For a moment he could only see stars and catch his breath.
He didn’t know what to say. Apologize? But she was caressing his hair, holding him tight, keeping them together, so he just enjoyed the feeling, the intimacy, the incredible sensation, luxuriated in it… until he found himself ready to go again.
Naomi gasped in surprise, then laughed when he pushed himself upright and began to find a slow rhythm.
“Oh,” she whispered. “Being a Pyre Lord… has it’s… benefits.”
He couldn’t speak.
Time ceased to have meaning.
This time took much, much longer, and they took their time, kissing and touching, until at last Naomi cried out, her whole body shaking, shivering, her thighs squeezing him, and then again, till he allowed himself to go all out, which caused her to cry out anew, and then they collapsed together, gasping and laughing and kissing and holding each other close.
Scorio’s heart was racing.
He’d never felt so good, so alive. So close to her. Only then did he realize she was crying.
“Wait,” he whispered, voice husky. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She cupped his cheek, laughed as if in despair at herself, and continued to cry. “It’s nothing.”
He kissed her tears away, but she pulled him into a hug, and so he lay back down, exhausted and blissful and uneasy, and despite his best efforts, he soon fell asleep again, their limbs intertwined, her fingers caressing his hair, her breast under his hand, her smell and presence all around him.
* * *
Scorio awoke in the dark, but Naomi was there, and he could tell she was awake and tense and watching him.
“Hey,” he whispered, stirring around.
“Hi.” She sounded nervous, unlike herself.
So Scorio fumbled in the dark for her, kissed her, and then pulled her in so that her head rested on his chest. She lay tense, unsure, then slowly, slowly relaxed.
“So, um.” Scorio stared up into the swarming darkness. “That was alright.”
She jerked up and slapped his chest. “Alright? Are you - oh.” He could almost hear her blush. “You - stupid - ridiculous -”
He laughed and reached up for her, pulled her down for a kiss, and for a while they lay thus, exploring what it felt like to be together, to kiss, to lie together naked.
That led to deeper, more intimate explorations, slower, with whispered questions, tentative laughter, and moments of explosive bliss. When finally they lay still together again, sweating and breathing deeply, the nervousness was gone, the hesitations.
Nothing Scorio had ever done since awakening for the first time in Bastion had felt as good and right as this moment. He wanted the darkness to last forever. For nobody to come calling for them, warning of impending war.
“Can we stay like this forever?” whispered Naomi.
“I was just thinking that. Or perhaps we could ask the Blood Ox to hold off for a week?”
“Only a week?”
“I mean, even Pyre Lords need to eat eventually.”
“Weak,” she sniffed.
They lay still till he felt her tense. “I just want to be clear,” she began. “This doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want -”
“I’m going to pull rank,” he drawled. “And command you, a lowly Dread Blaze, to shut the hell up.”
“Oh, no. It’s gone to your head. I’m going to have to beat you into submission.”
“I thought you just did that.”
Naomi spluttered.
“And I thought,” continued Scorio, “that I did a pretty decent job of submitting as you beat - hey!”
They wrestled but gave up quickly to lie tangled together once more.
“So,” said Naomi, voice hushed. “You had your final memory?”
“Yeah.” It came swimming back, the dread and self-loathing, the screams and flames. “But I saw the man who made all this happen. The Archmagus.”
“Yeah?” Naomi turned to him. “Tell me.”
So he did. Even the parts he’d left out about his Dread Blaze Trial. Right up till his memory of accepting the old man’s offer, and moving to the future.
“That explains it,” said Naomi. “How so many of you all came to be in this together. I never understood that, unless Eterra was just crawling with magical people like a dead dog with lice.”
“Lovely,” said Scorio.
“But if he traveled through time to collect you all… then it’s almost like he was a looter, rifling through your history’s records for the best and the worst.”
Worst.
Naomi caught herself. “You know I meant those best able to fight these demons.”
“About that. Do you think Eterra was attacked by True Fiends? Because I can’t picture Nox or even Xandera pouring through the portal into Eterra, bent on conquest.”
“There’s the Viridian Horde,” said Naomi. “And the tenebrites from the Lustrous Maria.”
“Tenebrites?”
“I don’t know much about them. They were clearly too smart to follow the Blood Ox here. Lianshi could probably talk your ear off about them.”
“But they’re an army?”
“Sort of? From what I’ve heard, they attach to Great Souls and take over them, like parasites. There are thousands of them in the Lustrous Maria, some as powerful as Crimson Earls. They hunt us there, then use our powers against us.”
“Wonderful.”
“But my point is that there’s far more to fiends than Nox and Xandera.” Her tone grew serious. “I’m all for giving fiends a chance, but there are definitely some out there that don’t deserve it.”
“Alright, sure.” Scorio frowned up at nothing. “But yes. The Archmagus collected all the Legendaries from my time. Most of them.” He thought of the King’s Scepter, then banished the thought. “Which I suppose explains why they disappeared before the great battle.”
“So strange.” She traced a pattern on his chest, her tone pensive. “So before he even decided to collect them they’d already disappeared, centuries ago? Did he even have a choice, then, in who he collected?”
“I don’t know. Maybe history changed when he picked them? Or… I’ve no idea.” Scorio pressed his hands to his brow. “It makes my head hurt just thinking about it.”
“Maybe this is all predetermined,” mused Naomi. “And our free will is just an illusion.”
“Alright, it’s definitely time to interrupt this chain of thought with more sex.”
Naomi snorted in amusement, then stilled. “This can’t last.”
“I mean, you’re right. What with the Blood Ox coming and all that. We’ll have to get up eventually.”
“No, I mean this. Us.”
He turned to her in the dark. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” She searched for the words. “Nothing good lasts. Not in hell. This is too good, so.”
“That’s cynical.”
“I’ve not been wrong yet.”
“Have I let you down yet? I mean, on purpose?”
“Well, there were those two years.”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“I didn’t say you’d be the one to mess this up.” She sounded almost pleased. “Hell will take care of it. One of us will die, or you’ll be called to go deeper into hell than I can go, or… I don’t know. But this was good while it lasted.”
“I knew you were a romantic, but wow.”
She nuzzled into him. “They don’t call it hell for nothing.”
“Well, I refuse.”
“You can’t refuse.”
“I can. We can set our terms. We can fight this war together.”
“Or die trying.”
“Naomi.”
“Fine, I’ll stop. I just had to say it.”
“So you can tell me ‘I told you so’ later?”
He could hear her smile. “Something like that.”