((Author’s note: This is my first attempt at writing femmeslash, so if it sucks, don’t just laugh and say so, please do tell me how to improve. The ending is a little… weird… so let me know your opinions and tell me if it sounds realistic. And I’m not sure, but this story might turn into a “short story” of one-shots that just have the femmeslash in common… we’ll see. Uh, adult material. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.))

Her head lifted up at the sounds of my footsteps. Incredible. It was incredible that I could still find her beautiful, even as she was now. Her wrists shackled together over her head, her tangled, dark hair falling about her face, a tattered dress hanging loosely on her frame. The dress had fit her well, once, the radiance of it only beaten by her own majesty, but that was before all of this. That was before what she had done to land herself in the position she was in.

“Elyra,” I murmured her name softly as I set the torch in its sconce. The flickering flame left shadows dancing across her face. “I’ve missed you.” I stood more than an arms length away from her, letting my eyes drift across her body. The image kept getting confused with what used to be, the dull, grey, listless form before me becoming the bright and lively girl she had once been.

I was struck by the sudden urge to take her in my arms and run my fingers through her hair, but not the knotted nest it had become.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was low, cautious, but not hateful.

“I’m here for you.” I took a small step closer to her, restraining myself from doing more. There was time. There was always time. No need to hurry.

“Why should I believe that? You’ve left me here for three years. You accused me of witchcraft!”

“You exposed yourself. I did what I had to.”

“I was trying to help you!” I could hear the tears through her voice, but the light was too dim and I was too far away to see the crystalline tears cut lines through the dirt on her face.

I took another step towards her, almost within arm’s reach, but still on the outskirts of that contact.

It had been more than the witchcraft that had locked her away. She had to be erased from my life, but I couldn’t bear to kill her, so I had locked her away, far from the common eye. But it hadn’t worked. She still flooded my thoughts, bringing my obsession for her over the edge. Even after three years of being separated from her, she still filled my mind, until it had become too much to deal with. I wanted her. I wanted to be with her, to feel her slender body pressed to mine, to feel her hands traveling over my body, over all of me….

She was still beautiful. Ragged and dirty as she was, I could still see the beauty she had once had.

Her tattered dress revealed more than it hid now, despite the fact that it wasn’t as tight-fitting as it had once been.

Closer. Inches away from her. I could hear her shallow breath, far too loud for my ears. Her wide eyes met my own, and I couldn’t puzzle out the emotions in them.

She had stopped crying. Her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with her breath. The neckline of her dress had torn, showing a partial curve of one perfect breast. My desire for her hadn’t faded over the years.

Caution, I warned myself. Slowly. There’s no hurry.

She shifted uncomfortably before me, clenching her fists. I wondered mildly if she would have shrunk away had her back not been to the wall. Maddening. Seeing her like this was maddening.

I grabbed a fistful of her unbrushed hair and pulled it down, tilting her chin upwards. I leaned down, pausing inches from pressing my lips to hers. Her breath was quicker, now.

I circled my free arm behind her back, drawing her closer to my body. Her breasts pressed against mine. For once, I was glad I had chosen a dark dress. The grime of hers wouldn’t show up on mine.

“Do you want this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she choked.

A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth. “Good.” I brought my mouth to hers in a hungry, desperate kiss. I released her hair and her waist and shoved her back against the wall, holding her there with my own body. I plunged my tongue into her willing mouth. I knew she was struggling against the chains that shackled her arms, but I would not take them off. At least not yet.

I slipped one hand between our bodies and grasped one of her breasts in a firm hand. A small sound reached my ears, but I didn’t break the kiss.

It was too long. Three years was far too long to be deprived of this, of her.

My other hand wandered slowly over her body. I caressed her ear, her neck, her waist, until I finally came to her leg. I gripped her thigh tightly through her dress. I rubbed her breast gently while kissing her more fiercely. I bit her lip and tasted blood on my tongue, but I pressed on without a heed.

I released her leg and ran my hand up the length of her body and up her arm until I came to one of her manacled hands. I slid my fingers through hers and her hand tightened around my own. Her jagged fingernails dug into the back of my hand. She was definitely squirming, now.

I knew what she wanted. I always knew what she wanted. I always had. No one knew how to please her like I did.

I slipped my hand out of her grasp and moved it to her other breast. Only then did I draw my mouth away from hers. I smiled slightly as I looked at her. Her expressions were adorable, as always.

I tore the neckline of her dress even farther to reveal her perfect breasts. Then I finally touched them, really touched them, skin to skin. They were as soft as they had always been. She was just as I had left her, those three years ago. Her body was the same, even if she looked a little worse for wear.

I bent down to tease her ear with my mouth. I nibbled it gently, running my tongue softly along the outside. Then I kissed the spot just under her ear. That had always been one of her favorite places to be touched, and she gasped in surprise. She was struggling against the chains again, but they wouldn’t yield.

I moved my way down her neck, biting and sucking gently until I reached the place where her neck met her shoulder. I rested there, but not lazily. I felt her straining towards me as I kissed her and held her breasts in careful, gentle hands. I began rubbing them softly and a small moan escaped from her mouth.

I paused for a moment, drawing back to look at her. Her cheeks blushed gracefully, her eyes half-closed with desire.

I released one of her breasts, moving my hand slowly down her body. I slipped my hand carefully between her legs, her worn dress the only barrier between us.

“Mm,” she moaned as she swiftly clamped her jaw shut and pressed her lips together. She squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear leaking out of the corner of one. It rolled down her cheek, a tiny, pristine droplet of water, perfect only because it came from her body.

I rubbed her slowly. No need to hurry. There was no rush.

“Relax,” I whispered. Her jaw was still clenched. I released her other breast and traced her lips gently with my fingers, coaxing her mouth open. I made sure to keep a steady pace with my other hand. Her lips parted and I withdrew my hand, leaning down to kiss her. My tongue glanced against hers. They tangled together with each other in her mouth.

I heard as well as felt her cry out when I removed my hand from between her legs. I smiled inwardly as I grabbed her dress and began to drag it up her leg. I did it far too slowly, knowing it was driving her insane. There was no rush.

I caressed her bare leg, letting her dress drape around my wrist. She gasped and I smiled to myself, continuing what I was doing. Soon enough, I whispered to myself.

Finally, I touched her where she wanted to be touched, how she wanted to be touched. The end came too soon. She was spent too quickly. I knew that hours had passed, but it had seemed like minutes.

I withdrew my hand and cleaned it on her filthy dress almost in disgust. I turned from her. It wasn’t what I had expected. I was far less than satisfied. What had happened in those three years to change what had happened now? I had spent years fantasizing about her and then when the moment had come, it was oddly unfulfilling. I had imagined things so differently.

It angered me that things weren’t as I had imagined, that things weren’t as they had been. Her climax had been eerily empty and the passion had gone. She simply wanted to feed a physical desire, not an emotional one. That had fled her long ago, I presumed.

I turned back to her, studying the woman who was suddenly so different from the one I had known. My memory of her had clouded what she was now. She was old, weary, and nearing the end of her days. Her life had been drastically shortened by this dungeon, and the years hadn’t been kind to her. There was no trace left of who she had been.

I cursed myself, infuriated at what I had done, how low I had stooped to come back to this.

I looked up at her face, at the lines in her skin and at the dust that coated her body, and I could find no spark of passion for her. She knew it was gone, too. Another tear ran down her face, following the path of the others. She said nothing, for which I was grateful for.

I couldn’t afford another incident like this. I couldn’t allow myself to let the past bleed into the present. I reached behind me and in that instant, she knew what was coming. Her eyes widened and she whispered, “No. Please, no!”

I didn’t hear her words. They were nothing to me. I drew the hidden dagger I always kept with me. I stared straight into her eyes as I drove the dagger into her heart. I felt it stutter and her blood covered my hand. Her mouth worked soundlessly as I watched her die, not a flicker of emotion crossing my face. Finally, she sagged in her bonds, her head drooping down.

I turned on my heel, stalking away from her. My face was stone even as her blood covered my hand. I felt nothing, said nothing, thought nothing.

I left my dagger standing out of her breast, my final gift to my once-beautiful lover.