The Tipsy Solberry's warm glow and the hum of conversation buzzed around Leon as he sat in the booth, his plate of half-eaten Drake Wing Stew and Glowcap Pie pushed aside.
The weight of Terya's curse and the looming journey to the demon's lair hung over him, but the lingering taste of the magical herbs and the sight of Saria and Terya across the table kept his nerves at bay—mostly.
Saria's stoic face, framed by her black ponytail, betrayed no hint of the concern she'd shown earlier, while Terya's cocky smirk and the pulsing, web-like curse on her cheek made Leon's heart race for reasons he wasn't proud of.
"You need to train before we leave," Saria said, standing and gesturing toward a private booth tucked in the tavern's corner, its curtains drawn for privacy.
"Your magic's too weak. Let's recharge. Come."
Leon's stomach flipped, a mix of nerves and excitement sparking in his chest.
"Recharge? Like, now?" he said, his voice cracking. He glanced at Terya, who was finishing a skewer with a smirk, her green eyes glinting with amusement.
"Uh, okay, sure." He scrambled to his feet, his sneakers squeaking on the wooden floor, and followed Saria, his mind racing with possibilities—most of them involving her lips and the ritual that had broken her curse.
The booth was cramped, its wooden bench creaking as Saria pulled the curtain closed, shutting out the tavern's noise.
The lantern light cast soft shadows, highlighting the curves of her leather tunic and the intensity in her dark eyes.
Before Leon could speak, she closed the distance, her lips crashing into his in a slow, sensual kiss that made his brain short-circuit.
Her mouth was warm, her tongue teasing his with wet, languid strokes, each one sending a jolt of heat through him.
She tasted faintly of ale and something spicy, and Leon's hands hovered awkwardly, unsure where to go.
Saria pulled back slightly, her breath hot against his lips, her face still a blank mask but her eyes burning with intent.
"Do what you want," she said, her voice low and husky, a rare crack in her stoic demeanor.
She guided his trembling hands to her chest, pressing them against her breasts, the leather taut over their full, firm weight. "Recharge your magic."
Leon's face burned, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst.
"W-What I want?" he stammered, his voice a desperate whine.
His fingers squeezed instinctively, feeling her nipples harden through the leather, and a flush of arousal surged through him, his pants tightening painfully.
He leaned in, kissing her again, his lips clumsy but eager, mimicking her slow, sensual rhythm.
One hand slid under her tunic, finding her bare skin, soft and warm, and he teased her nipple with tentative flicks, earning a faint hitch in her breath.
Saria's hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging in just enough to ground him, and she deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring his with a hunger that made his head spin.
Leon's other hand roamed lower, tracing the curve of her hip, and he pressed himself closer, his arousal fueling the magic until it buzzed like a live wire.
Saria pulled back, her face still expressionless but her cheeks faintly flushed.
"Now, fire," she said, her voice steady despite the heat in her eyes.
She stepped back, raising her hand, and a small fireball flickered to life in her palm, steady and controlled. "Try it."
Leon nodded, his breath ragged, his hands still tingling from her skin.
He gripped the stone, picturing fire like she'd taught him, but his mind was stuck on her breasts, the taste of her lips.
He thrust his hand forward, and a sputtering flame appeared—small, shaky, and oddly shaped like a pair of tits.
It fizzled out instantly, and Leon's face burned hotter than the flame.
"Uh… crap," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "That was… not what I meant to do."
Saria's eyes narrowed, but before she could speak, the curtain parted, and Terya slipped into the booth, her blonde hair catching the lantern light.
"Nice try, rookie," she said, her voice dripping with teasing amusement. She'd finished her meal, her leather vest creaking as she leaned against the wall, her cursed cheek pulsing faintly. "But you're thinking with your dick, not your magic. Imagine the fire, not just Saria's tits."