A Kind of Magic

Fifty-Eight

"Take your clothes off," Fiona demanded in a low, but surprisingly steady voice, and he obliged gladly, feeling like he was dreaming, his fingers shaking ever so slightly as he undid his laces and buttons and let his clothes fall the cold, marble-tiled floor.

Drawn in by the look in her eyes, he approached her then, and crushed her silk-clad figure against his body, making her soft curves shape around his hard muscles while his tongue invaded her mouth, erasing all gaps between them, banishing their thoughts. She felt so good, he loved the feel of her against him, the sensation heightened, elevated hundredfold by the catch in her breathing and the soft sighs corresponding to his bold caresses, telling him that she felt the same way.

"You should bathe before the water gets too cold," she muttered, her forehead pressed against his bare chest when they pulled apart for breath, drawing closer to him yet as his fingers teased the nightgown off her shoulder, willing her to stand in front of him as naked as he was. 

"I'm here to look at your wounds," she breathed when his other hand succeeded in pulling up the hem of her night dress high enough to slip underneath it and, unhindered by underwear it had been expecting to encounter, lay contentedly on her lower back, exploring the expanse of perfectly smooth, soft skin heating fast from his touch, the caress making her arch towards him.

"Are you sure?" he whispered against the side of her neck, relishing the expected moment when she, rendered unsure on her legs by his closeness and touch, sank into him, the movement accompanied by a sigh of longing for more, brought on by the anticipation of their sleepless night spent together.

"Yes, let me see your wounds, please, I need to take care of you."

Peregrine nodded his understanding. This was important for her, and he respected it. He didn't move but allowed her to take a step back and inspect his abdomen, where a single long wound had already turned into a silvery scar, becoming almost unrecognisable among many others.

"You are an incredibly fast healer. But why do you always have to do this? You make me worry... What if...?" She trailed off, shaking her head, letting her fingers travel along the scar, lower, eliciting a deep inhale from him even as her wide blue eyes poured into his while he allowed her to lead him towards and into to tall wooden tub filled with steaming, scented water.

"Promise you'll be less reckless and more careful," she demanded, her hand slipping along his muscles upon a bar of melting soap.

"I promise I'll try," he pledged, settling in the tub more comfortably, allowing more space for her exploring hands. 

Long silence followed, only interrupted by their breathing and the movement of the water in the tub lapping at his body as her hands sent it into rippling motion, almost obliterated by the sussurrus of the small fire burning on the hearth banishing the darkness filling the chamber into the corners and a distant rumble of thunder, reminding them of the storm still raging outside. 

When he couldn't resist her teasing touch any longer, he stood up, sloshing water over the wide rim of the wooden tub and carried her, wet as he was to the bed, making the silk she was clad in cling to her body as it soaked up the water from his skin.

But she didn't protest, she only blushed as he deposited her on the dark, pristine sheets, his eyes roaming over her curves which the wet, pink silk highlighted rather than hid, before, after committing the sight to memory, peeled it of her.

The water in the tub by the fireplace was cold when they reused it together later, before finally settling for the night. 

"You didn't take the ring back from Freddie," he mused, caressing her hair as she was drifting off to sleep, her head resting on his chest.