Bending Githsteel

Lae’zel’s tent was closest to the fire, neat and rigid like everything she did. No armor now. She sat in her camp gear, cross-legged on her mat, back straight, jaw set. Her blade was laid across her knees, not gripped. Resting.

Her long ears twitched before I said a word.

As I approached, she didn’t rise or reach for her weapon.

"It is time," she said simply.

I nodded. "You’re sure?"

"I have felt it. The itch at the edge of thought. The heat behind the eyes. The parasite stirs. Begin."

I stepped closer. No resistance. She kept her posture stiff, but her gaze didn’t flinch from mine.

"You don’t have to pretend not to enjoy it this time," I said.

Lae’zel didn’t smirk. But she didn’t deny it either.

I slipped on the gloves—the twin-channel enhancement pulsing with soft light—and knelt in front of her.

Her camp shirt was tight against her chest, the outline of her strong frame obvious in the flickering firelight. Shoulders corded with lean muscle. Chest rising with slow, even breaths. Her stomach was cut like a stone relief—every line defined, but not bulky. Practical. Perfectly honed. Her legs were folded, strong slim thighs under soft-worn cloth, taut with readiness even at rest.

"You are wasting time," she said, but her voice was lower than usual.

I reached out, letting my fingertips glide along the edge of one long ear. The skin was warm, unexpectedly soft. She flinched—just slightly—but didn’t pull away. I traced the curve slowly, my touch deliberate, then mirrored the motion on the other ear. Her breath hitched, and she blinked hard, like she hadn’t expected it to affect her.

Then my hands moved—one settling at the base of her neck, the other sliding lower, pressing through the fabric of her shirt just below her ribs. I released a surge of Alluring Blast through each gloves.

It struck instantly.

She sucked in a sharp breath, spine stiffening like a bowstring. Her lips parted—not a moan, not at first, just an involuntary exhale. Her eyelids fluttered, then steadied. She clenched her fists against her thighs, visibly riding the pulse through her body.

"You—"

Another pulse. I moved my upper hand, sliding it to her jaw, fingers curling behind her ear again. The lower hand traced down her belly, just skimming over the edge of where her trousers sat—focusing all magic just above the core of her.

Her back arched slightly. Her legs shifted. She bit down on her bottom lip, hard, like she could wrestle control back by sheer will. I saw her knuckles whiten on her thighs.

"You enjoy this too much," she muttered through clenched teeth, though her voice wavered.

I didn’t answer. Just drew a slow circle at the side of her neck with my thumb, and sent another pulse through her core. Her jaw tensed, but her thighs pressed closer together. "Lae’zel," I said, low, steady. "Want me to stop?"

She growled, whether in frustration or surrender, I couldn’t tell—but she didn’t stop me. I let my thumb draw circles along the side of her neck while my other hand stayed firm below. Another blast surged through the gloves, both hands working in sync.

This time, she cracked.

Her body jerked. She gasped—louder now, throat catching on the sound. Her legs trembled. Her whole torso shifted forward like something inside her had buckled. She pressed her forehead into my chest and let out a choked moan—guttural and unguarded. A raw, helpless noise that barely sounded like her.

The glow from the fire danced across her skin, painting it gold as her breath came fast and shallow. Her body twitched once more, another ripple of pleasure running through her. She let out a stuttered exhale, trembling from shoulder to knee.

Then her breath hitched—and she made a sound. Sharp. Soft. Her head tilted forward, her brow pressed into my shoulder, and her whole body gave a single tremor.

[Lae’zel: Corruption +2]

She didn’t cry out. But she exhaled like something inside her cracked open.

When it passed, her hands slowly unclenched. She sat still, breathing hard, chest rising and falling. The fire reflected off her cheeks. They were flushed. From shame, and heat.

She looked away, fists on her thighs, her jaw tight. Her body was still processing the aftershocks—small twitches in her legs, the way her shoulders wouldn’t quite relax. Her stare went out to the fire.

"This will keep me safe for one day?" she said.

"It will."

She paused. Then, quieter, "You may do it again."

I smiled. "I understand, See you tomorrow."

Lae’zel didn’t respond. I stepped back, giving her the space she hadn’t asked for but might have needed.

I left her tent quietly, letting the canvas fall shut behind me. The fire outside was little more than a soft glow now, its warmth licking at the chill of night.

I made my way back to my spot near the fire, but I didn’t sit.

I paused, feeling something still tethered behind me—a look, maybe. A thought unspoken. When I glanced back, her tent flap was closed. But I could still feel the weight of her gaze, lingering even through canvas.