They don’t make it to dinner. Entangled in each other, half-wrapped in damp sheets, Yennefer and Tissaia bask in the afterglow. With her hair all mussed and her eyes soft and sleepy, Yennefer thinks Tissaia’s never looked more perfect. Absentmindedly, she plays with a brown lock under Tissaia’s gaze.
“Were there many women before me,” she asks, suddenly curious.
Certainly, with the things that Tissaia did to her, she was not her first dip into the lady pond. Tissaia, once so reluctant to share personal information, doesn’t even blink.
“Some. I’ve always found the experience of sex more enjoyable with them. They… know.”
Yennefer hums in agreement. The thought of Tissaia with other women doesn’t really bother her despite the wave of possessiveness washing over her. Her hand now trailing down Tissaia’s spine, Yennefer marvels at the softness of her skin. She wants to kiss it all again.
“Tell me about the scars,” she says instead.
“When you live for as long as I have, you’re bound to forget things. Many things. Those scars are a reminder of some events I do not wish to forget. Of some people I lost or couldn’t save. I carry them with me, always.”
Yennefer circles around one little dot of scar tissue.
“A boy. Couldn’t have been more than eight years old. I travelled with him for days, trying to bring him to his uncle. His parents were dead and I’d been the one to stumble upon him first. We were ambushed. I was stabbed, hence the scar. He took out the knife and killed my assailant with it.”
“And then his head was chopped off by a man with a big sword who fancied himself a soldier.”
“I know. None of those scars are good memories, Yennefer.”
Her hand stills, goes up to Tissaia’s cheek and brushes against it. Her lover welcomes the touch, closing her eyes. Yennefer wishes time would freeze and leave them together like this forever.
“Don’t fall asleep,” she whispers. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”
Tissaia’s lips stretch into a smile and she opens her eyes, shining with affection and amusement. Yennefer’s heart skips a beat, and then another one when Tissaia lifts herself up just enough to lay her chest on top of hers.
“Dear, you are not getting out of this room anytime soon, I assure you.”
“Hmm, am I to be your captive?”
“Would you mind?”
A devilish smile appears on Yennefer’s face and she shakes her head no. Does she mind? At the moment she feels like she’d die if something were to interrupt them. A naked Tissaia sliding down her body with a very clear purpose is definitely not something Yennefer will ever mind.
“Oh, fuck,” she moans as her hands immediately find their way to Tissaia’s hair.
When Tissaia hums in response, Yennefer almost loses her damn mind.
Breakfast in the main hall is an interesting experience. Surrounded by all those people that she’s known for centuries—or decades for some—Tissaia is expected to make small talk and pretend that everything is as usual. It couldn’t be further from the truth. Her eyes keep finding Yennefer’s and it doesn’t help that the woman seems to be staring at her, uncaring if anyone catches her.
Flashes from their night together keep popping into her mind. Tissaia drinks her hot beverage and suddenly she remembers Yennefer, head thrown back in the throes of passion, moaning her name. She coughs and waves Triss’ concern away.
“I’m fine,” she assures.
She takes a bite of her pastry and the image of Yennefer’s pretty mouth suckling on her nipple is in her head somehow. Flustered, Tissaia chews the buns as quickly as she can and swallows it. She needs to get out of here. Her eyes dart back to Yennefer’s, who has the audacity to wink at her.
It hits her instantly that those aren’t memories, they’re courtesy of her lover who’s been abusing their telepathic connection. Tissaia wants to get her hands on that pale throat and squeeze. A little. Truth be told, Yennefer would probably enjoy that. She sighs and drops the rest of the pastry back onto her plate. There’s only one thing she’s truly hungry for anyway.
Wait a moment and then come find me, she says through her mind.
Very well, mistress, comes the immediate reply.
Keep calling me that and I might develop a taste for it; you’ve been warned, Tissaia tells her as she excuses herself from the room.
No one seems to have noticed her strange behavior which is a relief.
Can you sit naked at your desk for when I arrive? I may have been fantasizing about that a lot.
Tissaia almost trips on her own foot. In surrendering to Yennefer, she has created a monster. A very lovely, very talented, very attractive monster, but still. She has a feeling they’ll be spending a lot of time behind closed doors in the next few days. As she makes her way to her chambers, Tissaia tries not to think about what will happen once a decision concerning Nilfgaard is reached. She knows Yennefer’s departure is inevitable and they will have to address it eventually, but for once she wants to live in the moment and not plan too much ahead. Who knows? With a war brewing between the mages and an all-out armed conflict between the kingdoms, they might be spending a lot of time together soon, fighting side by side. Allies during the day and lovers at night. Tissaia is torn between wanting that and being afraid of what a war would mean. Casualties. Deaths. Perhaps hers, or Yennefer’s. That would be unacceptable. She has half a mind to let the world burn and elope with Yennefer if peace is forsaken. Together, in their own little corner of this vast world. The idea fills her with longing. So much for living in the now, she thinks bitterly.
At last, Yennefer shows up. Directly into her room, no doubt having opened a portal from the hallway to here. Tissaia’s mood brightens at once.
“I believe I requested something from you,” Yennefer points out, stepping closer to her.
“And I considered it,” Tissaia replies on the same tone, “but decided that I would much rather have you undress me before we fuck on my desk.”
The use of foul language is something that turns Yennefer on insanely quickly, Tissaia noticed. She intends to use that weapon a lot in the future.
As Yennefer closes the gap between them and pulls her into a scorching kiss, Tissaia’s concerns fade away and she lets herself be swept in the feelings of happiness and love and desire. She knows nothing will ever come close to that. She knows her surrender to Yennefer was total and unconditional. She knows she belongs to her now, body and soul. She hopes that, deep down, Yennefer feels the same.
From the look in her purple eyes as their lips part, Tissaia thinks she does.