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Urianger stumbles into the Bookman's Shelves, worn and weary. He'd held himself together remarkably well during his trek back, afraid to show the pixies any sign of weakness that they might later exploit, but even though he'd spent his fair share of days back in Sharlyan forgoing sleep in his endless quest for knowledge, one whole week spent indulging the pixies to gain their favour was a bit much even for his infamous sleepless streaks.
It pains him to admit it, especially when he really really isn't, but he's getting too old for this.
The door shuts behind him, and at last, he allows himself to deflate, his shoulders sagging, his eyes closing, and a long sigh expelled between parted lips. By the gods, he's going to let himself sleep for the next three days and not even Titania themself will be able to rouse him from his slumber. The entirety of the First could be overtaken by the Light, and still he doesn't think he would awaken.
Bit by bit, with each heavy step towards his private chambers he takes, more of him unravels. His star globe is the first thing to drop from his back, landing ungracefully on the floor with a loud clang that would have made him cringe were he alert and awake. Alas, at present, he's just too tired to care; what scuffs he may find will be the problem of the Urianger who has awoken from a deep and hopefully restful sleep. His adornings are the next thing he pulls off; the choker, the paldron, one arm cuff… but he freezes before the second one comes off, fingers poised over the golden piece of jewellery, his eyes widening at the sound of his name being called in a voice he has been longing to hear.
His head snaps up in the direction of his chambers, where, somehow, he already knows she's waiting for him. Could she be here already? How did she know where to find him? Urianger's body moves before his mind manages to finish processing what he's hearing. Maybe if he weren't so exhausted he'd have realised it strange, but he opens the door to his chambers and stops short at what he sees, his breath catching in his throat.
It is her. The Warrior of Light. His champion and his love and his life. Yet it isn't only the sight of her that leaves him scrambling for an explanation; it's the fact that she isn't alone. Myra is with him. Another Urianger. He still wears his old robes, but perhaps not for much longer, given how she tugs and pulls to get at his skin, to mark it with her teeth. The sight is familiar to him, painfully, maddeningly so, for he had lived it long ago now. He remembers it with a fierce and crystal clear clarity; that day in the Waking Sands where at last, at long last, they acted upon feelings that had built and built until neither side could tolerate it any longer. She had shoved him backwards into a chair and climbed right into his lap, the heat of her body near scalding to his demure sensibilities. She tasted of something sweet then, he recalls, the flavour on her tongue overloading his senses long before her wandering hands had. But then she had been called away.
And this is what he watches unfold before him now. A continuation that he has—with only a little shame—expanded upon and fleshed out in his mind's eye to a myriad of pleasing conclusions. This seems to be the one where she mounts him and rides him to completion several times, until he is empty, and she is full of him. Her movements are forceful and thorough and so deep that as he watches the relentless roll of her hips, he can't help but utter a quiet groan, hiding his shame and a light flush in his cheeks behind the back of his hand. Yet he continues to watch her fuck his own phantom, incapable of tearing his eyes away.
He knows what he's seeing isn't real; the final scraps of his rationale telling him that he's merely overtired; that he is seeing things. But there's no denying the effect it has on him. On both of him. His phantom is certainly enjoying himself, being ridden so thoroughly until he forgets his 'thee's and 'thou's. Why can't he?
Urianger fumbles with the front of his robe, a hand sliding into the decorative slit up the seam and pulls out his cock, giddy and nigh delirious.
It has been too long since he'd seen stars, but with his hand alone, entire galaxies burst behind his closed eyes as he pumped himself to his end.