Liv lets me up in stages. First releasing my throat so that I can actually swallow properly. Second, letting go of my wrists, which allows me to throw them forward of my chest. Both of my hands dig slightly into the hardpack sand. It's grounding, and it will also let me leverage myself upward.

My wolven girlfriend leans back off her knees and onto her heels, rocking up and off of me. I spring up seconds later, stepping a few paces forward before whirling around.

Off to the side Deirdre has now drawn closer, her head tilted at an angle and her brows furrowed. She doesn’t strike me as confused, just worried.

My heart is still racing, obviously still flush with arousal. I just need to escape, need to get away and think.

“I’m heading back early.” I sputter to tell Liv and Deirdre. 

As fast as possible I dust myself off, sending sand cascading off away while blowing stray strands of hair from out of my face. 

Locking eyes with Liv I’m nervous about what I’ll find there. It’s concern—not exasperation or some sort of teasing grin, just concern.

Okay. Everything's fine, time to flee now. 

Embarrassingly, I stumble over to my staff and then my pack. As I’m making my way towards the exit, I can hear a hushed, rapid-fire conversation start up between Liv and Deirdre. Glancing over my shoulder, it’s clear Deirdre is holding Liv back, keeping her from following me with a harsh grip on her shoulder. Liv, meanwhile, looks like she was already making plans to chase after me. While Deirdre steps in close to exchange quiet words with Liv, I turn back and disappear around the door.

POV: Liv

“I don’t like just leaving her.”

Not only was this conversation happening at the wrong time, but at the wrong place. This is far too private a matter for such a place. We are fresh from training and due for a scrubdown before something like this. At Deirdre’s instance, we had found a corner in the lodge’s large sitting room. Trophies and end tables were scattered about beside clumps of cushioned chairs. It was mostly empty, but this ought to be talked about behind closed doors at the bare minimum. 

“Like I said, we can’t just go after her. She needs a minute,” Deirdre calmingly reminds.

All I can do is sigh and grumble some more. I didn’t mean for that to happen. For Evelyn to crumble like that. It was just a bit of sport, not whatever that was. Not that I was some sort of expert at grabbing women by the throat, but I don’t think they usually let out adorable wanton moans when it happens. I’m an idiot for pushing it that far.

Stupid stupid stupid.

"Well, how long are we going to wait? Letting her sit and stew can’t be much better.” I practically beg in question.

If we would just go talk to her now so I could apologize, so I could try to make things right. Not that I would actually be able to make them right.

Beside me, Deirdre hums in consideration, sounding less frustrated and instead much closer to tired.

“She pingpongs back and forth between confident and embarrassed. Just give her some time. We need to talk anyway.” The halfling declares confidently. 

Waiting is so hard. It only let those horrible sinking feelings hang lower in my gut. I drum my fingers on my knee in time with my itching to move, to do something. Deirdre is concerned and worried. It's obvious from her tone, despite trying to read her emotions through what I figure are her typical filters. She must be mad at me too.

I fucked up so badly.

This was so typical. My inability to have nice things without ruining them was bound to show up sooner or later. 

Already, I had made one of them uncomfortable, had gone too far, and messed everything up. 

I’d been so stupid to think, even for a second, that any of this girlfriends thing was a good idea.

Hanging around with Deirdre and Evelyn? Pfft. 

At least I didn’t get them killed. I could still pack up and leave without another body on my conscience to eat me alive.

“Hey. Liv?” Deirdre asks, her hand now resting on mine.

“Hmm?” I ask, hearing her for the first time in a minute.

“I asked if you were okay.” Deirdre frowns, and I look away. “You didn’t do anything wrong, but we need to talk,” she says softly. When I worriedly turn back, Deirdre takes her chair and scoots it even closer, up until our knees are knocking into each other. 

Our voices are barely above a whisper, leaning in close to each other, even if I don’t understand why Deirdre isn’t reading me the riot act.

“Talk about what?” I ask, frozen stiff at being this near to someone who might still be mad at me. How could I have not done something wrong? Teasing Evelyn is one thing, but this clearly crossed the line. I made Evelyn uncomfortable, and that's obviously not okay.

“Evelyn. Honestly, I’m not all surprised about early. She is… hypersensitive, I suppose you could say.”

"Yeah, I gathered.” I voice, still despondent. 

“You really didn’t do anything wrong. She was just embarrassed, I’m sure of it.” Deirdre explains. 

“How can you be so sure?” I wince, suddenly thinking back to all the little kindnesses Evelyn has shown me. I betrayed that kindness because it’s fun to tease her? I really am the worst.

Deirdre slides her fingers under mine, holding my hand in a soft, double-sided embrace. 

“Before I say anything more, I just want you to know I’m not betraying her trust or anything by talking to you about this. We sort of discussed this beforehand.”

“Well that sounds ominous.” I reply.

“Really, it’s nothing you haven't probably already inferred,” the halfling chides. 

Inferred? I mean. Just because Evelyn is a gay disaster doesn’t make it okay to turn a regular spar into an over-the-top provocative situation where one side ends up running away. Unless Deirdre means something else. 

“I still can’t see how I didn’t monumentally just screw up.” I admit.

Deirdre tuts and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. I expect just about anything else to come next, but Deirdre and Evelyn, by extension, are full of surprises. 

“Liv, she is thrilled. You wrestling her to the ground like that is pretty much her fantasy come to life. It wasn’t a bad thing. She was just losing her mind because it was actually happening.”

Silence looms between us as something unspoken from Deirdre gives me space to think. Did that explanation make sense? Well, yes, actually. It sounds more probable than the alternative, at least. Evelyn turning redder after a round of teasing wasn’t even a first for us. Had we hit some sort of threshold I didn’t know was there?

Hurting her was unforgivable, and crossing some sort of line I didn’t know about was wrong. On the other hand, if I were less guilty and more, a fool, well, I could live with that.

The evidence all aligns. Anyone with eyeballs would be able to read between the lines when it comes to Evelyn. She's like an eager but volatile mix of sheepish and uninhibited. 

Then there was the way she acts at the slightest bit of provocation. She teases well, one could say. Every time I took a good look at her, she had those hungry eyes and body language that screams she wants to climb me like a tree. 

But all that didn’t strictly mean she was harboring some sort of fantasy that I ran over like a landmine. Newly found feelings or not, having only just gone from weeks of flirting to dating, this was all very unexpected.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“Positive.” Deirdre assured me.

Not mad, not infringed upon, but driven wild?

“Oh.” I let out dazedly. 

“Yeah. So basically, we just need to talk about what comes next and how we want to handle this development.” Deirdre continues with a long, exasperated exhale.

The stone that has settled at the pit of my stomach doesn’t go away, but it sure felt lighter. Now I only need to determine if Deirdre was inspiring or horrifying as she continues on about Evelyn’s proclivities. 

***

Following Deirdre into our tavern inn room feels like following a woman on a mission. The halfling isn’t running, but for legs as short as hers, they were darn near close to it. Up the stairs and to our assigned lodging, Deirdre drives forward until stopping just outside our shut door.

This is it. Here we go.

After three quick knocks and a curt moment of waiting, Deirdre uses her key to enter. All the while, Deirdre never turns back to ensure I was following, instead just striding along with determination.

Inside, near everything looks to be in its rightful place. While Deirdre is stomping across the room in her heavy boots, I toss our weapons and packs beside the door and lock it behind us.

Turning around there Evelyn was. Standing ramrod straight, looking suddenly out of sorts, surprised even. She was right next to her chair, as if she had just sprung out of it. Deirdre has made her way right up to the devilish woman, close enough to reach out and touch her if she wanted.

If Deirdre wasn’t so sure and so insistent as we discussed how to handle the so-called situation, I’d think this was an awful idea. Just like Deirdre has insisted, I stick close to her side and join them both in the middle of the room. 

Evelyn’s eyes flick between the both of us as we close in on her. Her blush has gone, along with her training outfit. Now she wears a loose white tunic and gray trousers. Evelyn’s hair, previously tied up for training, was now let down, falling just past her shoulders. 

She looks locked in place, eyes wide. We did just burst in here without a word, so she can hardly be blamed for that. She ought to be upset or scared, but while frozen, Evelyn is really not showing any obvious signs of fear.

Loudly, like she’s asking for the whole room, Deirdre tilts her head over so slightly before speaking in a clear voice.

“Evelyn, what’s your safety word?” Deirdre intones. 

Looking off-kilter for a moment, Evelyn blinks before stumbling over a response. 

“It’s safe word, and it’s pinnapple… Why?” She answers slowly, her voice skewing towards uncertainty. 

“Because we’re skipping the part where you two,” she gestures to Evelyn, and then back towards me, “dance around each other acting like idiots. I’m going to kiss you now. You know what to say if you don’t want that.”

"I- what?" Evelyn gawks.

"No. No questions. Nod if you understand." Deirdre demands, hands on her hips, while staring down Evelyn.

Evelyn goes bug-eyed, her expression settling into something completely unreadable, and over a period of a dozen seconds, it relaxes in on itself. Her mouth opens like she is about to say something before closing with the clack of her teeth snapping shut. Slowly at first, but then with a sudden jerk, she nods up and down.

"Good girl." Deirdre adds.

Evelyn doesn’t blink, lips parting slightly, and she does a little huff of an inhale as Deirdre’s words register. You'd only hear it if you were very close to her or if you were Reborn with wolven hearing. 

Deirdre doesn’t give her much time to twist in the wind, considering those words. Using her inhuman quickness, Deirdre practically appears inside Evelyn’s personal space from one moment to the next.

At the same time, she grabs onto Evelyn’s waist with both hands and yanks her close until their fronts are pressed together. The sudden harmless crash elicits a squeaking mouse-like gasp from our devilish girlfriend a moment before Deirdre’s lips come crashing into Evelyn’s.

I expect Evelyn to be… off put by all this, at the very least. Maybe on the back foot? Embarrassed? Upset? Anything but… in her element. Where did confidence come from, and how were they both so sure of themselves with this? 

This energy, from their sloppy, hungry, practically vulgar, and very gay makeout in progress, is a familiar sort of energy. Similar to every day Deirdre takes the fore in our patrol line and picks a path into danger, or Evelyn’s eyes spark with excitement as she explains some hairbrain twelve-step plan, the energy is so completely them.

Just as Deirdre promised, setting the mood isn’t short or even sweet.

My senses tune in on Evelyn and Deirdre and not a single thing else. I listen with intensity to every sound, every eager hum, and every groan muffled by the other’s mouth. My tunneling vision grows focused on only them, and only them.

When Deirdre’s hand starts to wind its way under Evelyn’s shirt, searching for even more of her to hold onto, she doesn’t resist but squirms impatiently. 

After seconds, or minutes or hours, the halfling pushes away almost violently from Evelyn. A trail of saliva briefly stretches between their tongues as Deirdre steps back and Evelyn staggers to stay standing. 

Evelyn’s red face is flushed to an even more intense hue. From neck to long ear tips, she blazes in a deep blush. Her eyes look blown out, her pupils wide, and a dazed desire is evident in her deep cinnamon orbs. Her breathing is unsteady and has already ramped up to a panting pace.

In trying to clear her throat and find her voice, Evelyn doesn’t so much speak but more like lets out a desperate and unsteady whine. 

It’s just like Deirdre said. She is completely shameless in this state. Shameless and utterly happy?

Deirdre’s return to my side takes only a few more steps, and it leaves Evelyn unsure which of us to watch. Her indecision is plain to see. By the look of her, there’s equal chances she is going to leap at us or collapse where she stands.

"Wha..?" She slurs with a smile plastered on her face.

This is where it should be my turn then, like Deirdre proposed.

“Evelyn, I-” I call out cautiously. 

A smack on my rear jostles my words before I can get them out.

“Don’t ask, just do it.” Deirdre hotly demands from my side.

Hesitantly, I don’t move, but only for a moment. Deirdre promised that this was best. The question then was whether to trust Deirdre or trust myself? 

The choice was obvious. 

Following Deirdre's advice, I try not to overthink anything and just act. Walking in close, I lock eyes with Evelyn the entire way until the soft squish of her large chest presses into me. All the while, I look for even a hint of her trying to speak. There is none, only a rapidly growing fire and yearning, and want.

I snake a hand behind Evelyn’s head to gently run my fingers through her hair before fisting a scalp-pulling grip. Evelyn whines out a keening cry excitedly as my fingers dig in. My other hand falls to her hip, holding tight against its softness. The same softness for weeks, I hardly imagined I’d actually get to hold like this.

Firm, because that's what I’ve been told she needs, I lock Evelyn’s head into position with my grip. When I do it, it’s like pressing a magic button. Her panting turns into choked gasps as her eyes glaze over.

When my lips meet Evelyn's, she feels excited and eager for me to get there. As much as she can, with the parts I’m not controlling, she leans into me, into the kiss, into everything. There is no reluctance from her. None in the slightest. She practically melts into our kiss—not a chaste one, but a sloppy teenage makeout kiss. Inside, her mouth is hot, her breath urgent, and her tongue frantic. When I push and make to control her even here, she goes pliant, her tongue following mine and moaning all the while.

Her taste, so much as a woman can have a taste here, is the same as my wolven nose knows her scent to be: sweet caramel and chocolate. The hint of crisp freshness that accompanies it might well be Deirdre. 

The surge of warmth and desire is intoxicating. The all-consuming passion from her is intense and amplifying, like I won’t be able to help it but soak up her desires as my own and lose myself in the feelings. 

Knowing I have to, but not because I want to, I let her go. I separate us like I would pry us apart like two halves of a shell. 

Hotly, both Evelyn and I stutter to catch our breaths. Her eyes are bobbing around, searching and seeking. She looks ready for more, desperate even. 

“Good.” Deirdre says, dragging Evelyn towards their shared bed before pushing the eager, devilish woman down, crawling over top of her, and kissing her again with the same desire a drowning woman has for air.

She was completely right. 

As I sit dazed beside them on their bed, Deirdre pulls herself away from Evelyn once again and crawls over me. When our gazes meet, I know what she's about, and I lean back to make space as she throws a leg over my lap to straddle me. With an excited grin on her face, she leans up. Our height notwithstanding, she reaches all the way up to get a solid hold on my shoulders.

Our lips meet in a fiery kiss, her fervor and my delight sparking off each other. As she pulls me tighter and pushes me back onto the bed, I don’t spare a thought for trying to take the lead from her. There is no competition needed, because I’m just happy to be here. 

She was so completely absolutely right.

Slyfox00

I'm excited because we're so close to the most well adjusted and fun member of the party. It's agony only having them in the draft and not here.