"Do you find this...discomforting?" Naiella's icy touch awkwardly danced along the outer edge of my vambraces, a tentative display that demonstrated both of our inexperience in the realm of intimacy.
"Of course not," I bemoaned, mindful of my tone as to not offend her, "though I would prefer discomfort over nothing; the spell was a failure, darling." There was a short pause before Naiella withdrew, scanning my armored form for any possible point of entry.
We groaned in unison, perturbed by the situation; for two powerful magi to be stumped by such a minor obstacle...
Naiella and I's marriage was initially one born of convenience, a consolidation of powers between she — a prestigious lich — and myself, a master of several mystic disciplines.
The very fabric of reality ebbed at my will, yet I'd found myself smitten with the svelte and somewhat aloof necromancer. Through Naiella's eromancy, I had hoped to bind our powers and use my wife as the catalyst of my ascension. Naiella was to serve me as a tool rather than a companion, yet in courting her, I had fallen in love. Naiella's obsession with achieving the ultimate pleasure had become my own; I'd turn the world to ash, if only for her sweet smile. So why did things have to be so complicated?
"Perhaps I am utilizing the improper incantations. Please be patient with me, darling, " Naiella's timbre was flat, subdued even, yet I could sense the languid lich's budding frustration. With a flick of her wrist, torpid tendrils of violet energy extended from her fingertips and combed through yet another stack of tomes on sensory amplification, arousal induction and other lewd matters.
Though she could not possibly see past the visor of my crowned full-helm, I gave an empathetic smile, "It is fine, my love. Though I'd never hope to dissuade you, I fear that there is not much that separates myself from this machalite tomb."
Clad in a panoply of turquoise plates, centuries of wear and battle scars marring its surface, I donned this suit of armor many many moons ago. In my mastery of the chaotic powers, it had become something of a second skin and for better or worse, my flesh irrevocably meshed with the imperious plate. Never had I felt shame or remorse, but standing before Naiella in this sorry state was the closest I'd ever come; little more than an automaton unable to please his lover.
"You know I don't mean to question your abilities, husband," Naiella's tone was flat, though her deeper concern evident. There was a hint of loneliness in her words, "but perhaps we have reached our threshold."
The long silence that followed was punctuated only by the gentle rasp of our breathing, and the soft crackle of spectral flames leaping from their floating lanterns.
"Nonsense. We manipulate reality to our whim, stretch the boundaries of possibility to its absolute limits. There must be a way for us to...interface...with each other." My words were laced with frustration. "Our magics are complementary, surely we can find a way!"
I took a moment to collect my thoughts, trying to think of a solution. The problem was simple, if not quite so elegant: we were both sorcerers, 'impossible' was not a part of our vocabularies.
"Darling," I started, running my gauntleted fingers along the hem of Naiella's tattered, plum hood, "do you trust me?"
"Of course," she replied without hesitation. Though muted, Naiella's interest burned as bright as the sun.
"Then let us attempt something new." Though they lacked any sensation, my armored digits traced the contours of Naiella's waist, applying pressure to the smoothness of her silken skin. "Let us try a more intimate experiment."
Naiella was an experienced caster in her own right, attuned to my intentions and willing to follow my lead; curiosity consumed her. She nodded in agreement, eager to explore the carnal possibilities.
A wave of crimson energy pulsed from my fingers, passing through the protective wards of the room and seeping into the stone walls. The erotic energies swirled around the chamber, and I could feel the waves of power that swelled with every passing second. With little warning, I clasped the spherical amethyst that adorned Naiella's bony choker, her central phylactery.
Through the gemstone, I could sense the spiritual energies of the lich, the very essence of her being. I manipulated the purple energies, focusing them on the small, delicate crystal at the base of her clavicle, the source of her soul. I was careful to keep the spell subtle, lest I overwhelm Naiella completely.