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At first, neither Larcei nor Morgan had meant for the evening to amount to much. They’d imagined, at most, that it would serve as a little celebration. A celebration of their long journey together, made at the behest of the Order of Heroes, finally coming to an end… and a celebration of their first night as a couple. Their confessions that morning had been straight to the point—more a confirmation of that which had been so obvious for so long, even before they’d both set out together—and Morgan had thrown herself into the idea of a date night with infectious enthusiasm, surprising Larcei with flowers and candles as they’d made camp for a night and treating her to a meal cooked with her own unique flair.
Certainly, it had been a good evening. One of the best in Larcei’s memory – especially with how damned weird and confusing and overwhelming everything had been in the time since she’d arrived in Askr. But as the candles had burned out, and the sky had faded from blazing orange to black, and Morgan had suggested turning in early to be home all the sooner, she’d assumed it was over. She’d assumed the night would end—as it had started—with gentle kisses and whispered words.
Then, Morgan had crawled into Larcei’s bedroll.
She couldn’t entirely remember what had happened next; what they’d said to each other. There had been some teasing, some flirting, some brushes of lips over ears and fingers under clothes. But then, they’d found themselves kissing again, far deeper and far hungrier than ever before – and the details had all just slipped away, lost to the heat of Morgan’s body and to the flood of passion they no longer cared to keep in check.
Larcei had realised, amidst it all, that Morgan’s desire to wake up early had been a bold-faced lie. She hadn’t wanted to cut the evening short. She’d wanted an excuse to get Larcei into her bed… and, from there, to make the night last as long as possible.
Really, she knew she should have expected no less from the genius tactician herself.
“Hey,” Morgan breathed, drawing back from the kiss and panting for air. “Is it okay… if I…?”
Larcei wondered, for a moment, what she meant; then felt her tugging at the hem of her purple tunic, slight but insistent.
“Huh…? You want it off…?”
“Mm.” For how confident and outgoing Morgan usually was, it was oddly refreshing to see her so shy. “I wanna… feel more of you. It’s in the way…”
Larcei understood. But even so, it took her a few seconds to respond. After the months she’d spent trying and failing to conceal her feelings for Morgan, the past day had felt like a dream – a whirlwind of impossible moments. And already, on their very first night together… Morgan wanted to go this far.
If it was all a dream, conjured up by one of those fairies fluttering around the Order, she would probably punch them.
“A-ah… Yeah, sure,” she managed at last. “Let me just…”
Briefly, she fumbled under the sheets, reaching down towards her waist; but Morgan was already there, drawing the tunic up without a word, and before long—with Larcei’s help—she’d pulled it away, leaving her almost completely bare save for her undergarments.
And then, without stopping, her hands were on the move – her fingers tracing Larcei’s soft curves and hard edges, her smooth skin and her sharply defined muscles, her broad hips and her slender thighs. Her touch was filled with a tenderness that defied their passion, defied the urgency of their embrace; and Larcei closed her eyes, feeling her mind drawn inwards and trembling at every little shift in Morgan’s movements. Her body was tingling, a fire she’d never known before racing through her veins, and as her pulse quickened, her thoughts were quickly becoming a jumbled rush of love and desire.
And still – still, she wanted more. She wanted to feel Morgan, too. She wanted to stroke her skin, and leave kisses lower than her neck, and explore every inch of her body.
Without asking—a little selfishly, not wanting to draw Morgan’s attention away—she found her girlfriend’s undershirt, so loose without her robes to bind it in place – and in one swift motion, she lifted it up and over her head, too desperate to be delicate. True to her expectations, Morgan’s near-naked form was beautiful in the waning light, and she ran her hands down her sides, admiring how closely she resembled the Morgan in all her fantasies. And yet, she was even better – soft under her fingertips, quivering in her gentle grasp.
For just a moment, they allowed themselves to wander in silence, drawing patterns as they went and searching for all the places that drew out the subtlest reactions: a shudder as Larcei brushed over Morgan’s navel, a shiver as Morgan cupped one of Larcei’s breasts and rolled the hardening nub between her finger and thumb.
Then, one of them—Larcei couldn’t say who, nor could she care—had pushed forward, burning with need, and the other had rushed to meet them, lips mashing together and tongues dancing and duelling. As they kissed, the air between them growing heavy with something like lust, Larcei found herself on top of Morgan, pinning her down and pressing roughly against her.
Slowly but surely, the forest beyond the tent grew distant and forgotten; and when Larcei eventually broke away, kissing along the line of Morgan’s jaw and all the way down her body, her girlfriend’s quiet whimpers finally gave way to far louder sounds.
It felt right, Larcei thought. To be together like this, at last, after everything they’d done together. They were two halves of one whole, joined by the bond they’d forged on their journey – and even as she couldn’t wait to return home to the castle with Morgan, she found herself wanting the night—this night—to last forever.