he’s just standing there with a dopey smile on his face, so she teleports them both back to her room with a quick spell. She’s not planning on wearing real clothes today if she can avoid it, but she’s not going to spend the day in a towel.

“Waffles…” he repeats like he’s under a spell. “Waffles. Yes. Brilliant idea. I could really go for those.” You thought his appetite was big? It’s even worse after he’s had sex. “Do you have a waffle iron? I’m fine with cooking. Because, uh… I want a lot of waffles. If not, I’ll happily order them myself.” He’s silently quite proud of Helaena starting to voice her wants and needs without an “I’m sorry” behind them, as if she were apologizing for existing at all. There is no reason the love of his life should be apologizing for just being herself. He’d spoil her rotten if he had the financial means to do so. But there are a lot of other ways to spoil someone.

She can’t help but watch fondly for a moment as he brushes his teeth with military efficiency and punctuality, always exactly 120 seconds (she’s checked) despite not using any kind of timer. Then she returns to the (tedious) process of untangling her hair before drying it in a microfiber towel and putting in curl cream. She loves her hair, but by the gods does the process take forever at times. He has left everything he needs in her bathroom, and she in turn has a small toiletries kit left in his. It’s nice. It feels more permanent than living out of overnight bags. “Hmm?” she asks from under the cloud of her hair, unbound and seemingly everywhere even still-damp. “Oh, I have a terrible craving for waffles. And I’m feeling horrifically lazy and want to spend the day cuddling with you if I can. So, cooking or delivery?” She’s getting better at stating her desires. Her needs. Even small things like a preferred breakfast or a need for closeness and intimacy after the relationship developments of the past 24 hours. The damage from Augustus won’t heal overnight, but the scar is fading, slowly but surely, only aching on occasion.

He grins into the kiss, the image of a giant Helaena making him want to burst with laughter. But he doesn’t, because all of a sudden, there’s a towel on his head. “Haha. Very funny,” says the towel man. The shape of his horns making a very interesting silhouette. Bo is very methodical when it comes to his he dries off. It’s a simple head to toe ordeal: the very first thing is his hair, followed by his horns. Then his face, neck, chest… et cetera. When he gets to his tail, he spend a few moments towel drying the fluff at the end, and then smooths it out with his fingers so that it doesn’t dry in a weird shape. And then the towel is tied around his waist, where he soon brushes his teeth for exactly two minutes on the dot. He has long since stashed a toothbrush with Helaena’s things, along with a travel-sized bottle of his moisturizer. Hot-blooded tiefling skin gets rather dry from his persistently elevated body temperature, after all. “So, what are we having for breakfast? Are we cooking? Going out? Delivery…?” Food talk has his tail wagging slowly back and forth.

I don't like to share. He might be blushing, but she definitely is. Finding a bit of possessiveness attractive is probably concerning to feminism, but gods damn it all, it feels good to be wanted. Desired. Loved. It's not like she wants anyone else, either. Her tastes run very monogamous. And, well, the thought of anyone else getting to see Bo like this, happy and relaxed and entirely himself, nude but wholly comfortable in his skin... She might be a little possessive, too. "And it's a good thing you did," she says of his decision to settle for academia. "I'd never have met you across a poker table. Not exactly my kind of scene." She smiles up at him as their usual disparity in height is restored, but her blush deepens as he kisses her forehead. Then she bursts into laughter at the suggestion of her massive boyfriend being anyone's 'little princess.' "Just watch me cast an Enlarge spell and lift you with one hand," she jokes before rising onto her tiptoes to peck him on the lips. She casts a mage hand to turn off the shower and grab their towels without letting go of him, and breaks their kiss by having her mage hand toss a towel at his head, covering him like a terry cloth hood.

“It better be an audience of one, because I don’t like to share.” Maybe he blushes a bit as Helaena compliments the thing he hates most about his tail. It’s hard to tell with all of the steam. “Well, this thing certainly dashed all of the dreams I had about becoming a professional poker player,” he jests. “So I had to settle for academia.” Watching all of the soap drip down Healana’s body, revealing previously hidden skin, it’s definitely an experience he would pay for… or maybe that’s just his NRE showing. His eyes are fixated on her form either way. When Helaena comes at him with that little quip, he slowly stands up with a smirk, his imposing figure towering over here. “Looks like my legs work just fine, love. Maybe you can carry me next time,” he laughs, pressing a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be your little princess.” That last statement was said with the most deadpan delivery as possible.

”Private show, baby,” she teases without missing a beat. “Audience of one.” Not that anyone would ever pay to see her naked, but she’s just joking around. She giggles as his tail smacks her calf. It is cute, and she’s not afraid to tell him so anymore. “Your tail’s bloody adorable, Bo. Especially when you get excited but try to hide it.” Eventually, she rinses off and puts the loofa down, as clean as she can get. “Do your legs work yet or would you like me to carry you?” she offers, smiling at the echo to his own offer.

“I am,” he says confidently. “I have front row tickets to the Helaena Show. I even paid extra so I could get touching privileges…” He shakes his head like he’s a wet dog when that soapy water lands on his cheek. And then his tail swings around to smack the back of her calf, the soaked tuft making a loud smacking sound when it makes contact with her wet skin. “You think it’s cute, so I won’t apologize for that thing anymore.

She’s distracted, wondering if it’s silly to get delivery just because she could really go for waffles, and then he goes and squeezes her ass. The yelp she lets out is more surprised than scandalized, rounding on him with a grin as he sits there looking more than happy to watch her doing something as mundane as washing her legs. “Having fun there, are you?” she asks, flicking a bit of sudsy water in his direction in retaliation.

He stays sitting, heavy tail slapping against the shower floor as he watches what he is considering a personal show. Helaena is insanely gorgeous soaped up. From where he sits, her thighs are just about even with his line of sight. Luscious, soft, very chewable-looking… And then she has to go and turn around, so all he can see is a generous about of soap suds covering and equally generous amount of ass. Some primal man part of his brain demands he reaches out to squeeze… which he does without saying anything. His tail smacks the floor exactly two times as he does this… almost as if it’s saying “Hells yeah.”

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Alvilda (Tav: Helaena+)

alvilda_

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Alvilda (Tav: Helaena+)

alvilda_

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She can’t help but smile at how out of it he seems, lost in a hazy state of relaxation. He deserves it. She wrinkles her nose at his question, though, realizing she very much hasn’t. Distractions have abounded. Sure, she’s soaked to the bone, and her hair doesn’t need washing, she did it yesterday, but she should wash up. She sighs as she picks up the loofa again. “No, I didn’t, sorry, give me just a second.” Getting clean as fast as possible and then getting dry and comfy and maybe set for a cuddle is the goal.

She is so good to me… I love her. After a bit of a delay, his head shoots up in response to the kiss on his forehead and the gentle question, consciousness trying to return back to this mortal plane that his body is still on. “Oh! Yes, I’m done. You’ve done more than enough for me. But… did you wash up? I, uh, I’m not sure if I remember…” How could he? He’s been blissed out for the majority of this shower. Looks like his good memory doesn’t work after two orgasms and a head massage.

She blushes a little at the praise, but she’s mostly just happy to have found another way to make him feel good that doesn’t have to be sexual. As simple as it sounds, she just… wants to look after him. And some days that might be a horn massage. “Don’t fall asleep,” she teases gently. “I would have to use a levitation spell to lift you.” No, she’d teleport him back to her bed and tuck him in. Wrap her body around him and maybe sleep a little more herself. That doesn’t sound half bad. “I’m glad it feels good,” she mumbles as her thumbs rub circles all along the base, noting the skin seems just a little too dry. Should she use a bit of moisturizer the next time she does this? “That’s all I want. For you to feel good. Loved. Because you are.” Eventually, her fingers get tired, and instead of a boyfriend she seems to have a tiefling puddle on the floor of her shower. She presses a fond kiss to his forehead, a part of him she’s rarely able to reach. “Ready to get out of here? I think my fingers got too tired, sorry.”

He lets out what he considers to be an embarrassingly loud, low groan when surprisingly strong hands start to massage the area of his head where his horns sprout out. “Wow. That was a strange noise. Sorry…” A horn massage? Another first for him. Bo concludes that Helaena must have some experience with this, perhaps because of a friend or a previous lover, because the way her hands dance around them, applying a pressure that’s not too much and not too little, is absolutely perfect. Out of everything tiefling-related about him, he has always been grateful his horns were rather small. His mother’s were much larger, and he can remember how sometimes she would headaches. He can even remember that when he was very young, while his horns were still growing in, how she used to rub circles on his forehead to alleviate the growing pains. “This is more than okay,” he sighs. “It’s perfection… you’re way too good at this.” His head hangs just a bit lower, his body so relaxed that his neck is starting to slack off.

”Perfect.” She carefully rinses out every trace of the shampoo before reaching for the bottle of conditioner and working a small amount into the ends. Then she starts to rub her fingers into the base of his horns, her surprisingly strong thumbs keen to work out any tension. Now, Helaena’s no tiefling. But she’s pulled enough horns in her time to realize they’re sensitive, and that tension often builds at the base, where unyielding keratin sprouts from the skull. Bo’s horns aren’t nearly as large as some, there’s not enough weight to cause the kind of strain she’s seen some deal with, but she’s hopeful it will still feel good. “Is this okay?”

Did I die and end up in the heavens? It takes him a while to answer Helaena’s question, because it’s way too easy for him to lose himself in this sort of pleasant sensation. With his eyes closed, he hardly registers that he’s even in the shower. “… oh. I do, yes. Just a little bit at the ends.” His hair is on the finer side as far as texture goes, so it gets greasy very easily. When he opens his eyes briefly, a decently sized chest is staring him in the face. Nice… At some point, he let go of his tail. It smacks against the shower floor a bit.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but with Bo sitting down, she can easily reach his head when kneeling. Maybe not how she’d expected to get on her knees for him the first time, but right now, it’s what they both need. She’s always liked his hair, the soft, dark auburn strands long enough to hit his chin, long enough to be wonderful to play with or run her fingers through. Her hands are gentle and thorough as they work shampoo into every single strand, small, strong fingers rubbing at his scalp in a careful massage. “Do you condition your hair?” she asks, breaking the comfortable silence. It’s probably a good thing they already got rid of the worst of the madness of the morning, or she might be affected by how close his face is to her breasts with her kneeling in front of him like this. She still _is_, but it’s faint enough she can push through. They have all the time in the world. For now, she can just spoil him rotten, because he deserves it.

He knows Helaena would never have been disgusted with his body (clearly…), but there’s still a wave of relief that washes over him as her hands roam over his body in silent appreciation. “I love you too…” he mumbles, his mind stuck in what feels like the world’s most pleasant dream. In response to the offer to wash his hair, his tail jolts in his grasp. “Oh, yes. Th- I mean, I appreciate it.” He decides that sitting down would be easiest for her, tail curved around his body and pinned to the floor with his legs.

”You’re very welcome. But you don’t have to thank me.” She means it. This isn’t a chore for her. It’s a privilege. Her hands explore, gentle and curious, even after the spray of the shower has washed the suds away. He is a beautiful man, but more than that, he’s someone she loves. Every touch is loving, gently learning his body the same way she’s come to know his mind and his heart. “I love you,” she whispers between gentle kisses along the lines of his shoulders and upper back. “So much.” Her hands run over his ribs, his waist, his hips, but stop there. The last thing she wants is to make him feel more desired than loved. That’s not what this is about. “Will you let me wash your hair, love?”

If he had not just came twice, the loofa moving across his abdomen would have gotten him up and raring to go. Instead, it just feels nice. Loving. The longer Helaena does this, the less awkward it feels to just... stand there and let someone wash him. He was never good at being a more passive participant when it came to thinks like this. And then he feels Helaena's body press against his back for a brief moment, soft breasts pillowing against his musculature. Again, he is very happy he is physically unable to get aroused right now. But Helaena is in the Danger Zone, so Bo preemptively grabs his tail, because the last thing he needs is it for that damned thing to kill his girlfriend with a poorly-timed wag. He lets out a long sigh, tension dripping out of his body as that loofa is run all over his back, his wingtips especially enjoying the slight pressure Helaena is applying on his back. He can feel his tail wriggle in his grip. See? It's a good thing he's holding onto it. "That's so nice..." he moans quietly. "Thank you..."

”Did you really just compare yourself to your car?” She can’t stop laughing today, bright, sweet chuckles of pure joy and fondness. Her face twists in a mock scowl at his light hearted teasing about step-stools and levitation spells. “Excuse me, mister, I’ve managed just fine for 23 years with minimal use of step-stools, even if I have occasionally had to climb on a counter to reach a high shelf.” She pokes his ribs playfully as she spreads soap over his abdomen. “… But, yes, if you want me to wash your hair I’ll need you to bend over or to use a levitate spell,” she admits reluctantly. She foregoes washing his legs for now, well aware she doesn’t have the willpower to get on her knees and be normal about it. But she does maneuver around him until she’s facing his back, finally getting a proper look at the musculature and ridges, the lines of broad shoulders leading to a trim waist and an ass she could very likely bounce a silver off. He’s beautiful, but all she does is press a gentle kiss to his shoulder. She doesn’t comment on his vestigial wingtips, a trait she’s seen on other tieflings before, even though they are absurdly endearing. For a moment, she just wraps her arms around him from the back, letting her body press against his. Then, with another gentle kiss to his shoulder, she resumes washing him.

"Huh, I wonder if this is what Pho feels like when I wash her..." He's never had anyone want to do something so... sweet and intimate with him in the shower before, especially after sex. Washing his body? Staring at him with awe, with love? And not just lust? It feels almost as good as the textured loofa rubbing on his skin. "Uh, I mean. Yes. Yes, this feels really nice," he stammers, realizing his prior comment was objectively strange and came out of nowhere. "But, gods. I feel a little bad about my height right now. Maybe you should get a stepstool?" Said washed shoulders shake up and down with genuine laughter. "Or maybe a levitate spell? I know that wizard brain must have a wizard trick in there to make this easier on you."

”Darling, I think you using me as a barbell would end up causing the same problems as sharing a shower,” she teases. She can’t imagine he looks any less enticing slick with sweat and panting with effort, beautiful muscles straining- Horny thoughts later. He does finally put her down, her legs a little stiff but plenty sturdy enough to carry her. It does, however, leave her short enough she has to rise onto her toes to wash his shoulders. “Ugh, I can’t tell if you’re too tall or I’m too short.” He has more or less exactly a full foot on her, and it definitely shows at times like this. Her ridiculous giant tiefling… She loves his body, because she loves him, but her touch as she carefully washes him isn’t sexual, or even desirous. It’s just a display of affection, a tender act of service that doubles as a way for her to explore his body in better lighting. This was what she’d actually planned for this shower, but, well, she’s not ever going to complain about their detour. He might be worse than I am. It’s a lovely thought, to be wanted so badly, even if she knows it’s largely the rush of hormones of a new relationship. She’ll enjoy this sweet madness while it lasts. “Is this okay?” she finally asks as her efforts shift from carefully lathering up his arms to his chest, her eyes curiously rediscovering the ridges she traced with her fingers the night before.

"Then hold you I shall." But now Bo has no idea how he's supposed to get clean (you know, the point of a shower). Maybe he needs to start getting more used to casting his mage hands... ... And now Helaena is trying her best to wash him, even if all she can manage is his upper body. "Oh, uh... I guess this works, for now..." The concentrated source of Helaena's perpetual citrusy scent makes his tail start to wag, the sopping tuft of fur at the end splashing water all over the place. Bo just pretends his tail doesn't exist right now, sort of like ignoring an annoying younger sibling that tries and tries to get your attention. "You know, I might actually have to put you down... shame. I quite like this. Maybe I can take you to the gym and you can be my new barbell? Kidding... I actually like the idea of you washing my back."

She can’t help but smile at the way this man just growled the way he wanted to fuck her right after eating her out so well her brain short circuited and now refers to sexual attraction as “well, you know.” Then she bursts into laughter as he swings her into a bridal carry as easy as breathing, and frankly looks ready to carry her over some threshold or other. “I love you so much, you ridiculous man,” she chuckles before pressing kisses all over his face, thoroughly distracted from the supposed actual purpose of this shower. “Gods, how are you this _sweet?_” His arms are barely straining under her weight, even if his biceps are bulging in a way that makes her want to- Horny thoughts later. “I think my brain’s a bit too scrambled to think in statistical probability right now, so maybe it is best you hold on to me,” she muses, mock serious as she finally reaches for the shower gel she prefers, perhaps predictably gently citrus scented. She squirts a generous amount onto her loofa and works up a good lather. “On the other hand, this position does make it a bit hard for me to wash your back. Hmm, decisions…” She pecks the tip of his nose with a smile and begins to carefully wash the parts of his shoulders and torso she can reach like this.

"Taking turns seems to be the most logical solution," he affirms, his voice and demeanor back to his normal Bo self. "Because I can't do anything about how I look wet and naked. Should I wear clothes in the shower, perhaps?" He tries to suppress a snort of laughter at that particular image. "And I don't trust either of us to behave. I, for one, am only a man. A man who sees a gorgeous, curvy woman and can't help but... well, you know." The weight of said body feels so nice in his arms. He could probably carry her around all day, really... "Wait, you *think*?" he repeats back to her. "What's the likelihood that you'll fall to the floor if I put you down? If it's over 50%, then I'm happy to hold you while you wash up." He pulls her away from the wall, adjusting their position so that he's now holding Helaena in a bridal carry, swaying her back and forth a bit.

”Hmm, two options,” Helaena counters. “One, we shower after so we’re too tired to get frisky. Two… I don’t know, look less gorgeous soaking wet and naked.” She laughs, light as a feather and utterly unserious. She’s too damn happy to worry much about it. “No, option two is take turns. Or learn to behave I suppose.” She kisses him again, slow and indulgent and utterly adoring. Her giggle is muffled against his lips when she realized she’s still pinned against the shower wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. “Bo, love? You can probably put me down now. I think my legs mostly work now.” Probably. If not, she has a very strong, utterly lovely boyfriend to lean on.

"I... I love you... love you too..." he pants. He's exerted much more energy this early in the morning than he has in a long time. Maybe he can skip the gym today. Helaena might only weigh a fraction of what he normally bench presses... but judging by what he said earlier, he could find ways to use her as "workout equipment." "I would absolutely love to do this again, he says with a kiss. Every time he repeats himself, he breaks it up with another gentle kiss. "And again... and again... and again." He starts to laugh a bit once the post-nut clarity hits. "But, uh. Maybe this is a good case as to why we shouldn't shower together, hmm? Unless this is something we specifically plan on doing." Bo doesn't even know how long they've been in here. How on Toril could he ever factor this in to his timed showers during the class/work week!?

He catches her when she falters, because of course he does. She makes an odd sound somewhere between a moan and a squeal as he lifts her as if she weighs nothing at all. It really is ridiculously sexy how strong he is. Fuck, he could probably bench press two of her. His tongue is soaked in the taste of her, the knowledge of why enough to trigger an aftershock that makes her moan into his mouth, clinging to him like an anchor in the storm. Her whimper at the fantasy he describes is muffled against his lips, her pinned to the wall, unable to do anything but cling to him and beg him to keep going, to never stop, to keep her this full forever. She can’t wait, either. Then he groans out his own release against her lips, and she decides she doesn’t care how late it’ll make them, she wants to shower with him every single morning. She’s greedy for his pleasure, greedy for _more_, for the knowledge she’ll get to do this with him over and over, as many times as they want. “I love you,” she breathes as her forehead rests against his while both their heartbeats struggle to slow. “And we’re definitely doing this again.” Maybe with her on her knees next time.

*There’s nothing better than this*, he thinks. There is nothing better than hard work and pure physicality getting the results he wants. He almost wishes there was someone around to hear how good he can make Helaena feel. But his bliss is cut a bit short as her wobbling posture prompts him to spring into action. The arm around the leg over his shoulder tightens its grip, while he quickly withdraws his fingers to hold up the other one she had been standing on this entire time. And soon, he’s standing all the way up, lifting Helaena’s body with him. She’s just as quickly pinned to the shower wall. “You’re incredible,” he moans, his mage hand able to stroke him much easier now that the rest of him is unoccupied. He begins to kiss her, eager to taste how sweet her lips are compared to the rest of her. “One day,” he grunts into her mouth, his mind unable to decide whether he wants to talk or to continue kissing, “I’m going to take you just like this. You’ll be crying out for me just like you were earlier. Fuck, I can’t wait…” Just speaking the fantasy aloud is enough to bring him over the edge, spend covering the shower walls as his magic wrings every last drop it can out of him. A tiny bit of it splashes onto Helaena’s lower back, though neither of them likely know this. His lips don’t leave Helaena’s the entire time as he rides out every wave of pleasure, the hand suddenly disappearing once that wave crashes upon the shore. All he can do afterwards is silently try to catch his breath.

Oh, his fingers feel incredible, the pleasant stretch of even just two of them, the satisfaction of something to bear down on exactly what she needed. “Won’t- won’t take long,” she tries to warn him as he keeps up his steady assault on her clit, her walls clenching down on his fingers as she gets closer and closer with every flick of his tongue. In the overwhelming rush of pleasure, she can’t feel the strain in her hip from her leg resting on his shoulder, she can’t feel the sting of his nails digging into her thigh, she can’t feel the ache in her foot from carrying her full weight on hard, unyielding tile. Her whole world is composed of Bo, the beautiful man she’s fortunate enough to be allowed to love, on his knees worshipping her cunt like she’s a goddess of sin. How is anyone else supposed to compare to this? How will I ever want anyone else? He’s ruined me, and he hasn’t even fucked me yet. Maybe she just won’t. Maybe she’ll hold on to him with both hands, this marvel of a man, refusing to let go, and praise whatever fortune that led her to be lucky enough he loves her, too. “Going to- oh fuck, Bo, _please,_” she cries out as she rocks shamelessly against his face with the leverage of her hands on his horns, chasing her release. Her knee begins to buckle as she moans through her peak, too distracted by how fucking good it feels to come on his tongue with his fingers filling her to worry about things like not falling on her face and cracking her skull open on the tile of the shower. It’s possible her priorities are a tiny bit skewed in the heat of the moment.

No time to worry about how his nails aren’t as short as he typically keeps them. They’re still mostly blunt, and this is an emergency. A decree from high above that he must obey. He dares to take the hand off of her hips and slide two thick fingers into her cunt, the immediate clench of her walls simulated by his mage hand. I need to fuck her so, so badly. Gods, I need her to live. Would she say things like this while he fucks her as he pleases? An array of “don’t stops” and “I love you’s?” ”… would feel so good to be filled by you.” Next time. There’s always a next time. For now, this is exactly what he wants: for them both to be lost in each other, the result of months of trust and bonding to get them to a point where they could both let go in each other’s bodies. It’s quite romantic, despite all of this happening in the shower of a college dorm room.

She can’t see it very well, the angle off and her mind fully occupied with the way he’s eating her out with steady, dogged persistence. But she can feel the spark of magic, recognize the feeling of a mage hand in the Weave surrounding them, hear the moans muffled in her cunt, and fuck if him getting off to pleasuring her like this isn’t stupidly hot. “Oh _hells,_” she whines, pulling harder on his horns without conscious thought. They’re exactly the anchor she needs, and his reassurance it’s pleasurable to him keeps her from feeling bad about her death grip on the smooth keratin. “Gods, Bo, how do you feel this good?” she babbles, utterly lost. “It never felt like this before, fuck, I love you so much, I’m going to come if you don’t- please don’t stop, oh gods please don’t _stop-_” Her voice trails off into a whimper as he licks her like a man possessed, and gets something just right. She’s going to come mortifyingly fast if he keeps this up, especially if… “Fingers,” she groans, perhaps too softly for him to catch. “Fuck, would feel so good to be filled by you…”

That’s what she likes, he thinks, repeating those same motions, mouth and tongue in tandem. Getting something right just motivates him like nothing else. Maybe he shouldn’t have given away the secret to his horns (it’s not really a secret, most tieflings like it), because even the slight pressure from having them gripped and pulled on shoots straight to his cock, making his tail thrash against the shower wall a few times before it behaves itself. But his hands are busy, one holding Helaena’s leg and the other one stabilizing her other at the hip. Mouth still against her, he mutters out a verbal competent that can likely be felt more than heard. Suddenly, there’s the telltale dim red glow of Bo’s mage hand close to the shower floor. It wraps around himself and slowly pumps, the motions a bit uncoordinated since a lot of his brainpower is dedicated to pleasing the woman above him. He can’t help it. The thought of Helaena shaking and coming on his face is so much of a turn on, that the ache becomes overwhelming. So in addition to his tongue, his lips vibrate from rumbling, guttural moans that are muffled by how much his face is pressing into her cunt. He’s just so pleasantly lost in her.

He’s thanking her. She’s barely able to process how simultaneously absurd and hot that is before she’s automatically grabbing for whatever she can to regain her balance as he guides one slightly-unsteady leg over his shoulder with a look of pure rapture on his face, and fuck, this might be too much before he’s even begun. How are you even real? ‘Whatever she can,’ as it happens, is his shoulder and the side of his head, but she moans in mingled desire and defeat as he assures her it’s okay to pull his horns. Her hands fly to them without a conscious thought at the first cautious, experimental lick up the length of her, like he’s exploring her, tasting her. The fact he clearly hasn’t done this much before isn’t a turn off for her. Gods, no, his enthusiasm to learn is incredibly sexy, especially since he seems to enjoy following instructions so much. “Fuck, Bo,” she whines as she clutches his horns in a death grip, her head thrown back against the shower wall as the hot water runs down her body in steady rivulets, and hells, she can’t decide if joining him in the shower was the best or worst idea she ever had. Best, she decides as his tongue gently flicks her clit. Unless I fall on my face. But Bo wouldn’t let her fall. She manages to spare a single thought for being grateful she cast that privacy spell, because fuck, she’s loud before he’s even properly begun, her vocalizations a perfect guide to what works for her even when she’s not quite able to form coherent sentences. “Like that,” she guides between moans as he experimentally sucks on her clit. She shudders when he gently flicks his tongue over her at the same time. “Hells, you feel so good, love, I can’t… fuck, you’ll make me lose my mind…”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” He doesn’t even care that he’s never done this before for a woman. All he has to do is use his mouth like he did his hands. He guides one of Heleana’s legs to rest over his ridged shoulder, salivating at the sight of her so close to his face. Finally. Shower water getting in his eyes be damned, he stares and stares at her beautiful view before him like he just saw a god in the flesh. “You can grab my horns if you need,” he assures, voice dry and horse from his own satisfied moans from earlier. “Feels good when they’re pulled on.” His tongue is slow and cautious at first, more tasting her for himself rather than anything to do with his lover. Fuck, this is way too… way too… Even his thoughts can’t quite reach the conclusion that this might be the best thing he’s ever tasted in his life.

She probably shouldn’t admit how long she’s dreamed of seeing him on his knees like this. To have him beg, at that, to be allowed to eat her out… fuck, she’s only mortal. His eyes… his eyes are what undo her. Bright yellow usually warm with affection or humor now blazing with hunger, with need. She’s always loved his eyes. “Gods, Bo, yes, fuck, please, anything you want,” she pleads. The real trouble will be staying upright in the process, even with the support of the shower walls and his hands on her thighs. She lost her mind months ago. She’s already insane, insane for him, but she can’t even bring herself to care. It’s a sweeter madness than any other she’s tasted. “I want you so badly, fuck, I’m yours, any way you want me.”

“You devastate me,” he whines as Helaena bites into his lip, the sting just reigniting a fire that’s honestly been burning since last night. This is what he gets for holding back for so long: a fire that isn’t easily put out. “I’m not done. I know you must be wet for me.” His hands only confirm what he knows to be true, the slick between Helaena’s legs somehow hotter than the shower water. “Can I use my mouth on you? Please? Please say yes, please let me do this for you,” he babbles, the look on his face seemingly worried that Helaena would say anything other than a resounding yes. He’s already getting on his knees, the ridge-covered joints cushioning whatever discomfort any other race might have in this position. His eyes catch the remnants of himself on her stomach, and all it does is make his cock twitch in interest. His tail flicks around in a similar motion. Claws grip into her soft thighs, pleading just as much as his eyes are. Desperate, hungry eyes that want nothing more than to watch her fall apart just as much as he did. “Let me? I feel like I’m going insane.”

She strokes him through it, her touch only stilling when she can’t resist the urge to kiss him any more, and then she needs both her hands to bury in his hair and pull him closer, to feel his body pressed against his. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” she groans before biting his lip, hard enough to sting, sucking it between her own. We could have been doing this for tendays. We could have been doing this for months. How did I last this long not knowing how fucking good it feels to watch him fall apart? She’s burning up, her blood on fire in a way that has nothing to do with the steam filling the room, wet in a way that has nothing to do with water. If she asked, would he be willing to get her off with his hands like the night before? In the shower, the traces of his own release still painted across her stomach? She moans into his mouth at the thought. Fuck, it wouldn’t take long.

Her voice, her commands, the word “need” spoken by her lips is tighter than any grip she could have on his cock that’s so achingly hard and ready to- His head is fully hung downwards, forehead resting on top of hers as his voice sounds more like animalistic grunts, rather than that song-like baritone it normally is. “L-Laena, I, I’m so close, I-“ Ropes and ropes of white shoot into her hands, onto her arms, stomach, his back still blocking the stream of the water so it’s not all just washed away in an instant. He’s riding it out with every thrust, his mind conjuring up an image of him buried as deeply as he can possibly be, filling her up till she overflows… Wait, didn’t she say her piercing was a contraceptive? His movements eventually still, breathes slowing into a heavy, yet even rhythm. But he’s not any softer. Huh.

Seeing him like this is a privilege. Getting to be the cause of it is a gift beyond price. To have hers be the name he cries out, hers the body he reaches out to for an anchor as he loses himself... It's everything. If there's a sting from his nails digging into her shoulder, she doesn't feel it. All she feels is the rush of love, desire and satisfaction that might make her knees weak if she didn't have excellent motivation to stay standing. "I love you so much," she tells him as her wrist twists over his head, the sound he makes closer to a growl than a moan. Her other hand cups his jaw, his blown-black, blissed out eyes meeting hers for a moment. Her pace increases, no longer teasing, her eyes fixed on his face as she drinks in every gorgeous expression that accompanies his uninhibited vocalizations. "I need you to let go for me. Can you do that, love? I need you to let yourself feel as good as you deserve. Fuck, I want to see you come so badly... Will you let me? Please?"

He’s weak for her. She could stop moving her hands and sing his praises and he wouldn’t be able to stop from spilling all over her hands. Those perfect hands that pull fragment of Weave into the world like they’re currently pulling the soul out of his body. “*Yes*, yes, Laena,” he moans loudly, a particular spark of pleasure drawing his voice out. “I need, need need *need*…” His voice trails off as he starts to thrust his hips forward, body running ahead of his mind. “Come for… I want to come for you so bad…” he growls. “Please, please let me…” One of his hands leave the wall to anchor itself on Helaena’s shoulder, claws digging into her skin in desperation. He’s not being careful with them, letting the pointed tips dig in to scrape and scratch.

"Oh, baby, you think you haven't already?" He ruined her before he even kissed her. He ruined her without trying, in months of quiet, devoted friendship, in being so damn perfect in all his little oddities and idiosyncrasies and flaws. He ruined her by being Bo, the man she loves. And also by learning how to melt her brain using nothing but his fingers and his mouth on her neck in record speed. Every involuntary buck of his hips feels like victory. It feels like she's finally getting the chance to ruin him, too. It's as heady a feeling as anything that happened the night before. Gods, the chance of getting to have both, at once, to wreck him while she's spiraling through bliss herself... Soon. Soon. "You were so good to me last night, love. You were everything I wanted, everything I dreamed of. But I dreamed of this, too. Making you feel good, just like this, or any other way you'll let me. Fuck, the ways I want to ruin you, baby..." She wants to see him begging. She wants to see him on the verge of tears, and past it. She wants to see the look on his face when he comes so hard his soul leaves his body. She wants to be the one to kiss him after, slow and sweet and loving, and remind him exactly who did that to him. "Will you be good for me again, love? Just be patient, I'll take such good care of you..." Her pace speeds up just a little, genuinely curious to see how little can get him there. If sweet words and slow, sinful hands are enough. Not to toot her own horn or anything here, but she does have a decent amount of experience with this, and she's never heard any complaints.

“I-if you tell me all of that,” he strains against held back moans, “I might go crazy.” It’s hard for him to even hold his head up, all of his energy seemingly sapped by lips nipping at his surprisingly sensitive neck, and two small hands working him to the brink of death. Or pleasure? Can you die from feeling too good? The speed of her hands is irritatingly slow, and his hips buck into her grip just to take what she’s dangling in front of him. Unintentionally, of course. Base desires want to chase that pleasure he so often denies himself. Helaena said she likes the tease, and maybe Bo is interested in seeing what the hype is. “*Gods*, I love you, I love you… please g-go on… I want to know. Want so know so I can… can ruin you.” I want to ruin you right back.

Her eyes are fixed on his face, drinking in every single beautiful sound he makes. She likes being crowded like this, surrounded by the warmth and breadth of his body. It makes her want for him to fuck her, just like this, pushed against the wall of the shower, him making those same gorgeous sounds as he fills her up… “You like my voice?” she teases between nips to his neck, perfectly placed for her mouth to lavish with attention. “Do you want me to tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this for you? All the ways I’ve dreamed of getting to touch you, to make you feel as good as you deserve, to show you how much I love you…” The soft strokes of her hands tighten, but don’t speed up, not yet. She’s selfish. She wants to drag this out, just a little. To get to have this for a little longer. “You’re so beautiful like this,” she praises him. “So beautiful when you let go for me, I love the way you sound, fuck, I could listen to the sounds you make forever…”

Honestly, he could get off just from how Helaena is speaking to him right now. Sweet, soft-spoken Helaena, using that lovely voice of hers to say things that only make him want to bend her over and fuck her senseless. She’s already making him fall apart. “F-fuck…” he groans against her mouth. “You… I wish I could have it all. All of you.” And he can, but probably not all at this very moment. But Bo can be a bit of an overachiever. The shower is small enough (and Helaena is short enough) that he can lean forward on outstretched arms propped against the tiled wall, completely towering over the woman currently breaking his brain. His broad shoulders block the shower stream, water flowing down each ridge on his back like little rivers turning into waterfalls as they flow off the edge. “T-this is good,” he affirms through his low, strained moans. “Hands is enough. No mouth yet. W-want you to keep.. fuck… keep talking to me. Love your voice, your words.” He resists the urge to mindlessly thrust into her grip. As loose as it is, it would be enough for him just because he’s so pent up. Just because it’s Helaena’s hands on him. He’s a complete slave to her touch, and she’s hardly doing anything at all.

With his permission, with his begging, she finally looks. And fuck if his cock isn’t as beautiful as the rest of him. She stops resisting the urge to kiss him, hot and messy and hungry, the heat of the water only amplifying the fire burning in her blood. “You can have anything you want,” she breathes against his lips as her hands trail down slowly, so slowly, from his neck down his chest, over his stomach, before finally tracing the lines of his groin, still without touching him where he’s straining for her. “You could have my mouth if you wanted. Or just my hands. You could get off grinding against me. Anything, love, I promise, I just want to make you feel so good…” Her hand grips him loosely, her movements starting out slow, easing him into it as her lips move to his neck, covering the soft, wet skin in her kisses. “Will you tell me how you like it? Will you show me how you want to be touched? I want to learn how to make you fall apart for me…”

“Please, Helaena,” he begs, leaning his forehead against hers in defeat. “I will let you do anything. I just need you so, so badly.” It’s not like he didn’t know Helaena had dreams about him, but hearing just how bad it was for her? How much she wants him? It’s too much. He cannot pretend that he isn’t insanely turned on right now. So why not give in? The hot shower water starts to fill the room up with steam, and Bo hopes it hides the utter look of desperation on his face. He hopes the sound of the water splashing against the tiles hides the way he’s panting in anticipation.

She lets him speak, then gently interrupts with a finger pressed to his lips once he takes a moment to breathe. ”I had a dream about you fucking me while telling me you loved me,” she confesses in turn. “It wasn’t the only one. But the first one was well before we started dating.” I’ve also been getting off to the thought of you more or less intentionally for months now. “Bo, I’ve been trying to contain showing how and how much I want you to keep you from being uncomfortable. That does not mean I don’t want you so badly I can barely breathe at times. I think… I think loving you makes me want you more? I don’t know exactly how it works, but…” She’s still doing her level best not to look down. It doesn’t get easier as he hardens in earnest, pressing eagerly against her stomach, and fuck what she wouldn’t give… “I could return the favor from last night? If you’d like? I… I’d like that a lot.” If he asks for space, if he wants to leave, she’ll let him, of course she will. But she can’t help wanting to see him as utterly ruined as he made her the night before.

“Huh?” He blinks for a moment. There are hands on his face and they’re pulling him downwards. Helaena’s mouth is moving. She is talking to him. She is talking to him about… Fuck. I’m hard. Great. “I masturbated to you in the shower before we started dating,” he confesses out of nowhere. Please tell me I did not just say that. “Shit. I mean. Uh… this is just supposed be a shower? It’s early, and I did not want to bother you with silly little things like, oh… my stupid physiological reaction to your wet and naked body pressed up against me? I know what we said about not hiding our desires and all, but you haven’t even been awake for a full hour and here I am with… *this*. Seriously, I feel like a damn horny teenager around you, and it’s very frustrating! I’ve never been so fucking turned on by someone in my entire life like this, I…” And he just… keeps talking, tail still wrapped tightly around their legs, as if to not let its owner try to shy away from a very good thing he is actively trying to sabotage.

She’s gotten pretty damn good at spotting Bo’s dissociating, but it takes her a split second longer to pinpoint the cause. Largely, the growing erection he’s apparently trying and failing to keep from poking her in the stomach. The bolt of heat the realization sends through her makes her head spin, her heart thundering along with the unceasing spray of the water. She mutters a spell under her breath, ensuring their privacy for as long as they damn well need it. There’s another bathroom in the suite. She can be selfish for once. Her hand shifts to his face, cupping his jaw in a silent urging to look at her. “Hey, didn’t we just say we’d stop feeling guilty about feeling desire for a person we love?” She brushes a lock of wet hair out of his face, her smile reassuring. “If you think I’d be the slightest bit offended by you being turned on right now, you’re wrong. If anything, it… it makes me feel less bad for wanting you, too. But if you’d like me to leave, or let it be, I will.”

“This is…” Glancing down, seeing their chests pressed together… “This is very okay,” he says calmly, while his tail wraps around both of their legs to pull them just a bit closer. “O-oh. Well… guess I didn't even need to answer?” he chokes out, mentally cursing his tail once again. His eternal downfall. His groin is very much pressed against Helaena’s stomach, putting his mind through way too much strain this early in the morning as he musters up the willpower to go “down, boy.” Ignore it. This is just a shower. Just a shower. But it’s really hard to ignore. It’s hard to ignore just how different their bodies are when they’re pressed together like this, soft curves on taut abdominals. Helaena feels like a dream to be close to, and his eyes can’t help but follow the path of water droplets sliding down her skin and collecting between her breasts. I’m hopeless. Gods, why did I agree to this? I’m not strong enough. He is completely silent while trying his damndest to stop himself from getting hard, eyes just staring right through Helaena like she isn’t even there.

”This is fine,” she assures him. “My showers have been compared to the surface of the sun, so this is great,” she jokes. She likes the water hot enough to sting, until she gets used to it. She likes it hot enough she can’t think of anything else. It shouldn’t be a surprise she doesn’t mind her space heater of a boyfriend. She is still close to him, close enough her breasts brush his bare chest, her arms wound around his neck. “Is this okay?” she asks, in case she’s too close, or he’ll get cold, or he’s feeling cramped or smothered.

He shakes his head a bit to reorient himself. It only takes him a second or two, since they didn’t really travel all that far. “Here, you can stay in front of me,” he suggests, having some experience with sharing limited shower space with another. Taller person goes in back so that they don’t block the water, right? So he reaches over Helaena to turn the water on, happy that it gets warm relatively quickly. The water pressure was always a bit shit, though. What a wonderful time to remember that the last time he jacked off was in the shower. To Helaena. (No he does not jack off a lot. Wild, I know.) That is a mortifyingly embarrassing memory, a reminder of how stupid he was that he waited so long to ask out a woman who loves him so strongly, like he loves her. Don't dwell. You have her now, and she’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to you. “Is the temperature okay?” he asks innocently. “I’m not really picky. I take pretty hot showers, but I’m also used to lukewarm, too. Or even cold, if I’m in the mood for it.”

”You’re very welcome. What good is magic if not to make life a little easier? And not at all, I’ve more than got the spells to spare on a day off.” She’s gotten rather militant about defending her relaxation time. Yes, she’ll spend time with Boletus, with her friends, with her family, but she refuses to do any work unless it quite literally cannot wait. For an excellent planner like herself, it’s very rare it cannot wait. Besides, being with Boletus is as or more relaxing than being alone most of the time. He makes her happy. He never minds if she’d prefer to be quiet, and simply exist in the same space. He never gets upset if she says she needs time alone. It’s wonderful. She wraps her arms around him, even though it isn’t strictly necessary for the spell, her robe tossed aside in favor of a pair of fresh towels. “_Ad alibi._” The shower is a bit of a tight fit with both of them there, at least if his broad back hogs most of the spray, but that is a small sacrifice to make for Bo, here in her shower.

His entire face heats up when Helaena, bless her kind and angelic soul, cleans his pants, because now he’ll have something to wear. He’s rather not be nude all day. But now, all he can think about is how wonderful it felt to press against her like that, pushing her down and having his way. And he was wearing clothes that time. How much better would it be like if he did with without his pants on? Her shapely figure bent over, wet and covered in- Shower. Just a shower. It’s too early for all of that. Helaena’s question makes him pause. With her privacy ward, combined with the many nights he’s spent here already, sometimes he forgets she shares this suite with a slew of other female TAs. All the more reason to behave yourself. Bo is happy to continuing sacrificing a small amount of privacy to ensure she can continue to be surrounded by all of her comforts. Plus, she thinks like a wizard, using magic to solve little every day problems like “how can I best sneak my shy boyfriend to the suite bathroom?” “Oh. Right… would a teleportation spell be too much? I would prefer that. If not, I can make do with invisibility.” He glances over at her nude, sleep mussed form and shoots her a shy smile. “Thank you in advance,” he says, sparing once glance at the curve of her waist before going back staring at the wall or something. “And thank you for, er, my pants. Cleaning them. Much appreciated.”

She yawns and stretches before leaving the comfortable confines of her bed, and picking up her bathrobe in one slow, lazy motion. His pajama pants are rumpled half underneath it. “Oh, right…” She can’t help the bolt of heat running through her at the sight of the visual reminder of him losing himself more or less just from touching her. But she gets her shit together and cleans off most of the reminders of the night before in a quick spell. “Here, it’s not as good as a proper wash, but it’s something,” she tells him, offering him the pants with a slight blush. She’s still trying not to look, or at least not to stare, but _fuck_, his thighs and ass might have been sculpted by some devil of sin bent on destroying her. “Would you… like me to make sure we have privacy? I could cast an Invisibility spell.” The last thing she wants is for an ill-timed encounter with a curious roommate to send him shying back into his shell. “Or I could just teleport us straight into the shower and lock the door,” she muses. “More efficient, really.” The lack of a truly private bathroom might be what cinches them spending the night in his room more often. His is split with one other person, but at least it has a door straight from his room.

“Well, shall we?” After a quick kiss on the cheek, he hops out of bed, willfully ignoring the evidence of his stupid horniness from last night on the floor in the form of dirty pajamas bottoms. This will definitely take some getting used to. It’s been a long time since he was so casually nude with someone else. And he’s never been casually nude with a woman. But this is Helaena, the love of his life. He can learn to get used to this, just like he got used to holding her close to his body almost every night. So what if they can be naked now? She’s human. No ridges. No vestigial wing tips. You can’t hide them anymore. He shakes the thoughts out of his head. Helaena isn’t like that. “I’ll… follow your lead. It’s your bathroom, after all.” As if they don’t all have nearly the same bathroom layout in these dorm rooms…

"Too much space? Of course not, you take up exactly the right amount of space," she scoffs. Sure, it might be a bit of a squeeze, but she can't ever imagine minding being pressed against his chest or back, especially if his gorgeous hands are touching her... Non-sexual nudity, she reminds herself. Get your head out of the gutter. There's just a lot of pent-up desire pressing against the tiny crack in the floodgates that was the night before. It'll be a bit before she's fully comfortable expressing just how much she wants him, in how many ways, but that's okay. They have time, and she will relish every step of the process of learning each other. Besides, she's always been an overachiever. She'll make it her mission to make him feel so damn loved and cherished he won't know what to do with himself. "I don't mind at all, Bo. That's why I suggested it," she gently reminds him, smiling at the way his tail is going insane behind him. Perhaps the idea excites him a bit more than he'd like to let on. It's not like the idea doesn't excite her, too.

“Oh.” His brain short-circuits for exactly 5 seconds before coming back to life again. “I mean, you make a good point,” he agrees. “It would be more efficient if we showered together. You don’t, uh, think I’d take up too much room though, do you?” Maybe he doesn’t sound 100% enthusiastic, but the thumping behind him makes up for the even tone of his voice. “I mean, I don’t mind if you don’t mind.” It just makes sense. We overcame the “seeing each other naked” hurdle, right?

She smiles at the gentle teasing, too damn happy to worry about if Bo will eventually find her clinginess irritating, or her slugabed tendencies grating. He loves her, so he'd tell her. They'd figure it out. "Maybe we'll just have to get used to being happy," she whispers before leaning in to kiss him again. "How terrible." She can't think of anything better than getting used to waking up in a tangle of limbs, almost too warm but too comfortable to want to move. She much prefers this to any blissful afterlife any deity would offer. A memory of a list she'd started mentally drafting the night before resurfaces at his polite question. As if she'd ever mind that. "Of course not, but I was thinking..." Her hands run over his arms, soft and soothing and entirely non-sexual. "If we're to get more comfortable with each other's bodies, a part of that is just... spending time around each other naked. Making that normal. Like this." She presses a kiss near the center of his bare chest as a way to illustrate her point. "But, I've also been thinking separating to shower in the mornings is perhaps a little silly. I mean, we could take turns, but... At least sometimes, maybe I could join you? If you'd like?"

“Like the world’s prettiest limpet. Which isn’t saying much…” he teases. As he happily returns the kiss, his tail starts picking up the pace. It’s a good thing it’s restricted by the heavy blanket weighing it down. “I don’t think I will either. It’s such a problem.” Of course he’s kidding, taking quite a bit of joy in holding his partner close. She is very naked, which makes her feel even better to hold, soft curves no matter where he touches. But the compulsions sneak his way into his mind soon enough, despite how comfortable he is right now. “I hate to cut our cuddle session short, but do you mind if I use your shower, love?”

"Mmm, morning..." She blushes a little at the realization she's waking up to the exact same face she was dreaming of. "Sorry, was I wrapped around you like a limpet again?" Her words are apologetic and self-deprecating, but her smile is hopelessly happy. How could she not be happy? Sure, the night before had been messy and imperfect, but all the more perfect for it if you asked her. They are also still very much naked, something she tries not to think too deeply about lest it leads to thoughts of what they were doing in said dream. She leans in to kiss him instead, sweet and gentle, only vaguely aware he did the same while she was still mostly asleep. "I'll never get tired of waking up like this," she whispers.

For once, Bo sleeps in the latest he has in a long, long time. 8:12 am. Unsurprisingly, Helaena is still asleep, tiny little snores coming from underneath the blanket where she has burrowed herself. “Helaena…” he whispers, trying to coax her from slumberland as gently as possible. Nothing. “He-lae-naaaa…” If just saying her name won’t work, perhaps some gentle kisses all over her face might? One on her forehead, one under each cheek, and one on her slightly parted lips. His tail starts to wag a bit under the covers.

🦐🍰🍷👗💤

That faint citrusy scent fills his senses, and he can’t help but smile. “Yes, that’s much better. Thank you.” He was almost going to resign himself to just feeling gross for the rest of the night, because he was not about to get out of bed anytime soon. Not when their bodies are so perfectly intertwined like this. His tail pulls the covers over their bodies just a little bit more until only half of Helaena’s head remains visible. So, so adorable. I can’t take it. “Good night, love...” Bo remains awake for a few hours after Helaena succumbs to sleep. He eventually decides to use a mage hand to grab that book she had recommended to him before. The female lead reminds him of the woman snuggled up into her chest. The male lead, though? Doesn’t remind him of anyone at all…

1

Alvilda (Tav: Helaena+)

alvilda_

Close

”Mm, hold on…” She sleepily forms a somatic component as familiar as her own name, her magic responding only sluggishly. It’s fortunate she’s not attempting more than a cantrip. “_Eluite._” She sighs happily into her pillow as all the sweat and fluids that had started to get sticky and gross disappear without a trace. She loves cuddling, but the worst part is having to disentangle to clean up. “S’this okay? You’re comfortable?” She’s happy to move if he isn’t. Give him his space, or shift to a different position. She’d just very much prefer to be close to him right now if she can.

“You’re welcome to the whole wardrobe then,” he jest. “I enjoy how you look in my shirts.” Her sleepy little “I love you” is so adorable, he could scream. “I love you too. Don’t stay awake on my account. It’s late. Go ahead and sleep,” he hums. “I won’t be going anywhere.” He used to dread weekends. Time idly spent doing nothing that wasn’t productive used to make his skin crawl. Nowadays, they’re what he looks forward to the most. He is (mostly) happy to do absolutely nothing as long as Helaena is by his side.

"Don't be sorry, I told you the tissues were in that drawer," she protests, a little sleepily. Her exploration is lazy, content, satisfied with the knowledge she'll have plenty of time to learn and relearn him, over and over, until she could draw the pattern of his ridges in her sleep. She chuckles, amused at the thought of him sleeping more dressed than he normally would for tendays, just because... what? They're both too foolish to communicate? It's okay. We got there in the end. "Well, then I'll keep stealing your shirts. I'm quite fond of them. And for the record, I do normally sleep in a top and panties, the tops just got more oversized since you entered the picture." Not that she's opposed to shedding them, especially if this is the reward, this gentle intimacy, all barriers between them removed. Non-sexual nudity, she adds to her mental list. Getting more comfortable with each other's bodies doesn't have to be sex. It can just be this. Gentle touches and soft conversation, hidden away in a bubble of their own making. "Love you," she mumbles into his skin. "So much." She might be getting a little sleepy. Bo is a very comfortable pillow.

“Yes, I know. I do apologize for the scare on my end.” He lets Helaena explore his own chest to her heart’s content, watching her eyes follow the path of each ridge she traces with her finger. “This was always my favorite part, too,” he agrees, continuing to leisurely rake his nails up and down her back. “I’m happy to share moments like these with you any time. As far as the lack of clothing goes? I don’t mind one bit. I often sleep shirtless when I’m alone anyways. That’s why you’ve been able to get away with stealing more and more of my shirts. You’re amassing quite the collection.” His tail is, predictably, draped over Helaena’s waist, only the very tip of it lazily thumping away behind her.

She worries less and less with every soft, loving word out of his mouth. It wasn't even a relationship. I tried to make it one. Of course he'd be terrified of that repeating itself, if that's his most recent experience. It makes perfect sense. She just hates it, and wishes there was something she could say to reassure him their relationship would not, could not, ever be like that. "I'm so sorry you went through that," she mumbles. "But I hope you know that our relationship could never be just anything, no matter when or how we decide to have sex." He is right that they both live in their heads. They're both terrible about worrying too much, and communicating those worries too little. She's trying, though. She's trying so hard. "I'm very okay," she confirms. "Fumbling and all. Just... got scared for a second there. Not your fault." How could she be anything but okay, with his arms around her, his voice in her ear, his hand slowly stroking up and down the length of her spine? It feels so much better with no clothing in the way. Just bare skin, slowly cooling blood, a steady heartbeat under her ear. "This has always been my favorite part," she muses idly as her fingers run over the ridges decorating his sternum, only glimpsed before now. "The after. Just being this close to another person. But it's different for me, too. With you. So different I can barely describe how. This used to be something I only got to have after sex, and even then only sometimes. And now I get to have it almost every day." She kisses the ridges she'd been tracing. "I will say, I'm a fan of the less-clothes thing if you're alright with it. Doesn't have to be all the time, of course, but... It's nice. I like feeling your hands on my skin."

He just strokes her hair as she speaks, brushing little bits and pieces of it out of her face. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to think any of that about you,” he confesses. “I only ever had myself to resent. I wish I could be normal. Then you wouldn’t have to even worry about this. I hate that you had to feel like you had to hide these wants and desires just because I…” He bites his words back. A pity party isn’t what he thinks will reassure her. “All of this is different because of you. It’s different because I love you. I don’t ever want you to feel ashamed because of how my prior… ugh. It wasn’t even a relationship. I tried to make it one. Sex was the only thing we had. I just didn’t want it to be like that with us…” He pulls her a bit closer, ignoring the sweat and other things clinging to their skin. They’ll have time for cleanup. “We just both live in our heads, huh,” he jokes, presses a kiss on the very top of her head. “I love you too. So much. You and your feelings will never be too much for me.” They might be a lot, but they’ll never be “too much.” “See? We’re just fumbling around through this, but everything is still okay. At least, it is to me. You?”

She curls into him without hesitation. His bare skin, damp with sweat, is a new sensation, but in no way an unpleasant one. She wants the physical reassurance of touch for this conversation, anyway. "I know you're not," she assures him. "I'm being irrational. I just... Worry. I know I've done nothing wrong, but I've still been judged for my choices in the past." She shrugs, a little sadly. "Besides, before this... I didn't want you to see that drawer and think I... expected anything, or was lying about being okay with taking things slow. Because I am. It's not like I'm going to... go get it elsewhere, just because we're taking our time, I wouldn't dream of it." Oh, that's what she's scared of. That he'll worry she'll be unfaithful, or push, or lie to him, or resent him for their slower pace in terms of intimacy. That enjoying sex makes her untrustworthy in saying she doesn't need sex to be happy in a relationship. Well, that at least sort of makes sense. "I suppose I'm worried you'd trust me less, or think less of me. Or that it would make you uncomfortable, or make you feel like I pushed something on you that you didn't want because I was thoughtless." She's vaguely aware he's fully naked, now, but it doesn't seem like the right time to explore, or do anything but curl as far into his arms as she can. So that's exactly what she does. "I love you too," she mumbles into his shoulder, and presses a kiss to the bare skin. "I'm sorry I got in my head about it."

"What I might think? Ah..." He'd love to give Helaena the reassurance and physical closeness she needs, but he has a problem to take care of first. "Hold that thought. Let me just... um. Don't look over here." With his back facing Helaena, he wipes off the spend stuck to his skin, a slight wince on his face that is completely out of view. However, that doesn't really solve his "stained pants and underwear" situation. Why couldn't I have at least pulled my pants down...? Helaena is definitely not in a state to cast her magic, so there's really only one option here. So he wriggles out of his pants and underwear, leaving them in a shameful little pile on the floor. Now they're both naked. Another hurdle overcome. He goes to lie down next to his partner, offering up an arm and his chest to cuddle into. "Hey, I love you," he says. "You know I'm not that kind of man, right? I don't think any less of you for whatever conclusion you think I must have come to after seeing that."

He’s intrigued. Curious. As horny for organization as she is. She breathes a sigh of relief, and flops back on to the bed. “Yes, to all of those. I’d like that a lot. I’m sorry, I… I panicked at the thought of what you might…” If you’d called me a slut or a whore it would have broken my heart. “I know it’s… a lot. But I like to keep things in one place, and stocked for any eventuality. It’s… practical.” The condoms had begun to take up less and less space as she got older and had less casual sex, while toys took up more and more. She’s been single for a good while, occasional friends with benefits arrangement aside. It’s not like there’s anything incredibly kinky in there, anyway. Just a selection of toys she’s largely only used to get off on her own. “We can try any of those toys you want,” she promises. “I just… need a minute. And maybe a cuddle. Please?” They’ll figure out the whole afterglow thing, but for her, cuddling is essential. It’s the difference between just sex and something with actual affection behind it. It’s also the best way to slowly come out of subspace, at least for her.

Helaena's response just confuses him, his tail starting to slow down its enthusiastic thumping. "You were offering tissues, I thought," he replies, taking a few out of the little box located right next to the bottle of lube. Makes sense. Bo always hated the feeling of lube on his hands, and wiping it onto clothing or bedding was an absolute and resounding "no" for him. His brain is slowly catching up with the true meaning behind words like "hint" and "power move." As a man, he has only been shamed for not having enough sex, even though it was often offered. He has just realized that Helaena's relationship with it would be the complete opposite. She is shamed for having too much of it, for having desire at all. That was half of the problem here, anyways. Bo doesn't know his partner's complete sexual history, how it dwarfs his own. But he can make plenty of inferences by the sheer stock of her sex drawer. He doesn't even know it used to be more well-stocked than it is now. "Oh, Helaena," he sighs. "We sort of just had an intimate moment, didn't we? Why wouldn't you want me to see this? Plus, I'm so in love with how everything is organized!" The word "organized" makes it tail wag all over again. "And, uh... well. I had no idea you had all of these toys. I won't lie... I'm interested in seeing you use them one of these days. Or maybe me using them on you?" Bo literally just came in his pants. He's not going to be weirdly bashful about sex anymore. At least, not tonight. Not while his brain is still in factory reset mode.

She realizes what she did a split second after his tail starts smacking against the bed. Helaena Cresswell just told her relatively sexually inexperienced, somewhat conservative boyfriend to look in her _sex drawer_, one she’d honed and perfected in the years since most nights off ended in a bar or at a party picking up her next mistake. Immediately after they, if not strictly speaking had sex, then were intimate for the first time. “Oh fuck,” she blurts out, sitting up so fast she gets a head rush and instinctively clutching the comforter to her chest. What can she say? It’s not what it looks like? It’s exactly what it looks like. She’s not ashamed of enjoying sex. She’s not ashamed of having had sex in the past, casual sex, good or bad, even if she regrets the cause of her seeking it out now. And still, prickles of instinctual shame, a bone deep fear of what will he think? wracks through her system, officially ruining the afterglow. Being socialized to consider women having casual sex loose or wanton is difficult to unlearn. No matter how much you might want to. “I swear I didn’t ask you to open that drawer as some sort of… hint, or come on, or power move, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see that.” She’d usually pictured the first time him seeing that drawer being her giving him a tour of the various toys she’s collected, or perhaps a quick grab for lube or a condom. Not this. She wasn’t prepared! Helaena’s just as much of a planner and a control freak as he is.

He just blinks at that. Helaena, is of course, correct. She did say all of those things. But Bo is a control freak, too. A planner. When things don’t go his way (which they didn’t) because of his own perceived shortcomings, it doesn’t really matter what anyone else says... .. except when it comes to Helaena, because she just said that his horny teenager behavior was hot. Ok, then. So it’s fine. Crisis averted. Maybe it’s okay that things didn’t go as planned. “Um. Ok. Never mind me, then.” Perhaps his brain is also trying to recover from how hopelessly horny he just was and how he came faster than he ever has in his entire life. There’s not much energy left in him to argue. Not that he has much of a case. Time is of the essence, however. If he doesn’t act now, that mess will harden and then he’ll really have to burn his pants. A tissue will have to do for now. Concessions must be made and all. So he reaches over, trying not to have the mess make any more contact with his skin than it already has, and opens the aforementioned drawer. … which is full of sex toys, lube, condoms, and, of course, tissues. Holy fucking shit, Helaena. He just stares at it silently, the come in his pants be damned. It’s so well organized… everything has a place… Of course that’s the first thing he notices… That’s so hot. Why is that so hot?! His tail, with its seemingly separate brain from its owner, decides to start smacking against the bed with excitement.

”I asked for you to let go, I said I wanted to see you get off, I expressed a desire for you to touch me while you were inside me,” she lists off. “Was any of that ‘wait to come, please don’t be turned on by this?’” She rolls over to face him, doing her best not to look overtly exasperated. “I mean, I personally think it’s pretty hot you got so turned on by getting me off you came in your pants, but that’s just me.” Oh, right, pants. That must be really gross and uncomfortable. She’d offer to lick him clean but it seems like the wrong time. “I’m sorry, I’d prestidigiwhatsit the come off your pants, but my magic’s always a little fucked right after I come that hard. There’s tissues in my bedside table drawer if you need.” Her voice is still matter of fact, if a little breathy as she recovers from two pretty good orgasms more or less back-to-back. “And, for the record, you did get me off. Twice. I have no complaints on that front whatsoever. If I had any complaints it would be that you’re not currently cuddling me through the afterglow, but I can fill out a full satisfaction survey once my legs start working again.”

He does not do this. Ever. Coming in his pants like a horny teenager?! In less than 15 seconds?! And Helaena thinks he’s a work of art? I want to crawl in a hole and die. Bo sits back with his legs apart, feeling so disgusted with the state of his pants that he wants to burn them right off of his body. “Because! I’ve never done that before!” he pants, his face fully flushed. “I wanted this to be about you, I wanted to get you off, and I couldn’t even wait until… gods…” This is not at all where he thought his “I would like to try having sex tonight” text would lead him. Dry humping your girlfriend isn’t his idea of a romantic sexual encounter. His tail flops weakly against the bed while he holds his face in his hands. “… wait. Are you saying… you liked that?” He looks up at Helaena with his mouth slightly open and his glasses resting crookedly on the very tip of his nose. Gods, she gorgeous. She’s gorgeous and she is actively choosing to be with an idiot who comes in his pants because he got too worked up.

It takes her a second or two to piece together what actually happened, since she was actively orgasming at the time. Her mind is a haze of _fuck, so good_, want this forever, love him so much, don’t stop, please don’t stop… And then she’s ass up on the bed and for just a moment Bo’s grinding against her the way she’s wanted him to from the start, he’s groaning like he feels just as good as she does, and then he’s… apologizing? She tries to lift herself onto her elbow, but wobbles for a moment from post orgasmic jelly limbs syndrome and decides to flop onto her back instead. “Sorry? What on Toril are you sorry for?!” Her eyes are still blown wide with pleasure, her hair a mess, her chest rising and falling with every rapid breath. A glance downwards confirms he definitely came, unless that stain came from her, which is certainly plausible. “Did I do anything that made you think I didn’t enjoy what we just did?” If she’s disappointed about anything, it’s the fact she lost the chance to see the look on his face when he came. But there’ll be plenty of chances to make up for that.

And there goes that last thread, cleanly cut by Helaena’s desires laid bare. ”… want you to do this while you’re inside me.” She’s just as beautiful as she was the first time she came, that beautiful voice disappearing into Elysium. But this time, he’s not at all able to drink it in like he wants. She didn’t need to dangle her orgasm on a stick for him to do what he does next. Bo isn’t even sure if and when Helaena is done, because soon he withdraws his hand and uses it to push her onto her stomach, lifting her ass slightly into the air. He isn’t even patient enough to remove his pants, rubbing himself on the fullest part of the curve of her ass. It only take a few crazed thrusts until- “H-hells, L-Laena…“ It’s mortifying, how quickly he comes. He groans loudly, hips jerking erratically for only a moment… until his entire body freezes. What in the hells did I just do?! And then he feels cold all over. That’s a rare sensation for him. “I… I am so sorry…”

”Will you let go if I come again?” she pleads. It’s taking all she has not to grind back against him, to not let him feel exactly how wet she is for him, how good it would feel to push inside her and just let go. “I’m getting close again,” she whines, unable to stop the way her hips are rocking against his fingers, seeking more, more, more. “Won’t take… fuck, just a bit more, don’t stop, please don’t stop…” Yes, his touch is getting sloppier, but she’s too turned on to care much. Even the sloppier movements of his hands feel _wonderful_, especially when he gets too distracted to be quite so careful, quite so gentle. “You feel so good… fuck, want you to do this while you’re inside me.” Shit, she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but her lack of filter is showing again. Her head is spinning, and without the need to focus on continuing the motions necessary to get her over the edge, she’s a moaning, pleading mess, entirely at his mercy. “Love you so much,” she moans as her inevitable descent into bliss begins, and her mouth stops being able to form actual words.

That shameless begging of hers is another knife to the threads of his restraint, slicing through with ease. He’s too focused on his hands, hands that Helaena is lavishing with her words and subsequently shattering his brain by saying, to be able to hold himself back from indulging in more base instincts. His hips scoot forward, a fully hard cock pressed against the small of her back. For now, all he’s allowing himself is that little bit of contact. “L-Laena,” he moans. “Y-you’re ruining me. I… I want. I want…*fuck*, I want you…” His handiwork is getting sloppier, the small amount of friction on his cock making him go insane. “S-sorry. This is so hard to do when I… fuck…” He’s trying so, so hard to cling onto that one last thread of restraint he has left.

He moans just from biting her, this marvel of a man, his hips jerking forward, towards her. He’s affected, too. Turned on, just by this. Just by watching, by getting to touch her. Would he let her touch him, too? Look him in the eye while he comes? Fuck, she hopes so. “Hells, Bo, please,” she groans as his gentle touch continues. “Fuck, I really want to see you get off, too, but it’s okay, if-if you’re not ready for that yet. I want you to feel good, too, fuck, please…” She’s slowly but surely heading for another peak of her own, getting closer with every gentle touch of his beautiful hands. “Love your hands,” she babbles. “Such gorgeous hands, love watching you do almost anything. Fuck, it affects me just to watch you write sometimes…”

“There’s no rush,” he reassures. “It’s okay if it takes you a minute. I’m enjoying every single second of this.” At the praise, his tail thumps against the bed, part of it smacking into the wooden headboard that he’s leaning against. With both hands at work, well, work isn’t the right word. To him, it’s extremely pleasurable, knowing that Helaena is like this solely because of him. So this is hardly work to him. Regardless, his mouth feels strangely unoccupied. Surely she wouldn’t mind if he… Pointed teeth rest against the crook of her neck and sink into her flesh, the thin layer of sweat gathered there flooding his senses. It makes his lose the tiniest bit of control, his hips bucking forward slightly. Even this minor movement, which causes the head of his cock to brush against his pants, makes him groan involuntarily. Shit. Calm down. Not yet. His hands are diligent as he is, stubbornly marching forward towards their goal. Patience and hard work is always rewarded in the end.

If she was wet before she came, now she’s all but dripping. She’s sensitive enough even his gentle, exploratory touch is just on the edge of too much. Bless him for following her instructions, more or less to the letter. He didn’t tell her not to speak… so she’s taking that as tacit permission to continue. “_Yes,_” she moans, trying to lean into his touch to her breast and her cunt at the same time. “Perfect, Bo, it’s perfect, feels so good, please don’t stop…” He worried he’d be bad at this? Any inexperience he might have he makes up for with persistence, curiosity, and a willingness to observe, learn and listen. Who gives a fuck how many other women he’s done this for? She cares that he’s touching her like he wants to do it a hundred times more. Like he wants to learn her in particular, instead of feminine anatomy in general. “Want you to… it was see one, do one, wasn’t it? Won’t- won’t be too difficult, it just might take a little.” She might end up eating those words, as even the slow, careful touch is gently coaxing her towards a new peak.

He leans forward as Helaena guides his hand, pressing his chest completely into her back. His heart is pounding, strong beats pumping molten lava through his veins. “Slow… yes,” he mutters, trance-like, she leads his hand to where it’s wanted. Right to her core. To him, it’s okay if she can’t give him what he wants, either because she’s too tired or because he’s too unskilled. It’s just another chance to learn his love’s body. He pulls out that little notecard in his brain. Light pressure at first. The sides or the hood, because touching it directly might be too much, at least right now. She did say she likes the tease. Maybe being unskilled could work to his advantage, too. But Bo never gives himself enough credit. He has always been wonderful at following directions. Right at home in academia. A lover who can learn fast with someone willing to tell him what to do. When his hand finally makes contact, he gasps. “Fucking hells, you’re wet.” Duh, Bo. With his index and middle fingers on either side of her clit, he starts to move them gentle, slow circles with only the slightest bit of pressure. Just like he was told. His other hand remains on her breast, and he does the same motion with her nipple, using Helaena’s sensitivity to his (and her) advantage.

You did so well for me. It shouldn’t surprise her how quickly Bo found out she is easily susceptible to praise. The softly purred words feel almost as good as her long-delayed orgasm. ”You don’t have to say please for that,” she manages, still struggling to catch her breath. She wants to turn, to kiss him, to grind against him, to beg to be allowed to touch him, too, but her legs are jelly, and that’s not what he asked for. “You can- you can touch me any time you want. Any way you want. Fuck, please, I want you to…” Their hands are still linked, so she presses a kiss to his knuckles before guiding his hand further down. “Might be too sensitive to come again for a bit,” she warns. “Start slow. But… fuck, please, I want you to touch me so badly.”

“I’m here,” he gasps, taking the hand that is so desperately trying to find his. Though it’s quite small compared to his own, Helaena squeezes it with a strength that comes as a small shock to him. Now she’s using words like “need”… and I believe it. A very illogical part of his brain wants to make her do this every night for the rest of his life. The logical part of his brain says that it’ll be more realistic to expect this every few nights or so. Life can get busy. Because it’s too addicting to watch someone he loves so much, someone who gives so much of herself to everyone else, do something that is 100% selfish like this. When she comes, he can feel every ounce of tension leaving her body through every jerk against him, through the way her head is thrown back, through the way her voice seems to disappear right at the height of her peak. How can she even make silence sound so erotic? Would it be too much to ask her for more? Maybe if he uses the voice he knows she craves so much to his advantage. He knows she likes praise. They are so painfully similar, after all. “Laena…” he purrs, baritone voice back by the shell of her ear. “You are breathtaking. You did so well for me. Let me try, please. Please let me touch you.” He’s trying to sound composed, but his own precome is leaking through his pants. It’s just something else ignored using all of his soldier-esque levels of restraint. Even as his voice cracks and his throat sounds painfully dry, he doesn’t budge. Because Helaena waited months for this. He can wait, too.

She’s going to hear him say those words in her dreams, over and over, his beautiful voice as strained as if he’s right on the edge himself. Gods, the discovery she can get him to swear in bed is a delicious one. “_Bo…_” she whines, pleads, begs, so close she can taste it, almost there, almost… When she comes, she imagines what it would be like if he followed her into bliss, hot on her heels. If there was no clothing in the way, if he was filling her up instead of her cunt clenching down around nothing. Having him there makes every difference in the world. It’s her fingers, but it’s still his warmth against her back, it’s still his voice in her ear, it’s still his marks littering her chest, and still throbbing on her shoulder. She reaches blindly for his hand, searching for an anchor as what feels like months of tension drains out of her with wave after wave of bliss. It’s not usually this intense with just her fingers. But it’s not usual she’s basically been edged all night, either. “Fuck, please, need to touch you, need…” It might have been her fingers, but as far as she’s concerned she came for him. Put on just a bit of a show, for him. It’s him she wants, kissing her, holding her, praising her. It’s for him. It has been for months now.

“Fuck it all, Laena…” Even if he’s not doing much physically, she’s giving him the reins. An ounce of control which he is all too happy to have. Of course he’s hard. He’s so hard that it hurts. But he’s had years of practice ignoring his own needs like this. It’s just so much more difficult when it comes to Helaena. Everything that she is telling him is filed away in that mental Rolodex. What a gorgeous puzzle that he’s been given to solve. The same solution with a million wonderful ways to reach it. “Please, please do. Let go,” he breathes, panting heavy and hot air into her ear. “Please. I want you too. I want you to come for me. Now.” From the low, strained quality of his voice, it almost sounds like he’s getting off himself. However, his hands are still firmly on her chest, and his hips are making no contact with her body whatsoever.

Don’t stop. Is he affected, too? Would he be hard if she rolled her hips backwards, let him grind against her ass? She hopes he is. She hopes he’s burning as much as she is. “I l-like the tease,” she continues, her voice breathy as she moves her touch away from her clit, before a fast descent into bliss could begin. “When I have the time, the patience. Feels better when I come if I do. I like being edged, too.” All of these little bits of information she’s giving him are like cheat codes, or keys. A dictionary, perhaps, or a map. A thousand ways to make her fall apart. “But when I don’t… firm, tight circles, right- _ah_, right here, that gets me there fast.” Her touch slows, return to the light, indulgent pressure that’ll slowly but surely get her to come. “Inside, fingering, or toys, feels good too, but it takes longer.” And she definitely doesn’t have the presence of mind to finger herself and rub her clit at the same time right now. “Fuck, tell me when I can come,” she begs as her fingers speed up, as she loses the will to drag this out. “Want to, so badly. Please?”

Hopefully the self-indulgent moans from his partner cover up the sound of his swallow, a comedic gulp more then anything else. Holy hells, I might pass out from how much of a turn-on this is. All he can do is rest his chin on the crook of her neck. It might be being served up to him on a silver platter, but gods, he can’t tear his eyes away from what Helaena is doing right now. “Indirect… got it,” he mumbles. “I can do that…” He’s not even moving his hands anymore. They are simply holding her chest up, unmoving. I could make her moan like this. I want to make her moan like this. “Keep going, Laena. Don’t stop.” As if she would, but he just wants to feel a little more involved in what she’s doing.

The second she touches her clit she knows she couldn’t stay quiet during this even if she wanted to. Thank fuck for the permanent privacy ward on her room. “_Hells,_” she swears as she teases herself by trailing her fingers down to her entrance. She’s soaked. Even if Bo can’t see it he can hear it as she gathers up her wetness to ease the slide back up to her clit. “I’m sorry, this might not take long.” Why is she apologizing for that? For shortening his show? It’s not like she’s unlikely to be able to come again, if she wants. See one, do one, teach one. She moans at the thought of his fingers doing exactly what she is right now, broad, callused fingers gently winding her up. He’s worried he’d be no good at it? She’s worried she’d come the second he touched her, after what feels like months of slowly building torture. “Feels good, when…” Her head falls backwards, easing his access to her neck. “Fuck, indirect pressure. The hood, or the sides, circles, light pressure at first.” It’s very difficult to retain the focus to actually tell him what she’s doing when what she’s doing feels so good. It’s not the first time she’s touched herself with someone watching. That doesn’t matter. It’s the first time Bo is watching, and that means everything.

A man so buttoned up, huh? I’m still a hot-blooded male at the end of the day. …As evidenced by his growing erection, one he is consciously trying to not have make any contact with the woman in front of him. He scoots his hips just a bit further back because, to him, it’s just too distracting. He wants all of his attention on Helaena. His hands stay right on her chest while hers slide down her body. He takes over, massaging the her heavy breasts, rolling her well-loved nipples between his fingers. “Then show me,” he goads, lips pressed right up to her ear. “Touch yourself. I want to see you do it.” His tail is completely still, save for the very end of it softly brushing up against his partner’s outer leg.

"Yes, you know, b-but- oh, _fuck,_" she whines as he bites her neck, not carefully, as if worried he'll leave a mark (he will, regardless, she bruises like an overripe peach) but like he means it. The way she's wanted him to bite her since he first grazed her neck with his teeth. Is it a bit fucked up? Problematic to feminism, perhaps, to want to marked up like some sort of claim? Maybe. She's too turned on to care. "Love it when you bite me," she moans as her hand slips further down, along the curve of her stomach. "Love your mouth, fuck, who knew a man so buttoned up could kiss like that?" If anything, she's always seen his polite, composed facade as a bit of a challenge. A castle wall to climb or persuade her way into, yes, but also one to break, to tear down brick by brick until there's nothing left but instinct. Need. She won't get to have that quite yet. But it's still her goal. Someday. "Would you like to know where else I'm sensitive?" The words are facetious, but her voice is too breathless to really sell it. "I believe you asked me to let you watch how I make myself come. I normally don't have nearly the patience to do that just by touching my tits." Her hand hovers at the junction of her spread legs, close enough she can feel the heat radiating from her sex on her fingers. But waiting for his word. His permission.

"I already know that you're plenty sensitive there," he teases, moving his hands to rest on top of Helaena's. "But a bit of a sting? I'll remember that." From where he is, it's just too tempting to lower his head, going back to kissing her neck for what might be the thousandth time tonight. And he's not tired of doing it in the slightest. If she likes a bit of a sting, maybe he can provide one. Instead of a gentle, restrained bite, he decides to sink his teeth right into her shoulder. It's not at full force, not by a long shot. But it's the hardest he's dared to bite her so far. The feeling of finally getting to do this after holding back for as long as he has? Maybe it makes him moan just as indulgently as Helaena is, though it's quite muffled against her flushed skin.

She does it without thinking. Helaena is a control freak. Like many control freaks, she enjoys giving up a bit of that carefully maintained control... Under the right circumstances. These are absolutely the right circumstances. He can use that gentle but firm tone with her anytime he'd like. The robe was shrugged off at some point, so she's entirely naked as she leans back against him, trying to get comfortable. She shivers as his warm breath tickles her neck, his bare chest pressed against her back, and it'd be so easy to imagine... If she was alone, she'd usually get off quickly. She's usually under some sort of time pressure, either well aware she needs her sleep to be functional or in the shower in the mornings (much more frequent since her and Bo started sharing a bed) so efficiency is key. But tonight... Tonight she doesn't want fast and perfunctory, more a biological need than an act of indulgence. Instead, she touches herself the way she wants him to touch her. The way she hopes he will touch her, if not tonight, then someday before too long. Her hands start on her breasts, pinching her nipples the way she likes. She moans without inhibition, already sensitive between how much her lover seems to like them and how turned on she is. "S-sensitive. Anything feels good, but... I really like just a bit of sting." Did he ask her to narrate? No. But she'd have a harder time not doing so, and he didn't ask her not to.

He supposes it would be rather nerve-wracking and unsexy of him to just sit across from her and watch straight on as if he's studying some sort of animal at the zoo. The position he has in mind won't really help him see much of anything at all, but he wants to be close to her as she does it. Besides, he has a lot of height on his partner. He could realistically see some of what she's doing from over her shoulder. Plus, Helaena likes to talk, right? Bo can paint perfectly good pictures off of words alone most of the time. So he moves to sit upright against the headboard of her bed, parting his legs a bit and patting the empty space between them. "Come here," he commands gently. "You can sit here and lean against me.

She has no reason to hide how much he’s affecting her either, now. Her moan as he sucks on her lip is soft, mostly muffled against his lips, but it’s genuine and uninhibited. In her book, the only real downside to him having to be able to actually observe while she’s masturbating is that he won’t be able to kiss her at the same time. Maybe she can convince him to play with her tits, though? “Okay, okay,” she breathes, pressing a kiss to his jaw as she catches her breath and does her best not to ask him to kiss her again. It’s not her fault she loves kissing him so much. It’s his, really, for being so nice to kiss. “How would you like to watch?”

“I know, that’s why I hate it.” He’s only half joking. The honesty of his tail is working out in his favor right now. How could Helaena doubt him when it’s flailing all over the place at the thought of watching her touch herself? The gentle kiss makes his entire spine tingle, a feeling that he does his best to ignore. “But yes, I do want to watch you. I agree that’s it’s ’stupidly hot,’” he says with a laugh. Helaena without a filter is also “stupidly hot” to him. And also “stupidly adorable.” Per her request, he kisses her once, and then once again for good measure. This second kiss lingers much longer, teeth pressing down onto her bottom lip as he sucks on it lightly. It is a kiss meant to rile her up further with its controlled intensity. He doesn’t have a reason to avoid doing things he knows will turn her on, not when he is determined to witness Helaena come one way or another.

I want it, too. "Okay," she agrees, sighing into the kiss. "Okay." It won't be hard. She feels like a live wire, sensitive despite not being touched properly at all. Her body didn't get the memo of his slow, gentle exploration being just that instead of foreplay. "I love your tail," she protests at his insults to his tail. "It's honest, always." She catches the tip of it to press a gentle kiss to the tip, before letting it go to smack ever more wildly against her bed. "And is it weird if I think it's really cute? I mean, that is-" She rapidly cuts that thought off before she admits how adorable she finds basically everything Bo does, his tail just one part of it. What he says next is plenty of distraction, anyway. She has heard of the method. She's even used it, sometimes slightly modified, to teach. It's not something she's heard applied to sex before, but she's hardly opposed. "You want to watch me touch myself?" she asks, needing confirmation for this. "That's... That's stupidly hot." Apparently there's just no filter left between her brain and her mouth. "I mean, that- yeah, I'd like that. Absolutely. Will you kiss me again, first? Please?"

Leave it to Helaena to read his words so literally, it makes him want to laugh. He’s not in the right mindset to be careful with his language. “Need.” “Don’t mind.” “Want” is the only word she wants to hear. Her honesty makes his tail wag excitedly in the air from side to side, thumping against the bed on some of the downswings. “I want it, too,” he replies, sitting up fully to kiss her. “I want to know what you look like when you feel good.” She has toys? Did she use them thinking about me? His tail smacks the bed over and over again. “I promise you that you are not too much,” he sighs, pointing to his tail going haywire behind him. “That right there? That is too much.” Sometimes I wish I could cut it off. “Anyways… do you know of a method they use in medical field training? It’s called ‘see one, do one, teach one’.” He has a point. Let him cook. “Let me see you. I want to see how you get yourself off. And then I’ll know what to do.”

"I'm not uncomfortable," she says immediately. "Not at all." She isn't. She's all but humming with arousal, her breath heavy, mortifyingly wet. But it's not uncomfortable, just a little inconvenient for the situation. The sound that escapes from her mouth at his offer, sweet and awkward and so terminally Bo she could weep, is close to a whine. But he asked for honesty, so that's what he'll get. "I don't... I don't need to get off. I'd be perfectly fine without. I just really, really want to. And I want..." She shivers as he bites her collarbone, hoping each one leaves another mark for her to treasure after this. "I want it to be you," she confesses. "I want, fuck, I want you to touch me so badly. Any way you want," she hastens to add. "Or I could use a toy, or you could just watch if you're more comfortable with that, I just..." I've just dreamed of your mouth on me for months. "I don't want you to not mind, I want you to want it, too. That's why I'm trying not to... push, or be too much."

“We really keep apologizing too much,” he jests. “Something we can both work on.” Bo is as relaxed as he can be, the unhurried attention he’s giving to Helaena’s body aiding in easing his fears, alleviating his anxieties surrounding intimacy with a more femme figure. But Helaena seems rather wound up, her hands tensed, knuckles still pale from when she was digging her nails into his skin. He had hardly registered it until she said something. That’s right. She’s worried about pushing me too far. But I wouldn’t be offended if she needed to get off after everything I’m doing to her. Not at all. “Are you uncomfortable?” he asks, resting his face on her chest and looking up towards her. “I’m not sure how good I would be, but I don’t mind if you need a… release. Orgasm. You know. You would just need to tell me what to do. I want you to feel comfortable, too.” He places a few kisses along her collarbone, gently biting after each one. “It makes me so happy that I can turn you on, that you’ve dreamed of me. It might have made me nervous at first, but now?” Now all I can think about is how you must have looked in those dreams. “Just be honest with me, love. You have accommodated my needs plenty. This isn’t about just me. It’s about us, and that includes you.”

She is getting progressively more happy past-her chose to get this piercing simply for how enamored Bo seems to be with it. “Don’t be sorry,” she repeats, barely more than a breath, just on the edge of a moan. The light tug of his teeth wasn’t that pleasurable on its own, but the slow, loving kisses to a part of herself it took a long time to accept, and the proximity of his mouth to where she’s rapidly getting wetter? Yeah, it’s doing plenty for her. Her hands tighten where they rest on his shoulders, trying to resist the urge to tug him by his hair to where she really, really wants him, or audibly beg. He’s not trying to tease. He’s just exploring. Let him explore. She’s not impatient. He can have all the time in the world. But needy? Guilty as charged. “Sorry,” she breathes, consciously unclenching her hands from where her nails had begun to dig into his skin. “Didn’t mean to- sorry.”

“Oh, I see. That is pretty handy!” Why can I never sound cool? What kind of thing is that to say? To him, it is a perfectly practical reason indeed. Perhaps if he were not so distracted, or slightly tipsy from wine, he would get much more excited about the fact that his girlfriend has a foolproof method of contraception. “Er, let me stop talking. I have a beauty to admire.” And admire he does. Leaning over, he anchors himself by placing his large hands on her waist, thumbs tracing the shape of her ribcage just underneath her breasts. He kisses circles around her piercing before gently tugging on it with his teeth. “Sorry. Couldn’t help it…” His head is getting dangerously close to somewhere he’s tempted to get a taste of.

She grins at his insistence practicality is sexy. She has truly met a kindred spirit in this man. ”Only if you get an enchanted one,” she explains. “Well, apart from nipple or genital ones, those can increase or change sensation, but I’m too much of a wimp for that. No, mine’s a contraceptive. Very practical.” It does feel a little exposing, still, to be fully bared to his gaze, but in a good way? She wants him to look. She wants him to want to look, even if it’s just for that. “Foolproof. Perfect backup method. It gave me a lot of peace of mind. And, uh, it halts my cycle, which used to be bad enough I was just a lump in bed cuddling a hot water battle for 3-7 days a month.” Wow, great job, talk about the least sexy thing in a world while you’re naked. But it is the truth and it is the main reason she kept it. It’s not like she’s been having a lot of sex with people with penises for a while now.

“Why would it? Practicality is sexy, too. We’ve already established that we are both very boring people.” He pulls her robe fully open so he can get a better look, eyes full of fondness as they roam over her form. “But is there some practical reason for a piercing that I’m not aware of? I admit I’m ignorant about these things.” Every time he came home from school for break, his sister would have a new piercing. To him, she just liked the aesthetic. His opinion of them is painfully neutral.

”The piercing?” She got it on a lark, in a time filled with so many poor decisions this seemed like just one more. Well, the piercing had been a split second decision, the enchantment embedded in its metal is something she’s grateful for at least once a month. “I got it when I was nineteen. I was a very different person, then. And I thought it might make me hate the way my stomach looks less. Which it did. Sort of. I think that’s correlation and not causation though.” It’s just a simple silvered stud, the blue jade almost the exact color of her eyes. She’d had something more gaudy in it, once, but now simple and pretty suits her just fine. “I’m glad you like it. I hope you won’t be too disappointed if I admit the reason I kept it is very much a practical one,” she continues, her voice light and playful. Her hands spread over his shoulders, but don’t venture much further down for now. She’ll let him explore to his heart’s content. Anywhere he wants.

He almost busts out laughing at Helaena’s admission, but all he does is softly chuckle as she quickly elaborates her point. “I see,” he hums between kisses focused on the junction between her neck and shoulders. “So I was a fun little mystery for you to solve.” He smiles into her neck, rolling around her nipples between his fingers. “Well, everyone puts up a mask because there are things they want to hide. How lucky am I that you decided what I was hiding was worth ‘digging’ for.” Helaena is a kindred soul, one of the few people he has ever been able to relate to. They are both academic perfectionists, using busywork and rigorous schedules to distract themselves from their own anxieties. They are both kind, nurturing, and hardworking. They would both throw themselves into oncoming traffic for the sake of someone else. But most of all, they both just really love food and Ella Fitzgerald. Perhaps in each other, they are able to look through the lens of another, to love things they thought unlovable about themselves. Eventually, one of his hands dares to go lower, caressing the soft curves of Helaena’s stomach. He idly fiddles with the piercing at her navel, his ears picking up the soft clink of the metal against his nails that might be harder for human ears to register. “I never pegged you as someone that would have one of these, you know. It’s very sexy.”

"I've never minded a bit of a mess," she counters, smiling. "Magic helps, too." It's not really something she's _into_, per se, but there's a certain appeal in kissing missed bits of chocolate off cheeks and lips and noses. In chasing the flavor of a rich dessert on her lover's tongue. She shivers as his teeth graze her neck, hoping he'll bite her again, at least a little. She'll get addicted to his mouth before long if she isn't careful. He's touching her body as if to learn it, memorize it, familiarizing himself with her physical form as much as he has her mind and her heart. "I fell in love with you for- for how much you love food," she admits, a little distracted by the way he's playing with her tits. "Wait, no, that sounds wrong, that was just... the first glimpse I saw beyond the mask, and I really liked it. It made me want to keep digging." Being allowed within the walls of stoicism and politeness and rigid discipline he's built between himself and the world is a privilege. One she'll never squander. The Bo she loves is the sweet, awkward, goofy dork who gets too excited about pizza and named his bearded dragon for an obscure historical figure and brushes his teeth for exactly two minutes, to the second, without setting a timer. Her Bo. "I love you," she breathes. "So much. And I can safely say I was on my way to falling in love with you well before I saw you without a shirt on." She loves his eyes, the way he tries to hide them behind his glasses, the way his hair always falls in his eyes a little, the way his tail always gives him away... All the little things that make up the man she loves.

“You’re free to eat chocolate off of me anytime,” he jokes with a soft laugh, right into her sensitive ear. “Actually. That would be a mess. Hot skin and all.” Helaena is an endless delight to taste and touch, he thinks. Her responsiveness is the world’s best motivator. She is the most satisfying experiment, right moves producing beautiful sounds that makes the base of his tail vibrate pleasantly. His hands slide under the opening of her bathrobe, loosening it enough so that her breasts are exposed. While he does this, his mouth moves to her neck, sharp canines tracing lines down the path of her carotid artery. I want to bite so bad. But I need to be slow. Nice. I have the time. I have the world’s most patient person in the palm of my hand. “I am so in love with you,” he mutters, hands resting lightly on her breasts. “And I’m not just saying that because I have my hands on your chest. I fell in love with you long before I knew how gorgeous your body was.” His touches don’t have any grand goal, nor any expectation behind them. All he is doing is becoming familiar the shapes and sizes of Helaena. Light touches, heavy petting, pinching, groping, he does it all.

"Shampoo," she explains, perhaps a bit nonsensically. "It's lemon." There's citrus notes in the perfume she only wears rarely, too. Perhaps it's silly, but she never quite expected anyone to associate her with citrus the way she's now unable to smell anything warm and smoky without thinking of the woodsmoke-and-pine scent clinging to her boyfriend's shirts. She groans softly as he nips at her earlobe. It'd be frustrating how she's puddy under his hands, his mouth, if it didn't simply feel nice. Still, she's grateful she pumped the brakes before, now. The stakes are lowered. The mood is better, playful and and loving over fraught with tension and anticipation and expectations. They could do absolutely nothing but kiss a little and go to sleep and that would be okay. "Chocolate's growing on me. It tastes so much better kissed off your cheek," she teases. Chocolate orange cake, she thinks nonsensically. Bitter cocoa and bright citrus in one. But that's maybe something to consider for that next date, not now.

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Steffi 🍄 [Tavs:Mushroom Mob]

.mushrooming

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“Nonsense,” he whispers, his voice gone just like remnants of cake on his lips. “There’s more. Right here.” With a hand behind her neck, Bo pulls her into a kiss, intent on indulging just like she invited him too. He flicks outs his tongue to catch the remnants of that lemon flavor off of her bottom lip. “I prefer the chocolate, but you’re making a wonderful case for the lemon. And do you know why?” He moves to bury his nose in a mass of blonde curls. “It’s because you always smell just a bit like citrus, especially here. I’m so enamored by that. By you.” Back to that lovely little shelled ear, he licks along the edge, biting gently once he reaches the bottom. He thought earlier was a disaster, but now he’s realizing it was a necessary one. This is easier to do knowing that even when he messes up, he won’t be pushed away.

But I still want more. She gently takes the fork from him and puts it and the empty cake box aside. His eyes might be more or less fixed on her chest, but hers are on the crumbs now on his upper lip, just… sitting there. Taunting her. Her kiss is barely more than a brush of lips, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick clean the last crumbs of shortcrust pastry. “More?” She grins, a playful, teasing thing. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s the healing powers of cake, but she’s much less afraid. It’s just Bo. They’ll figure it out. “I am terribly sorry, but I think that was the last of the cake,” she laments, mock serious. “If you’ve still got a sweet tooth, I think I might have some gummy bears stashed away…”

Hoo, boy. At least this time, he kept that embarrassing phrase inside of his head. “You’re so sweet, offering me the last bite,” he hums, leaning just a bit closer to her. His eyes bounce between the offered up cake and Helaena’s exposed neckline. To him, they look equally appetizing. With her fork, he takes the very last bite and lets the dessert melt on his tongue. Helaena was right about taste and smell being so closely linked to memory, because all he can think about as the citrus flavor fills his senses is her. Everything is her. “Gods, that is good,” he breathes after a slow swallow. “But I still want more.”

Folks, mark your calendars. For a brief moment, Helaena actually considers abandoning the last two bites of her dessert. She doesn’t, but she considers it. Instead, she slowly and indulgently collects a perfect bite of the sweet treat and hums thoughtfully as the tart-sweet-rich-bright flavor blooms on her tongue. “I did say you could do that, didn’t I? And if you want to indulge…” She offers him the last bite of her cake with a cheeky grin, her robe sliding just a little open to reveal more of the marks he left on her neck and chest, her hair still messy from his hands and the friction of the sheets. “Indulge, Bo.”

Mr. Zales? He deserved that. “It’s means a lot to me that you care about my teeth,” he grins. “But I brush very thoroughly twice a day.” His smile is toothy on purpose, showing off bright white teeth with prominent canines. “So I think my dentist would agree that I can indulge as much as I want.” Done with his treat, he lets out a satisfied sigh as he leans back on his arms. His tail moves to curl around Helaena’s back, the tufted end swishing against the outside of her thigh. “And since you said I could… anytime I like… then maybe I want to indulge now.” Wow, guess cake and wine put him in a better mood.

”Don’t be sorry,” she counters. “Just feels good. Nothing wrong with that.” Yes, the gentle bites reminded her of the fact she didn’t bother to get dressed again under the soft, comforting fabric of her bathrobe, but mostly it just felt… nice. “Feel free to chew on my ears anytime you like,” she tells him, and shoots him a wink before returning to her lemon pie. Is he winding her up, mostly unintentionally? A little, but frankly she’s used to that at this point. She’s just going to enjoy the fact he wanted to, and it felt good, and he doesn’t seem to feel bad for doing it. “And second dessert, Mr. Zales? My my, I think your dentist might have opinions on that. Too much sugar is bad for your teeth, you know.” She can’t help the cheeky grin on her face as she reaches for her wine.

"Sorry," he whispers, backing away just a bit. "I did that without thinking. Forgive me?" His smile is as gentle as his bite was. "Once I finish my dessert, I'll have my, uh... second dessert. Which is you, in case that isn't clear." And then he's back to eating his cake, unaware that he is treating Helaena somewhat like a little kid playing with a light switch. On and off, on and off, on and off...

”The upcharge on wine is insane. Get just the cake and maybe an order of tartare to split-“ Her voice trails off at his gentle compliment. I love your mind. If he can make her feel her body is beautiful, maybe he can make her love her mind, too, as much as it’s tormented her. She smiles in response, ducking her head. She tilts her head just a little towards him, an invitation for more gentle kisses and caresses if he wants to give them. Then he _bites her ear_. It’s gentle, just a press of teeth more than anything, but it’s enough to make her shudder. She’s only mortal. Her glass of wine is abandoned on her bedside table, the boxed chocolate cake still sitting in her lap, and she’s trying once again not to be too affected when her very attractive boyfriend does something incredibly arousing. It’s a losing battle. Her ears aren’t as sensitive as those of an elf, but it still does plenty for her to have him gently, almost teasingly nip down the shell. She makes a soft sound of pleasure despite herself. She can’t help it.

“That’s totally feasible,” he replies. "If we just get wine and cake… that’s only a little less than half of what we spent." He places a kiss on the side of Helaena’s head, breathing in the scent of her hair. “I love you and your mind. So, so much.” I’m sorry it’s mean to you sometimes. And then he can’t help but start to nip at her ear, wine in his hand and cake in his lap.

She makes a sound of pure pleasure as the rich bitterness of the chocolate cake explodes on her tongue. Sure, she has her preferences, but she has broad tastes. She can appreciate all sorts even if some are her favorite. “It’s lovely,” she sighs. “I wish the world was made of cake.” A nonsensical statement, but one she thinks Bo will understand. He loves dessert as much as she does. “We might have to go back just for dessert,” she opines. “Just for the cake.”

Why didn’t I think of that? I could have kissed the cake off of her mouth… Bo might have discovered something he would be into sexually, but now is not the time to think about that. “I gladly accept your proposal,” he says in a mockingly serious tone. He leans over Helaena to cut off a piece of her cake with his fork. “Let’s do it at the same time this time,” he suggests. “3… 2… 1.” And he takes a bite. It’s delicious. He might like the chocolate better, but that doesn’t mean the sweet lemon flavor isn’t making his tail wag happily.

”You’ve got chocolate on your cheek,” she counters, because he does. It’s bloody adorable. Bo’s love of food is one of the first things that let her see past the walls of the stoic academic to the sweet man beneath. Instead of using her thumb, she decides to kiss it off. This is not very effective, so she giggles as she reaches for a napkin to finish the job. “Okay, okay, bite of chocolate for bite of lemon?” she negotiates, offering her boxed dessert. “Unless you want to do half and half.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies fondly. Bo’s rare use of curse words is simply another way he tries to distance himself from his father, but Helaena’s casual cursing doesn’t bother him. It’s cute. Even if the phrase “fuck me” sparked the smallest flame in his core. “Oh, love. You’ve got crumbs all over your mouth.” He brushes them off with his thumb while smiling at how cute her round cheeks look when she’s chewing food. Another flame sparked. Maybe the kissing part will need to come sooner rather than later.

”We’ll give them two five star reviews,” Helaena counters. “That’s basically ten stars.” Her very serious math is possibly undercut by how she has crumbs and a bit of meringue smeared on her lip. She couldn’t care less, this cake is far too good. “Oh fuck me, this is good,” she groans, then blushes furiously as she realizes that might not be the best phrasing under the circumstances. “Uh, sorry. Potty mouth.”

His entire face lights up as the slightly bitter chocolate hits his tongue. The dusting of espresso powder just adds to the richness of the chocolate, creating the most wonderful flavor profile he’s experienced in a while. Sure, it’s not Helaena’s vagina, which is what he was expecting to be eating right now, but this is pretty good, too. He washes down the semi-sweet cake with very dry wine, his satisfaction causing his tail to thump against the bed loudly. “I wish I could give that restaurant 6 stars,” he mumbles, another bite of cake already in his mouth.

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Alvilda (Tav: Helaena+)

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Alvilda (Tav: Helaena+)

alvilda_

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Helaena’s smile is brilliant and just a little relieved. That’s what scared her most, honestly. That pumping the brakes and cutting their attempt short would mean awkward silences or quiet resentment. That his frustration would turn into anger, aimed at her. But Bo’s not like that. She has to remember that. She’s just never had a boyfriend she could say “no, stop” to and have him be excited about dessert ten minutes later before. “I love you too,” she says around her first bite of bright, tart, sweet lemon meringue. Mmmmm. She hands him the box of chocolate cake and a fork and washes it down with some white wine. This might be heaven. She honestly can’t think of a better way to end a wonderful evening, if one with a lot of ups and downs, than cake in her bed. She’s a simple woman.

He takes a seat next to her, tail already wagging from side to side (pushing the blankets around in the process), as he considers his options. Helaena, as always, has the right idea about him. He prefers dark, bitter chocolate over light and tangy lemon. “The chocolate,” he answers predictably, leaning in closer to her. “Gods, it smells really good…” If he was at all upset about how they had to cut their attempts at having sex short, well, he clearly isn’t anymore. Between a few sips of his dry red wine and the anticipation of eating chocolate cake? How could he be upset? “I love you so much…”

She can't help but laugh. Trust Bo to somehow be as enthusiastic about dessert as she is. I fell in love with him for a reason. Gods, she has to get better about keeping her room neat, though. She can't have him continuously cleaning up her mess, she's a grown ass woman. She hands him a glass before sitting down on her still-rumpled bed, seeing as the only other real option for seating is her desk. "Lemon or chocolate first?" she asks, brandishing the forks in question. She, of course, is partial to a lemon meringue, but she gets the sense Bo might appreciate the rich bitterness of a good gateau marcel more. That's alright. That's why they agreed to split.

He was very much still in his “I don’t know what to do with myself so I curled up in a ball and wagged my tail like an over-excited dog” moment when he hears the door creak open, followed Helaena’s cautious voice. So of course he stands up very quickly and pretends he’s very fine, glasses completely crooked on his face from the sudden movement. “Hello. I was just… tidying up.” His eyes bounce right to the bag in Helaena’s hand. Cue the excited tail wag. “Oooh… I’m so excited!” he says with a little clap of his hands.

She only glanced in the mirror hanging on the back of her door before leaving her room, confirming that, yes, she looks a little disheveled, but not downright pornographic. One or two red marks peek out of her collar, but nothing too terrible. It makes her a little sad that she'll probably have to cover or heal at least some of them. Unfortunately, as much as she loves hickeys, they're considered somewhat _unprofessional_. Maybe Rosie or Meadhbh can help her out. She tiptoes into the hallway, mindful of that one creaky tile of linoleum, and grabs forks, glasses and a half-empty bottle of a much inferior white to the one she had at the restaurant. It also serves as a good chance to catch her breath and remind herself eating dessert is all they'll be doing. Which is fine. Completely fine. She's just also so wet and aching she could probably get herself off in less than a minute, her body having not quite received the memo of them deciding to take it slow. What kind of fucking idiot has a man between their legs asking to eat her out and says "slow down"? Me, apparently. She chugs a glass of cold water straight from the tap before tiptoeing down the hall again, her prices in hand, and carefully cracks open the door. "Hey," she greets Bo, smiling a little shyly.

“Practice makes perfect. Or rather… practice makes… close to perfect?” he jokes. “But slow is good. Like you said… we have time.” Still sitting on the bed, he tracks Helaena’s movements like she’s prey, tail wiggling in interest as he watches her cover up her goddess-like figure with a robe. Slow, Bo. Slow. When Helaena disses his favorite wine, he rolls eyes and blows a raspberry. “More for me, then.” With her out of the room, he changes into a pair of pajama pants he’s kept stashed in her drawers, right next to Helaena’s ever-growing boyfriend T-shirt collection. Every time I come over, I leave things here... The revelation make his chest feel warm as he hangs up his discarded suit on a spare hanger, his habit of picking up after Helaena coming out in full swing. He picks up a few books, loose papers, a towel, but then… Seeing her orange dress crumpled on the floor makes him stop and stare for a minute. He swears he can feel the moment his heart stopped when he pulled that belt apart, reveling in the way the silky fabric easily slid off her every perfect curve of her sinful little- ”I couldn’t stop looking at it without thinking about you taking it off of me.” Bo crouches down on the floor, head tucked between his knees, and just lets his tail go nuts for a while, the heavy appendage smacking wildly against the floor. She’s so insanely hot that I’m going to die. Why do I have to take things slow?! Oh, that’s right. Because I’m too hung up on trying to be perfect for the love of my life. Performance anxiety, I suppose.

Learning from their mistakes. Fumbling around. Trying until they get it right. It's very frustrating when there's no easy answer, no simple fix. Fortunately, the attempts are likely to be very pleasant, if also very frustrating. "So we just... practice? Maybe move more slowly so it's not so... everything all at once?" she offers. Her mind is already whirring with ideas. Her pout when he sits up is very childish, but she doesn't protest. They can kiss more later. And she does really want dessert. It looked really good when she peeked in the boxes. "Fine, fine, dessert, wine, then more kissing," she agrees. "But I'm getting a glass of white, I'm sorry, I'm only drinking Malbec under duress." She shoots him a playful wink as she gets off the bed and belts herself into her very comfortable, very covering bathrobe so she doesn't have to get fully dressed to grab a few forks and wine glasses.

“We should be aiming for what’s realistic so we don’t crash and burn ourselves out on each other. And what’s realistic is just… fumbling around until we find out the best answer for us. Learning from our mistakes. I know I’ve learned a lot from tonight.” He sits up slowly after that last kiss, afraid he’ll fall victim to the Kiss Trap if he keeps indulging his girlfriend. It’s not his fault her lips are so plush and soft all of the time. “We kiss each other all of the time,” he counters. “It’s not every day that we have amazing cake to share. So I vote cake, a little bit of my wine, and then we can kiss again. What do you think about that?”

Perfection. Her perpetual enemy. The white whale she can never quite reach, but by the Gods can she lose sleep trying. "What happens when you put two perfectionists together?" she grumbles with no real irritation. "You're right. We should be aiming for... I don't know. Messy and imperfect and awkward. Or maybe we should just be aiming for cake. Cake does make everything better." She sighs into his kisses, soft and lazy and content. It's nice, to simply be kissed. To be loved. There's only one problem with him kissing her. She never, ever wants him to stop, even if that's all they do. She's naked, he's only dressed from the waist down, and she wants nothing more than this gentle, indulgent play of lips right now. She huffs at his comment, hauling him into another kiss. But she's smiling, a bit of color that has nothing to do with warmth or arousal blooming in her cheeks. "I'm... glad? Feel free to do it again any time you'd like? I'm not sure what to say here," she admits with a chuckle. "Except I'm really torn between cake and asking you to kiss me again right now."

She nervous, too? That explains why she keeps repeating herself, the deluge of “I love you’s” and “it’s okay’s.” He laughs again, but much more lightheartedly this time. There’s nothing quite like how her ranting makes him feel better, even she’s just voicing her own frustrations. “Then you understand where I’m coming from,” he replies. “You put pressure on yourself. So do I. I want to be perfect for you, and you want to be perfect for me. I’m still trying to learn that perfection isn’t what we should be aiming for.” When Helaena leans her forehead against his, the tension in his shoulders is gone, too. He completely relaxes, his tail stilled. It burrows itself halfway into her comforter. “Cake might solve our problems. And even if it doesn’t? Cake is cake.” Helaena might have kissed him enough times tonight to last a lifetime, so he decides to pay her back with a few of his own, sprinkling them all over her cheeks, her nose, and of course, her lips. “And by the way,” he says while his hand brushes up against Helaena’s chest, eyes bouncing between all of his bite marks before forcing his gaze back up to her face. “You don’t have to worry about my sexual orientation. I think there’s proof of my attraction to you all over your breasts.”

Helaena scrunches her nose, seemingly deep in thought. "You realize I'm nervous too, right? Like, really, really nervous. Nervous of screwing this up, of convincing you you should never have agreed to this in the first place, I don't know, nervous I'll single-handedly persuade you you're only attracted to men," she lists off, only joking the tiniest bit with the last one. "I'm frustrated, too. Not by you, but by the fact there are things I can't control, and can't fix. I'm a control freak, and I've never met a problem I can't beat my head against the wall trying to fix. Not that you are a problem, but..." She groans, irritated by her inability to beam exactly what she's thinking and feeling into his head so he understands. "I want... I want to have a way to make you understand how I'm feeling. I wish Detect Thoughts wasn't such a limited spell, not to mention a little unethical if cast without consent of both parties. I wish I had the right words to tell you how much I love you, and how much I don't want you to be _better_, I want you to be you. Because to me, you're wonderful. You always have been." Her forehead leans against his for a moment, just breathing in this closeness before she loses it, before his walls slam back up and it might be months before he lets her in like this again. "But yeah, cake... At least there's cake, right?" The smile she shoots him is wry, but the humor is at her own expense, not his.

He can’t help but laugh at how the question is phrased, because all he can be is honest, even if it just makes him sound pathetic. “I’ve already said,” he sighs. “I wasn’t lying. I do want to have sex with you and make you feel good.” “But I’m nervous, and I hate that. I am frustrated by my own shortcomings. So… maybe I just need to take a step back.” I feel like a little kid whose mom is trying to make feel better. His tail starts to thump on the bed, the noise muffled by the comforter brunched up behind him. “What I want is to be better. But it’s more realistic of me to want… cake, I guess?”

She might not be disappointed, but he seems to be. It’s okay, she tries to tell him with every kiss, slow and gentle and loving. I love you. “It’s okay,” she whispers against his lips. “I love you so much.” Her hands don’t stray below his neck, simply stroking his face and hair. “What do you want, sweetheart? Now what do you think I want, or what do you think would please me, what do you _want?_”

With a long exhale, he lets go of some of the tension he didn’t realize he was holding in his jaw. His previously unmoving tail starts to wag weakly in the air, hairs free from the gel swaying with the movement. Well, good thing I wrote “try” in my text. Godsdammit all. “Sure, okay,” he agrees, deciding to lie down on his side. “I like kissing you, too.” Maybe I didn’t disappoint you, but I disappointed myself. He pats the spot on the bed next to him, signaling Helaena to join him.

”You already have. I have you, that’s all I wanted. All I was waiting for.” She’s not sure how to explain to him more clearly that there is absolutely nothing he could do that would disappoint her, because it’s him. If she just wanted sex, to be completely frank, well, he’s not the only person on campus willing to give it to her. Maybe that’s exactly what she should tell him. “I love you,” she reminds him, cupping his face as she looks up at him. “And there is nothing you could do or not do that would disappoint me, okay? You don’t have to worry about that. I enjoy sex, but I’m here for you.” She kisses him again, just a gentle press of lips, a reassurance. “There’s no expectation to meet, no dreams to live up to. There’s just you and me, and what we want right now, okay? That’s all that matters.” Her hands wind through his hair, smoothing down the strands mussed from their kisses and his attention to her chest. “Is it okay if I just want to kiss you for a bit? I really like kissing you.”

The question makes him pause. It makes him realize that he is putting on somewhat of a show for Helaena, trying his damnedest to live up to whatever fantasy of him exists in her imaginative mind. He assumes this “dream Bo” is a confident, smooth-talking, sexually skilled man. What he wants is to live up to the hype. But can he? Helaena has told him that he is better than her dreams, and that all she wants is whatever he’s willing to give. But what if he can’t give her what he wants to give her? So close to her face, lost in the pleasure of her kiss and the closeness of their bodies, he feels utterly exposed. “I just… want to make you feel good,” he says hesitantly. “I want to give you what you’ve been waiting for.” But I’m worried I won’t be any good. I hate how inexperienced I am with women. I don’t want to disappoint you.

"Dreaming? I'm the one dreaming." She's had this particular dream at least a dozen times, but the look of desire and awe in her lover's eyes is better than she could have imagined. Well, he was usually wearing slightly fewer clothes in her dreams, as in none, but she's willing to work with what she's got. She manages to force a single moment of clarity even as she follows his instructions to lie back down, gloriously exposed to his gaze. She's come a long way from hating what she sees in the mirror, but her acceptance and quiet appreciation is nothing compared to the beauty reflected in his eyes. "Is it what you want, though?" Her voice is soft, loving, wholly free of judgment. "I don't care about what I deserve or what I've earned. You are more than enough." She pulls him into a kiss, its gentleness a contrast, but an oddly fitting one, to their position, their state of undress, the harshness of both their breaths. "You can have anything, anything at all... But we have time. There's no rush." Would she like to have his mouth between her legs? Is Elminster Mystran? But she can wait, slow down, anything. He matters so much more to her than sex does. "What do you want, love? I want to give it to you."

His very first instinct is to push her hands away, to lie and say it’s too distracting to be touched by her, because how is he supposed to strip her further like this? It would only be a half lie. It is distracting, but not because he wouldn’t be able take her underwear off. No, it’s because his entire life spent internalizing the dislike of his less human features becomes the most apparent when human hands touch his body. Half of the reason he clung so strongly to his previous partner is because they were both tieflings. Instead of focusing on their differences, he could focus on other things. But she is touching him because she wants to, and he wants to give her the entire world and then some. Behind her lustful gaze is curiosity, and behind that is unconditional love. All of this is so much better when he knows that he is not doing any of this just to earn scraps of affection. So he does not protest. Helaena has earned the privilege to touch a body he does not care to show the world by being patient, trustworthy, and impossibly kind. But he wants to see more. Hear more. He is greedy for the rest of Helaena, and one little piece of fabric is still in his way. With her enthusiastic consent, he slides her underwear down until is catches around her knees, not even bothering to wait until it’s completely off to marvel at the sight of her, wet and wanting and willing. “Hells, love. I feel like I’m dreaming, getting to see this,” he gasps. “Lie back down. Let me take this off all of the way so I can give you what you want. You deserve it for being so patient with me.”

She is lost, but more for who she’s with, how much that matters, than for what he’s doing. Is it supposed to be like this? she wonders as he bites her neck the way she’s wanted him to for months, but just a little too gently, still holding back. Is it supposed to feel this good? She enjoys sex. She’s enjoyed it with every partner but her first, well, mostly, some of it was a bit shit, but she’s always been fully willing and able to have a good, mutually satisfactory time. It’s still different. It makes a world of difference that it’s Bo’s voice whispering sweet compliments, his hot breath on her neck, his body covering hers… “Yes,” she says immediately to his question. “Fuck, yes.” She’s still wearing her shoes, for some reason, so she kicks those off in the vague direction of off the bed before letting her hands return to their new favorite pastime, roaming and exploring every freckle and ridge and scar that makes up Bo, mapping the territory of his chest with her fingers. She’ll return the favor. She’ll insist on it. Spend ages covering every last inch of him in kisses. But for now, her fingers will have to do, because the last thing she’s going to do is ask him to stop.

Well, I already left marks, so that’s a good thing. Because Helaena bruises way too easily, even his gentlest bites leaving little purple marks all over her chest. Despite the fact that she is being vague about her fantasies, he’s feeling good about how lost she seems in all this, evident by her bright eyes being taken over by blown out pupils. He likes to get things right. He likes to solve puzzles. He likes to win… though it’s not like this is a competition. Still, this is more the Helaena he was expecting- one that would melt from the simplest of touches and vocalize every step of the way. Which is good, because he needs the feedback to keep from getting in his head about what he assumes Helaena means by “want your mouth everywhere,” a request she’s made for the second time. How could he say no? She was always so meek about voicing her desires, preferring to step of glass rather than someone’s toes. If she asks, no- begs for something like this, it would be so cruel to deny her. So he flips her onto her back, and does his best to oblige before digging into the main course. Back to her neck, he bears his teeth down by her pulse point, holding back from breaking skin. Each mark he leaves only fuels him to do more, her neck and upper shoulders matching her chest before too long. “You are so stunning like this,” he breathes, sitting up for a moment to admire his work. “I’m so lucky to get to have you.” Her bare abdomen was exactly as he imagined. Soft, pale skin, unmarred and uninterrupted by unsightly ridges. He can’t help but trace his fingers along her ribcage in admiration. “Such a lovely sight… I would love to continue making your dreams a reality. May I?” He hooks one of his fingers underneath the waistband of her underwear and lightly tugs at it, waiting for confirmation.

- “I dreamed of you, Bo. You’re already far surpassing any of my dreams just by being real, and here. Because I love you.” Her kiss is a little messy, a tangle of tongues and lips and a hint of teeth, but no less loving for it. Helaena’s had plenty of sex, quite a bit of it now a regret, but she’s never made love before. That’s what she wants tonight, she realizes. She wants to love and be loved. And she wants to see the beautiful man she loves lose himself in her, as often and as completely as she can. Maybe she can be a little selfish first, though. Just a little. “Want your mouth,” she breathes against his lips. “Please? Want your mouth everywhere.”

“All over,” he repeats in a whisper, shuddering in anticipation. “Yes, m’am.” And all that is left of Boletus is a creature who lives to please, to do as he’s told, and bask in the euphoric praise. He is happy to give himself to someone who will love him in return. Helaena is just so deliciously responsive when it comes to her chest. He’s never seen anything like this before in a partner. Every sweep of his tongue makes her cry out beautifully, and all it does is make him want to bite… “L-love. My teeth. Tell me if they’re too much. I just want to try… just a little bit of my teeth in you…” Tiefling skin, at least in his experience, is a bit rougher, a bit better at taking the full force of his teeth. He’s unsure about Helaena, her human skin so pale and delicate. But he’s comfortable enough to at least try. Tonight is all about them learning each other. He has to remind himself that mistakes are okay. His first bite latches onto the outer edge of her breast, points digging into the pliant flesh for a moment while he sucks, leaving a deliciously red mark in its wake. The second bite focuses on her nipple, this one much gentler, the edges of his teeth simply resting against it for a moment before daring to bear down on the sensitive bud. “Delicious,” he groans. “You’ll have my mouth all over you if you want.” He licks a slow stripe starting from between her breasts all the way up to the middle of her throat. “Is this what you dreamed of?” he teases. “I’m sure I did more than just licking your chest and neck. Let me make your wishes come true, because I love you so, so much, Laena.”

Talk to him? Fuck, she should never have encouraged him to do this. The last time he had his hands on her breasts should have been warning enough, danger this way, do not cross the dotted line. Maybe it’s not a bad thing if she loses herself now, though. Maybe it’s not bad if she’s turned on, if she wants more, if need for more burns under her skin. Maybe it’s okay she moans his name and pulls his hair, just on the edge of too harshly. “Fuck, more, _please,_” she begs. “Want… want you so badly…” Her usual articulate self is gone. Left is a creature of desire, of need, of wants and demands. “Please? Love your mouth, want to feel it all over, fuck, been fantasizing about this for tendays…”

He nods silently, hunching over to lick at her hardened nipple through the lace of her bra, logic be damned. But his pointed teeth get caught in the delicate little holes, tearing them open just a little bit wider. “Fuck, sorry,” he slurs, drunk on her scent that just gets stronger as time goes on. “I’ll buy you a new one.” He’s too stupid right now to remember Helaena can fix a bra with magic. The bra needs to come off anyways. Why is it even still on? He tosses it to the side, then goes back to using his mouth the way Helaena told him to. If I want? Why wouldn’t I want this? Just like his skin, his slightly pointed tongue is hot like fire. It won’t be burning anyone, but it’s noticeably different from any human or elf. He gently sucks while swirling his tongue around, softly groaning from the satisfaction of having his mouth so full of her. Of Helaena. Man or woman or something outside the binary, he knows how to appreciate a chest. He uses past experience to guide him here. The hand she guided remains on her other breast gently groping with trepidation. Soon the motions grow more rough, more confident the more he loses himself. “Tell me, talk to me. I love your voice, Laena.”

”Yes, yes, anything,” she sighs against his lips, positively surprised by his aptitude despite his relative inexperience. But it doesn’t matter how many bras he’s removed, what matters is he’s removing _hers_, slowly, almost reverently, as if her tits are something special, something worth the wait. If his touch felt good even through the fabric of one of his shirts, so good she almost lost all self respect and begged him to go further, what will it feel like now? She reaches for one of his hands, guiding it to her breast even as she kisses him again. She moans against his lips as he squeezes her the way she showed him the last time. “You could use your mouth,” she blurts out. “If you want. Would feel… would feel so good…”

“Thanks,” he sighs in relief, feeling like he can finally get a satisfying inhale now that his shirt is off. “Love you, you. You are-“ Her kiss is just at hot as his skin feels, as dangerous as her words are. He has to remind himself that he’s the one setting the pace here, but that just brings about questions as to what Helaena would really do to him if she were the one in charge. Whether it was more a mental block or a physical one, having his shirt off signals to him that now he’s allowed to touch and explore. He had to cut it short last time, but now? His hands fiddle with the clasps on her bra, easily undoing the garment despite the way his lips are glued to Helaena’s. “Can I… mm… can I take this off?” he asks, even though it’s already halfway off anyways. “Need to see them. Let me make you feel good… because you’re so good to me. Always.”

Another dangerous thing to say to someone so perilously close to simply pushing him down on her bed and having her way with him. It would be so easy, he could be inside her within a minute, but she knows they both deserve more, deserve better, especially for a first like this. Still, she takes the permission he gives. His skin does feel hot against hers, flushed as if from a fever, almost hot enough to burn her skin. Hot enough to keep her warm even on the coldest nights. A fire burning hot enough to match the storm inside her. Fuck, he's even begging her to. She's only mortal. He has to know her control has limits, right? He has to know how long she's dreamed of undoing his clothes, and his restraint with it, button by button, her mouth following the trail of her hands until she hits a trail of soft hair so beautiful she could weep. He's perfect. How could this be anything but worth the wait? She needs to follow that trail of hair to its origin and swallow him down to the root like she needs to breathe. Not yet. Not yet. You have all the time in the world. She pushes the shirt, tie and waistcoat off his shoulders all in one, revealing miles of warm orange skin, decorated with ridges, beautiful muscles hidden right under its surface, utterlygorgeous. "You're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen," she declares before hauling him into another kiss. She can't stop kissing him. She won't. She loved kissing him long before she was allowed to touch him like this, allowed to see him like this. His lips are home. "Love you," she moans. "Love you so much..."

“Just s-speaking my mind,” he strains. “Nothing I say is untrue.” His sanity just crumbles away as Helaena undoes his restrictive clothing with a skill both surprising and not. He has always known wizards to be good with their hands. What else can those hands do? “P-please take it off,” he begs, his voice cracking. “Need it off. Don’t wanna be the only one.” He means he doesn’t want to be the only one clothed, even if that is kind of hot and a dynamic he would love to explore later. “I’m burning up. So, so hot,” he pants, placing one of his burning hot hands on her cheek. “Take anything you want off. As long as it’s your hands doing it, as long as your eyes are the ones looking… *please.*” His tail echoes his sentiments as it wraps around Helaena’s bare waist. The sensation of her skin, the way the flesh of her fuller figure spills over just a little, makes him moan quietly, and he hopes Helaena didn’t quite catch it.

He seems to be speaking just fine to her, even if he faltered for a moment. Clearly she hasn’t done her job well enough yet. She saw the lust mingled with surprise, borderline shock, at the sight of her, much closer to nude than he’s ever seen, finally letting out some of the parts of herself she was afraid would be too much. The alcohol helps there. Makes her just that bit bolder. Nothing in his reaction makes her want to shy away, turn back into the shy girl not daring to believe someone would want to kiss her. No, he makes her want to be wild. To let loose and simply feel. Simply enjoy this. He makes her want to properly ruin him. “Such a sweet talker,” she muses as she undoes his waistcoat in a few motions of quick, skilled fingers used to somatic components but who were once very skilled in undoing men’s clothing. She slows down as she undoes his tie, giving him time to object. She undoes the first button of his shirt, but only to make it easier for him to breathe. She knows tight collars bother him after a while. “Would you be okay with me taking your shirt off?” she asks before moving a single step further. Yes, she’s so horny she can barely form a sentence, but his consent is still the most important thing in the world to him. “Want to see you,” she breathes into his ear, almost pleadingly. “Caught a few glimpses but… I felt bad for even looking, then.”

He can’t say a thing, too lost in his own thoughts, to really respond to the much shorter woman pushing him down onto her bed. All he can do is silently nod at her words of affection. Even if he wanted to, well, now she’s straddling him and kissing him in a way that makes all the blood in his brain rush straight to his cock. “Want…?” he mutters, wondering when he’ll wake up from this perfect dream of his. “You… I want you. You’re… I can’t think straight.” His hands rest on her hips, idly toying with the lacy fabric of her underwear. “Gods, you’re so gorgeous I can’t even speak right. I thought I was ruined before? What a fool I am.”

He's rapidly reducing her ability to resist doing exactly what she wants to, even if she had any remaining desire to try to control herself. It's good to know he'll stop her if something's too much. That's the assurance she needs to let loose, to simply be herself. He might end up regretting giving her permission to do whatever she fucking wants. Her dress falls to the floor, revealing a very nice set of very burgundy underwear she actually didn't buy for this occasion, but definitely hasn't been able to look at for several months without thinking of how it's almost exactly his favorite color. "You're better than anything I imagined," she tells him, maintaining full eye contact as she backs him towards her bed. "Because you're real, and you're you, and I love you." She pushes his shoulders until he sits down, then immediately moves to straddle him loosely, more sitting in his lap than anything. Still, this gives the advantage of not having to crane her neck to kiss him, something she takes full advantage of. Her kisses are getting deeper as her hands roam his chest, tugging playfully at his tie but not moving to undress him, not yet. He's been teasing her for months, she can return the favor, at least a little. "What do you want, love?" she breathes in his ear. "I want what you want... Want to spoil you rotten, want you to feel so good..."

Could he swallow any louder? His Adam’s apple bobs up and down with the nervous motion, eyes unable to focus on exactly one part of Helaena’s body. “P-playing nice?” he stammers. “Oh. I mean… no need to do that. I said I was ready, and I meant it.” What does she mean by that?! Playing nice? This is nice? “I want to… I want to do what you imagined,” he whispers, leaning into another kiss. His sharp teeth nip against her full bottom lip, and he wants nothing more but to sink his teeth into it until it bleeds. Because Bo has been playing nice, too. And he will continue to do so until he’s comfortable enough to show her what a man of his size and lineage can really do. “You can be mean,” he confirms. “At least a little. I’ll tell you if something is too much. But right now?” Bo likes an even playing field. He slides the rest of her dress off so that Helaena is just standing there in her underwear, heels, and jewelry. “Gods. You can do whatever you fucking want to me.”

Boletus is about to discover exactly how much she's been holding back, to avoid making him uncomfortable, to make this easier for them both. Maybe she won't tell him about the mortifyingly elaborate fantasies or embarrassingly simple images of his hands, his lips, his shoulders or his voice that she'd use to get off. At least not yet. But she can definitely tell him exactly what she thinks of him undoing the first of the two bows necessary to unfasten her dress entirely. She's been playing nice. Now it's time to go in for the killing blow, so to speak. "Am I ruining you? Hmm, that's good to know..." Her hands run down his chest, slowly, but without lingering anywhere in particular. She'll have time for that later, if she has her way. "What did I imagine... Oh, you were kissing me. Definitely that. I think I got to take at least a few of your clothes off, too?" She looks up at him, pleading and just a little teasing, as her thumb plays with the top button of his waistcoast. "You see, Bo, here's the thing... When I pictured ruining you, I had a lot more of an active part in it. But I've been playing nice. Would you like me to stop playing nice?"

“I’ll give you the address to my tailor,” he says with a smile. “He does good work, doesn’t he? It’s hard to get clothes to fit me right…” He would talk more, because he is really attached to his tailor and wants to sing his praises, but Helaena pulls his neck down rather suddenly so she can whisper in his ear and casually eradicate his brain. His tail likely has its own brain, as it’s the first part of him to react to the insanely erotic thing his girlfriend just confessed to him. It wraps all the way around her calves and squeezes. ”I couldn’t look at it without thinking about you taking it off me.” “O-oh?” he chokes out, knuckles turning pale from how tightly he’s gripping at the belt attached to the dress that Helaena said she fantasized about him taking off. “Really… wow. That’s incredible. Really. Really, really… cool to hear. Yeah.” All of a sudden, he really wants to know what else she’s been fantasizing about behind those hungry eyes of hers. To know he occupied the space in her mind reserved for sexual desire is enough of an ego boost to (temporarily) restore brain function. But first things first. He finally pulls on the belt, the silky dress opening up with very little effort. His hands slide up her sides and underneath the fabric sitting at her shoulders. It would only take one more movement to get the thing mostly off. “Is this what you imagined it would be like, beautiful? You are seriously ruining me right now.”

"Well lucky you, you can have both... Just gotta choose which one you want first." She lets him take the lead, her own hands staying in his hair even as his roam over her waist, scorching hot even through the soft fabric of her dress. She can't help her soft moan when his teeth graze her lip, though. It's quite possible she's already a little flushed from their kisses, but it deepens to a proper blush as he showers her with compliments as if it's nothing, as if they're the simple truth. "You couldn't stop staring at me? I couldn't stop staring at you, it's really not fair how nice you look in a suit," she complains. "Well, you look nice in everything, but I need to send flowers to the person you bought this waistcoat from." So she has a weakness for waistcoats. Sue her. They suit him. Her breath hitches as he pulls at the tie he could unravel with a single tug of his fingers, leaving her more or less just in her underwear in an instant. Yes, perhaps she'd been thinking about that when she chose the dress, but she didn't think it would actually happen. "I'm glad," she tells him. "We should both be suffering, at least a little." She's grinning, a little cheekily, even though she mostly wants to push him backwards until he's on her bed and then kissing him until neither of them can breathe. "Wanna know a secret, though?" she whispers in his ear. "It's new. I picked it for this date. The color made me think of you. And I couldn't look at it without thinking about you taking it off me."

“You know that’s hard for me to choose,” he whines, leaning his forehead against hers. “I want both…” Hot cocoa or his girlfriend’s lips? Well, her lips are already here, so the correct choice, at least for now, seems fairly obvious. His hands grab her waist to pull her just a bit closer, satisfying his need to feel her body with his own. The stark contrast just excites him further, his kisses getting a bit more desperate and wanting. Of course, his tail is trained to know that when its owner is like this, it’s time to assume the position and wrap itself around Helaena’s lower legs. “I’ve told you you’re beautiful, haven’t I?” he says, finding a bit of his groove after kissing his anxieties away. “I couldn’t stop staring at you during dinner, and it was torture having to drive and being unable to look at you.” One of his hands starts to pull at the silky belt of her dress. “This right here? This is making me go insane. I hope you know that.” But he doesn’t pull it apart. Instead, he just twirls the end of it around his finger.

She smiles at his awkwardness. "I could put the kettle on, or make some hot cocoa to go with the dessert," she offers. "Or..." Her hand on his jaw is gentle, a request, not a demand. Her kiss is the same, simply a soft brush of lips as her other hand runs through his hair. She might have warned him she can be a bit bossy, but at least for now, she'll let him set the pace. "Or you could kiss me again. It's up to you."

“Oh!” he gasps, only a tiny bit disoriented from the teleportation spell. “Well, this is very okay. Um, thank you for sparing us the trouble.” He would have happily carried her up one thousand flights of steps if he had to. But now that he’s here, he isn’t sure what to do. His tail swishes nervously low to the ground. “So… how are you feeling? That was some good food, wasn’t it?” Why was this easier with Ardon? Ugh… “Oh! The dessert! Gods… I can’t wait to try that.”

She would be happy with almost anything that involves Bo, a bed and a lockable door, so she’s not feeling particularly picky. Still, there are a few things that make her slightly more keen to be in her room over his, most importantly the fact she has a good stash of lube, contraceptives and toys, and she has no idea which ones of those they’ll need, but better safe than sorry. “My room,” she agrees. “My room’s great.” Then she takes his offered hand and decides to show him exactly why dating a wizard has some fringe benefits. “_Ad alibi._” And then they’re standing on the center of her bedroom rug, the room exactly as she’d left it a few hours before. “Sorry, didn’t feel like waiting for elevators or walking up a million flights of stairs,” she tells him, just a little sheepishly. “I hope that’s okay?” She’s going to offer to make a cup of tea, to find some plates and forks for their desserts, maybe to put on some music. Anything to make him comfortable. To slow things down to where he is okay with this. That’s what matters to her. The rest of the world can go hang.

The drive home is so painfully long, his only saving grace being more Stevie Wonder blasted at a slightly higher than usual volume. He knows he’d freeze Helaena to death if she turned on the air conditioning or opened a window, so all he can do is roll up the sleeves of his button up for just a tiny bit of relief from the heat. I want to take off her dress so damn bad. He doesn’t even bother to back into his assigned parking space. It’s quicker to just drive straight into it. And there’s no time to pat the dashboard and say thanks to his second girlfriend (the car) either. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible… will your room be okay?” he asks as he opens her door for her. He might worry about her suitemates, but that’s nothing magic can’t solve. His only limitation there will be his own mind, anyways. But maybe he’s too horny to care too much about being perceived in the context of sleeping with his girlfriend.

Helaena smiles brilliantly at her phone, then at him. Gods, she appreciates it, appreciates him, appreciates his understanding of exactly what she was worried about. "I love you so much. Not least for the fact I brought another Protection from Poison scroll that I was about to cast on you." She climbs into the car, but not before rising onto her toes to kiss his cheek. "Let's go home, and you can get to see exactly why wrap dresses are fantastic for dates," she teases. She's more comfortable being just a little openly flirtatious now. It's the trickle before the floodgates break, really. He doesn't know what he's in for when she really gets going.

After sending the text, he pulls away from her and walks over to open the passenger side door. “I hope that’s clear enough for you. Let’s head home, okay?”

Message from: Bo Sober Bo, here. I would still like to try having sex tonight wholly of my own volition. Consider this my written consent.

He fishes his scroll out the coat pocket hanging off of his arm, mumbling a few words before it disappears, along with any remnants of the slight buzz he had earlier. The beating of his heart still rages on, of course. That’s no poison. “Helaena,” he says calmly, squeezing her hand right back. “I have always appreciated how patient and understanding you have been about all of this. Good food and wine have only made me more openly want something I have wanted ever since I laid eyes on you tonight.” Clearly sober, he sends another text.

She is calm. She is in control. She is not thinking about the last text in a long thread of conversations reaching back months. It might be the only one he didn't sign with his full name. That thought almost makes her snort out a laugh, and then it's simultaneously a lot harder and a lot easier to be normal about this. This is Bo. She loves him. She doesn't just want him, even though she really, really does, she wants him to want every bit of this just as much as she does. It's as simple as that for her. She'll have all of him, in his time, or wait until he's ready. "Okay, so," she starts when they're walking down the street towards where he parked. "I am, obviously, not opposed. Not in the slightest. But I want to make sure you're saying this because it's what you want, not because you're a little drunk and we've been flirting, not because you think it's what I want or expect, not because of what anyone else thinks." She squeezes his hand and shoots him a wry smile. "Because the two of us are the only people who matter when it comes to this, okay? And the last thing I want is for you to do something you'll regret in the morning. And it's definitely not a decision you should make drunk, and I'm struggling to gauge exactly how much a whiskey and most of a bottle of wine affected you."

❤️

2

Pim { Tav: Olifyr }

pimentisa

ktwht (Tav: Rue)

ktwht

❤️

Close

Even as tipsy as she is, it is downright erotic how quickly Helaena is able to get them out of the restaurant, asking for the check at the same time as she places their to-go dessert orders. She puts on a rarely-used assertive tone of voice that makes Bo feel like melting into his seat. He did say he liked bossy. But how is he supposed to drive back like this?! With his infernal body heat rising and his heart pounding away? When she offers out her hand, he simply has to shed a layer, seemingly unfazed by the evening winter chill. His blazer rests on one hooked arm, while he takes Helaena hand with the other. It’s sort of scary how calm she looks right now. All he can do is attempt to match that energy. “Yes, let’s,” he replies, bowing his head slightly.

She orders a gateau marcel and a lemon meringue to go without blinking or as much as glancing at the menu, and has them out of there within ten minutes, boxed desserts in hand and Bo's wine recorked and taken with them. When Helaena Cresswell has a mission, she executes it as swiftly and efficiently as possible. Of course, even with how short the wait is, it is still a wait, and a wait is, unfortunately, time to think. Time to consider. Time to realize that yes, Bo has stated verbal and even written consent, but they've also both had a decent amount of wine, and basically been eyefucking for the majority of the evening. Their judgments might be at least somewhat impaired. So what she's going to do is walk back to his car, use the Protection from Poison scroll she has on him, because she's at least very sure she'd agree to this even wholly sober, and then have a serious, mature discussion about this as *adults*. Easy peasy. She takes a deep breath of the icy winter air as she steps outside, forcing it to strengthen her resolve to at least make it back to the dorms before doing more than kissing him. There's no doubt about it. She can absolutely do this. What's another half an hour after months of waiting? "Shall we?" she asks, her smile almost-normal as she reaches out her hand, an invitation for him to take it in his.

She seems to be taking my proposition well, he thinks as he watches Helaena slam down a very dry red wine that he thought she told him she didn’t like during one of their many study sessions together. “Well, I wouldn’t say I would mind a rush…” he affirms, staring at her small, delicate hand on top of his. But leave it to Helaena to come up with another wonderful, brilliant idea. Because he really wants dessert. He also really wants to touch his girlfriend as soon as possible. “Yes, yes. Lovely idea. Very, very good idea. Same idea with the appetizers, yes? We order two and split them? Lady’s choice.” His mind is buzzing far too much to fathom picking. He’ll eat any of it, all of it, all of Helaena… I’m getting hot. Curse this stupid tielfing body...

Her face blushes bright crimson as she realizes the meaning of spending the night. Oh. It is a little cruel, to tell her this in public, while the empty plates from their entrees are still sitting in front of them, their bill unpaid, his bottle of wine half finished. Mostly because these are all things that keep her from doing what she wants to do, but shouldn’t do, which is figure out exactly how comfortable the bench seat of his car is. And potentially if her teleportation spells are up to snuff. She immediately reaches for his Malbec and pours herself a healthy glass that she takes an almost-impolite sip from. Never mind that she actually kind of fucking hates Malbec, she needs something to do with her hands and more alcohol in her system. “Okay,” she manages. “That’s… okay.” She sounds like a broken record. “I mean… of course that’s okay, we can talk about it later, yeah? There’s no rush.” She reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, the show of affection she usually employs in class or the library, just a brief reassuring I’m here. “You’re not being too forward, I’m just having a really hard time pretending I care about dessert right now,” she confesses. She amends that statement a moment later. “Well, no… what would you think about grabbing some to go?”

When he hits send, all he can hear is his own heart beat, his voice sounding more like a whisper to his ears. “As you can see… we can talk more later tonight,” he mutters. “I’m sorry if I worried you or… if I’m being too forward during our date. I just felt like I needed to say something.”

Text message from: Bo I would like to try having sex tonight.

Would it crueler let Helaena stew in uncertainty, or wind her up in a public place after she’s been drinking? To Bo, both options seem equally awful at first. After mulling it over a bit, he decides leaving an endlessly curious woman like her in the dark for the remainder of the date would be much worse. “Sorry. Um… let me just send the message. Hold one moment…”

Helaena is deeply, thoroughly confused. They've spent more nights than not together ever since she suggested it, falling into a pleasant routine of usually sharing a meal, sometimes doing some work or studying in pleasant silence, and then falling asleep talking about everything and nothing. She's so thoroughly locked herself away from even the possibility of Bo initiating any increase in their physical intimacy she doesn't even consider that's what he means. "Uh, yes? I mean, I'd... I'd assumed you'd like that? We usually do, don't we?" Why does her every statement sound like a question? She only gets even more confused as he picks up his phone, then puts it down again, then insists they'll talk about it later. "I mean, we can talk about it later? Or we can talk about it now? What are we talking about? I am... incredibly confused right now?" She must look like a proper idiot, sitting there with her mostly-eaten steak, unable to parse a simple sentence because her ability to interpret social interactions skydives when she's nervous or tipsy or worse, both.

“Can I spend the night with you?” As if they haven’t done that constantly for tendays at this point. “Um… how do I say this in public? Oh! Hold on.” He thinks it’s rude to take his phone out during dinner, but this is just something he needs to do. While he texts his message out, his entire face turns a deep red-orange, and he ends up deleting it. “N-never mind! It’ll be a conversation for later tonight.” I’m getting ahead of myself. We’re still at dinner. In public. And I’m wearing my best suit. And my buzz has mostly worn off. “Gods, this food is so good, r-right?”

1

Alvilda (Tav: Helaena+)

alvilda_

Close

She pauses mid sentence, embarrassed she was talking too much again. "Oh, uh, yes. You can ask me anything, Bo, and I'll do what I can to answer honestly." She means that. There are some things she might not answer _wholly_, but what she says will be honest, to the best of her ability. Not because she doesn't trust him, but because she doesn't want to ruin the moment, or because she's not ready to talk about it, yet. "What was your question?"

Even her cursing makes his heart flutter. And thank goodness his inside thought he said aloud triggered a Helaena yap, because that way, Bo can focus on his food, almost all of his senses experiencing utter bliss. Tartare might be dominating his sense of taste and smell, but his eyes and ears are focused solely on the woman in front of him. If only he could touch her right now. Then one could say all five of his senses are in heaven. “Helaena…” he interrupts gently. “Can I ask you something?”

She chuckles at the thought of him ordering two entrees with a straight face (he would, too, and she loves him for it) but then falls silent as the tender, expertly seasoned meat hits her tongue. It's beautifully balanced, enhancing the flavor of an excellent piece of meat rather than changing or overwhelming it. She's had sex far more underwhelming than this single bite of tartare. She's had good sex she'd choose this tartare over, in a heartbeat. Helaena really likes food. "Oh fuck, that's incredible," she moans. "Okay, yeah, saving up, and maybe we'll have to see if they'll give us a discount if we write a gushing enough review. Free dessert or something. Gods _damn._" She's somehow either drunk enough or oblivious enough to realize the pretty thing Bo is referring to might be _her_, so she instead starts on a nerdy ramble as she enjoys every single bite of her steak. "Well it depends, but the scent of taste and smell are the ones most linked to memory, so I don't know, maybe? I know things taste different to me depending on where and when I eat them, even if it's the exact same food. It could depend on my mood, or the time of day, or the setting..."

“Of course I would still love you. You are proposing a fair trade, after all. I accept your offer.” He pushes his plate forward a bit, because Helaena has short arms and the tartare isn’t as solid a food as the steak. Taking his part of the trade deal, he takes a bite of the meat and immediately smiles. “Ohhh. Oh that’s good…” The sauce makes up for the fact that it’s cooked a little more than he would prefer. He steels himself to chew very slowly to allow the flavor to sit in his mouth… since he knows this will be the only bite he gets. “I’m saving up to get steak and tartare at the same time. This I declare…” In his mind, he is drafting up the most wonderful 5 star review that can be feasibly done within a way-too-small character limit. “I wonder if looking at pretty things enhances the way food tastes...?” he muses aloud.

She blushes furiously, still unused to his casual declarations of affection. She loves them, of course she does, but they somehow still catch her unawares every time. "You have, but it's still nice to hear," she manages. "I love you too." To be able to adequately replicate the recipe, the first step has to be tasting it though, right? "Would you still love me if I took a bite of your tartare? I have to know what the perfection I'm aiming for is," she jokes. "I'll offer you a bite of steak in return. With pepper sauce," she negotiates.

“… you’d make this for me?” Is it possible to have hearts in your eyes? “Helaena… how I told you how much I love you recently?” His tail has been freed from time out, so it happily thumps against the back of his seat. Any blabbing he would want to do is halted by raw seasoned meat in his mouth. His brain is as active as ever, though. He is clearly imagining Helaena’s hair in a bun, glasses sliding down her nose, wearing an apron, and cooking with all of the intensity she exudes when she’s taking an exam. Focused. Competent. Thinking. “Mmm…”

She restarts her breathing exercise as her brain immediately takes the image of her boyfriend’s innocent enjoyment of a really good meal and runs with it. Nope. Nope. Not going there. Instead she cuts into her own steak, her anticipation rising as the inside is the perfect shade of pink. She likes her meat a bit more cooked than Bo does, for sure, but cooking steak beyond a nice medium is a crime. No, medium-rare’s the way to go. She makes a perfect bite with a dollop of creamy pepper sauce and closes her eyes in bliss as the flavors meld on her tongue. “Five stars,” she agrees. “Definitely. And we’re coming back here, I don’t care if I have to eat oatmeal for every meal for a month to afford it. Maybe if we become regulars they’ll let me steal the recipe for their tartare so I can make it for you,” she suggests cheekily. She does like a good tartare herself, but Bo’s enjoyment would be plenty motivation to make it even if she didn’t. “We can put it on the list for our next date. Making tartare, I mean.”

1

Steffi 🍄 [Tavs:Mushroom Mob]

.mushrooming

Close

“Oh, nonsense, Helaena. I could never start without you.” Never mind that he was this close to devouring his food if he had to wait much longer. He mentally pats himself on the back for being patient and digs right on in. He audibly moans as soon at the tartare hits his tongue, eyes closed and brows furrowed for hair a moment. “Oh my *gods*…” I could eat this every day of my life. “I’m going to give this place five stars,” he declares. “And write a very detailed review. Let’s both write one. We need to support our local businesses, right?”

The cold water helps. As does a breathing exercise she learned for panic attacks, not sexual attraction, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. It takes longer to make it look like she just needed to pee than it did to calm the fuck down, but it’s been less than five minutes by the time she comes back to see their entrees have arrived, a perfectly made steak frites sitting ready for her with a tiny copper pot of pepper sauce next to it. The only sign of what she’d been doing is a slight dampness near her hairline. It could just as easily be a light sweat from the warmth of the room. “Hi, sorry, oh, you could have started without me, I wouldn’t have minded.” Oh gods, now she feels even worse for running off like that. “Cheers?” She lifts her glass, offering a smile far too shy for what she’d just been fantasizing about doing to him, with him. She can wait. She will wait. She just might get very well acquainted with shocks of cold water and the contents of the top drawer of her bedside table in the meantime.

Alone at the table, Bo has to sit there with the obvious truth that Helaena is very attracted to him. So much so, confessing that he likes his partners bossy made her run off into the bathroom to do… who knows what. “Okay, Bo. No more wine.” The bottle is about half gone, so he figures he got most of his money’s worth. Even if he didn’t, he can’t keep making a fool of himself during their very first official date! The entrees come out while Helaena is still in the bathroom and now he has to endure another torture. As mouthwatering as his tartare looks, he dare not touch it until she comes back. Even as drool starts to pool in his mouth, he sits there like a well behaved dog, trying to focus on the other patrons instead of that delicious, succulent, raw… You can do this, Bo. Maybe when we get back to one of our dorm rooms, we can… He doesn’t dare finish that thought. The tail he is still sitting on continues to go haywire underneath his legs.

I like bossy. He has to know, right? He has to know it affects her when he says things like that. She’s only mortal. She can’t help the fact that right now she wants nothing more than to- Public. Public. Still in public. The only thing stopping her from dragging him back to his car is the fact they already ordered their entrees. And the knowledge she’d probably beg him for literally anything he’d give her and she has some pride left. Her life would be a lot easier if she’d fallen in love with a man she wasn’t so incredibly attracted to. Poor decision making on her part, really. “Sous sounds a lot better than busboy, but we can do assistant too if you’d prefer,” she offers, her voice just a tad higher pitched than normal. Maybe it’s a good thing they have two more courses to go. More time to gather the resolve not to climb him like a tree. But she needs water. Definitely water. Ice water, maybe. Splashed on her face. Her mascara’s waterproof, it’d be fine. “Sorry, give me just a moment,” she excuses herself with a smile she hopes is reassuring. She grabs her purse on the way to the bathroom, just in case she needs to touch up her makeup after dunking her whole head into a basin of icy water. That still might be enough to cool off the desire boiling in her blood.

Helaena’s wink is way more practiced on his own, since Bo suffers from pretty privilege and never had to learn how to flirt and wink correctly. He feels like someone just shot an arrow into his chest. “S-sous? Wow… that’s a really official title. I would be absolutely honored to be your personal sous chef and busboy. As long as I get to eat what you cook.” The idea of making a list of date activities to do has him smiling like a besotted fool… until something innocuous Helaena says makes his heart race for some reason. Surely the three glasses of wine he’s had has something to do with it. Bossy? His tail starts to wag way too fast, and Bo now has to put it in time out by sitting on it. “I like bossy,” he blurts out. He stuffs one more croquette in his mouth to shut himself up. Why did I drink.

”Oooh, are you offering to be my sous? That’s dangerous, my darling, I just might take you up on it,” she teases and returns his wink with a sultry little smirk straight from her days of 4-inch stilettos and tiny little dresses. The wine might be making her a little stupid. In her defense, he started it. Gods, if there’s anything sexier than a man willing to do the dishes, she’s yet to encounter it. She’s a simple woman. She chuckles as she realizes something. “Oh gods, no, now we’ll have to make another list! How absolutely dreadful, however will we manage having to brainstorm ideas for things we can do together? Truly torturous.” She’ll probably start one on her phone before the night is out. “But, yes, um, I’d like that. That sounds like a wonderful way to spend time together. But I hope you don’t mind, I, uh, I can get a little bossy.” She orders another glass of wine, a light red this time, when they clear the appetizers. Because clearly she’s just keen to doom herself.

“Next date idea,” he suggests, chewing excitedly on a croquette. “We buy a bunch of good ingredients and commandeer the common area kitchen. I want to see you in your element.” Helaena manages quite well with such limited food options and equipment. He so badly wants to see her fully unleashed in a kitchen. “I’ll be on dish duty,” he offers with a flirty (he thinks) little wink. “I’m so good at dishes. Oh, and I can measure stuff out for you. I’m so good at that, too. I’m not too bad with a knife either.” But Helaena holding a knife and cutting up vegetables with speed and precision? Whew. I’m getting a little hot. That image just makes him drink down more wine, as if that doesn’t just add to the fire rather than extinguish it.

I wish I could kiss you right now. She hides behind her hair until their appetizers get there. If she didn't, she might do something incredibly stupid, like kiss him, all rules of decent public conduct thrown aside. Excellent food is, fortunately, enough to distract them both, even if she can't help the sound of pure pleasure and enjoyment she makes as the first morsel of perfectly-tender langoustine touches her tongue, untouched by anything but a squeeze of lemon juice. "Oh gods, this is incredible," she gushes, torn between eating as fast as possible and drawing it out, savoring every bite. "This is definitely heaven," she agrees. He can order their entrees if he wants, as far as she's concerned. Maybe she'll turn it around on him and order dessert in her technically near-perfect if stilted Amnian, even if it's highly unlikely the majority of the staff speak it. The croquettes are just as good, small bites of Elysium. They're simple, just ham and cheese and béchamel, really, but every ingredient is allowed the room to shine. This is exactly the sort of food she wishes she had the chance to make more often. Alas, time and budget are factors. "I really need to cook more often," she muses near the end of her first langoustine, humming happily as she finds another tiny morsel of tender meat hidden in the shell. She's opting for using the provided lobster fork rather than her nails, but her fingers are getting a little messy, too. That's alright, the hard part will be resisting the urge to lick her fingers clean when she's done. "I miss cooking with ingredients like this, genuinely good food instead of simple everyday cooking. I used to be pretty damn good, too. Not this good, but... I can make a decent souffle, for one."

“Me? Snore like a freight train?” he repeats with a performative gasp. “I would never.” It’s just because he’s too big to sprawl out or curl up on the couch like Helaena can, so Bo has no choice but to fall asleep sitting up with his neck hyperextended. Prime conditions for snoring. He’s too tipsy to care about strict table manners, propping his elbow up on the table resting his chin on his hand. The look on his face is pathetically lovestruck as Helaena acts adorably modest about her beauty and makes another dig at their extremely nerdy shared interest. “I wish I could kiss you right now.” But, hold that thought. The appetizers are here! Bo’s attention goes from Helaena’s lightly painted lips to the fresh croquettes and langoustines. And of course, Bo also has to be the man and order their entrees, which he does with extreme enthusiasm, going so far as to chat up the waiter about what their favorite dish on the menu is, even though they both know what they want already. He’s just in a chatty mood, likely because of the wine. “Gods…” he mutters, this close to drooling onto his plate. “I think I’m in heaven.” He glances up at Helaena. “I’m definitely in heaven,” he declares, wasting no time peeling the shells off the little lobsters with the assistance of his claws, tail swishing back and forth, evoking the image of a cat toying with their prey.

She bursts out laughing a moment before him, well aware the most she'll suggest is a repeat of something they've done already. Still, just kissing him all night doesn't sound bad at all to her. "Okay, smooth talker, you say that as if that isn't both of our ideas of a lovely night in," she teases right back. "Because I think falling asleep at 10pm on your couch and waking up a few hours later because you're snoring like a freight train to drag you to bed sounds like a wonderful way to end the evening." She means it, too. Those little moments of comfort and domesticity are everything to her. That is what she'd never be able to give up. Well, she'd miss kissing him a lot, too, but still. If her blush had faded, it returns with a vengeance at his casual compliment. "I, um, thank you. I'm glad you like it, my hair fought me until the finish line," she jokes. This much effort put into her appearance on the daily will never be her thing, but it's more than worth it for the way Bo looks at her right now. Like she's beautiful. She almost believes it when it's him saying it. She ducks her head and takes a healthy sip from her wine. "And yes, best to use our memories for something other than memorizing the Annals of Karsus or the prophecies of Savras once in a while, no?"

“I actually think it’s fun to peel their shells,” he admits. “And I especially get a lot of enjoyment from breaking lobster shells. It’s messy, but worth it.” Maybe that’s the hunter in him. Who knows? He doesn’t even need melted herb butter to enjoy it. When the waiter comes around to take their order, Bo is the one to tell them their perfectly agreed upon appetizer order. With that, his tail wags just a bit faster in anticipation. Dining hall food and Helaena’s eggs on toast are good and all, but food like this? He intends to savor it. He pours another glass of wine with a smile. “Do you have any plans after this?” he asks teasingly, already uncharacteristically flirty. “Because I would love to take you home with me and…” He lets the silence linger a bit. “Watch documentaries all. Night. Long. Bahaha!” Oh no. He is so annoyingly tipsy. “Sorry. I think I’m in just a really good mood. And you’re really pretty. The lighting in here is really good… I wish I brought my camera. Oh, well. I’ll use my good memory to my advantage tonight.”

"I knew I fell in love with you for a reason," she teases. But the words are genuine. A huge part of why she loves him, why she's happy to love him, are all of these little compatibilities, the ways they fit. They both have a taste in music more suited to people their grandparents' age. They both consider a bone-dry historical documentary a good way to spend a night off. They're both hopeless romantics. The list goes on. "Oh, that's a shame, I adore shellfish. The Gate's obviously on a river, but it's close enough to the sea we get plenty of it." She can and has eaten close to her own weight in grilled prawns, marinated in a bit of olive oil and garlic, served still-scorching hot. Mm mm mmmm. "I do love fish, too, but there's something special about shellfish. It's a shame a lot of people think it's too difficult to cook or prepare or eat and don't bother." She's never minded having to get her hands dirty for a satisfying result.

He catches Helaena’s concerned gaze. He is well aware that the last time he indulged in multiple glasses of wine at a time, he made a complete fool of himself. That’s why he also has a Protection from Poison scroll in his coat pocket. These two are made for each other. His girlfriend’s suggestion just solidifies that statement. “I love your mind,” he beams. “Yes, I would absolutely love to split those two things. I didn’t even see the langoustines!” There goes his tail again. It might not be wagging like crazy, but it is held up high and clearly visible from behind his head as it swings slowly back and forth. “Shellfish is quite limited where I’m from. Plenty of fish, though. So I’ll take any opportunity I can to eat it,” he explains, sipping away at his dry red wine. To him, it is one of most delicious things he could possibly be drinking right now.

Her eyebrows raise slightly as he goes for the bottle of a Malbec that’s admittedly not served by the glass. She opts for just a glass of a pinot grigio herself, the sparkling wine gone, and tuts in sympathy at his difficulty of choosing. “I’m in the same boat myself. I’ve always been a fiend for shellfish, and this place is supposed to have really good shellfish at that, but then croquettes…” She looks over at him, just a little conspiratorially. “Would you, perchance, be willing to order the langoustine and the croquettes and split?”

“Glad we agree. And I love you too. Thank you for agreeing to go out with me.” Bo is going to insist on paying for every single date. That will be a disagreement to contend with later, because there is not a single thing that could ruin this moment for him right now. It’s not much longer until they’re sat down at their table, and Bo has to resist the urge to order every appetizer. It’s simply not possible when each one costs more than an entire meal at a fast food place. If he had not scouted the menu earlier, he would have taken hours to decide on the one appetizer for himself. “I’m definitely going to need to come back,” he says with a sigh. “I know I wanted the salmon rillettes, but the croquettes look good too. Life is full of so many difficult choices…” Wine is not as difficult choice for him, though. Helaena had him pegged as a Malbec guy, and he is counting a bottle of it as his second and final drink of the night.

Helaena giggles into her drink as his tail begins to wag like mad, belying his enthusiasm for the idea. She scowls for a moment at the waiter asking him to “control” himself, though. Yes, she’s being protective, but she’s not too fond of the (elven) man’s tone. “A date a tenday it is,” she sums up, reaching out to lace their fingers together. “Whether it’s dinner, or an activity, or some combination thereof.” She’ll insist on paying for at least some of it another time. For now, it’s just nice to have this moment, messy and imperfect and a little embarrassing as it is. “I love you, by the way. And thank you, for inviting me.” Her thumb gently rubs over the back of his hand, back and forth, grounding and soothing and loving.

“Amendment accepted,” he says is his lame professor voice. His expression and posture are calm as can be. SHE WANTS TO DO A POTTERY CLASS WITH ME?! His tail is lifted high in the air as it wags excitedly behind him. That gel on the tip really has its work cut out, because not a hair on it falls out of place despite the rapid movement. A waiter approaches him from the side and asks him to control himself, causing Boletus to blush profusely. He hides his face in his glass. Gods. Can I ever win? No? “Well. I guess there’s my true answer,” he concedes. “All of those ideas sound wonderful, love.”

She immediately wants to protest. Every tenday is excessive, straight up unaffordable, a ridiculous show of- He’s being a little ridiculous because he cares. Her dress might be closer to a pumpkin, but her cheeks are doing their best impression of a tomato when he kisses her hand. For such a hopeless romantic, she really is terribly weak to someone turning the tables on her. “I… Can I suggest an amendment, or would that count as arguing?” she replies, trying for just a little cheeky and mostly ending up sounding overly-emotional. He’s asking for a date night, not marriage. Now there’s a thought that’s not very good for her emotional stability right now. “Because I’d love that, I really would, but maybe we could do things other than dinner too. Museums, or going to the movies, or, hells, I saw a pottery class coming up we could do together…”

Instead of frowning, his face is just painfully neutral, tail moving from its home by Helaena’s legs to the space behind his own. It swishes erratically back and forth. And instead of directly answering Helaena’s question, he makes a declaration. “Once a tenday,” he begins calmly. “I will take you out of dinner once a tenday. Maybe every eighthday, or whichever day works best for the both of us.” How awful that it took me this long to take her on a formal date. He takes another sip of his drink, then grabs Helaena’s hand and tenderly kisses the back of it. With his head still lowered, he continues to speak. “I hope you won’t argue with me about this.” I will show you how loved you truly are.

... She probably shouldn't have said that. Oh gods... "Um, not that, either, but... Not any dinner date, unless fast food counts? I don't think it should, personally, but that might make me a snob." Especially if it was drive though, more or less right after they had sex in his car. Look, she made a lot of questionable decisions in her teens. "I mean, we've gone out to dinner before! But no, no one's ever invited me on a dinner date before. Or even really a date? My first boyfriend... wasn't the type, and we were both young and broke as hells, and then I didn't really..." Then I spent the next several years having meaningless sex with people I picked up in bars and at parties, and then I stopped trying. "Is it really that unusual?" She winces, embarrassed at the admission, at this whole conversation. "I was a pretty awkward teenager, not exactly... the sort of girl people wanted to ask out, and then after I didn't really seek it out, and no one sought me out for it?"

“Cheers!” Right after the clinking of glasses, Bo takes a nice long sip of his drink. It’s smoky and full-flavored, with hints of pine and cedar… of course he chose a drink like this. A satisfied hum escapes him as the liquid fills his senses. He about chokes on it at Helaena’s confession “Excuse me, what?” he asks through a cough. There’s no way that’s true, right? “No one has ever taken you to dinner before? Or do you mean… just a nice one like this?” Of course Bo has at least attempted dates like this with Ardon, but the man treated them more like obligations rather than actual dates. His other attempts with a blur of faces aren’t worth mentioning. If she had just meant that she has never been taken on a date to a nice restaurant like this? That would make sense. This sort of place would have been firmly out of his budget in his undergrad days.

She orders the wine. Not a champagne, because she doesn't actually like that all that much usually, but a delightfully fresh prosecco that seems to tickle her tongue with every sip. It's nice to see Bo let loose at least a little, even in something as small as ordering a drink he obviously enjoys, or the tiny display of affection that is his tail wrapped around her calves. "Well, then." She clinks their glasses together with a brilliant smile. "To the first of many, I hope." Dozens, at minimum. Hundreds, if she gets her way. It's still early, but it feels right. It feels like something she wants to last. She chuckles into her wine as she realizes something all at once. "Oh gods, I just realized, that's why I was so stupidly nervous... I've never actually been on a date like this before? Not, you know, like this." She'd been so young with her first relationship (and he'd been a waste of breath at that) and since she's never had anything resembling an actual relationship. One night stands don't take you for dinner. Neither do friends with benefits. Sure, she's been to nice restaurants before, with friends, with her family, even alone, but not with a date.

“What if I ordered both?” he teases right back. He certainly could eat both tartare and a 16 oz. ribeye, but he really ought to treat his wallet with better care. At the bar, Bo just tilts his head at Helaena’s question. “Please, order what you’d like,” he insists. “Nothing wrong with a sparking wine, if that’s what you want. Besides, cliches are cliches for a reason.” Of course Bo is also counting this as their “first” date, despite all the times they’ve spent together up until this point. He’s a hopeless romantic. He has always wanted to take someone out to a nice dinner, conversation flowing freely, saying “I love you” so many times that the people around them start to roll their eyes. And now, he finally gets to. As he leans over the bar, not wanting to sit down just yet, his tail has already decided to wrap loosely around Helaena’s legs as if it couldn’t get enough of her in the car. A hidden benefit to the bench seat… amongst others. For himself, he will allow just two glasses of alcohol. He starts with a midshelf whiskey, a treat he rarely gets to indulge in. It’s a special night, after all.

She blushes a deeper red than his other suit as he opens the car door for her, like something out of an old movie. “Thank you.” His hand is warm and broad and solid and perfectly Bo in hers. She doesn’t let go of it when she’s back on her feet, instead lacing their fingers together as they walk towards the entrance. “So let me guess, you’ve planned out exactly what to order already,” she teases gently. “I’m going to go ahead and assume the tartare. Or maybe you’ll surprise me and go for the ribeye, served rare?” It’s all based in fondness. She checked the menu herself and quickly decided on a top three based on what she was in the mood for when the day came. She’s leaning towards shellfish right now. It goes without saying Bo made a reservation. They’re a little early, early enough the maitre d’ asks them to take a seat at the bar and asks if they’d like anything to drink while they wait, but not enough she scowls as she asks. She hesitates. Bo will be driving, obviously, and she’s not keen on flaunting her ability to indulge. Still… she packed a scroll of Protection from Poison, a spell she’s sadly never been able to learn herself, for a reason. “We’ll need a moment, sorry,” she demurs, shooting the host a polite smile. “Is it very silly if I’d like a glass of something bubbly?” she aims at Bo. “I know it’s a silly tradition, but… it is sort of our first real date.” Sort of being the operative word. They’d shared sushi on his couch and tortilla chips in a cafe and jerky in a library long before they were a couple, and a number of other similarly informal meals since. Still, this is important to her, and she hopes it is to him, too.

“It’s not a surprise at all,” he replies fondly, the lovestruck look in his eyes only visible in said mirror when he glances up at it every once in a while. “For once I can say, "This is mine, you can't take it", As long as I know I have love, I can make it...” It’s time like these where he feels like he’s floating in the clouds. The radio station she tuned into must have been in the middle of some Stevie Wonder marathon, because they play five more hits, all sung along to on and off, until they finally make it to the restaurant. He backs into his parking space (without the use of a backup camera), and pats his dashboard once again when he turns the engine off. “A lovely ride as always, beautiful girl,” he says to his car, as if it were a horse or something. There is something about wearing a rather old-fashioned style of suit makes him want to act just a tad bit overly-chivalrous. It’s all in good fun, and all done just to show Helaena just how much he loves her. He wants to make her feel special. So, once he’s out, he quickly makes his way to the passenger side door and opens it, extending a hand for Helaena to take.

She’s been in his vintage Thunderbird before, usually for rides around the vicinity of campus, but it’s still endearing to her how he greets the car by name (Pho, short for Pholiota) and fondly pats the dashboard before turning his key in the ignition. “Oh really? Well, then…” The car has an ancient radio, probably original or close to it, so she flicks around the channels until she finds one playing a familiar, comforting tune. She hums along until the chorus, close to wholly unselfconscious and too happy to care. “For once, I have something, I know won’t desert me… I’m not alone anymore…” She smiles at Bo as he glances at her in the rearview mirror, a little sheepishly. “Grandma, remember? Shouldn’t be a surprise I like Stevie Wonder.” https://open.spotify.com/track/4kP69y3GKHi9tXckfgp4bK?si=NyCfIiZTTgOS2NE6mLXMWA

He leads Helaena to his beloved car, the one thing he treats just as sweetly as he does his girlfriend. Probably. His mirrors are finally back to where they used to be after Lilith’s driving lesson several months ago. Which is good, because he can only take so much torture. “Alrighty,” he says after buckling up, like a nerd. “And awaaaay we go!” This restaurant is a ways away from campus, but Bo enjoys driving his car. It’s definitively one of his top five relaxing activities of choice. “Lady gets to pick the music,” he says, resisting the urge to spare a glance towards her direction. Eyes need to stay on the road! He’ll have plenty of time to stare when they’re actually at the restaurant, after all.

She can’t get used to the way he’s looking at her right now. She can’t, because she’d never recover from it. His gaze lingers on the curves of her waist and breasts, and she swears she can almost feel his eyes as a physical touch. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “Thank you,” she replies to his compliment, ducking her head as she blushes. “It’s not something I wear often, but… I’m glad you like it.” She’s somehow always been irrationally afraid of looking like a pumpkin in this shade of burnt orange, but Bo doesn’t look at her like she looks the slightest bit like a pumpkin. “I’m ready, yes, I just need to grab my coat, hold on…” Pretty as her dress is, it is quite thin, and it’s still chilly out. She sadly doesn’t have the benefit of Bo’s warmer blood, so more layers it will have to be. She joins him a few moments later, coat securely buttoned and purse slung over her shoulder, smiling as she laces her fingers together with his. “I’m ready.”

Boletus could never feel objectified by his incredibly stunning girlfriend, not when she’s been nothing but respectful for his decision to take things slow in the sex department. Having her look at him the way she does might give him a bit of a much-needed ego boost, anyways. Because someone like Helaena is looking at him like she’d rather have him for dinner. She really does make my head spin. Will I ever stop feeling this way? “Thank you. So do you…” He is not as subtle about his gaze, because why should he? This is him taking things at his pace, gazing up and down her body, the hourglass shape only accentuated by the little belt tied around her waist. With how cold it’s been, he really isn’t sure he’s ever seen this much of her… chest on display. It’s not even really that on display, but it’s a far cry from the thick sweaters and scarves that typically hide her form. “You look beautiful in this color,” he admits. “I’ve never seen anything warm-toned on you. You’re stunning, truly.” He artfully tucks a bit of her hair behind her ear, a stupid dopey smile on his face. “Ah, I assume you’re ready, yes? There’s no rush, of course. You know me… early for me is right on time, and on time is late.”

She should have expected him to be early, really. Is it a little silly he knocks when he's been able to lock himself in for well over a tenday now? Yes. Does she still appreciate it? Yes. She opens the door with a slightly-nervous smile and immediately has to do her best to stop her jaw from dropping. Somehow in all her concern over what to wear and what to do and what's appropriate and what's not, she'd straight up forgotten it was highly likely her very sweet, very handsome, very proper boyfriend would dress up as well, at least a little. The man lives in oxfords and button-downs under soft sweaters, for gods' sakes, even his everyday wear would be plenty formal, but no, of course he'd go all out. She's seen him in a suit before, the dark red one he wore at the winter formal, but she was too focused on his distress, then their conversation and finally their dance to really feel the full impact of Bo in a suit. It hits different now she knows she's allowed to touch, at least a little. He'd touched her breasts, maybe she could make the argument for returning the favor? Dinner. He invited you to dinner.Keep it together, for fuck's sake. "Hey," she greets him, a little too breathless for having moved five steps from where she'd been pacing. "You look... wow. Incredible." But she looks straight into his eyes when she says it. The last thing she wants is for him to feel objectified.

Boletus is a man with a rather limited wardrobe, preferring to have a few “investment” pieces rather than a large variety of cheaper clothing. It certainly makes getting ready a very quick affair for him. He only owns two suits, and so far, has only worn one of them in front of Helaena. Guess it’s time to bust out the other one! This one is also a three piece (he enjoys getting the option to take the blazer off- he can run quite hot), but this one is a nice dark brown tweed. Being as dad-coded as he is, it’s inevitable that he has received a numerous amount of ties as nameday and Nightal presents over the years from people that did not know what to get him otherwise. Pocket squares, too. He doesn’t really think too hard about which of each he wants to wear, sticking to a rather monochrome palette out of habit. Those dark brown oxfords that he wears literally all of the time are getting action once again. That’s the beauty of a quality investment piece. He has worn these shoes thousands of times, and yet they’re still in tip-top shape. Hair is… hair. It’s getting longer, yet Helaena is weirdly insistent on him keeping the length. Well, he isn’t going to argue with her. It’s not too hard to just comb a small amount of gel through it to keep it from getting in his face, anyways. Right on time (which is 15 minutes early at the very least), he knocks on Helaena’s door. His tail swishes back and forth nervously, the fluff of it tamed down with a small amount of that same hair gel.

Helaena checks her appearance for what must be the umpteenth time, a little nervous despite herself. This is Bo. A man who's quite literally seen her crying snot over nothing and responded by making her breakfast. A man she loves. Her boyfriend. Who's taking her for dinner. At a nice Amnian place she suggested and he agreed to enthusiastically once he saw they serve tartare. Not quite a three kinds of forks situation, but definitely white tablecloth and no jeans fare. She's overthinking this. Her hair is left down for once, carefully styled until the honey-blond curls fall artfully over her shoulders. Her makeup and jewelry is simple, just stud earrings, a touch of mascara, a hint of extra color in her lips... Nothing compared to what she used to wear on nights out. She picked her dress carefully, keen to look pretty but hopefully, not like she's expecting anything but a nice meal and a kiss goodnight. And if she for once strayed from her favored cool ocean tones in favor of a warm orange, well... She's been getting fonder of warmer colors recently. What's most important is the simple wrap dress is pretty without being too dressy, isn't overtly sexy, and she's comfortable in it. Because she's overthinking this. Again. She paces around her room in her sensible-ish three inch heels while waiting for the time Bo promised to come pick her up. -# @Steffi 🍄 [Tavs:Mushroom Mob]

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Steffi 🍄 [Tavs:Mushroom Mob]

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💤🏘️🚿🛌🍳💖

“Love you, too. Always.” He just sits there and reads, unmoving, like some sort of very warm rock. It’s a good thing he has a lot of experience keeping still for prolonged amounts of time. He’s halfway through the book before sleep takes him out of nowhere. Since when did I start taking… naps… He isn’t even able to manipulate the mage hands into moving the book before he falls asleep, and it lands softly into his lap.

She hums happily at his confirmation he’ll give the book a chance. She really does think he would like it. Somehow, she manages to wrap herself around Bo even more as she gets comfortable, until she’s, well, using him as a tiefling body pillow. He’s just so warm, and comfortable, and he smells so nice… The added source of his scent from the mage hands barely register as more than mmm, more Bo to her sleepy brain, even if the use of magic gently pings her instinctual sense for it. “I won’t,” she mumbles at his urging, probably already halfway asleep. “Love you,” she whispers into his neck. “So much. Thank you.” And then she is, undeniably, asleep. Maybe cuddling Bo is magic. Maybe she really needed some actual rest after days of depressive drowsing. Maybe being with the person who’s already her home was exactly what she needed.

“Well, consider me sold.” There is something rewarding, he thinks, to read a story about a romance that survives despite all the hardships. And like the dog-coded man he is… he really likes rewards. To make himself into the best pillow possible, he decides to use his mage hands to hold the book open. It feels nice to use his magic after all of this time. Why did he ever stop? Oh, right. How much of his life is Boletus going to let his father control, even after he broke off all contact with him? Besides, now his hand is free to stroke up and down Helaena’s arm, the goal being to get her to fall asleep. She might have said she’s already slept plenty, but sleep doesn’t always equate to rest. Maybe now, she can finally get rest. “Don’t try and stay awake on my account. Go ahead and close your eyes. I’ll be just fine right where I am.”

Helaena tucks herself in against his shoulder without a moment’s hesitation. Bo really does make for a fantastic pillow, firm with plenty of muscle, but soft too. His chest is basically made for her to rest her head on. Hells, if she let herself, his ridges would be perfect for running her fingers over, too. “It’s very well written,” she continues as if there was no pause. “They’ve both been through a lot. That’s part of why they were enemies to begin with. But when they meet again, it’s… it’s not love at first sight, not at all. At first they barely talk. Then, they’re friends. Sort of. And then they eventually fall in love, but there’s a few twists and turns along the way.” It’s quite a bit longer than the average romance novel for a reason. “They also both… struggle. I like that. I like the idea of being able to love even though you are far from perfect, and make mistakes, and need help sometimes. And they make each other better. Encourage each other to do better, and work on themselves.” She chooses not to mention the male lead has serious anxiety and panic attacks. Bo would find out for himself if he read it.

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Steffi 🍄 [Tavs:Mushroom Mob]

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“Cliches don’t bother me much as long as they’re well-written.” And even if it isn’t? I can tell this book is well-loved. Helaena clearly loves this book. That’s enough for me. He swears he can see Helaena opening it over and over again, creating each and every one of those creases in the spine. He can see her shoving it haphazardly into her backpack, creating all of the little bends on the corners of the cover. “You can leave it on the nightstand, then. I’ll go ahead and change real quick.” And change he does… in the privacy of Helena’s bathroom, of course. Boletus wonders why he even bothered dressing up like he always does when it’s Ninthday. Does he even own sweatpants? He doesn’t think he does. After getting dressed, he grabs a paper cup and fills it with water. And now he is finally ready to assume to role of the Living Pillow, settling into his side of Helaena’s bed. His tail is ahead of the game as always, flopping on top of her lap before he can even get under the covers.

”Romance it is,” she agrees. She blushes at the realization of how much, well, trash, is on her floor. There’s a small pile of used tissues on her bedside table, there’s some crumpled up pieces of notepaper she apparently just… tossed on the floor, there’s even an abandoned (thankfully empty) pizza box. Disgusting. Thank fuck the Unseen Servant had dealt with the piles of laundry. It’s only barely she resists the urge to apologize again and instead starts looking through her bookshelf for a particular book she’d particularly enjoyed. Both the main characters are massive nerds, which helps. Just two deeply damaged people falling in love. “Here, this one,” she tells him as she sits down, a beat-up paperback in her hands. “If you’d like something to read? It’s a bit of a cliche, but, it’s two childhood enemies reconnecting in a cafe…”

He leads her into her room, subconsciously smiling at the sight of a bed with fresh sheets that are neatly made. His tail shuts the door behind them. “Lately, I’ve been in quite the romantic mood,” he teases. “I hardly read them, so don’t worry about recommending me one that I might have read before.” Without really thinking about it, he starts to pick up some loose trash on the floor and throwing it into Helaena’s somewhat overflowing wastebasket.

”I washed them for you, they’re in my room,” she confirms with a smile. “And as for a book recommendation… well, you know how much of a sucker I am for a good epic adventure. And a good romance, even though those are far too rare.” She’s too demisexual for person a meets person b, pretense at plot, boom, the rest is pure smut. She needs connection. A slow build. Intimacy. Actual character conflict. And then, when it feels _earned_, smut. Or actual plot even when the smut’s started. That works too. “I could suggest ten different books I think you’d like just from the bookshelf closest to my bed.” Ten might be a low number… twenty might be more accurate. She accepts Bo’s hand with a fond smile, as ever finding his old fashioned manners more endearing than everything. Just his way of showing he cares, much like she’ll squeeze his hand or touch his shoulder. “So your request for a recommendation might have to be a little more specific.”

Boletus, of course, has had his weekends mostly planned for the majority of his academic career. But one day of “ruined” plans won’t bother him too much. He can only smile fondly as Helaena tries to be the best host she can be, despite how horrible and worn out she must feel. Instead of telling her he doesn’t need anything, he decides to lean into it. “A book would be nice,” he answers. “I’ll take any recommendations. But I will need to change if I’m going to be your personal pillow. I’m sure you have one of my shirts stashed in there somewhere, and I think I left my orange flannel pajamas pants here last time I came over… water would be nice, too. I don’t mind grabbing that myself, though…” He stands, offering a hand out for Helaena to grab onto.

She nods and reluctantly disentangles herself from the way she'd been clinging to Bo like a limpet. "Do you need anything? Water, lounge clothes, maybe something to read? Sorry, I don't want to just tie you to the bed to keep me company. You probably had other plans for your day." Another surge of guilt, but this one more easily suppressed. He said it was okay she just wanted to fall asleep with him holding her, and she has to believe he'd tell her if it wasn't, or she'll lose her mind even more than she has already. "But, um. Thank you for changing them. For me. I promise I won't be mad or disappointed if you have to leave or whatever, I'm probably just going to pass out. Terrible company, really."

He raises an eyebrow at the phrase “showed aptitude so young.” Oti’s connection to wild magic made it very easy for her to learn how to access the Weave at a quicker pace than most, despite her disadvantage in the book-learning department. Even now, her style of wizardry is rough and unpolished, yet still gets the results she wants. Bo had many private discussions with her tutor as well, determined to find a way to help her control her surges. He had learned plenty about the arcane just from watching their sessions, sharing tea together… Boletus was always a curious person, after all. I wonder if Helaena is really a… His thoughts will have to be put on hold for now, because an off-handed compliment about something that isn’t his body throws him for a loop. “O-oh. Thank you. Good thing I like to talk, then. Well, around you, anyways…” When the unseen servant is back, his tail releases Helaena from its grip. “A nap sounds like just the thing you need. There is nothing wrong with that. Shall we?”

"She's right. It does feel like fire," Helaena agrees. Bo is fire. Warm, comforting, protective, helpful. Home. But dangerous if angered or if you're not careful and respectful of it. Not a half bad metaphor in her opinion. "I'm glad you made sure she had a tutor. My parents wanted to keep me in normal schools so I was mostly taught on the side. But by high school there were enough kids with arcane aptitude they had a proper class program for it, credits and everything. I was mostly weird in that I showed aptitude so young." She shrugs. The family stories of her accidentally shocking people from the cradle or forming small storm clouds when she threw tantrums don't mean very much to her. She just knows her magic was something she had to learn to _control_, rather than something she had to learn to access. "Don't be sorry for talking, Bo. I like listening to you. You, um. You have a really nice voice." The shapeless blob of mist returns, its task complete. "Oh! Uh, apparently the Servant's done. Thank you," she tells it before dismissing it. Yes, she could set it to clean up the rest of her room, or do the dishes, but her vastly reduced magical resources and focus are almost drained just from that simple 1st level spell. Best to wait. "Gods, I love magic, but it really takes it out me when I'm this drained," she admits with a yawn. "Sorry, I might actually need that nap."

“Oh, you’re absolutely right. I’ve heard my sister say the same thing,” he laughs. “She goes on and on about what different magic looks and smells like, even sounds like. She would tell me mine was just… the essence of fire, right down to being able to hear crackles in it, even if all I was doing was casting a Sending spell. Makes sense I suppose, considering my lineage.” Those freshly shined oxfords on his feet bounce slowly as he reminisces. “She loves magic. When she was younger, I helped find a tutor for her.” He neglects to tell Helaena that this had to be done behind his father’s back. It wasn’t hard: he was hardly ever home. “There aren’t really any schools for magic in Melvaunt. Not any that are organized, anyways. A lot of the Moonsea is populated by people ‘doing their own thing.’ A lot of freelancers, a lot of mercenaries, a lot of wizards just trying to make a living. She was really nice. An older Elven woman. Oti said her magic looked like snow… she taught her every tenday until she enrolled here.” While he speaks, he uses his free arm to gently detangle some of Helaena’s loose hairs, the ones somehow escaped her post-shower braid. “Sorry. I’m talking a lot.”

"I've only really been close enough to your fire to smell it," Helaena thinks out loud. The night of the winter formal. It did smell like Bo, just... more. A concentrated version of that warm, homey smell of a wood burning fire. Bit of smoke, bit of pine, but mostly just pure comfort. Boletus has been a safe harbor for her a lot longer than she'd like to admit. Her subconscious mind decided he was home long before she consciously realized it. There's a reason she sleeps in his shirts even when he isn't there and it's not just the comfort of an absurdly oversized shirt. "I think magic just... Takes on some of the characteristics of the person casting it. At least if you aren't consciously trying to mask it. I've tried doing all sorts of colors of mage hand, for example, but if I don't think about it they're always that sort of seafoam-y teal color. Some magic feels warm, or cold, or tingly... I don't know, it makes sense to me." The Unseen Servant works quietly in the background, stripping Helaena's bed and gathering all the other dirty laundry into the hamper while it's at it. Then it makes the bed with soft, worn cotton sheets in a pleasant shade of pale blue. A warm knit blanket is layered on top, undeniably a gift from her grandmother. Even Helaena's subconscious guiding of her magic wants comfort. Peace. Home. Or perhaps her Unseen Servant is kinder to its creator than its creator is to herself.

“I don’t use my magic a lot,” he replies. “Just when I have to.” There are plenty of times where his father berated him for the use of it, claiming it was what “lazy” people used, that using your “hands” was manlier, a more valid way of existence. As illogical as that thought process is, Boletus still internalizes plenty of the nonsense he heard growing up. He had no other adults to tell him otherwise. “It’s strange. Your magic smells like you. I’ve never really picked up on scent from magic use before. But when you cleaned my sweater…” Would it be weird to tell her I like how she smells. Maybe that’s a conversation for another day. Watching her muster up the motivation to cast magic when she previously expressed being unable to makes him grin triumphantly. “You have a point. Don’t want to undo all your progress… I’m happy to wait right here with you.” Every day he becomes more comfortable with the thought of being perceived in the context of spending time with his girlfriend. Maybe it’s okay that some people realize he can actually be pretty sweet sometimes.

”Don’t think I’ve ever seen your mage hands before,” she muses, a bit sleepily. They suit him. The rich red is the shade of the last embers of a stubborn fire, refusing to go out. Enough to keep you warm, and always at the verge of roaring back into an open fire at the slightest encouragement. She blushes at the term princess. She’s no princess. Boletus wouldn’t make a half-bad knight from one of the fairytales, though. The prospect of getting to sleep in her own bed, with Bo there, is enough to manage the motivation for one spell. So she makes it count. “_Veni et iuva me._” The formless mist of an Unseen Servant is a familiar companion to a girl with more stress than time. It’s not very intelligent, but by the gods can it make a difference for menial tasks. “Would you change my sheets so I don’t have to stop cuddling my boyfriend?” she requests. “Please.” Sure it’s just an extent of her own will, with no real sentience of its own, but that’s no excuse to be rude. “The rest can wait,” she mumbles into Bo’s shoulder. She is once again hugging him like a body pillow. It’s very fortunate he doesn’t seem to mind much. “But gross sheets are just going to make me feel gross again.”

"There is not a time where that would ever not be okay." He eyes the dishes on the coffee table. Concessions will have to be made, he thinks, because Helaena is already clinging to him like a limpet. He can barely form the somatic component for Mage Hand with his own hands with the way she's using one of his arms like a blanket. "Invoco te." Boletus rarely uses his magic, preferring to use his own hands for most of his everyday life. But sometimes your girlfriend is just in need of an oversized body pillow in the shape of a tiefling, so magic will have to do what he is unable to do physically. Large red mage hands that almost look like they're made of fire carry the plates and cups to the empty sink. Thankfully, he can't really see the sink unless he tilts his head. Out of sight, out of mind... sort of. "I'm at your command, princess," he says in a low, unserious voice. "Direct me to wherever you would like to have your beauty sleep." I don't care about your dirty sheets. I just want you to be comfortable.

She listens. She doesn’t quite have the energy to adequately respond right now, but she listens. “I’m sorry,” she says again, but it’s in sympathy, not apology. “No one should ever have told you that. It’s a very cruel thing to do diminishing someone who’s trying to get the help they need.” It can’t be true that no one’s cared before her, right? How could anyone see past the facade of the stoic academic and not love the sweet man beneath? “I don’t want you to leave either. I just… I’m really tired. I must have slept twelve hours, and I’m still exhausted. I just want to hide from the world in your arms and fall asleep. Is that okay?”

He is silent for a few moments. He tries to think his way through this, unhappy with the direction this conversation is going. His first instinct is to blame himself. If only you could ignore your need to tidy up. If only you could have lied about just wanting to clean her room out of the kindness of your heart. She might have believed that. She is just like you: worried. But he is so tired of lying. Being here, being supportive, has exhausted him mentally. Perhaps it's because he loves Helaena so much, that facing her like this, putting on a brave face, and being her pillar have left him drained. Not in a negative way, but in a way where putting up his own walls is getting too hard to do. Even his mind is not a safe haven for him right now. All he hears is his father's voice fighting with Helaena's, and all it does is make him upset with himself. He will not let his memory ruin something good in his life. "I don't want to leave. I want to stay here with you," he replies, his voice soft and slightly more boyish. "Please don't apologize for caring. No one has ever cared before you. I will consider it, truly. And if I'm being honest... my session with Irory... that's not the first time I've been to therapy." Even an army as disjointed as Melvaunt's had counselors, and Boletus was offered sessions towards the end of his military career. Back then, he had no qualms about going. So what changed? She believes she is ugly right now. I suppose I should show some of my own ugliness as well. "I don't like to admit that I let other's words easily influence me," he starts. "I have been told it's a waste of my time, and I believed it. The sessions I had back when I was younger didn't help..." Because my dad found out. And he wouldn't stop berating me until I didn't think it was worth trying anymore. "I was told I was fine on my own, and I had no reason not to believe that."

The words I'm fine make her bristle. Especially combined with the implication that she might need therapy, but he is just fine on his own, despite going through what by all accounts is a lot more than she has, because... what? He's stronger? He's a man? Sometimes she doubts he even believes what he says himself. Most of her anger deflates at his small concession. It's something. She understands being uncomfortable at the thought. Hells, there was a reason it took her months to embrace it herself. It's not good enough, but it's enough she'll let it lie. At least for now. She really, really doesn't want to fight him. Especially not right now. If he left, angry... Well, she handles conflict poorly at the best of times. "Okay," she mumbles, defeated. "I'm not trying to force you into anything. Just... consider it. That's all I'm asking it." She tries to pop a slice of apple in her mouth, but now it tastes like ash. Gods damn it all. "I'm asking because I love you. I'm worried because I love you. I'm sorry for pushing." And now she just feels... awful, again. Damn it. "I'm sorry," she repeats. "It's okay if you want to leave. Thank you for breakfast, it means a lot you care." Why wouldn't he want to leave? She's being a nagging, pushing, superior bitch, in addition to a disgusting slob and pathetic mess of a person. She'd leave herself if she could.

1

SoulFearer (Tav: Irory & Co)

soulfearer

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“I didn’t think it was a magic fix at all,” he retorts. “I didn’t think it would be a fix, period. Not for…” Stop talking, Bo. You’re just digging your own grave. But he doesn’t stop talking. He doesn’t back down from an argument where he feels that he’s right. “Look. I hear you,” he resigns, briefly removing his glasses to massage between his brows. “I can see that it has helped you immensely, and I am so happy that it did. But I’m fine. My upbringing was… tumultuous, but I came out of it perfectly functional.” He knows how to deal with his nightmares. He knows how to stop the dread he feels when he’s thrown off his routine. He knows how to quiet the voice that tells him his clothes need to be sorted by color. He knows how to deal with the guilt he feels from hurting others. He just knows. What will a therapist tell him different? “Helaena, I know you’re just looking out for me, and I greatly appreciate it. But you needn’t worry about me. Look after yourself right now. You deserve it.” He knows Helaena won’t let it go, so he makes one concession. “I’m not saying… that it’s off the table. I just… the idea of it makes me uncomfortable. You know I’m a private person. And I feel like I know myself just fine.” His expression is pensive while his hands are clasped together. It is strange to have someone care like Helaena cares. Behind her sternness is a love that he has never had directed towards him before.

He doesn't see a need. Gods, her sweet, stubborn, utter idiot of a man... "So the first therapist I saw, back in the Gate, before I even went to Strixhaven... I had what I now know to be a depressive episode right after I broke up with Gus, the spring of my senior year of high school. My parents got worried after I didn't get better after a month or so. "So they sent me to a therapist. And all I learned from the experience was to hide better how much I was hurting, so I never had to do that again. I lasted about six months. But the point is... You don't always click with a therapist. It doesn't always help right away. It takes time, and hard work, and you have to be willing to put the effort in, or you might as well not go at all." She takes a moment to breathe, surprised at how strong the protectiveness, irritation and even anger she's feeling right now are. Usually all she can manage in a depressive slump is apathy and sadness. Well, she's also sad, to be fair. "Bo, did you really think therapy would be a magic fix? Nothing is, and it sucks, but that's just how it is. But it's the only way to get better. To get to where-" A glimpse of instinctive rage in eyes she's only ever known to exude warmth and kindness otherwise flashes through her mind, the sting of an accidental scratch on a wrist she hadn't noticed until later, the surge of pure, undiluted fear she felt in that moment... It's the one and only time Bo has scared her. "To where you know yourself, strengths and weaknesses, and know how to compensate and anticipate the problems your baggage and circumstances cause you. No matter what they may be."

Just like his namesake, a large lump forms in his throat. He thinks, anyways. He audibly swallows it down. “I… well.” [ok more toxic masculinity bad time talk with slur use] ||*”They made you see a therapist, Bo? Did your dick fall off or somethin’? You don’t need that. People fuckin’ die- this is the Moonsea. Your home. You knew what you signed up for, now face it like a man, and not a little faggot. Or did I have two daughters without knowin’ it?*”|| “You won’t like my answer,” he blurts out, sweating slightly. “I’m sorry. But I… just didn’t see a need for me to go. Nothing really came of that session. It’s like I… blanked out the entire time. Honest.” He can’t lie, not with those eyes looking at him. Why couldn’t he have just ignored her damn bed?

”And why is that?” Her tone is still almost terrifyingly neutral. Open. Even understanding. But with just a hint of steel beneath it that she definitely inherited from her grandmother. “I’ve been in therapy for five years. Once a tenday now, twice a tenday when I first started out. We do video calls when I’m on summer break. Probably well over a hundred sessions by now. And I’m still far from ‘fixed’ or ‘cured,’ even though I am a lot better than I was when I first started seeing Irory.” She takes a sip from her tea before shooting Bo a pointed look over the brim of her glasses. The familial resemblance is, frankly, uncanny. “Is there a reason you think your situation is notably different?”

She is just as terrifying as Mrs. Forster. I’m so screwed. His tail stops moving, and the hair at the end seems deflated somehow. “No… I only saw him… the one time.” Well, at least her tone is voice is less “depressed and defeated” and more like… what he’s used to. He shoves more toast in his mouth. It does not hit like some of Helaena’s jerky would.

”… And?” She doesn’t want to push, but he’s not exactly offering a lot of information. She’s discovering she’s a lot more willing to push him out of his comfort zone when it comes to his health and wellbeing than her own selfish desire for more sexual intimacy. That’s… probably a good thing? “You don’t have to tell me what you talk about, or anything. You are still seeing him, right?” She swears to the gods, depression slump or no, if he only went to see Irory a single time and expected that to be it…

2

Steffi 🍄 [Tavs:Mushroom Mob]

.mushrooming

SoulFearer (Tav: Irory & Co)

soulfearer

Close

“Bothers me? No, I wouldn’t say…” People like that he’s clean. Fastidious. His captains in the army always commended him for it. Sure, it’s annoying that he can’t relax when there’s a mess, but that feeling goes away as soon as he begins to clean, long before things are actually clean. “Irory? Oh…” That was a disaster of a session. I never even finished that worksheet he gave me. “I did see him. Thank you for referring me to him,” he answers. He stuffs his mouth with some bread that has jam on it. He’s already knows that Helaena is going to ask him how it went, and figured a bit of that jam-induced serotonin will help him through that uncomfortable line of questioning.

”Okay.” Her voice is open, and non-judgmental. How could she judge, when he is literally looking at the extent of her own mental illness? “I don’t think that’s necessarily strange, but I can imagine it would be very unpleasant. It sounds like it’s something that bothers you regularly.” OCD, her mind screams. But she’s not a licensed psychologist. It’s not her job to diagnose. “Did you… did you ever go see Irory? Back when I first suggested it?” Pot, meet kettle. But to be fair, she’s been in therapy and medicated for five years now. She’s not ignoring her problems, she’s just not handling them very well right now.

Helaena has been nothing but honest with him, someone she likely never wanted to show this side of herself to. Boletus feels he owes it to her to at least try to be honest and speak his mind. He thinks for a minute, wondering if he can phrase it in a way that doesn’t make him sound like he needs to be committed to an insane asylum. “It just feels like I have to,” he finally says. “Like I need to. Not for you… for me. I am not as altruistic as I may seem when I clean for you, or anyone else.” He bounces his knee a bit nervously. “I know that sounds strange. I’ve been like this ever since I was young, I think.”

She frowns, confused. If it's not out of kindness, why then? Obligation? His words make it clear he gets it, though. She is fighting her own mind, every step of the way, and that makes almost everything else nearly impossibly difficult. At least when it's for herself. For someone she loves, she's able to do so much more, even on her worst days. "Not being alone makes a huge difference. So huge I'm not entirely capable of communicating it. So just... Thank you." She squeezes his arm again. Each smile is a little stronger than the last. A little more genuine, a bit less forced. "Is there... Why else are you offering? If you don't mind me asking? Is it... obligation? Because you really don't have to, I promise, it's not-" She catches herself before saying not his job. "It's not something you have to do. I'll manage. I always have before."

It is both terrifying and heartbreaking to see Helaena this way, to listen to ugly words comes out of a mouth that, to him, only sang sweetly. But he is not one to shy away from ugliness, not when he knows what lies underneath. He thinks back on her language. She is a “mess.” She is “illogical.” She is “not worth dealing with.” She feels her current image does not fit his carefully curated one. Boletus is always put together: no wrinkles in his pants, no fabric pills on his clothing, claws manicured, his body always in tip-top shape. Anyone who has heard him speak in class knows he often does so with a cold, somewhat detached logic right at home in academia. He seems like someone who abhors messes and hates the illogical. Of course Helaena would think he would look upon her with disgust right now. Of course she would think he wouldn’t want to dirty his hands with the grim on her skin. “It’s not me offering out of the kindness of my heart,” he admits. “Not completely.” He doesn’t know how to tell her why his mind is the way it is, why it compels him to scrub his own floors until his hands crack and bleed. It’s not something he wishes to speak about anyways. “I think it’s normal to not like who you are sometimes, especially if there’s a voice in your head that keeps shouting it. You have to spend so much energy fighting it, that you aren’t left with the strength to do much else. Like casting a spell.” He pops a piece of fruit into his mouth next, enjoying the sweetness in a way most tieflings do not. “I hate it too. I hate to see you suffer. I’m sorry you have to go through this. But I hope you know that you needn’t go through it alone. I’m always here for you.” The very end of his tail sweeps up and down the length of Helaena’s thighs in confirmation.

She makes a sound of fond disappointment at his continued insistence of putting hot sauce on perfectly good eggs. Still, his hot sauce is pretty good. Half an apple and most of a banana disappears before she registers his offer of quite literally mucking out her mess. He probably already did her dishes, knowing him. The food curdles in her stomach. It should be easy, right? She could Prestidigitate her sheets, or cast an Unseen Servant, or just _fucking do it_, but even the spell she's known for well over a decade, easy as breathing to cast to salvage Bo's sweater, catches in her throat. "I hate how difficult this is for me," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a bloody godsdamned wizard, and I can't even cast a spell to clean up my own room? It's pathetic. I hate that you even have to offer to do something I should be able to do on my own. I'm not... I don't like the person I am right now."

“Imagine that,” he replies. “I’m glad it helped.” If Boletus does not shower in the morning, he feels like he will die. “I appreciate it,” he says in response to the gratitude, leaning into Helaena’s side-hug. “And I don’t mind at all. We can move to my room for your prescribed cuddle session whenever you’re done. No rush, love.” His head is literally screaming at him to wash her sheets and clean her room. There is a feeling of something creeping up him arms, one he is so familiar with, he simply ignores it. Instead, he hums happily as he eats his share of eggs first, a decent amount of his personal hot sauce (that he now keeps a bottle of stashed in the suite kitchen) slathered on top of them. “… I don’t mind washing your sheets, though. We could wait in my room while they’re in the wash, perhaps? Oh we can simply stay here. Whichever you prefer.”

"Oh no, that sounds positively _dreadful,_" she tosses back. Her smile dims for a moment as he places a perfectly doctored cup of tea in front of her. After months of study dates, cafe visits and pleasant time spent in both their rooms, they've shared plenty of cups of tea. And he has clearly memorized how she takes hers. He really is so very close to perfect. How is she ever going to compare to this? It's not a competition. "Thank you," she says again as his tail, predictably, wraps around her waist, the fluffy tip taking its usual spot in her lap. "I feel a lot less gross now. I hate how much difference a shower makes." She subconsciously leans into his warmth as always radiating off of him as she picks at some fruit to start. Eating is a success. Even if it's just a little. "I'm very grateful for you," she mumbles into his arm as she gives him a sort of half-hug from the side. "Would you mind terribly if I just wanted to cuddle after this? But, ugh, maybe in your room, my bed's all gross..."

“Waiting is one of my top five skills, or so I’ve been told,” he jokes back, closing his book with a smile. His tail smacks at the cushion next to him as if signaling Helaena to sit. “It wants you to take a seat. But careful… it’ll probably wrap around you as soon as you do, so… proceed at your own risk.” He pours them both a cup of tea, Bo not bothering to wait for it to cool before sipping at his.

He told her to take her time, so she lets herself do so. Meaning that it’s a full five minutes before she does anything but simply let the hot water pound against her skin, and pretend all the disgusting stickiness of depression sloughs off her skin and washes down the drain. It’ll be okay. She’ll be okay. She’ll take her time, and she’s not alone. She doesn’t have the energy to fully detangle her hair the way she normally would, but she does wash and condition it, and make sure she can do it later, if she feels up for it. The goal is clean, not perfect. She doesn’t have to be perfect. The voice in her head saying those words sounds a lot like Irory. She finally steps out of the shower feeling like she must have scrubbed off at least two layers of skin, but by the gods, she feels clean. Showering and brushing your teeth is a magic you can’t learn from a spellbook. She tries not to look at the mess in her room as she digs out a fresh set of pajama pants, worn and comfy, and another one of Bo’s shirts. It’s really fortunate he’s not very protective of those, because just the slight hint of his scent lingering through washes makes a huge difference when she feels alone and lost. Besides, they’re comfy. Knit socks and a cardigan complete the very cosy and deeply unsexy ensemble, and after squeezing the worst of the water out of her hair and tossing it in a ponytail, she pads out into the common area. “Hey,” she greets him, a little self consciously. “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting. Civilian shower habits and all of that.” Another weak joke, but she’s trying. She really is.

And then he waits, two plates sitting on the coffee table. Rather predictably, he takes out a book to read to pass the time. His legs are crossed, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his glasses are sliding off of his nose slightly. The tip of his tail softly thumps against the couch cushions in an even, steady rhythm. It is Boletus in his natural habitat, doing his best to make himself comfortable in a space that does not quite feel like his own just yet.

The mild teasing helps. It’s gentle, and fond, and not at her expense. It helps make the monsters in her mind more manageable. How is he so good at this? Am I really this lucky? She gives him another firm squeeze before letting go of the safety blanket that is hiding in his arms. “I love you so much,” she mumbles into his sweater. “Thank you.” She sniffles pathetically as she withdraws, frowning at seeing the clear marks of her tears and snot on a sweater she knows to be one of his favorites. Magic isn’t the easiest when she’s in this headspace, but a simple cantrip should be doable, right? “_Elue,_” she mutters under her breath, twisting her fingers in a familiar somatic component as the spell vanishes all signs of her crying into his shoulder with a gentle beam of sea foam light and a whiff of a scent that to her is citrus and warm cotton and a hint of something herbal. To Bo, it would smell simply like Helaena. “I’m sorry about your sweater. I hope that helps.” She feels much too gross to kiss him, so instead she reaches up to caress his cheek. “Thank you. Truly. And if you need a professor to log it to, well, maybe pick anyone but Professor D’arkkonnen. I somehow doubt she’d appreciate it.” Her smile is faint, but it’s there. It’s a lot more than she could have managed an hour before. Bo helps.

“Well, of course its not my job. No one is paying me to be your boyfriend,” he responds with a chuckle. “If I could make money off of it, though? I would be set for life.” He really just can’t stop teasing her. It’s likely a remnant of how he used to treat his sister whenever she was upset and overwhelmed. Humor always got through to her like nothing else. It dulls the sting of the pain, he thinks. Takes away the teeth. Declaws the beast. Can something alleviated by laughter really be all that bad? “Think of all of this as… charity work. Maybe I’ll log my hours and submit it to… oh, I don’t know… one of my professors.” Then he backs away, noting the little tear and snot stains on his sweater. It’s nothing a quick wash won’t fix. “Now go on and take your time. I’ll be out in the common area waiting for you.” He is keeping this to himself, but he does plan on cleaning her room at some point. She might think he doesn’t have to, but his compulsions literally demand it of him. His hands won’t stop itching otherwise. It’s a minor annoyance to him at this moment. Right now, his priority is a curly-haired, pallid, snot-nosed woman whom he loves with all of his heart.

”I basically just woke up,” she admits. “Or, well, I wasn’t really sleeping, but…” I didn’t have the motivation to even unlock my phone and tell you I was alive. “Food would probably be a good idea,” she agrees. “I’m sorry, I just… don’t have the motivation for anything. I should- I should…” I should clean up my room. I should clear out the dirty dishes at minimum, I know how much Bo hates those. I should shower. I should change my sheets, my pillowcase is covered in tears and snot. Oh gods, there’s been a pile of dirty laundry by my closet for days now. I should- “I’m sorry,” she says again. “Everything feels overwhelming and unmanageable right now. I don’t… I feel bad you have to look after me. I know you said there’s no ‘shouldn’t have to’s but… It’s not your job to babysit me.” She tries so hard to communicate. She tries so hard to explain what’s going on in her head, even if most of it’s ugly. One step at a time. What bothers me most right now? “I need… I need to feel clean. So shower. I feel gross. And my room is gross. Would you… would you mind we eat in the living room? I can’t look at it right now, and I don’t have the energy to clean it all up, and it’s just… disgusting.”

“Unfortunately, we aren’t machines,” he replies, almost wanting to laugh at how similar they are. He wouldn’t go as far as using the word hate, but he prefers things to be logical if at all possible. “Logic doesn’t govern how our brains operate.” Logic is a man made concept at the end of the day. It’s not inherent to the laws of the universe. “And you’re welcome. I’m sorry you feel awful. There are little things we can do I find that help. A shower, perhaps? And some food? I’m going to assume you haven’t eaten yet today.” Boletus, even as anxious and panicked as he was, still ate a rather large breakfast before coming over. His appetite is truly an unmatched force in this world. The sun could be exploding, and he would be off to the side eating a steak or something. “I’m here for you, okay?” he reassures, resting his chin on her messy, crumpled bun. “Let me know if anything I’m suggesting is going too far, but I would be happy to put together a little breakfast plate while you freshen up. Doesn’t that sound nice? I’ll even sing for you, if you agree to my terms.” His chest vibrates from his soft, warm laughter. Everything about him exudes warmth, after all,

No, his answer wouldn’t change anything. She sighs in defeat, and lets herself be hugged. It’s nice, even if part of her is screaming she must stink, she’s disgusting, she should move away so he doesn’t notice- The chuckle his weak joke startles out of her is low, but it’s there. It feels strange, to laugh, but not bad. It’s one of the few things that hasn’t felt bad for a few days. But what if it’s a bad month? she wants to say. What if it’s a bad year? What if all the progress I did is undone and this is just my normal now? She can’t do that again. She won’t. She barely survived it the first time. When she’s in it, the logical knowledge that the last slump she had like this lasted approximately nine days does nothing. This one could last forever, she just doesn’t know. The loss of control is one of the worst parts. It’s part of why she clings so tightly to that same control when she’s not as ill. “Thank you,” she whispers into his shoulder. She can barely lift her head to look him in the eye. She knows she’ll see nothing but the usual warmth and care and love in his beloved yellow eyes, but what if? She forces herself to anyway. “Thank you,” she repeats. “It’s not… it’s not logical. I hate things that aren’t logical. It just… sucks.” She wants to cry. She wants to hide. She wants to curl up and cry in the sanctuary of Bo’s arms while he holds her. She feels so gross. Her room is disgusting, she’s disgusting, and burying her nose in the clean-fresh-woody- smoky scent of Bo’s sweater only reinforces it. “I feel awful,” she admits. “I’d much rather have a cold. At least those have a timeline.”

If he were to be honest, hearing Helaena say such horrible things about herself comes as a shock to him. How could she say such awful things, the shining ray of light she is in his eyes? The woman who reached out to him, unafraid, so many times before? How could someone so nice be so mean to themselves? Her last question is full of such vitriol, it makes his chest sink. It’s because I’ve seen worse, he thinks to himself. “Would my answer change anything?” he asks, pulling Helaena into a gentle hug. His tail automatically moves to complete the embrace, wrapping around the lower half of her body. He knows that Helaena is stubborn, so it would make sense that her depressive state would be no different. It seeks to confirm the nasty things it believes to be true: that she is a mess that isn’t worth dealing with. “I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face… oh, I’m not sure I can turn that color,” he jests. “I might be too orange to turn truly blue. Maybe purple? Let me amend my statement then: I’ll say it until I’m purple in the face.” His claws have been filed down, but are still sharp at the tips, because he knows Helaena likes how they feel on her back. They stroke down the length of her spine just like they would when they’re in bed together. He pauses to remove his glasses, his eyes now unobstructed, to meet Helaena’s gaze. “I love you. No matter how you feel about yourself, I love you. Your thoughts can say what they want. It doesn’t change how I feel. A bad day, a bad tenday even… doesn’t change that.”

He's not leaving. He's not disgusted, at least not visibly so. He's not angry. It almost makes her feel worse. His hands are gentle as he wipes the worst of the tears off her face, but more steadily trickle down her cheeks. She can't control them. She can't control anything, least of all her own mind. It's fortunate she has enough control of her magic there isn't a literal rain cloud hovering above her head, at least. "I'm sorry," she tells him again. "I'm so sorry." She's a broken record, to fit her broken brain, saying the same thing over and over. She hates the person her depression makes her. Loathes them in a way she lets herself hate so few things. I love you. I'm just worried. "I'm such a mess," she finally gets out. "I'm such a disgusting, ugly, broken *mess*, and I have no idea why you bother with me, I'm horrid, you should be eager to be rid of me, who wouldn't be?" Her big red-rimmed, glassy eyes meet his, almost pleadingly. "Why aren't you trying to leave? Why aren't you running screaming?"

Boletus simply closes the door softly behind him to give them privacy. If there’s anything he knows from experience, is that phrases like “I’m fine” and “don’t worry” uttered while tears are streaming down your face are usually a lie. “Hey, there’s no need to apologize,” he answers, wiping her face with the back of his hand. “And there is no ‘shouldn’t have to’ between us.” Another thing he has learned from experience is that solitude often makes it worse. But, he isn’t one to impose. Helaena is not his sister, nor is she a child. “This isn’t about me ‘deserving’ anything either,” he continues, smoothing out the top of her messy hair. “I love you, and I’m just worried. Nothing you can do about that. I’m sure you’ve dealt with this all before, and I’m just your clueless boyfriend, but don’t you think it’d be nice to have my company regardless?” It’s phrased as a suggestion, rather than a demand. She is free to tell him to leave, and he would respect her decision to have her space. His main concern has already been alleviated anyways. She is alive.

As if her mind isn't being cruel enough to her already, she now gets to be bowled over by the guilt of knowing she worried the person she loves. That she scared him, made him fear for her health and safety. She doesn't see the point in answering his question, because fresh tears are streaming down her face by the time he's doing asking. Still, she nods. "I'm sorry," she half-whispers. "I'm so sorry, you should- you shouldn't have to see this." Her vision blurs as she stares at his feet, in the same neatly-laced, recently-shined brown oxfords he wears most days. She doesn't fit into Bo's neat, carefully organized, meticulously planned life. She never has. She's just an anomaly, a blip on the radar. He'd probably be happier without her, anyway. Who'd be happy being dragged down with her? The best parts of her, maybe, the girl he fell in love with. Not the ugly reality. No one would want that disgusting wretch of a person. "I'm not... I'm not unsafe, or unable to look after myself. You don't have to worry about that. This isn't your problem. You should- I'm not going to burden you with this. That's not- you don't deserve that." She tries for a smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. "I'll be fine. I've dealt with this before, and I will again. It's fine."

1

SoulFearer (Tav: Irory & Co)

soulfearer

Close

“Oh, thank the gods…” he gasps, out of breath. “You’re okay. You’re okay…” Well, Boletus means she isn’t dead, which is what he was really worried about. Even he can see that Helaena isn’t “okay.” He is vaguely aware that his girlfriend has struggles with her mental health. She’s confessed as such, even when they barely knew each other, and she made the suggestion for him to go to therapy. But he did not know the depths of that struggle. How could he? He’s never seen her like this before. “… have you been crying? Please, be honest with me,” he asks calmly. Because I know you aren’t sick. He chooses to suppress his gut reaction to being lied to: anger. After all, it would make him the world’s biggest hypocrite. He did the same thing with his sister last semester, so depressed from his situationship that he had skipped class and claimed it was because he was sick. She must have a reason for lying to me. Maybe she just didn’t want me to worry. But that didn’t work. “I was worried about you,” he confesses with a sigh. It’s a mixture of relief and disappointment.

-# [giving her disadvantage]

She rouses from her odd, restless, half-sleeping daze with a start at the knock on her door. Shit, is Rhi or Yvie-? “Helaena? It’s me." Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck *fuck*- "I'm here!" she calls back, her voice a little hoarse from the silent tears that have been flowing freely since the night before, only occasionally turning into pathetic little sobs. "Sorry, give me just a second~" He sounds worried. He sounds _scared_, under the thin veneer of reserve she's always been able to peel back to see the sweet, slightly awkward man beneath. She should pretend to be sick, right? She already sounds hoarse, she could fake a cough, his own body temperature is probably too high for him to be able to pick out a fever in a human... All she has to do is muster the energy to pretend. For what, five minutes? Long enough to convince him to go away so she can rot in peace. Sick, sick enough he should stay away, not sick enough I need to be looked after. That's the goal. She opens the door with a weak smile, still in sweats and one of his shirts (one of the few comforts she's allowed herself) her hair in a messy bun instead of its usual braid. She forgot to wipe her eyes or check if they're red. "Hey."

Boletus mutters curses himself as he walks all the way up to the 4th floor, using one of Helaena’s keys to enter the suite. He doesn’t bother worrying about intruding. None of that matters right now. His entire body feels like ice, heart pounding in his ears, while sweat makes his hair stick to his face. She said was wasn’t feeling well. I knew she wasn’t feeling well! Shit, I should have made her go to the nurse. I should have went to check on her. I just thought she was a little under the weather, and she had a point about not wanting to get me sick, too. I’m an idiot! Getting sick, who cares! I should have checked on her anyways. I should have. “Please, please be okay,” he whispers. “Please, any god that is listening… I can’t do this. Please, please…” He knocks on the door, cursing himself for feeling the tiniest bit clingy in a moment where, to him, she could be dead behind that door. Gods, if only I wasn’t so socially inept. I could have asked one of her suite-mates to check on her. But I’m too… ugh. Now is not the time. “Just be ok. That’s all I want…” His tail is limp behind him, the length of it certainly making it a tripping hazard. “Helaena? It’s me,” he announces, voice audible, yet shaky and a bit reserved.

She sees the first two texts when she first blinks awake around ten. Somehow, even unlocking her phone and writing a simple reassurance she's fine, she's just having a lie in, he doesn't have to waste his precious free time babying her, is a monumental effort she can't manage. He thinks she's sick. Why would he assume anything else? She is sick, but not the sort of seasonal cold or flu that can be fixed with soup and tea and staying home for a couple days. He deserves better than to be stuck dealing with me. She rolls over and tries to fall back asleep. She'll reply to him, later. She will. Her phone is still on do-not-disturb.

(5) missed calls

At this point, she can usually feel the bad days coming. It's gone from bad _months_, even years, to maybe a slump of a tenday or two. Even that, she doesn't have the time for. Even that, she hates with everything she has. She still goes through the motions. She goes to class, she teaches, she tutors, she submits papers on time. She continues to follow her carefully built routine, because if she doesn't cling to it, she'll collapse. No, it's the little things that slip. Her hair is allowed to turn into a greasy, frizzy mess, hidden in buns or braids. Her choices of clothing turn from something she's spent at least a moment's thought on to whatever's closest that smells mostly clean. Her meals turn less regular, picking at plates in the Dining Hall at odd hours and tossing at least half in the trash. Her notes aren't quite as meticulous. Her lectures aren't planned down to the minute. She gets an A- on a paper. And the moment the door closes behind her in the evenings, she's an exhausted lump under the covers, too numb to even properly rest. She doesn't read, she doesn't listen to music, she doesn't even touch the writing she'd finally tentatively picked back up. She just... exists. And it sucks. The carefully planned "nights off" are almost more of a curse than a blessing, now. It's not like more rest even helps. Gods, she'd hoped she was beyond this. She hoped her brief glimmer of true happiness would have spared her from this, at least for a while. But nope. She's still stuck fighting her own stupid brain, the way she has for years. And as for Bo, well. It's not like she loves him any less. It's not like she doesn't want to spend time with him. But he doesn't deserve to deal with this. This isn't what he signed up for. This isn't the version of her he fell in love with. So she hides in her sad, ever-more-messy little den, and tries to let him see as little of it as possible in the time they do spend together. It'll pass. It always does. Eventually.

❤️🔥🌩️☕🍬🍈

3

Alvilda (Tav: Helaena+)

alvilda_

SoulFearer (Tav: Irory & Co)

soulfearer

Ell (Tav: Rosie and Co.)

polarized2023

Close

I'm the lucky one. She smiles as she snuggles further into his chest. Maybe it's a good thing they both think that. "Good night, darling. I'll tell you why you're wrong t'morrow," she promises, her words slurring slightly as sleep truly begins to take over. "'Cos I love you." She's asleep before she fully registers the slight vibration of her pillow might be Bo's soft laughter. [Author's note: CONTENT WARNINGS FOR THE NEXT SCENE: Depression, terrible self image, a character talking herself down and both thinking and saying horrible things. I'm sorry.]

Helaena’s sleepy voice is simply too cute for him to handle, the way her words slur a bit and get the teeniest bit higher-pitched. His face wears a small, calm smile, but the end of his tail thumps rapidly between the mattress and the comforter. “You love it because it doesn’t let me get away with anything,” he says in jest. “That’s why I hate it. Plus, it makes it hard to lie on my back. And do you have any idea how much it weighs? Well, of course you do. It’s literally draped across your hips right now. Gods, and growing up… you don’t now how many things I accidentally knocked over with it.” The anti-tail rant stops when Helaena says the sweetest words he’s ever heard. “Oh…” He thinks back to that day. He was miserable from an arduous summer break spent mostly roughing it across the Moonsea with his father. He was still hung up on a man who was just using him. He felt lost because he didn’t feel like he had a future in academia. He felt alone because he pushed people away, thinking that absorbing himself in his studies would erase parts of his past he just wants to forget. Even now, he still thinks this way. But then one human woman, one he really only knew in passing because they both TA in Lorehold, decided to come up and say hello. To check on him. “You’re lucky? I’m the lucky one. I didn’t think I was someone you would want to talk to. I was in an awful headspace back then. I’m not sure you know how much it meant to me that you approached me that day.” You are the best thing that ever happened to me. He looks down to see Helaena struggling to keep her eyes open. “Good night, love.”

"I guess your subconscious is really eager to cuddle," Helaena teases, plopping down on his offered arm without a moment's hesitation. "That's okay, I love your tail just as much as the rest of you." It will never get old, to get to be held like this, to fall asleep in his arms and wake up the same way. She can't imagine a better way to sleep. She presses a kiss above his heart, through his shirt. Its steady beat is the best lullaby she's ever had. "Love sleeping with you. In the same bed I mean. Probably my favorite thing in the world." She's too sleepy to have much of a filter, and she's (mostly) done pretending not to care as much as she does. All cards are on the table. She loves him, he loves her, they both have baggage and issues around sex and intimacy and relationships, and they'll figure it out. Together. "I'm so happy I'm lucky enough I started talking to you in the library our first night back," she mumbles, already halfway asleep. "Best thing I ever did."

“You’re fine. Go get comfortable. I need to brush my teeth and wash my face anyways.” He had a lot of candy and jerky and tea, ok? Of course he grabbed his own little bag of toiletries from his room earlier as well, since one can never be too prepared. He might be in someone else’s bathroom, but his routine is the same as always: two minutes of brushing following my 15 seconds of face washing. No timer needed. Truthfully, he is still quite awake. That’s nothing that an adorable woman huddled up next to him can’t fix, though. Back in bed, his tail immediately flops over her before he can even get his glasses off. “Impatient, aren’t you?” he says to his own tail, like a crazy person.

Boy is a more accurate word. Just a stupid, selfish, cruel little boy, who saw people as bit players in a world revolving around him. "Thank you. That means... everything. Thank you." She presses a kiss to his collarbone, just because it's the closest part of his skin to her mouth. "We can undo it together, yeah? For both of us. No one gets to ruin this. Especially not the specters of our pasts." Still, his words make it obvious he's done no small amount of reflection of his own. She once again wonders if he actually went to see Irory when she suggested it, months before. She hopes he did. But that's a conversation for another time. "I love you. So much. We'll figure it out." She actually believes that. What a strange feeling, hope. A massive yawn is barely stifled in the sleeve of his shirt. "Ugh, sorry, I guess my melatonin kicked in. You can stay awake if you want, but I'm probably going to pass out soon. Read, whatever you want. Emotional upheaval just... really takes it out of me."

He doesn’t mind a clingy partner. Clingy is a word that has been used to describe himself more than once. Clingy like some little girl. Clingy with his mom. Clingy with his sister. Clingy with his partners. Any perceived discomfort he has from touch has been learned. It’s not natural for him. What he is doing now, this is more natural for him. “It’s frustrating, I know,” he confirms, hands alternating between drawing circles on her back and doing little criss-cross patterns. “It’s frustrating to still be affected by things you think you ought to be over by now. Your brain gets stuck in a pattern, because it’s trying to protect you. Even from someone like me, who wouldn’t dare hurt you on purpose.” I do the same to you. “Once I have something, I am not keen on letting it go so easily. We are together now, and I wouldn’t dare let a small argument here or there break us apart. But words are just words. I always intend to prove myself through action. I want to undo the damage that man has done to you, one step at a time.” He sits there embracing Helaena for as long as she would like. It’s not like he would rather be doing anything else anyways.

A knot of persistent anxiety in the pit of her stomach unravels at the gentle reassurance of the physical touch. It’s not his fault she’s like this. It’s no one’s fault but Gus, and she hates his mood swings still affect her, even five years after the fact. “That sounds really nice,” she mumbles into his shoulder. “And I don’t think you’re distant. My brain just sucks, and convinces me I did something wrong, and you’re mad at me, and… I get stuck in old thought patterns.” She sighs, frustrated at how fucking stupid it all sounds said out loud. “More first boyfriend damage. I’m sor- no, I hate that we’re both stuck dealing with it, still. I’m terrified of losing you, especially because of a mistake I made, but I know you’d always give me a chance to explain, I’m just… _Ugh._” She keeps hugging him, because he didn’t tell her not to, and he would if he wanted her to. It’s okay. She might be a little needy and clingy right now, but he doesn’t seem to mind much.

“Of course it is,” he replies warmly. “Always.” They’re still sitting on the edge of her bed, so he pulls Helaena into a gentle hug, her head resting against his chest. His tail, which has remained wrapped around her this whole time, only tightens its grip. “And of course I want to take you out to dinner. I’ll make reservations in the morning, maybe we can pick out somewhere together while we’re having our marathon, yeah?” His claws trace the length of her spine, slow movements up and down. “I know I can seem distant at times. Physically. But I love to touch you, hold your hands, hug. I’ll never say no to any of that. As long as it’s you.”

Ah, fuck. She hadn’t meant tonight. She’d meant, well, at basically any time in the future that suits him. There I go again, fucking things up. She’s still not very good at handling perceived irritation or rejection from people she loves. “You’re right.” She stops herself from apologizing, but it’s a close thing. “It’s probably a discussion best saved for when we have clearer heads.” What a rollercoaster of a night. Good, mostly, but definitely a lot. At this point, she mostly just wants to curl up in Bo’s arms and sleep. Because her closest point of comparison is, again, a half-elf piece of garbage, she almost expects Bo to leave, or give her the cold shoulder for a few days at minimum, because she did something “wrong.” He’s not like that. “Wait, you want to take me out? To dinner?” Not that that isn’t something they’ve done already, but usually just casual places to grab a bite, once a semi-casual place that had gotten good reviews because they’re both massive foodies. “Uh, yes. I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” He can’t be that mad at me, then. “Is it… is it okay if I hug you? I’m so- I could really use the reassurance right now.”

“Another night,” he replies tersely. “Part of me thinks we are both still riding the high of saying our ‘I love you’s.’ We both have pretty strong feelings that are influencing our actions right now.” At least, that’s how I feel. “Once my emotions settle, I do want to try again. Really. I’ll set the limits, and you can tell me if those limits work for you.” For once, he is happy that he seems to elicit such a strong attraction from someone else. To him, it’ll help make up for the lack of experience navigating a femme body. “How about I take you out to a nice dinner at the end of the next tenday?” he offers. “Well, unless you’d rather have a more casual date. I just thought it would be nice if we looked nice and ate good food neither of us had to cook.”

"I was a fool for letting him get away with it for so long." But that's not important. What is important is the man in front of her, tying himself in knots over having baggage of his own. As if she'd ever judge him when she has almost as much of her own. It's easier to carry the load together. It always is. "You don't have to make it worth my while, Bo. I don't... This isn't a sacrifice. We could literally never have sex and I'd still be happy. Because I'd be with you. And I love you. And that's not dependent on anything but you treating me with love and respect in turn, and certainly not on us having sex." She smiles at him and squeezes his arm. "But if it's something you want to work on, then I'm with you. Every step of the way. Anything you want. But I, uh. I might need to tap out like tonight if it becomes too much. Or we can keep going, if you want, but I might need to abruptly leave for a minute to take a cold shower or something after. Sorry."

Of course she knows what it’s like. But knowing that doesn’t make him any less upset. One emotion he has always been bad at hiding is anger. “Completely unacceptable,” he huffs. “I’m sorry you went through that.” His tone is stern, matching the look in his eyes. But it’s gone after only a moment. And another piece of jerky. “Youth is the time for making mistakes, but sometimes those mistakes are painful and stay with you. I’m so sorry someone hurt you like that.” Helaena was taken advantage of at such a young age. But me? I should have known better. I was twenty-five, a grad student begging for scraps. The useless thoughts are dismissed, because he feels pitying himself will get him nowhere. “You are so incredibly kind,” he reassures, tucking some of her blonde curls that didn’t make it into the braid behind her ear. “I trust you. I trust you enough to want to work on this issue I have. I’ll make it worth your while. Because I love you.” How many times have I said that tonight? It feels amazing every time.

"But you do," she interrupts gently. "You do make me feel loved. You always make me feel good, you always make me happy. We don't need to have sex for any of that." His hands might be full, but hers aren't. She touches his face, gentle as a feather, and presses a kiss to his cheek. "I love you, Bo. And that's not... that's not dependent on anything we do or don't do in this or any other bed beyond sleeping. And I am... so incredibly sorry you've been pressured into sex in the past. It's a horrible thing to do to someone." She feels a flash of fear, but she pushes through. He's being open with her, so he deserves to get openness from her in turn. "My, um, first boyfriend. Augustus. He... He'd get mad at me if I said I didn't want to, or tried to avoid it. He'd call me frigid, or boring, or... just, you name it, horrible things. So a lot of the time, I went along with it. I was very young," she defends herself with. "And I thought... I thought there had to be something wrong with me, right? Because if you love someone, you're supposed to want what they want. You're supposed to want to make them happy. Even if it's in a way that makes you uncomfortable, even if it hurts, even if you'd rather just cuddle and watch a movie. "I thought that was what love was supposed to be. I was seventeen years old, and I'd snagged the most popular boy in my year. I thought, of course he'd ask some things of me I wasn't... That he was used to different kinds of girls. Anyway, he was a bastard, and he was wrong to act that way." They'd been together for about a year. They'd started having sex within a month. It wasn't always bad, but it had never really been _good_, either. And a lot of it she'd prefer to forget. "I can't speak for what men are or aren't supposed to do. But I know pressuring something into doing something they don't want to is wrong. The thought of doing that to you disgusts me. I'm... incredibly relieved you don't feel like I have. I'm really trying not to."

“No, no. None of this is your fault.” It’s mine. I didn’t realize just how badly she wants this. “I’m sorry I’m so in my head about this. I want to give you what you want, to make you feel good, make you happy and feel loved and…” I can’t let him ruin me. “I’ll be ready one day. One day soon,” he promises. “The fact that you love me despite… how I am about this whole thing… already makes me happier than you can imagine.” The kiss he gives her is as chaste as can be. “I love you. I’m so sorry. You aren’t doing anything wrong. Actually… you’re doing everything right.” He has to grab a piece of jerky just to calm himself, confessing to something he is only choosing to say because he is so worried about Helaena thinking she isn’t wanted or undesirable when it’s the complete opposite. He might look a bit silly with a piece of it hanging out of his mouth, but he just needs the snack. “There are a lot of times in my life where I felt pressured into sex. Whether it was to make someone happy, to keep someone around I didn’t want to leave, or just because the people around me said I should. Because a man is always supposed to want sex, aren’t they?” There it is. What a man is “supposed” to be is always in the back of his mind. He abhors every single behavior of his that goes against what he has been taught when it comes to masculinity. “But you? You have never pressured me. Even now, you’re apologizing for a completely normal reaction to what I was doing to you. It was me who got carried away…” Since his hands are full with his emotional support snack, his tail moved to hug her waist. “Thank you for being patient with me. As always.”

She hovers on the cusp of telling him to stop, to slow down, to take a break. And then he does it for her. Her breath is too heavy as their foreheads press together, as his touch turns gentle and grounding instead of torturous. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I'm so sorry." She's trying. She's trying so incredibly hard. But if he can turn her on just by looking at her, did she really expect this to end any other way? "I'm not trying to pressure you, I swear I'm not." She's just too pent up, despite her recently much-more-frequent usage of the toys in the bottom drawer of her bedside table. It's not the same as when it's him. Sometimes, she thinks it just makes it worse. "It's not too much, but I can't help but want more. I'd never pressure you for it, but... I'm sorry. I want to let you explore as much as you want, I do, but I can't control the response of my body." I want you too much for that. "Bo, you did nothing wrong. This is on me. I'm sorry. You stated a clear limit and expectation, and I... I got carried away. That's my fault, not yours."

It’s downright addicting, the kinds of responses he’s getting. Boletus always enjoys getting something right. But this seems like too much, too soon. A few neck kisses and chest groping and his girlfriend sounds… way too responsive to it. Would it be cruel to do this when he truly doesn’t want to go any further? To wind her up only to not deliver? “Hey, are you okay?” he whispers. “Is this too much?” He pulls away, resting his forehead against Helaena’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, uh…” Make you make noises like that? I have no idea what to say here. “I might have gotten carried away, kissing your neck like that,” he says, a hand resting on her cheek. “I wasn’t really thinking about how that might come across to you.” His eyes are just full of worry and guilt, scared that he’s already messing up when they seem to have made such a breakthrough in their relationship mere moments before.

She nods and bites her lip in confirmation. She'll do her best to stay non-verbal, at least. That promise is almost immediately broken as his teeth graze her neck, the hint of danger from their sharpness combined with the attention to the very sensitive area almost perfectly designed to wind her up even further. "Oh _fuck,_" she half-whimpers, arching into the press of his mouth. "Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry..." She is enjoying this far too much. She wants to let him explore to his heart's content, she really does, but she's not sure she can without making even more mortifying sounds, or risking pushing him without even making a conscious choice to. It's barely anything at all. He's kissing her neck, and touching her breasts. She's been much less affected with someone inside her. Hells, she's had orgasms less satisfying than the infinitely slow and gentle touch of his hands, even without the heat of his breath tickling her neck, and the softness of his lips contrasting with the lightest sting of his teeth. If it's like this when he's barely even touching her, what will it be like when he's actually trying to turn her on?

Oh, no. Maybe he should have told her to be quiet. She is somehow saying the exact kinds of things that turn him on. Is she doing this on purpose, or is this just another compatibility of theirs discovered by accident once again? “Mm, please don’t say things like that,” he warns. “They’re too… far too pleasant to hear from your mouth.” But he can’t just stop now, not when she sounds like this just from simple touches. If anything, it makes him braver, open to experiment. “All I want right now is to touch you. Learn you, I’m sorry if that’s not what you want but…” His sentence trails off as he kisses down her neck, past experience guiding him. Like any other tiefling, his teeth are razor sharp. So when he dares to bite, it’s more like he’s scraping the tips across her skin. All the while, his hands continue to massage her chest, thumbs brushing up against her nipples slowly, agonizingly so. He has no idea why he was nervous about this, as naturally as it seems to come to him. Boletus has no idea how cruel he’s being.

He basically told her to be vocal, so she is. She’s not entirely sure she could stop herself if she tried. “You do,” she sighs, her voice far too breathy for what barely even qualifies as heavy petting. “Even if you’re just holding my hand, or holding me, it feels… it always feels good…” She shivers at the simple kiss to her ear, wishing he’d suck or nibble on her earlobe, or move his mouth just a bit further down to her neck… It takes everything she has not to beg for more. That’s just another way of pressuring him, and even a manipulative one. It’s not fair to him. But gods does she want it. She wants his mouth on her neck, her breasts, she wants to figure out exactly what else he’s done with a woman and teach him exactly what she likes, she wants to see the look on his face when he slides inside her for the first time… I can wait. I will wait. “You can do anything you want,” she tells him instead. “I’m… I’m yours, you make me feel so wonderful, _please-_” She bites her lip as soon as she realized what she said, not keen to worsen the damage.

The only time he doesn’t hate his name is when someone is crying it out in ecstasy, so why would…? ”Don’t,” he commands. “Do not worry about your voice.” His hands move as soon as he finishes his thought, doing exactly as Helaena asked of him. Her chest feels absolutely heavenly through the cotton fabric, the thin layer somehow more arousing to him than imagining touching them while she’s completely nude. Kneading, playing? That’s not so hard to do when they fill out his rather large hands as well as they do. He leans in closer to her shelled ear, more to hide whatever dumb look is on his face from touching boobs for the first time in a long time, but he might has well try to act like the man he knows he can be while he’s there. “You are gorgeous, Helaena. I hope I can make you feel as good as you make me,” he says after pressing a kiss against the cartilage. It’s not mean to be a purely sexual in meaning. Every shoulder rub, every scalp massage, every time she messes with the tip of his tail… they all make Boletus feel amazing. Maybe a cautious boob massage can act as repayment.

Well, that explains a lot. She knew perfectly well his last partner was a man, another tiefling, even if she never saw him in more than passing. She'd guessed his preferences might generally lean more masc than femme. Or perhaps it was simply a matter of chance and availability. He had spent his formative years in the military. "That's okay," she reassures him, trying for a gentle smile in spite of the situation. She adjusts his glasses without conscious thought, her touch lingering as a gentle caress down his cheek. "There's nothing wrong with that. I'm here for you, Bo, okay? Nothing or no one else." Her hand moves to cover his, carefully guiding his touch. "It feels nice if you squeeze them, knead them, play with them. The underside and the nipples are sensitive. You can... You can experiment, see what you enjoy. I am... almost mortifyingly vocal, so I can't help but tell you what feels good." She shrugs, a little ruefully. "I can try to contain myself, if it makes you uncomfortable, but I can't promise I'll succeed, sorry."

“Right. ‘Just tits.’” Easy for her to say. Never in his life has he had his hands on a chest this… big? Soft? Belonging to someone he loves so deeply? And she loves him back? Is she really that sensitive? He’s not even moving his hands and she sounds like- “Guidance! Guidance is good and very appreciated,” he blurts out, glasses crooked on his face. “I’veonlysleptwithonewomanbeforeyouandIdon’tknowwhatI’mdoing!” I wonder if she’ll take back the “I love you” after tonight? It’s not like he was actually planning on sleeping with her. He is clearly not ready for that. But he still couldn’t help but blurt out one of his main anxieties about all of this while his hands remain stone still on Helaena’s chest. His tail is whacking itself against the bed, smacksmacksmack.

She can’t help but let out a giggle at the sheer absurdity of this situation. It’s like they’re both fumbling virgins again, blushing at the very thought of intimate touch, instead of grown adults with, at least in her case, plenty of experience with men wanting to touch her tits. She loves it. Bo might be more nervous than she is, something that calms her, steadies her. It makes her determined to make him want to do this over and over. His hands rest on her chest as carefully as if he’s touching a live grenade. It’s bloody adorable. “They don’t bite,” she whispers against his mouth, the gentlest of teases. “I mean, I can, but I usually ask first.” After another thorough kiss, she pulls back enough to fix him with an endlessly fond and amused look. “They’re just tits, Bo. But I can provide a bit of guidance if you- _mmm…_” His callused palm brushes against an already-pebbled nipple, probably just from the motion of her breathing, but fuck, her breasts are sensitive and it’s been a while and it’s Bo. She’s never been very good at keeping quiet. In bed or otherwise.

“Hoo… hoo boy,” he says absentmindedly. You are an idiot. “I mean. Okay. I would, perhaps, like… to touch you. Since you said. You said… that you would like it?” His tail starts to loosen its grip, happy to let its owner have a turn now that his desires are out in the open. There is no mistaking the way she’s looking at him. She is saying that she wants him. Those eyes will surely be the death of him someday. Leaning over for a kiss, his hands simply rest of her chest, unmoving. “Good gods…” he mutters against her lips, tail fully out of the way and thumping against the bed behind him. Why am I so lame? Hoo boy? Good gods? I thought I was good at this sort of thing…

1

Alvilda (Tav: Helaena+)

alvilda_

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He’s looking. He’s staring at her barely-clothed torso in a way that makes her feel a lot less guilty for the appreciative looks she can’t help but shoot the lines of his arms and shoulders, no matter how much she tries. “You don’t have to be sorry,” she breathes, eyes blown wide with too much desire for the relatively chaste situation. Relatively, because his tail is definitely still brushing her breasts, perhaps on purpose, perhaps not. “You could… you could touch, if you want. You don’t have to, but I’d, mmm, I’d like that.” She’ll never push him. Never. But if it’s something he wants, too, there’s no harm in giving permission, is there? “You can… You never have to feel bad about wanting something. You can always ask, always.” Her eyes meet his, hoping he sees the love and trust behind her desire. Hoping he sees the promise that just this is fine, but if he wants a little more, it’s his.

Sexually speaking, there are a lot of tendencies of his he prefers keeps buried deep down, unwilling to give into various tiefling stereotypes he has heard throughout the years. He was more willing to indulge in them when his partner was also a tiefling. It is a whole new ballpark when his partner is now a human. He is fairly certain that Helaena has no idea what she’s doing to him when she says things like “they remind me of you when you’re not here.” Does she think about me when she wears them? What does she think about? He can’t even blame her for the moan, the way his tail doesn’t stop brushing up against her chest, doing what he is exactly too afraid to ask to do. “I… sorry. My tail…” His gaze is clearly fixated on her body. The shirt is big enough so that it hides her figure completely, but with his tail coiled around her, he can see hints of an hourglass shape underneath. He doesn’t even realize he’s drooling slightly.

He likes me wearing his shirts. The thought sends a thrill through her, a hope that perhaps he likes the thought of her being his as much as she does. “You don’t have to stop talking. I like- *ah-*” The tip of his tail grazes her nipple, sensitive even through her (his) shirt, and she can’t hold back the softest of moans. “Sorry,” she mumbles, embarrassed. She desperately tries to distract herself from how much rather she’d like his broad, careful hands on her breasts by talking. “I like wearing your shirts, too. And not just because they’re very comfortable, even though they are. They remind me of you even when you aren’t here. It helps me sleep.” All technically true. He doesn’t have to know she usually keeps them on for her pre-bed activities, too, the woody, smoky scent of him filling her nose as she gets herself off to the thought of him, well, doing a lot more than just touching her breasts.

“I love…” If Helaena’s goal was to scramble his brain with the way she kissed him just now, it worked. “R-remember when I said… um. When I said I was attracted to you?” he croaks, throat dry and filled with the pounding of his own heartbeat. “You in my T-shirt… it really… it really does it for me.” ”REALLY DOES IT FOR ME!?” “I need to stop talking.” His tail has other ideas. While squeezing her waist, the end up it brushes against her chest. Her chest which is very much braless right now. Bo stares in horror as his tail betrays him so blatantly.

It’s been rare, so far, that Bo is more affected than her. Usually she’s the one who has to look away, to withdraw from a kiss that turned just a tad too hungry, to take a moment. She’s just… sitting there, mussed and undone and ready for bed, and he’s looking at her like she’s, well, beautiful. Maybe someday she’ll believe him when he says it. “You don’t have to do anything with your hands,” she tells him as she gently brushes that one lock that always falls astray out of his eyes. “I’d like it if you held me, but all you have to is exactly what you want to do.” The kiss she gives him is soft, but there is something undeniably different about kissing him when she’s only in one of his shirts, and he’s sitting on her bed. Good different, but enough to threaten her tenuous self control. She can’t resist the urge to gently suck his poor, abused lip between hers, just for a moment. “I love you,” she whispers against his mouth. “So much.”

He feels like he just got hit by a truck. Not only is she singing, she’s in just one of his T-shirts again. And nothing else. He’s seen it before. He has held her all night in nothing but his T-shirt before. But now that he knows they love each other? Now that neither of them are hiding? Plus, her singing voice is beautiful to his ears. The combination is enough to kill him, probably. His own singing was merely a whisper by the time she started, his expression best described as awestruck. “Helaena. Beautiful inside and out…” he mutters, his tail wasting no time wrapping around her. He wants to touch her. He can feel how soft her body as his tail does its thing by gently squeezing her waist. Honestly, his tail seems to have touched her more intimately than his hands have so far. She loves me. I don’t have to be scared of this, right? “I, uh… wow. I have no idea what to do with my hands right now,” he admits. “You’re far too cute in one of my shirts. It makes me want to…” I want know what your body feels like. There he goes, biting his lip again.

Helaena lingers at the door, listening. Of course he has a beautiful singing voice, why wouldn’t he? But it’s so much more so when it isn’t shyly lowered in a public space, as if him singing is somehow a bother to his surroundings. I love him so much. “Comes the measles, you can quarantine a room,” she chimes in, continuing the next verse of the familiar song. “Comes a mousey, you can chase it with a broom, comes love? Nothing can be done.” She sits down next to him and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “That’s all, brother, if you’ve ever been in love, that’s all, brother, you know what I’m speaking of…” Her own voice is a little hesitant, at first. She’ll sing when she cooks, she’ll sing when she’s happy, she’ll do karaoke if she’s well and truly _drunk_, but it’s always been something she only does in private. Her voice is nothing special, and never has been. Pleasant enough, but unpracticed. It’s not something she shares with anyone but those she trusts not to mock her, unless significant amount of alcohol and coaxing are involved. She trusts Bo not to mock her.

"Of course, take your time." When she's gone, he takes off his vest and shirt, folding them into a neat little pile that seems like it would belong right at home in a clothing store display. His pants are next, khaki slacks replaced by flannel pajama bottoms that he grabbed from his room earlier. He sits on her bed chewing on jerky while he waits, his tail thumping excitedly on her comforter. I can't believe it. She loves me. I love her and she loves me. He's feeling some type of way about being called "Mr. Zales." Something to be examined later. He starts to sing along, voice unrestrained now that he's somewhere private, somewhere where he can be himself. "Comes a heatwave, you can hurry to the shore, Comes a summons, you can hide behind the door, Comes love, nothing can be done..." She hums a lot. I wonder if she sings, too?

The tiniest spark of intrigue shoots through her at the words “more private.” Don’t be stupid, he’s just self conscious about my roommates. “Ella Fitzgerald, pajamas and snacks? You are speaking my language, Mr Zales. I knew I fell in love with you for a reason,” she teases. She picks up the tin of shortbread before opening the door to her room, revealing it in, thankfully, a less messy state than he’d last seen it. It helps she’s been spending more nights than not in his room recently. Snacks are deposited on her bedside table, her glasses sat down next to them as she groans and stretches, wholly unselfconscious in her own space. “Hold on, I put your shirts at the top so I’d remember to give them back to you…” She’s a filthy liar. She put them there because she sleeps in them on their nights apart, so at least some part of Bo is with her. “Here.” The shirt she hands over is plain white cotton, not dissimilar from the first one he’d given her apart from the color. It had almost stopped smelling like him, anyway. Win win, really. “I’ll go change and take my meds, give me a minute,” she mumbles, just a little sleepy herself. The song changes while she speaks. Ella is, as always, entirely correct. Comes love, nothing can be done. All you can do is choose how to respond to it. Pretending it doesn’t exist never got her anywhere. Embracing it has made her happier than she’s ever been before. -# https://open.spotify.com/track/4RCIJZQ866qGKz0tefgYYt?si=A3Mid78TRCGGM9SSOyAS6w

"No, not really," he answers, gathering his snacks and tea. "I just want to be somewhere more private." He can only snog for so long on a couch in the middle of a shared suite. "Play your music in your room, too. I really like it. Ella always reminded me of you." He remembers when she was humming one of her songs when he made him hot chocolate last semester. She hummed this exact song when they went to the grocery store the other day. "Plus, I want to get out of my clothes. You've got a few of my shirts stashed away still, you said? That would be great. I'm getting too hot in this."

"Gods, we really are both bloody idiots, aren't we? No matter how many letters we get after our names." It's... nice, to know Bo was just as scared as she was. Even if it makes her feel even stupider for not realizing sooner. "Even then?" she asks, her voice turned quiet. How long? As long as I have? "I would have told you, then, but... I already couldn't believe I'd get to be that lucky. It felt like... pushing my luck? Like, well... being too much." My mind is sometimes my worst enemy. It seems his is, too. Another way we fit. She makes a soft sound of surprise as he kisses her, the riot of artificial flavoring not managing to block out the underlying taste, scent and feeling of Bo. The man she loves. The man she never wants to stop kissing. She can taste the slightest hint of rust. He's been biting his lip again. Another bad habit they share. His question makes her blink, though, slightly confused. Give the girl a second, she's been processing a lot of emotions in the last five minutes. "Oh, uh, yes, absolutely. Are you getting tired?"

He shoves a Bo-sized handful of gummy bears in his mouth while Helaena pours her heart out about being scared to reveal her feelings. How typical of him. “Remember my letter?” he asks after swallowing an obscene amount of candy at one time. “Where I said we can go at your pace? There’s a reason I wrote that…” He bites his lip. It’s just a nervous tic he barely notices that he does. “I was terrified of the same thing. I didn’t want you to feel… stifled by my feelings. I don’t ever want that. But it turns out your pace actually… matches mine.” He takes a bear and squishes it between his claws. “If I had known? I would have written it in the letter,” he confesses, looking at Helaena with a shy expression. “I would have written… that I love you.” He takes a break from his crime on gummy bear kind with another kiss, the taste of sugar and artificial coloring on his lips. “Can we go to your room soon? Please?”

She bursts into laughter again, half muffled in his sweater vest. "Oh gods, I love you, you ridiculous man. Okay, how about gummy bears first, then more kissing later?" she suggests. Not before one more kiss, though. And then one more after that... "Okay, okay, I'll let you go," she promises with a laugh. "We should probably finish our tea, too..." It just doesn't seem nearly as important as the fact she loves him, and she finally built up the courage to tell him. "I was terrified of telling you for some reason. It feels so stupid, now, but I was convinced you'd think it was too much, or too soon, or pressuring you somehow. I... can't tell you how relieved I am. And happy. So happy I feel like my heart might burst."