Things Heat Up

The halls of the Magic Tower were eerily quiet at this hour, the usual hum of arcane activity stilled in this secluded level. Delphia walked beside Zypher, her body thrumming with the aftershocks of her breakthrough. The power of the Fifth Circle still coursed through her veins, raw and exhilarating, but exhaustion crept beneath it—a quiet ache in her limbs, a reminder of the effort it had taken to reach this point.

Zypher carried the bottle of wine with an easy grip, his steps unhurried as they made their way to his study. The weight of what had just happened lingered between them, thick with unspoken words. When they reached his study, Zypher flicked his fingers toward the door, and it creaked open on its own.

The room was moderately lit, late-afternoon light filtering through the small arched windows, casting golden ribbons across the space. While different arcane lights lit up the sparser ends of the room. He shut the door behind them with a soft click, setting the bottle down on his desk.

"Well?" He asked, turning to her with that insufferably smug tilt of his head. "How does it feel?"

Delphia exhaled, running a hand through her hair as she sat and leaned against the back of the armchair she chose. "I don't know," she admitted. "Like I should still be fighting for it. Like I haven't caught up to what I just did."

Zypher chuckled, reaching for a pair of glasses from the shelf to his right before bringing them back to his desk. "That's normal," he said as he uncorked the bottle. The rich aroma of spiced wine filled the space. "The mind takes longer to catch up to the body. You'll wake up tomorrow, realize you're stronger than you were the day before, and wonder why you ever doubted yourself."

He poured them both a glass and handed one to her. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, a fleeting touch, but enough to make her pulse jump in a way she wanted to openly acknowledge.

She raised the glass to her lips, letting the warmth of the wine chase away the lingering strain in her muscles. It was a heady brand that clung to her tongue after she swallowed. "I suppose I should thank you," she mused, watching him over the rim of her glass. "You were surprisingly tolerable during this whole process."

Zypher smirked. "High praise." He spoke as he moved towards the settee, sitting down in the middle of it.

She rolled her eyes, sinking into the chair further. A comfortable silence settled between them as they drank, the tension of all the past weeks loosening, replaced by something easier. He watched her from the settee, his maroon eyes gleaming in the low light. "You realize what this means, don't you?"

Delphia arched a brow. "That you get to gloat about being the best mentor in The Tower?"

"That," he conceded with a lazy grin, "and that you're closer than ever to what you've been reaching for."

She traced the rim of her glass, considering his words. Closer than ever. It should have felt like victory, but there was something about the way he said it, something in the way he was looking at her, that made it feel like a forecast.

Or maybe that was just the wine.

Speaking of wine, she thought and finished hers; Holding out her glass for him to refill.

He laughed and motioned with his hand towards the bottle, it gently rose from the desk and floated towards her, pouring itself until the liquid reach the midway point in the large glass. When it straightened back up, Delphia lifted the glass to her lips again, the deep red of the wine glowed in the dim lamplight.

Zypher watched her over the rim of his own glass, his gaze flickering to the slow movement of her throat as she swallowed. The corners of his lips curled into a knowing smile, his voice dipping into something smoother, something meant to tease.

"Careful, Delphie," he murmured. "Any more, and you might start saying things you usually keep locked away."

She let out a breathy laugh, rolling the stem of the glass between her fingers. "Like what?"

Zypher leaned forward, setting his drink aside with a deliberate, easy motion. "Oh, I don't know," he mused. "Maybe how much you really like me—despite all your claims to only like my 'character.'"

Delphia arched a brow, her expression laced with amusement. "Now who's had too much wine?"

His smirk deepened, his posture still utterly relaxed, but his focus never wavered. "You don't deny it."

She hesitated—just for a beat, just long enough for the unspoken truth to stretch between them. He saw it, as he always did, peeling past her defenses with nothing but patience and presence. She hated that about him. Or maybe she didn't.

"You're impossible," she muttered instead, taking a longer sip.

Zypher chuckled, a low, indulgent sound that wrapped around her like silk. "And yet, you're still here," he pointed out, pushing to his feet. "Drinking my wine. Lingering in my study. Still sitting close enough that I can do this—"

Her breath caught as he stepped closer towards her, his presence stealing the space between them. He braced a hand on the armrest of her chair, but he didn't touch her. He didn't need to. The heat of him was already sinking into her skin, setting her nerves alight.

"Should I go then?" She asked, her voice quieter now, though she didn't move to stand.

Zypher tilted his head slightly, his maroon eyes dark with something unreadable. "Should you?" The whisper of his breath grazed her cheek, and the room suddenly felt smaller, the air thick with something she couldn't name. His fingers ghosted along the underside of her jaw, a barely-there touch that sent a slow, melting warmth curling through her.

"Tell me to stop." His voice was softer now, lower—meant just for her. His lips hovered close, so close that she could almost taste the wine lingering on his breath.

Delphia parted her lips, a breath away from answering—but whether to tell him to stop or to close the distance, she wasn't sure anymore. Instead, a new idea formed as she rose slowly—Zypher pulling back to adjust for her standing—meeting his eyes firmly and leaning towards him to capture that kiss.

She pulled back to speak, "It won't be sex just yet, but there's definitely another way to get you off."

She saw the way his pupils dilated at her words, but his brows furrowed lightly in confusion. "What? Like I use my own hand?" He spoke it with a bit of a scoff, not fully getting what she was saying to him.

She grinned at him, a glint flashing in her eyes as she turned them around so that he was standing in front of the chair. She reached out and placed her gloved hands on the sides of his arms, pushing him gently downwards into the seat, slowly moving to the tops of his shoulders. He complied, sitting into the seat comfortably, brows still slightly tilted in confusion as he looked up a her.

"Didn't you ever think of the possibility of me using my own hands and mouth on you?" With that, realization dawned on him as a scorching look shot through his eyes.

Zypher's expression transformed from confusion to intrigued anticipation. As he settled into the chair, his posture relaxed yet visibly charged with a newfound excitement. Delphia smiled down at him, her fingers tracing a slow, tantalizing path from his shoulders down his upper arms and back up again, retracing the pattern over and over.

The air between them thickened with tension and unspoken promises.

Zypher's smirk returned, twisted with a new edge of anticipation as he watched her. His voice was a husky murmur, "Delphia… are you sure?"

The flicker of nervousness in her eyes was brief, replaced quickly by resolve. "More than ever," she replied, her voice steady despite the wild drumming of her heart.

She could feel him tense under her touch as her words sank in, his breath hitching ever so slightly. It was all the encouragement she needed. Standing back upright, Delphia maintained eye contact as she slowly removed her gloves, one finger at a time, the soft-material slipping off with a whispering sound that filled the suddenly tense air. Dropping them on the floor beside her, she then began unbuttoning the collar her dress with deliberate slowness, each tiny sound of the fabric giving way amplified in the quiet room.

Zypher watched every movement with rapt attention, his body taut as if he were a bowstring pulled tight. As she opened the top of her dress and revealed the simple yet elegant camisole beneath, his gaze darkened further, appreciation and desire mingling in those deep maroon eyes.

Delphia smiled coyly and moved closer until she stood between his parted knees. She placed her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him back against the chair. "Comfortable?" She asked in a tone that was both sweet and tantalizing.

"Immensely," Zypher replied, his voice strained as if he were holding himself back from reaching for her.

"Good," Delphia said softly as she leaned forward again. This time her lips did more than hover; They pressed firmly against his in a kiss that was both a promise and a provocation. Zypher responded instantly, his hands coming up to hold her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

The kiss deepened, driven by a hunger that both had denied for too long. Delphia's hands roamed over Zypher's chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. She teased at the buttons there but didn't unfasten them—yet. She leaned down, her hands sliding to cover the right side of his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under her fingertips.

Her breath danced across his skin as she whispered against his ear, "Just relax. Let me take care of everything."

Zypher exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders easing as he settled into the chair, surrendering himself to her touch. Delphia smiled gently, emboldened by his trust. She moved deliberately, her every touch calculated to draw out the tension from his body and coax forth those less-guarded layers of his persona.

Slowly, she unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, exposing the warm skin beneath. Her fingers traced patterns across his chest, each touch lighter than a feather yet burning hotter than fire. Zypher's breathing deepened, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that both thrilled and unnerved her.

With each passing moment, the air between them thickened with unspoken promises and suppressed desires unfolding like night-blooming flowers; Fragrant and full of shadows. Delphia's hands continued their exploration, now dipping below where his shirt parted, while she maintained an agonizingly slow pace.

"Delphie," Zypher groaned softly, the sound vibrating between them—a plea mingled with delight.

Delphia suddenly knelt before him, her hands on his knees as she leaned forward, her breath warm against his neck. "You're not the only one who can play this game," she whispered against his skin, feeling him shudder under her touch. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her hands up his thighs, reveling in the slight tremors that coursed through him as she approached his belt. With quick fingers, she unbuckled it, pulling it free with a soft clink of metal that seemed overly loud in the quiet room.

Zypher caught her wrist suddenly, his grip firm but not harsh. His maroon eyes searched hers, glittering with unspoken questions and perhaps a hint of vulnerability. She met his gaze steadily, her decision clear in her own mind. This wasn't just about physical desire; It was about shifting balances—of power, of emotional barriers, of intimacy.

He released her wrist slowly and leaned back once more, a silent concession. Delphia continued where she left off, undeterred but mindful of the trust he placed in her hands.

Zypher's own hands clenched at his sides, his eyes darkening further as he watched every movement. When Delphia leaned back slightly to look at him, there was an unspoken question hanging between them—a last chance for him to stop her.

But he didn't take it.

Instead, he reached out to thread his fingers through her rose-gold tendrils, gently but firmly. He nodded once as he breathed out almost imperceptibly—an approval and a command all rolled into one.

Delphia smiled wickedly and moved closer once again, her hands deftly unbuttoning his trousers as she prepared to show him just how adept she was at using more than just words to win their little games of daring and desire. As fabric parted under her skilled hands, Zypher's breath caught in anticipation of what was to come—the roles reversed and control surrendered willingly at least for tonight.