Chapter 113: Not for Training
Arthur slipped aside as Emily’s wooden blade cut past his shoulder.
Only a few lanterns lit the small indoor hall. Emily pivoted without pause and drove forward again, her boots scuffing across the canvas mat.
Arthur did not try to overpower her. He let her press the attack, stepping backward and using precise, tight footwork to force her to turn repeatedly. He kept his guard high, deflecting her strikes rather than absorbing their full weight.
Emily feinted low and swept her blade in a horizontal arc, trying to catch him with the same trap she had used during their last outdoor spar.
This time, Arthur did not step into the open space. He anticipated the shift in her momentum, ducked beneath the sweep, and surged forward. Before Emily could recover her balance, Arthur caught her wrist mid-swing.
He didn’t stop there. He used her own forward momentum, twisting his hips and driving her backward until her shoulders hit the padded wall at the edge of the mat.
Arthur’s wooden dagger stopped firmly against her side.
He had won the exchange.
However, neither of them immediately stepped back to reset.
Arthur stood directly against her, holding her weapon wrist pinned lightly above her shoulder. His other hand rested firmly at her waist, anchoring her in place because that was exactly how he had stopped her turn. His breathing was heavy from the exertion of the spar, matching the rapid rise and fall of Emily’s chest pressed just inches from his own.
Emily looked down briefly at the hand resting on her waist, then lifted her chin to meet his eyes.
"You have the point," Emily said, her voice quiet in the empty hall.
Arthur did not move. "I noticed."
"Then why are you still holding me?"
"Because I wanted to," Arthur answered honestly.
Emily did not become shy. She didn’t look away, and she didn’t pretend she misunderstood what he was saying. Her green eyes locked onto his, completely unblinking.
"Was that what happened on the mat too?" Emily asked.
Arthur knew exactly what she meant. He didn’t hesitate.
"Yes," Arthur said. "I wanted you then. I still want you now."
Emily’s free hand moved. Her fingers caught the heavy canvas front of his training jacket, her grip tightening until her knuckles turned white.
"You could have said that on the mat instead of hiding behind jokes," Emily murmured.
"You were sitting on me," Arthur replied evenly. "My judgment was compromised."
Emily nearly smiled, the corners of her mouth twitching, but she did not let the joke derail the tension pulling tight between them.
"Your judgment seems clear now."
She pulled him down by the jacket and kissed him.
It was not a brief, timid test. Emily kissed him firmly, bringing the exact same unrelenting directness she brought to her training. Arthur was momentarily surprised by the sudden, aggressive contact, but he responded a second later.
The kiss deepened quickly. Emily’s hand slid up from his jacket, her fingers tangling deep into the hair at the back of his neck to pull him closer. Arthur let go of her wrist, dropping his wooden weapon onto the mat. He gripped her waist with both hands, his thumbs pressing into the curve of her hips.
Their mouths opened. Their tongues met, hot and frantic. Emily pulled him harder against her instead of retreating from the pressure.
Arthur’s right hand slid down from her waist and closed firmly around her ass through the thick fabric of her training trousers.
Emily broke the kiss for half a breath. She looked up at him, her chest heaving, and then deliberately pushed herself more firmly into his hand.
She kissed him again, slower but much deeper. Arthur gripped her ass and lifted her slightly, pressing her back against the padded wall. Emily hooked one leg smoothly around the outside of his thigh, locking him flush against her hips.
Her fingers tightened in his hair, while her other hand dragged down the solid muscle of his chest.
Arthur shifted his mouth, kissing the corner of her lips, then trailing open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and the warm skin of her neck. Emily tilted her head back against the padding, exposing her throat, her breath catching as his teeth grazed her pulse.
He slipped one hand beneath the untucked back of her training shirt. His rough fingers moved over the warm, damp skin of her lower back before travelling higher, tracing the line of her spine.
Emily’s hand reached his belt.
She rested her palm directly over the heavy canvas of his trousers. She felt exactly how hard he had become against her, and she deliberately rubbed her palm over him once, applying slow, firm pressure.
Arthur stopped kissing her neck. He raised his head, his breathing ragged, and looked at her.
Emily met his eyes without pulling her hand away.
"You were not the only one distracted," Emily told him.
Arthur kissed her again, harder this time, his hands tightening around her waist.
Emily turned them away from the padded wall without breaking the kiss. They stumbled blindly backward against the raised edge of the training mat. Arthur hit the back of his knees against the low padded bench sitting beside the equipment rack and sat down heavily.
Emily followed him down instantly, swinging her leg over to straddle his lap.
She leaned into him, rolling her hips once against the rigid erection trapped beneath his trousers.
Arthur’s hands returned to her ass, pulling her down harder against him to chase the friction. Emily made a quiet, sharp sound against his mouth. She angled her head and bit down gently on his lower lip.
Arthur slid his hand beneath the front of her shirt. His fingers moved up over the smooth, tight muscle of her stomach and reached higher. He cupped her breast through the thin layer of fabric beneath her training clothes, his thumb brushing over the hardened peak.
Emily pressed heavily into his palm with a shuddering breath.
Her hand slipped beneath the edge of his shirt, her fingers splaying wide across the bare skin of his chest and stomach before returning to his belt. She found the heavy leather buckle and started loosening it.
Arthur shifted his weight to give her room and helped her with the first stiff fastening.
That was when Emily stopped.
She froze, her hand resting on the loosened leather. She looked down at his belt, then lifted her head and looked around the empty, echoing academy training hall.
Her shirt was partly raised, her hair was disheveled, and her face was flushed dark red as she sat straddling his lap, her chest heaving for air.
"Not here," Emily whispered.
Arthur kept his hands at her waist. "The room is the problem?"
Emily gave him a warning look, though it lacked its usual sharp edge while she was still sitting heavily in his lap. "It means I am not having sex with you for the first time on a training bench."
Arthur looked down at the sturdy wooden bench beneath them. "It has supported us surprisingly well."
Emily gripped his hair, pulling his head back just enough to force him to look directly into her eyes.
"Do not make me regret stopping, Vance," Emily breathed.
Arthur dropped the teasing immediately. He looked at her flushed face, his expression turning completely serious.
"I won’t."
Arthur did not joke again.
Emily searched his eyes for a second, then released her grip on his hair. She didn’t jump off him. She remained sitting comfortably in his lap for another long moment, letting her breathing slow.
She reached down, fixed the front of his shirt, and then began straightening her own clothes, pulling her jacket back into place.
Arthur watched her hands. "Are the three days related to this?"
Emily paused, her fingers resting on the hem of her shirt. She looked at him.
"More than they were before."
Arthur leaned back slightly. "Should I expect further instructions?"
"You should expect an explanation before the break," Emily said, finally slipping off his lap and standing on the mat.
Arthur stood up beside her and tightened his belt, adjusting his clothing.
"That is less satisfying than what I was expecting five minutes ago," Arthur admitted.
Emily stepped close to him again. She caught the front of his shirt in both hands, pulled him down, and gave him one final, deep kiss. It was shorter than the ones before, but there was absolutely no hesitation or uncertainty in it.
When she pulled away, her eyes were bright.
"Keep the three days open," Emily commanded.
"They already are."
"Good."
Emily collected her wooden weapon from the floor and walked toward the exit. Arthur picked up his own dagger, returning it to the rack before following her out of the training hall.
As they reached the dimly lit dormitory corridor, Emily’s fingers briefly caught his, her hand squeezing his own just once before they separated to walk to their respective rooms.
Neither of them pretended it had been part of training.