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The summons itself wasn’t unusual in the least. Sizhu didn’t bat an eye when a panting messenger informed her that the lord commander wanted to see her in his office at the Congregation of the Knights Most Heavenly at her earliest convenience. They were at war, and Aymeric might very well have received some sort of new, vital information regarding Nidhogg or the Rising Chorus of his followers.
“He said it wasn’t urgent,” the messenger added, breaking in on Sizhu’s thoughts, “though it looked to me like he was fairly preoccupied with something. I’d wager it’d be a weight off his mind if you went sooner rather than later, milady.”
And so, after finishing her business at the Athenaeum Astrologicum and the Jeweled Crozier, the little Miqo’te made her way to the Lord Commander’s Seat. The guard on duty waved her through without question, and Sizhu proceeded onwards without so much as breaking stride, though she dipped her head towards the man in polite acknowledgement as she passed.
It was strange, she noted immediately as she stepped into the office proper, that neither Alphinaud nor Lucia were in attendance as well. Then again, perhaps whatever Aymeric wished to speak with her about was important, but not so much so that it required anyone other than herself to be present.
Aymeric looked up from one of several stacks of papers as she entered, his mouth curving in a small smile as their eyes met, and though he’d seemed to be in mid-sentence, if not mid-word, he replaced his quill in its inkwell without a moment’s pause. Sizhu drew in a breath to speak, but her question lodged in her throat as Aymeric stood and moved around his desk towards her--the first time she could ever remember him doing so. He’d often stood upon her entrance, reflexive formal manners taking over; but otherwise, whenever he had called her to this room, he had stayed in his chair, or at least behind the desk.
Not so, this time.
This time, the lord commander came around the desk as soon as the door swung closed, and Sizhu gave a start as he reached for her, grasping her hips and whisking her up into the air, only to plant her back against the nearest wall.
“Aymeric, what-?”
That was all she managed to say before he murmured a low, “Forgive me, but I-” and pressed his mouth against hers.
For half a second, the tiny Keeper of the Moon didn’t react, violet eyes gone wide with surprise, her whole body stiff at the unexpected show of affection. But that fraction of a moment of startlement passed quickly, and her eyes eased closed as she returned the kiss unhesitantly, one arm slipping up around his neck, fingertips skimming across the cool surface of his armor, while her other hand grasped tightly at the sash of soft fabric slung across his chest. A few moments later, her legs were wrapped around his ribs, pulling him in closer, her tail curling gently around one of his upper arms.
Busy as they both were, they had been intimate only a handful of times--the first, the night after Haurchefant had been lost, when they had both felt so battered and bruised in body and spirit that they’d ended up seeking warmth and comfort in each others’ arms--and they had never been obvious or public about it. Nor had they ever truly discussed what it all might mean; it was simply an overflowing of passion and desire shared between two fast friends and staunch allies. At first Sizhu had worried that it might make things uncomfortable or awkward between them, but instead the opposite seemed to be true. Outside of their rare trysts, Aymeric was the same as ever, serious and steadfast when it came to matters concerning Ishgard, but always unspeakably warm towards her. There was a softness that came over his expression when he looked at her that he did nothing to hide, a fact that made her blush with happiness and girlish pleasure. She felt lucky to be the one who’d won his attentions, and regardless of how long or how little the length of time for which they might be lovers, Sizhu knew that she didn’t regret a single moment of it, nor would she do anything differently.
...Save, perhaps, finding more time to spend with him in quiet moments, and sharing more nights of passion and pleasure in his bed.
Even so, her heart had skipped a beat, her chest going tight and her head spinning alarmingly when Thancred had joked about Aymeric being in love with her...though whether she had been afraid that her fellow Scion had found out about her covert meetings with Aymeric, or whether that flash of fear (excitement? hope?) had truly been over whether the Lord Commander’s feelings towards her were so serious...well. That she couldn’t say, even now, because she didn’t know. Her own feelings were far more muddled--she liked him, of course, admired him even, and she was very much attracted to him, and the friendship and emotional connection they shared was both profound and true. She would give her life for his in a heartbeat, would catch a blade for him with her bare hand, would pour every last onze of her mana into him to keep him alive. She would fight for him, tooth and nail, sword and spear, staff and stabbers, spell and shield. That she felt some manner of romantic attachment to him was obvious; but whether it was truly love... whether her feelings ran as deep as did those of the man in question...again, that she couldn’t say.
But there was a time for words and a time for action. And this, with Aymeric pressing her up against the wall, his hands grasping at her hips with need, his mouth hot against her throat over her pulse, was decidedly the latter.
She let a soft moan escape her as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, then set about returning the favor, giving that blue-gemmed earring a playful tug with her teeth before nipping at his ear, tracing what little of his neck she could get at with her tongue, pressing kisses along his jawbone.
“I could bear my desire to see you no longer,” he murmured against her mouth, finally completing his apology from before, though he repeated it again, breaking off another long, deep kiss to pant, “Forgive me, for I am certain that you were otherwise engaged. But even so...”
One of his hands had been slowly slipping upwards from her hip, though it had yet to reach anywhere truly interesting; but now it came up to cradle her face, the bare skin of his fingers contrasting with the rough scaled leather covering his palm. For a moment, he simply gazed down into her face, his thumb stroking gently across her cheekbone as he let himself drink her in. Sizhu returned his gaze steadily, chest tight but heart singing at the intensity of his stare, unable to stop one thought from leaping to the forefront of her mind: Thancred was right. It would take a blind man or a fool to misread the expression on the lord commander’s face, and Sizhu Jakkya was neither.
“...Even so, it heartens me greatly that you came.”
Rather than reply in words (unwilling to make any promises she might not be able to keep, or to say anything that might not be entirely true), Sizhu gave a pointed squirm, grinding her hips against him even as she leaned in to close the narrow distance between them with a kiss that was both soft and smoldering, full of the same desire and longing that Aymeric had spoken of. He returned the kiss in kind, eager and hungry yet tender, and that hand on her face stayed there, his fingers sliding up to tangle themselves in her hair, tugging her silver-white locks part of the way out of the neat ponytail she’d taken to wearing of late.
She was far more thoroughly mussed and very short of breath when Aymeric once again broke off their kiss, and was very nearly ready to ask him to take her then and there, right against that wall, the rest of the temple knights be damned--when the lord commander gave a long, low sigh and then, carefully but still somewhat abruptly, took a step back and then set her down on slightly unsteady feet, releasing her from his grasp.
If Aymeric had a flaw (and he did-- everyone did), it was this: his penchant for doing precisely this. For kissing her breathless, his embrace making her blood sing hotly in her veins, his touch making her ache for more, for him... at which time he would remember himself, or wherever they happened to be, and pull back, pull away, leaving her primed for action that was never to come, or only to come far later. He wasn’t intentionally being a tease, that much she knew, but it was frustrating (in more than one way) just the same.
And today, Sizhu was not at all in the mood to leave this room frustrated.
He’s right, he called me away from what I was doing, and I dropped everything to report to him, to see what he needed. The least he can do is not leave me-- or himself--wanting.
Aloud, she half-whispered, her voice atypically rough and throaty, “How private are your chambers here?”
She knew that his office was behind that portcullis-gated door, which was carefully guarded, but what other rooms there might be nearby, what other offices and officers, she didn’t know. She hadn’t seen a lot of (or really any) traffic in this area during the times she’d been summoned here, but it was still worth asking.
Aymeric’s lips parted, his expression one of fleeting surprise: it wasn’t uncommon for Sizhu to take charge when they were together, but right now she seemed notably more assertive than usual.
“The walls are thick, as is the door, with a lock to which only I possess the key.”
Wordlessly, Sizhu held out her hand, her expression both insistent and eager, and a slightly bemused Aymeric dropped the key into her waiting palm. It had scarcely made contact with her skin before the Miqo’te girl was striding towards the door, locking it with a sharp twist of her wrist, the bolt sliding home with a pointed sort of firmness. That done, she turned a look back over her shoulder at Aymeric--the expression of a panther on the prowl--then made her way across the room with steady, meaningful strides, speaking as she went:
“In that case...I think we should pick up right where you left off before.”
And yet, instead of moving to stand in front of him, her booted feet carried her in the opposite direction, moving to his desk instead, pulling open a random drawer to drop the key inside before shutting it again...and then she turned about and hoisted herself up to sit atop it, right in the middle of the various stacks of parchment. Her back was turned towards him now, and she took the opportunity to tug apart the collar of her tunic a bit more before angling another over-the-shoulder look back at Aymeric--only to find him just a few brief steps away from the desk, his eyes every bit as dark with desire as she knew her own must be. Her smile was really more of a wanton, mischievous smirk as he came around the desk, his hands finding her hips again and pulling her to the edge, his body sliding between her legs once more. As he bent down to press a kiss to one recently-bared collarbone, Sizhu arched up against his mouth, even as she gradually leaned back, scattering documents as she went, until she was flat on her back on his desk--somewhere she’d long daydreamed about being, but that she’d hardly dared to hope might actually come to pass anywhere but within idle imaginings. She gave another moan as his teeth scraped lightly against bone, his hands tightening on her hips in response, and even as she hooked one leg around his back to pull him in closer, the little Miqo’te added through a breathy half-laugh:
“After all, Lord Commander...I would hate to take you away from your paperwork...”