I love us together, but I lovehim—I don’t want him to become me or the other way around. I want us to both have a person, to be happier for it, not to be the same person.
I don’t want to break downallthe walls between us; I want there to be a bridge.
I want to invite him inside, over and over, as deep as I can, for him to believe in his soul he’s always, always welcome.
Which means I need to do something fast, because the bath water is now literally gone.
And if it’s not destruction... I guess it’s the other thing, isn’t it?
But—no, not a shield. Notmorewalls between us. I don’t need to defend against all the power surging through me, because it’sZan, and I want him here, and I’m asage—I’m the most powerful sage who’s ever fucking lived andI can hold it.
No more suppressing who I am. Who we are.
We’re not holding back.
We’re reaching out.
We’re reaching farther and deeper andgrowing.
What else are sages for, after all?
The movement between us, the movement in my body and soul and mind is enough that I can channel the power between us directly.
I take Zan’s fire in my magic and make of us together something new.
Something that won’t burn us, or our house, or the world, erupting like a volcano and cascading beyond.
Zan is inside me, and it’s not about how much magic I can hold.
It’s about how much magic I canmake.
And with him the wings beneath me?
There’s nothing I can’t do.
My vision is full of sparkles, and when I can breathe again, I don’t, because my breath catches at the sight above me.
I’ve made... bridges. They start above us, the center, like we’re the mouth of the volcano, and cascade down, shimmering like ice made of the colors of our magic, magenta and icy blue entwined together.
Together, they’d make a lovely purple... like blackberry ice cream.
I can’t feel Zan’s thoughts anymore, which I only realize because it evidently doesn’t matter as Zan, now resting beneath me on the bottom of the tub, asks in a low voice, “Are you going to make magic sex ice cream?”
You know what? “I absolutely am.” I snuggle back into him as he shifts us back upright, still inside me but soft, his arms wrapping around me and mine around him, holding us to each other. “Ice cream just for you.”
The ice doesn’t actually gointhe ice cream.
But maybe when he tastes it, he’ll taste this moment between us.
His arms tighten, and I know he’s thinking the same thing.
“Ice cream for us,” he growls.
I shiver and smile at the same time. “Ice cream for us.”
He turns me, and kisses me like I am a god in truth to worship, and with the feeling of our love between us and still spilling out, all at once I know what to do.
“Hey.”
