Alas, Elyss was cruel. The redhead's great strength kept their kiss only a fantasy, and the Quincy at bay and unable to get what she'd wanted. Instead, when their lips had only just brushed against one another enough to tantalize, she felt a weight press against her chest, and she was pushed back and down onto the bench.
Sylvia breathed deeply, for both the warmth of the bench that tore through the thin fabric of her robe and the excitement still pounding away alongside her heart. Could Elyss feel that right now? It was only by the luck of the gods that her robe remained somewhat closed, and some sense of modesty preserved while the other woman mounted her.
Yet, underneath the excitement of the situation and location... There was nothing. She could see nothing in the redhead's beautiful eyes, nor anything but control in her stern, stoic expression. It scared her, just a little; to be so exposed and open, and yet, her partner-to-be to be so closed off. Slowly and gently, she grasped Elyss' hand and lifted it off of her chest.
"Elyss, stop..." Sylvia spoke softly, but for the torrent of confused and mixed emotions behind her eyes, she was sure of one thing. Despite the warmth of the room, it didn't escape her attention that her inner flame had stilled and receded.
There was no love in this. Only lust.
"I... I can't. I'm sorry." She made no motion to force the woman off of her, but there was no doubt she had been about to make a mistake. With both hands, she pulled her robe closed, and held her legs together behind the woman to keep her from going any further.