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Sitting at his desk, the Scholar closed the aged tome which he had been studying. “This book is so elucidating, I must have lost track of the time,” he said to the Undertaker, perched on a wooden stool at his side. “I can feel how late it is.” He punctuated this statement with a yawn.
Undertaker had had her gloved hands folded in her lap, but now she reached forward and placed one of them over the hand he was still resting on the book. Though not an unwanted gesture, its suddenness interrupted Scholar's yawn. She agreed, “It would be wise to settle down and get some rest.” Her intense amber gaze was locked on his face.
Scholar glanced down at their joined hands before meeting her stare. Despite the fluttering in his stomach, he managed a wry smile as he asked, “Is there something I can do for you, my love?”
Undertaker lowered her gaze to hide from him, swallowing audibly, but she said nothing.
It was rather endearing to see this side of her.
He coaxed, “If I don't know what it is, it will be hard for me to do anything for you. Tell me.” He flipped his palm upward to hold her hand.
One hesitant moment later, she lifted her eyes. “I would like you to… to… kiss my hand again. If you want to…”
Scholar’s smile brightened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “Of course.” Though he wore gloves out on expeditions, he always took them off while handling old texts, leaving them rough and calloused. He took her hand in both of his own and asked, “Shall I take this off for you?”
Undertaker's eyes glittered when she nodded.
With a tender touch, Scholar loosened the buckle on her wrist, gave a tug on each finger of her glove, then removed it. “As soft as ever,” he remarked, making Undertaker blush. With how she seemingly always worked with her gloves on, her hands remained as smooth as his were rough.
He drew her cold hand near to his face, but instead of kissing it, he placed it against his cheek. Though Undertaker’s mouth had only a hint of a smile, her eyes twinkled with giddy excitement. Could she feel how warm his face was becoming?
“My darling,” Scholar said, “when we're in private like this, you are free to be direct about what you desire. It's okay to ask for affection.”
Undertaker’s other hand went to her heart, resting on top of the glass pendant she wore. “It's difficult not to feel… nervous. This is all so new to me.”
“As it is to me. Believe me, I understand.” Scholar rubbed his face against her hand, brushing her skin with his facial hair. A familiar floral scent, barely sweet like honey, lingered on her. “Our time together is not long, though, and I want to us both enjoy every moment we have with each other.”
Her smile fell a little as realization clicked. Her fist closed around the glass. “You're right. I will do my best to be more forward.” Undertaker’s expression softened to one of fondness. “I always enjoy the time we spend together. And I appreciate your encouragement, as usual.”
He nuzzled his face further into her hand, trying to hide how pale his blushing cheeks had become.
Scholar's first kiss went on her palm. His second kiss, too. Turning her hand over, he left half a dozen more on the back of it. Then he peppered tickly kisses all over her knuckles and the backs of her long, slender fingers, relishing in the way Undertaker laughed under her breath. Placing his palm up against hers like a mirror, he splayed their fingers out, then interlaced them to hold hands with her.
“Was that to your satisfaction?” he asked.
The little smile returned. “Yes. For now.” Undertaker gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
The couple rose from the desk and left the chapel together, hand in hand, padding through the quiet Roundtable Hold to the wing where the bedchambers were. These were two large, shared quarters separated by sex.
In the dim, candlelit corridor, Undertaker reached up and placed her hand, still bare, on Scholar’s cheek. He leaned into her touch, but he froze for a moment when she drew closer, much closer than she had before. She closed the gap between them; her heart fluttered against his own. He held his breath without thinking…
Undertaker pressed her forehead gently to his and closed her eyes. “Please rest well… my dear Scholar.”
Reaching up, he moved her hand to give it one last kiss and little squeeze. “You, as well, my love.”