[Vague and watery, the light barely penetrating the darkness that seems almost alive around them. The chaos that might reign outside of her chambers. The reason for the loss of power, for the darkness and the locked doors. A reason that he can't think about right now, not with Yennefer stepping back, slipping from his fingers like sand.
The chill hits him all at once, the warmth that doesn't come from the wall anymore, vanishing like the light, and he shivers, eyes on her the whole time. He doesn't look away, only a brief flicker of his gaze down as he takes her in inches at a time.
Beautiful.
Dark hair cascading down her shoulders, a wet tangle of it but no less breathtaking for it. How it plasters to her skin, clinging like his hands did and he takes a step closer.]
Yes.
[It isn't a lie, but it isn't the truth either. It's the careful balance between what he wants to take for himself and what he needs, it's the temptation to make promises he won't keep to make her stay, and to be honest. To let her see him, and the light is more than enough for that.
Another step closer, his fingers already pulling on the hem of his shirt.]
And how much do you want to see, Yennefer? What do you want. [Fingers already itching to touch, to feel her again. To feel all of her, pressed against his own naked skin, to feel the warmth of her. He wants, wants to feel something, anything, but the desperation that claws at his mind and his memories.
The futility of hope that won't leave him.
And he wants her, the teasing, smirking mouth of hers. Her clever, powerful fingers and that little tilt of her head that means that she sees. Seeing with the edge of scorn or judgement in her gaze. Wants to reach out and know that she will reach back, even through the deepening shadows between them.
There is naked hunger in his eyes as he closes the distance, finger tips skimming across her throat.] Is this what you want.
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The chill hits him all at once, the warmth that doesn't come from the wall anymore, vanishing like the light, and he shivers, eyes on her the whole time. He doesn't look away, only a brief flicker of his gaze down as he takes her in inches at a time.
Beautiful.
Dark hair cascading down her shoulders, a wet tangle of it but no less breathtaking for it. How it plasters to her skin, clinging like his hands did and he takes a step closer.]
Yes.
[It isn't a lie, but it isn't the truth either. It's the careful balance between what he wants to take for himself and what he needs, it's the temptation to make promises he won't keep to make her stay, and to be honest. To let her see him, and the light is more than enough for that.
Another step closer, his fingers already pulling on the hem of his shirt.]
And how much do you want to see, Yennefer? What do you want. [Fingers already itching to touch, to feel her again. To feel all of her, pressed against his own naked skin, to feel the warmth of her. He wants, wants to feel something, anything, but the desperation that claws at his mind and his memories.
The futility of hope that won't leave him.
And he wants her, the teasing, smirking mouth of hers. Her clever, powerful fingers and that little tilt of her head that means that she sees. Seeing with the edge of scorn or judgement in her gaze. Wants to reach out and know that she will reach back, even through the deepening shadows between them.
There is naked hunger in his eyes as he closes the distance, finger tips skimming across her throat.] Is this what you want.
[Am i?]