They had succeeded. With Tom's hurricane-like "help," Yennefer had managed to acquire an ancient artifact she had been searching for for months from a tightly guarded vault in Novigrad. As a "celebration," Tom teleported them to the most luxurious suite in the most expensive inn in the city, complete with a warmly burning fireplace, the finest wine, and a view of the entire city from its balcony.
But the atmosphere between them was anything but celebratory. The tension that had been building between them for weeks had now reached its peak. Yennefer watched Tom, who was casually pouring wine as if he owned the place. Every one of Yennefer's plans had succeeded, every goal reached with ease. But she felt more powerless than ever. This man was a riddle she couldn't solve with logic, magic, or deception.
She decided it was time to use her final gambit. The weapon that had helped her navigate the cruel world of politics and magic for nearly a century.
Yennefer set down her wine glass and walked towards Tom. Her movements were elegant and confident, like a predator approaching its prey, even though she knew who the real predator in the room was. She stopped in front of him, her signature scent of lilac and gooseberries filling the air.
"You know, Tom," she whispered, her voice deep and enchanting. "I've tried to understand you with words. With magic. It seems nothing works."
Tom just smiled faintly, his eyes watching Yennefer with amusement. "I could just tell you, but that would ruin all our fun."
"Perhaps," Yennefer continued, ignoring his comment. Her hand rose and gently traced the line of his jaw. "There's another language you might understand better."
This was a challenge. A game of chess where the board was passion, and the pieces were their wills. Yennefer, with all her experience, intended to dominate this game. She would be the one in control. She would make him react, make him show a weakness, make him want something that only she could give.
Tom accepted the challenge with pleasure. This was a far more interesting development than just a battle of wits.
Their kiss was the beginning of that duel. Yennefer led, her tongue demanding and skillful, trying to set the rhythm. With a powerful push, she shoved Tom toward the large canopy bed, sending him falling back with her on top of him. For a moment, she was in the dominant position, looking down at Tom with a victorious smile.
However, just as Yennefer felt she was at the height of her victory, Tom's smile widened. With a single movement so fast and fluid it made her gasp, he reversed their positions. Now Yennefer was the one lying beneath him, both of her wrists pinned gently but undeniably by one of Tom's hands above her head. Her dominance was an illusion that had just been shattered.
"Nice try," Tom whispered, before his mouth devoured hers again, this time with an unmistakable sense of ownership.
What happened next was not a burst of romantic passion. It was a conquest. Tom removed Yennefer's clothes with an almost insulting efficiency, his eyes devouring every inch of her pale skin. He wasn't rushed; every touch was an assertion of power, every kiss on her neck and breasts was a claim on new territory.
He turned her over, forcing her to her knees on the silk sheets. The sight of the most powerful and proud sorceress in such a submissive position was a victory in itself for Tom. As he entered her from behind, Yennefer bit her lip to keep from crying out. Tom's rhythm was strong and relentless, each thrust causing their sweaty bodies to collide with a wet, satisfying sound.
Yennefer's legendary self-control began to crumble. Logic and strategy melted away in an ocean of pure sensation created by this man. Her walls of defense were shattered to pieces.
"Ah... ah... ah... ah..." she panted, her voice hoarse and desperate. "Faster... harder... ah... ah... it feels so good!"
Her cries were music to Tom's ears. It was the sound of his opponent's defeat. He granted her request, his movements becoming more savage, deeper. He lifted her hips, changing the angle for even deeper pleasure. The splashes of their pleasure soaked the expensive sheets beneath them. Tom wasn't just conquering her body, but her will.
The climax was a cataclysmic explosion. A roar of victory escaped Tom's throat as he released himself deep inside Yennefer. Her body arched and trembled violently, surrendering to a wave of orgasm that left her helpless.
After it was all over, they lay in silence, only the sound of the fire in the hearth audible. Yennefer stared at the ceiling, her mind trying to process what had just happened. She had tried to conquer an anomaly, and in the end, she had only been dragged deeper into his chaos. This defeat didn't feel bitter, but rather... intoxicating.
Tom turned to her, a satisfied smile etched on his face. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. "You see?" he whispered. "You don't need magic to get what you want from me. You just have to ask nicely."
The comment left Yennefer not knowing whether to be furious or to laugh. She had just shared an incredibly intimate, vulnerable moment, and this man still saw it as a game he had just won.
Their relationship had changed. The lines between them had blurred. They were no longer just suspicious partners. They were now complicated lovers, rivals who shared a bed, where every moment of tenderness was still tinged with an unending power struggle. And for Tom, this game had just become much more fun.