((This takes place about a month after Jon and Alia begin their courtship. As ever, I would be worthless without the inspiration and editng of the player of Alia Atherton))
The fellow most knew as Jon Chess was smiling; no, not just smiling. Jon often smiled - a sardonic grin, a mocking, taunting smile, a mischievous smirk. Almost never did he *beam*, his smile brimming with good nature and affection.
If a passerby thought that Jon's rare expression denoting happiness and goodwill was due to the woman walking next to him, her arm entwined with his, they would not be mistaken in the least.
The woman was a human, dressed in a Kaldorei set of robes, standing the same height as Jon. Her chestnut hair fell in luxurious waves just below her shoulders. A smattering of freckles decorated her face near her nose, but were rarely noticed below her large, stunningly purple eyes, indicating that she was an experienced user of the arcane. Robes inspired by a Kaldorei Moonpreist's uniform, the white, purple, and gold. Her name was Alia Atherton, but to Jon she was called his Beloved.
They were walking in the canal side of the Cathedral section of town, ambling at a comfortable pace, almost without purpose; relaxed, speaking of nothing serious. Although relaxed, Jon's eyes swiftly darted around in a preemptively watchful fashion; they had recently come into conflict with an organization of Lightforged Draenei which were threatening anyone they considered unworthy of continued existence, the Void Elf population being particularly at risk. Jon and Alia had stood by their Ren'dorei friends and come into conflict with them, but they were still at large in the city.
Suddenly, Alia clutched Jon's arm as they passed an alleyway, pulling hin sideways and off the street. "Inquisitors!" said said, and Jon immediately reacted, turning to face the mouth of the alley. Twin daggers leapt to his hands, almost as if by magic; Jon was a master of the concealed weapon, after all. He backed away, going deeper into the alleyway, trusting Alia to lead them while he safeguarded them. Guttural sounds left his lips in a low, harsh voice - the language of Arakkoa shadow magic, concealing Jon and Alia from casual observation. Alia led them deeper until the alley opened into a small garden alcove; the nook was a pleasant place, with grass and shrubbery pleasantly maintained.
Jon, his eyes locked forward, noted the change but maintained his watchful vigilance... until he heard his Beloved stifle a chuckle. In a flash, he understood - Alia had pulled a carefully planned ruse so that the two of them could be alone.
Pretending to be fooled, Jon said "We should be safe now, Alia... but it would perhaps be wise to remain here for a short while, to wait until the Inquisitors tire of the search for whomever they are looking. Fortunately, for a small niche, this one seems more comfortable than most... I will leave up the concealment spell, so we shouldn't be noticed unless someone makes a concerted effort."
"An uncharacteristically wise choice, my Shadow," Alia agreed, running her hands over his shoulders, urging him to turn around. He moved as she desired, and brought her into his arms in an embrace. "We shall have to stay alert, for safety," Jon murmured, capturing her lips with his own. "So perhaps passing the time in this manner is perhaps not the best idea...?"
Alia shushed him with a more passionate kiss.
"We'll hear anyone coming down that narrow alleyway, Shadow... and you owe me something... you do tell me that, relatively speaking, you are a trustworthy man - for being an admitted spy and assassin, for whom deception is the coin of your trade?" She kissed him again with reassuring verve and enthusiasm.
Jon Chess had a reputation as a bit of a rake; his romantic adventures were the stuff of whispers among those of the Brotherhood of Valor. She had not known the precise details of his romantic history, and she had not known what to expect the first time they had kissed, precisely. Jon was a good kisser and had been almost frustratingly respectful of her. It was quite apparent that he was deeply in love with her - but while they had kissed, and cuddled together in front of the fires, and shared a bed in the evening, it hadn't been until last night that they had gone deeper.
Last night Jon had sat against the headboard of Alia's bed, legs spread. Alia had sat between his legs and had reclined against his body, wearing only a nightgown and soft mageweave panties. Jon had kissed her neck and nuzzled her hair and told Alia what he referred to as a "bedtime story" - a tale of erotic fiction. While his voice purred in her ear, he had touched her through the nightgown and panties, mirroring the actions in the story. He had raised her passion and imagination, and her body had responded eagerly - embarrassingly eagerly, to tell the truth - to his touch. She had let her reservations drop and her passion free - and Jon had thoroughly and delightfully pleasured her with his hands to the edge of a cresting wave - and beyond.
Several times.
That morning, while Jon made them breakfast and Alia got herself ready for the day - she had reflected on the night, and whether or not she dared open her heart to this rogue, this self-described street rat that was such a bundle of contradictions - a ruthless killer and a gentle, considerate fellow, a devout follower of the Light and an adept of the forbidden Shadow magic, the consummate spy and scrupulously honest man. His actions and attentions since they had become emotionally intimate had been slow and respectful, almost shy. She had determined that Jon owed her a debt - how dare he say and do such things, to lead her to the precipice and over again and again... and not allow her to give him the same? In the cold light of the morning after such a passionate encounter, she felt acutely how much more she could have if instead of Jon putting her needs first he relaxed and trusted her to be a full and equal participant.
He owed her at least that much, and it was a debt she intended to collect - at least if her nerve held out, Alia was not at all cowardly... but she was raised to be a woman who put things of the mind first. Her studies and her research was paramount in her life, and she was unsure how to deal with the inclusion of a wildcard such as Jon. He was a most pleasant distraction, granted - but he was a distraction nevertheless. She had pulled him into the alleyway on a whim, although she had known of the small garden spot before, from her explorations of the city.
"I am not sure that I would describe myself is such glowing terms," Chess chuckled, "but what do you think you are owed?"
"After last night? You owe me you! While I won't deny that I enjoyed - thoroughly enjoyed - your... ah... storytelling last night, I felt bad that I was not able to do something for you before we fell asleep!" she exclaimed, blushing at her admission.
Jon gave her an answer in the form of a passionate kiss, which went on for an extended period and left them both breathless. "Beloved... I have been trying to take things slow. I know my reputation is at odds with this, but I need to earn your trust before I take matters further... You mean more to me... I refuse to screw this up because on my own desires and impatience."
"Farting Fel-Stalkers! Last night... I was more than ready! Do you know what I think, my dear Agent of Cheese? I think you are too scared to take matters further - I think you think me a fragile flower of feminity who might break under the crude maulings of a certain street rat with pretensions!" She grinned at him mischievously, hoping that her playful manner would take any sting from her words.
"Of course I am scared - for all the vaunted intelligence of the Kirin Tor, you seem a little on the thick side! Can't you get it through your head that it is very important not to blow my chance with you?" Jon said, his voice growing in volume until he was practically shouting at her. She might have quailed then, but for the familiar grin and fire in his eye. Her heart soared - he was playing back!
"My handsome Shadow..." she purred, stepping away from him and dropping the purple-and-gold portions of her clothes on the soft grass, leaving her clad in only a thin, white, translucent under-dress and purple undergarments. "Talk. Is. Cheap."
((Fade to Black!))
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