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“Well now, aren’t you a gorgeous little thing?”
Alphinaud tugged at Irie’s sleeve, a churn in his stomach as a sharply dressed woman stood behind them.
“Irie, I believe she’s talking to yo-,”
“Of course I am! Irie, is it?” Irie turned at last and raised an eyebrow at the woman, her expression unchanged.
“Yes,” she said simply, her hand moving to her hip. “Who’s asking?”
“Ah, Alexandra, a pleasure. We are short a dancer tonight and I think you would do perfectly. Many of the clientele are fascinated with tattoos and scales and- oh, I’m rambling. Will you join us?”
Irie cocked her head to the side. “Dancing? Or dancing?”
"Why, wherever the night takes you, darling!"
Irie snorted, crossing her arms. “Either way, I entered Eulmore as my dear master’s apprentice – it would be remiss of me to abandon him.”
“Oh, it would just be for the night!! If you feel shy, I can have you up on the top levels, away from the ground floor. You’ll be returned to your master safe and sound in the morning,” Alexandra said with a wink. Irie turned to look at him and shrugged.
“Is that all right with you?”
Frankly, he was confused. Dancing?
He nodded. “That- that’s all right, Irie. Just be…careful.” He said, attempting to sound like he knew exactly what he was just short of sending her off to.
A small smirk tugged at Irie’s lips, but she turned back to the woman. “Well then – we only passed by the BeeHive earlier and didn’t chance to enter, would you mind showing me around first?”
“Oh, of course. This is excellent, as we have a special guest tonight,” she held her arm out for Irie to loop in, and she did. “Lord Vauthry prefers to have the very best on for him, but I think what you may lack in expertise you’ll make up for in other ways.”
Their voices faded away, though Alphinaud could see Irie’s tail twitching slightly in irritation. He sent a quick prayer up that nothing would go wrong, and they could continue their mission.
.
.
“Ah, I heard that the Crystarium’s Lord Exarch is paying us a visit today, darling. I wonder if we’ll catch a glimpse – Alphinaud, if you do, might you be able to draw him? I’ve always found his robes quite striking but have never been able to describe them well well enough to recreate.”
Alphinaud struggled to maintain his composure, a laugh bubbling to the surface, and nodded. “Of course, my lady. Should I chance to see him, I will do my best.”
Curious, that the Crystal Exarch had been invited to Eulmore as Irie arrived. Alphinaud preferred to not make judgements too hastily, but as Irie had only just returned from delivering Alisaie to the Crystarium…
No, it was incidental.
.
.
It didn’t seem very incidental anymore. Now, Alphinaud understood Irie’s inflection on dancing.
He had entered the BeeHive out of a curiosity, having already seen the Exarch from afar and begun his drawing as requested. It was merely a matter of refreshing his memory, as he had spent some time in the Crystarium with the man before venturing to Kholusia.
The dancers were dancing, but in such a way that made his ears feel as hot as Ifrit's flames.
He trusted and respected the Exarch, though he thought the man difficult to read. There was nothing difficult to understand about how he was currently gaping at the Warrior of Light as she strutted up to the pole in the middle of the room.
With that image now firmly burned into his brain, he turned and nearly ran from the room. He would be able to draw him quite easily now.
.
.
“A last-minute guest has agreed to join us on stage tonight.”
The Crystal Exarch hardly heard the words as he stared at the figure sauntering up to the center of the room, clad in icy blue lace and black boots. The Warrior of Light was looking right at him, her expression inscrutable with exception to the smirk tugging at her lips.
The dignitary’s words from beside him faded away as he watched, entranced, as she circled the pole once, twice, before leaning back against it and slowly descending to her knees. His eyes traced up the curves and strong lines of her calves and thighs and he nearly groaned, a sharp exhale spilling past his lips instead.
“My, you like that one, do you?” A teasing voice broke him from his reverie, and he started, throat dry as he attempted to locate his voice. “It had been my understanding that the Exarch never gave our dancers more than a polite glance.”
“Hm,” he said, ripping his gaze from her, and looking into the half-lidded eyes of his companion. “She reminds me of someone I knew.” His sudden honesty surprised him, though he was covered by the man’s laugh.
“Well, I’m sure she’d jump at the chance to remind you some more, my lord.”
The Exarch could not resist returning his gaze to her as she twirled near-expertly on the pole; could not resist imagining the path his lips would take along her skin. How soft it might feel under his fingers, how she might gasp when his grip turned harsh as he pulled her into him. How the scratch of her scales might feel against his skin, his crystal, and he shuddered slightly.
He couldn’t leave, no, the meeting was important even with the dignitary’s choice of venue, but-
How, precisely, was he to survive this without making a fool of himself? The woman he had spent the better part of his life devoted to, now scantily clad and winking at him.
The Warrior of Light had been lauded as many things on the Source: an inspiration, a kind friend, and gentle leader. Somehow, stories did not include her knowing her way around a pole. He watched her, how could he not?, and he thanked the Twelve that the man beside him had realized nothing productive would happen while she was onstage. The arousal swirled in his gut, the urge to stand and go to her and have her away from all of these eyes strong enough to drown him.
.
.
“If you’re successful, you’ll get additional pay. Get a reaction out of the Exarch.”
After seeing her physical skill, Alexandra had asked her to be front and center at the start - with an additional request.
Well, that had turned out to be easier than Irie had expected.
She hadn’t known what possessed her to go to him and slide into his lap, but Nhaama – she wanted to do it again, to actually feel his hands grip her waist and pull her down into him.
What did that say of her, that she wished this of a near perfect stranger?
He had said nothing, done nothing as she moved above him, but his expression was what got her. Lips pulled apart in an audible gasp and she felt his arms twitch forward as if he wanted to grab her-
She sighed to herself as she walked down the hall to the dressing room, ready to don her cloak once more. The icy blue lace was comfortable, but she had been incredibly on display.
She had received a lot of tips and drinks, at least. After she saw the nod and smirk from Alexandra, Irie had left the Exarch and his companion to their own devices and wandered around the room – a surprisingly good use of her time, as she learned much about the way these people lived.
Gorging on food and pleasure, which they knew already, but still, the details were important.
“Oh, Exarch! Are you looking for someone?”
She felt a voice behind her call out and she turned curiously.
“Yes, actually. The W- I mean, Irie. The dancer tonight in the icy blue lace.”
The voice laughed, “Ah, she’s turned away all of the clientele that have requested her after this evening, but I’ll see if she’ll make an exception just for you.”
By the Dusk Mother, what did he want? She felt her insides flutter as the heels click closer.
She couldn’t turn him away, could she? He had respected her boundaries thus far, but…
She had trampled all over them and sat in his lap, felt that he enjoyed it.
Something made her want to see what he would do.
She nodded before the woman could get a word out and she giggled in reply, winking as she went back to let the man in.
Suddenly, the hallway shrunk in size as he walked to her.
“My lord,” she bowed slightly at the waist, a slight smile on her face.
“Warrior,” he greeted, stopping just short of her.
“Would you like to step inside the rooms? The rest of the dancers are, hm, occupied at the moment, so we'll have privacy” he seemed to flush at the insinuation and shook his head.
“No, my friend, I wish to not take up more of your time. I merely wanted to…check on you, after that…performance,” he spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. Her eyes tracked the pattern his lips formed around the words and once again chastised herself for wanting them on her skin.
“Alexandra saw me when we entered earlier and saved me from the embarrassment of being an artist’s ‘assistant’,” she said, a grin forming. “Alphinaud is very skilled, but I can do stick figures at best, and I’d rather not have to put those skills on display.” She felt warm at the way his lips twitched at her words.
“So instead, you chose…this?”
She snorted, “Chose is a kind word for it but…it was fun. There have been plenty of times where I used my lance as a pole, to Estinien’s chagrin, so I merely channeled that a bit. And, well, I’m not a hero of the realm all of the time.” She winked conspiratorially at him.
He gaped at her. “I…I suppose that is understandable. Forgive me,” his lips formed a wry smile. “I merely wished to make sure you were all right, that you hadn’t been...er, forced.”
“That’s very sweet, my lord, but it isn’t so easy to force me to do something,” she replied with a flirty smile.
“A-ah! Of course. Well, I will take my leave now, as my meetings have concluded. I wish you the best of luck with your business here and I’ll…see you soon?”
“Why, Exarch, you haven’t told me,” she said, cocking her hip to the side as he turned back to her. “Was it to your liking?”
He froze for several seconds, and she didn’t need to see under his hood to know his eyes were traveling up her form. She shifted her weight then, looking down. “You went stock still underneath m-,”
“To my liking,” he managed, his voice strangled. “I- Warrior- you know not what you ask.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Don’t I?”
“It took every ilm of self-control to remain seated, to not do something we’d both regret.”
“What do you know of my regrets, my lord?”
In the next breath, she was pressed up against the wall behind her. His crystal fingers held her chin as his lips ghosted over hers, his breath brushing hotly over her face. Her eyes fluttered at the proximity, at the delicious feeling of being caged in.
“Irie,” he rasped, his voice reverent. “I enjoyed your performance much more than I should have. Much more than any decent man should.”
“Who wants decent?” She whispered, her eyes tracing the lines of his nose and lips, down to the piece of crystal on his throat she so wanted to bite.
She felt the reverberations of a groan from his throat and she smiled. “Not I, Exarch.” The hand that was splayed across his chest moved slowly up to his chin, pulling his lips closer.
“The Warrior of Light deserves decent men,” he rasped shakily.
“I believe she can decide who and what she might deserve, don’t you?”
It was hard to tell who moved first, but in the next second their lips moved together in a frenzy. His hands went immediately to her rear, picking her up and pressing her tightly against the wall. She moaned at the display of strength, heat pooling quickly between her thighs as she ground against him.
“Fuck,” she whimpered as he pressed kisses down her throat, nipping down to the seam of skin at her scales above the lace collar. She yelped and writhed against him-
“What was that?” A voice very nearby asked, and it was as if a cold bucket of ice water had been dumped on them. Irie looked down at the Exarch in panic, but he merely rose his lips back up to hers for the lightest of kisses before whispering: “Vanish.”
“Hm, must have been my imagination.” The voice faded away, but the moment had been ruined. The Exarch carefully and firmly lowered her back to the ground and stepped back.
“Forgive me, my friend, for taking advantage. I will take my leave now.”
“Wait, Exarch!” She stepped towards him but he moved just a bit quicker, turning and walking quickly back the way he had come.
Her chest heaved at the loss of him as she watched him retreat, of the well of desire that had lapped against her horns that she could have drowned in – that she wanted to drown in. The way he had held her up so easily, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. She wanted those bruises, wanted to feel his teeth and tongue on her skin, sucking mark after mark as she writhed against him.
In her mind's eye, his fingers would tease down to her core and find her scales spread for him, folds flushed and wet with her desire – how would he react? Would he chuckle in that velvet voice of his, tease her for being so wanting? Would he praise her for being so ready for him?
She was still in the hallway, mostly invisible, her thoughts an absolute mess.
“Annabelle? Who requested me this evening?”
Nhaama, she was fucked.