Is this your way of telling me I stink? Rude. [ But Astrid doesnāt sound offended. Just amused and playful, as she cocks her head and assesses that offer, measuring the weight and shape of it. She wiggles her sore feet in her boots and considers the appeal of immersing herself in piping-hot water (and, yes, with interesting company).
So, then: she eventually gestures with the tilt of her chin, a bird-like flutter of hand, ]
Alright, come along then,
[ and it feels a bit like gesturing a dog to come in out of the cold, opening a door, letting him in. She turns on her heel and starts heading towards the templar tower and its basement, wending through the halls, down the steps and towards damp stone. ]
This might actually be one of my favourite places in the Gallows. We had some hot springs in the mountains, but more often than not youāre heating a tub and that just takes for-fucking-ever.
If I thought you stunk, I would say it in as many words.
[He's grinning, though, and he follows, casually without comment about that. This is a good opportunity, frankly; mostly to learn about the best spot for a hot bath.]
We had a bath, in training. Hot steam, for after we sweat, and sticks to wipe it off.
Sticks? How dāyou wipe yourself off with a stick? That sounds uncomfortable.
[ They descend into the communal baths. Itās not a spa as rifters might think of it, but itās still more high-tech than anything she grew up with: thereās a cold pool and a hot one, the latter fueled by running water and pipes and furnaces and a hum of warmth. Grabbing a worn nub of soap and a linen towel from the communal supplies, Astrid starts to shuck her clothes.
Itās unabashed and matter-of-fact: kicking off her boots and shedding her layers with no self-consciousness nor any attempt at seductive flourish. Her clothes are tossed into a chaotic pile on the dry side of the room, eventually exposing bare skin, long limbs, functional but half-starved muscle, and nicks and scars across her body but likely not as many as him— she finally wades into the pool and sinks in as deep as she can go, whole body submerged, her face barely above the waterline, with a satisfied sigh. ]
[He is, to his credit, not ogling her like a creeper. He is removing his own clothes and sliding into the water, and there is a little noise of sweet soft pleasure, a groan of someone still not too used to this.
He closes his eyes a little, slipping them just slightly shut.]
[ Astridās instantly gone boneless and limp, head tipped back against the side of the pool. This is such a far cry from shivering bone-cold rinses in the river that itās nice just to luxuriate. She tilts her head slightly to the side, glancing at Gannicus, the line of his broad shoulders in the water; before she swivels to reach for the wine jug where theyād left it sitting on the edge. ]
I can imagine. We haveā¦ Iām guessing itās hot enough in Tevinter that you donāt do this, but we have this thing, you sit in a hot wooden sauna for a while and you sweat like a pig, until itās so hot you can barely stand it, and then you run outside and jump into the snow. Or jump in a frozen lake. Itās good for sore muscles and it fucks you right up but, like, in a good way.
[ A little wistful: ] You do it three times if youāve the time. They say the first time you go in the water, you cleanse the dirt from your body. The second time, your worries. Then the third time, you start to build something new.
Can't say I know much on snow. But the idea is the same, I think. The dominae, they had baths of pools of water. The house girls would tend them. We had a hot water trough, and the best would get first access.
[By the time that Gannicus was done with it, it was full of blood and dirt, so.]
[ Astrid hasnāt broached this topic with anyone else yet who wasnāt present at the actual fight. She uncorks the jug and takes a deep swig of the wine, to brace herself; wipes her mouth on the back of her hand and then floats closer, so she can slide the jug towards him. Worrying at her bottom lip, trying to find the right words: ]
I dunno how much you know about Avvar holds, but we each have this animal— this spirit— more accurate to say itās, like, the entire fucking heart of our community. Ours was a wolf. He started behavingā¦ strangely. He left our territory, following rifts, so I followed him out of the mountains to see if I could find out what was wrong.
[ A beat. ] Riftwatch said, later, that he was Fade-touched. Not that I know much about that stuff.
Nope. [ Thereās a twist to the corner of her mouth, a rueful bitterness. ] He died in a fight at one of those rifts, so thereās not much to know anymore.
But hereās where people close rifts and where some genius might learn how to stop that sort of thing from happening again someday. So I stuck around.
I dunno, theyāve been pretty good to me here. [ Granting her a place to land, and to lick her wounds. A place to give herself some purpose and carve out a new home, or something close enough to it.
Astrid looks at the jug of wine dangling in Gannicusā hand. The water dripping from his hair, plastered to the line of his strong jaw. She seems to be teetering on the precipice of a decision, a distraction, and finally makes up her mind to seize it. Why the hell not? ]
And I canāt go home. Not yet, [ said without elaboration, as she detaches from her edge of the pool and closes the rest of the distance between them. Drifts until sheās right in front of him, face-to-face, practically in his lap: close enough to reach out and take the jug back, but her eyes on his all the while. ]
[He's watching her with a gaze that makes him almost catlike, his eyes flicking from her eyes to her mouth as she's almost in his lap, and he sets the jug aside. He isn't one to resist such an invitation, not from a woman like Astrid. He doesn't know anyone like her; all the women in his world, in his life, they've all been built for other things. For service, or royalty in a way he could just shrug off, pretend weren't part of-
-this. Him.
He reaches out a hand in the water, to her hip.]
Not yet.
[He agrees, amicably. His hand is covered in calluses, it's rough with use, but he's soft, inviting, as he urges her just a little closer.]
And mischievously detours at the last second, tilting her face past his cheek to pick up the abandoned jug and steal one last swig, her throat working. The wine isnāt strictly needed for the liquid courage but itās nice, warming her throughout, atop the warmth of Gannicusā hand against her hip. When she finally reaches over him to put the jug away on the stone floor, she just stays there, her arm draped over his shoulders. ]
Maybe someday. For now, though, Iām fine exactly where I am.
[ Exactly where she is. Which is this: closing those last inches of distance to kiss him, both their mouths tasting of wine. ]
[He takes a breath as she's just against him; she smells like the baths and like sweat and like herself, which makes it all the headier. No perfume. His hand tightens just a bit, when she says she's fine where she is, and then she kisses him and he can't help himself. He kisses her back with the finesse of a man who likes to kiss, with the passion of a man who truly lives for every second he has.
He tugs her closer, and kisses her again, harder this time, his other hand coming up behind her to press against his spine.]
[ Itās a new mouth, an unfamiliar person, and yet this part is so, so familiar: that immediate flaring hunger in the kiss, the mark of someone who runs headlong into every experience life has to offer. Which is wholeheartedly her type, considering Astrid tends to do the same thing, barreling herself straight into trouble (both the good and the bad). Steal that drink, steal that kiss, because you never really know when you wonāt be able to—
Her arms twine around his neck and she crushes herself to him; how convenient, that theyāre already naked, that thereās nothing separating her from that broad expanse of wet slippery skin. A part of her had seen this coming. Whenever she goes for a man, they tend to be the same type: rough scratchy stubble and muscle, like any brawny Avvar lad sheād tumbled into bed with before. ]
You might look good in blue and red but I admit a real selfish liking for you like this, [ she muses, her mouth against Gannicusā jaw as she throws back to their earlier conversation, nipping at his ear. ]
[He laughs, and kisses her again, his hands going down to her legs to pull her into his lap, and he pushes his body against hers. His hands stay on her thighs.]
Wet and naked below you?
[He tugs her a little. In a moment he might stand to put her on the edge of the bath, to give her something more than just his mouth - or, perhaps, to give her more of just his mouth - but for the moment he seems perfectly content to hold her close. He has not held a woman close in what feels like a long time.]
Exactly that, [ Astrid declares between lazy kisses, settling in his lap, feeling the ridge of him beneath her. Are you so concerned for my cock, Starling? heād asked, and it had taken her a moment to respond to the question at the time, using her startled laughter to recover, to pivot it back into a joke, to pretend she hadnāt felt that low heat between her legs at the thought of it. What they were dancing around. ]
I— oh! [ She makes a delighted noise when Gannicus eventually simply stands up, lifting her easily, water sloughing off both their bodies. Itās simpler, then, for her legs to hitch around his hips as he settles her on the edge of the bath. Out of the water, now she can get a better idea of what sheās working with. Her hand trails down the planes of his chest, fingertips dipping into the divot of his belly button — it is very nice, to be able to touch someone again, sheās missed this — before reaching between them to palm said cock. ]
We might have to be a bit faster than Iād like, this time. Iāve a feeling this isnāt what this room was meant for.
[Gannicus does not care what this room was made for. If they get caught, that is, as far as he's concerned, not their problem.
But he hasn't had sex since before arriving in Kirkwall and so maybe he's a bit eager, too. Her fingers are exploring his stomach, and then lower, and he hitches a breath and leans forward to press a secret smile against her skin, one hand inching up her thigh, her waist, to cup a breast.]
I had planned on feasting on you. Should I save that for another day?
[He's on the same train of thought she is, frankly, but then he leans down and takes a nipple between his teeth. He does not bite down, but grins as he teases, his eyes flicking up to look at her.]
Shit, [ she draws in a hiss of breath, struck by his words, their potential and the mental image they evoke, as well as the graze of his teeth against her breast. One knee tightens against his hip, the other tilting open. Oh, how sheād like him to, but— ]
Another day. In a bed. Those piles of furs. [ Truly, what better way than body heat to stay warm on a chilly Kirkwall morning, with these bedrooms and towers all made of cold forbidding stone? Even now, half out of the water, Gannicusā body radiates tantalising heat: his warm mouth at her nipple, his warm flesh beneath her hand. Two can be a tease, and so she runs a finger along his cock before giving another exploratory stroke, sedate for the moment despite her words about hurrying. Impishly: ]
A feast implies a while. I think your mouth deserves a chance to take its time, for that.
[His grin widens, and his tongue slips out to tease her nipple, and then he's slotting himself between her legs and running his hands up her sides.]
As my lady Starling commands.
[He slips one hand back down, to her leg, to tug it up over his hip. His cock presses against her, and he rocks his hips a little to run it over her wetness and to tease her, just a little, to get her warmer for him.
He keeps his other hand moving until he can cup her cheek and tug her to kiss him again, his chest against hers. She's glorious; not as soft as the women he's used to, but beautiful and lithe just the same.]
[ Itās well-matched, she thinks, pleased. Theyāre both carved out of hard-earned functional muscle, their bodies hard-lived and built to purpose. Her arm hooks over Gannicusā shoulder again, fingers pressing against the jagged line of some old scar on his back, the mark of the arena having set its stamp on him. Given more time, another day, sheāll want to explore that map.
And Astrid makes another strangled noise as he rocks against her, her mouth against his, and winds up biting his lip; chiding, for remaining so tantalisingly out-of-reach. Damp from the baths and her own arousal, itās easy for him to slick himself with her. Itās been a while; she hasnāt been with anyone since before Kirkwall, either. One could say sheās hungry for it, that loneliness knocking at her door. ]
Alright, [ Astridās voice is ragged, between kisses. ] You literal cocktease. Fuck me already.
[He laughs, and he pushes inside of her, tilting his hips just so to make it fast. She takes him in; for a moment he's just there, frozen against her, and then his hands come down to grab the flesh of her ass, to pull her closer to him.]
Just-
[His smile is broad against her skin, and he bites on her throat to worry a mark there as he begins to fuck her with long, hard strokes.]
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[He holds out his arms and its clear that his pants are part of that uniform, that he's tucked and rucked up into his boots.]
-and little else.
You look like you would want a bath.
[Which is either an offer to wait or an offer to join, so.]
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So, then: she eventually gestures with the tilt of her chin, a bird-like flutter of hand, ]
Alright, come along then,
[ and it feels a bit like gesturing a dog to come in out of the cold, opening a door, letting him in. She turns on her heel and starts heading towards the templar tower and its basement, wending through the halls, down the steps and towards damp stone. ]
This might actually be one of my favourite places in the Gallows. We had some hot springs in the mountains, but more often than not youāre heating a tub and that just takes for-fucking-ever.
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[He's grinning, though, and he follows, casually without comment about that. This is a good opportunity, frankly; mostly to learn about the best spot for a hot bath.]
We had a bath, in training. Hot steam, for after we sweat, and sticks to wipe it off.
I do like the feel of water on skin.
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[ They descend into the communal baths. Itās not a spa as rifters might think of it, but itās still more high-tech than anything she grew up with: thereās a cold pool and a hot one, the latter fueled by running water and pipes and furnaces and a hum of warmth. Grabbing a worn nub of soap and a linen towel from the communal supplies, Astrid starts to shuck her clothes.
Itās unabashed and matter-of-fact: kicking off her boots and shedding her layers with no self-consciousness nor any attempt at seductive flourish. Her clothes are tossed into a chaotic pile on the dry side of the room, eventually exposing bare skin, long limbs, functional but half-starved muscle, and nicks and scars across her body but likely not as many as him— she finally wades into the pool and sinks in as deep as she can go, whole body submerged, her face barely above the waterline, with a satisfied sigh. ]
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He closes his eyes a little, slipping them just slightly shut.]
They're smooth. You scrape sweat and dirt off.
[He sighs a bit.]
It soothes the muscles.
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I can imagine. We haveā¦ Iām guessing itās hot enough in Tevinter that you donāt do this, but we have this thing, you sit in a hot wooden sauna for a while and you sweat like a pig, until itās so hot you can barely stand it, and then you run outside and jump into the snow. Or jump in a frozen lake. Itās good for sore muscles and it fucks you right up but, like, in a good way.
[ A little wistful: ] You do it three times if youāve the time. They say the first time you go in the water, you cleanse the dirt from your body. The second time, your worries. Then the third time, you start to build something new.
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Can't say I know much on snow. But the idea is the same, I think. The dominae, they had baths of pools of water. The house girls would tend them. We had a hot water trough, and the best would get first access.
[By the time that Gannicus was done with it, it was full of blood and dirt, so.]
What made you leave?
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[ Astrid hasnāt broached this topic with anyone else yet who wasnāt present at the actual fight. She uncorks the jug and takes a deep swig of the wine, to brace herself; wipes her mouth on the back of her hand and then floats closer, so she can slide the jug towards him. Worrying at her bottom lip, trying to find the right words: ]
I dunno how much you know about Avvar holds, but we each have this animal— this spirit— more accurate to say itās, like, the entire fucking heart of our community. Ours was a wolf. He started behavingā¦ strangely. He left our territory, following rifts, so I followed him out of the mountains to see if I could find out what was wrong.
[ A beat. ] Riftwatch said, later, that he was Fade-touched. Not that I know much about that stuff.
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And now?
Do you know much about it?
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But hereās where people close rifts and where some genius might learn how to stop that sort of thing from happening again someday. So I stuck around.
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Do you miss it?
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[ Not combative, just wry. She has been going on about the mountains quite a bit. ]
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[Which is to say, yes, he absolutely does think that she misses it. And that she deserves to go home.
He edges just a little closer.]
Go home, Astrid.
yolo!!
Astrid looks at the jug of wine dangling in Gannicusā hand. The water dripping from his hair, plastered to the line of his strong jaw. She seems to be teetering on the precipice of a decision, a distraction, and finally makes up her mind to seize it. Why the hell not? ]
And I canāt go home. Not yet, [ said without elaboration, as she detaches from her edge of the pool and closes the rest of the distance between them. Drifts until sheās right in front of him, face-to-face, practically in his lap: close enough to reach out and take the jug back, but her eyes on his all the while. ]
girl GET IT
-this. Him.
He reaches out a hand in the water, to her hip.]
Not yet.
[He agrees, amicably. His hand is covered in calluses, it's rough with use, but he's soft, inviting, as he urges her just a little closer.]
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And mischievously detours at the last second, tilting her face past his cheek to pick up the abandoned jug and steal one last swig, her throat working. The wine isnāt strictly needed for the liquid courage but itās nice, warming her throughout, atop the warmth of Gannicusā hand against her hip. When she finally reaches over him to put the jug away on the stone floor, she just stays there, her arm draped over his shoulders. ]
Maybe someday. For now, though, Iām fine exactly where I am.
[ Exactly where she is. Which is this: closing those last inches of distance to kiss him, both their mouths tasting of wine. ]
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He tugs her closer, and kisses her again, harder this time, his other hand coming up behind her to press against his spine.]
The luck's mine, then, that so am I.
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Her arms twine around his neck and she crushes herself to him; how convenient, that theyāre already naked, that thereās nothing separating her from that broad expanse of wet slippery skin. A part of her had seen this coming. Whenever she goes for a man, they tend to be the same type: rough scratchy stubble and muscle, like any brawny Avvar lad sheād tumbled into bed with before. ]
You might look good in blue and red but I admit a real selfish liking for you like this, [ she muses, her mouth against Gannicusā jaw as she throws back to their earlier conversation, nipping at his ear. ]
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Wet and naked below you?
[He tugs her a little. In a moment he might stand to put her on the edge of the bath, to give her something more than just his mouth - or, perhaps, to give her more of just his mouth - but for the moment he seems perfectly content to hold her close. He has not held a woman close in what feels like a long time.]
I too selfishly prefer this.
nsfw here on out
I— oh! [ She makes a delighted noise when Gannicus eventually simply stands up, lifting her easily, water sloughing off both their bodies. Itās simpler, then, for her legs to hitch around his hips as he settles her on the edge of the bath. Out of the water, now she can get a better idea of what sheās working with. Her hand trails down the planes of his chest, fingertips dipping into the divot of his belly button — it is very nice, to be able to touch someone again, sheās missed this — before reaching between them to palm said cock. ]
We might have to be a bit faster than Iād like, this time. Iāve a feeling this isnāt what this room was meant for.
[ ""this time"" ]
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But he hasn't had sex since before arriving in Kirkwall and so maybe he's a bit eager, too. Her fingers are exploring his stomach, and then lower, and he hitches a breath and leans forward to press a secret smile against her skin, one hand inching up her thigh, her waist, to cup a breast.]
I had planned on feasting on you. Should I save that for another day?
[He's on the same train of thought she is, frankly, but then he leans down and takes a nipple between his teeth. He does not bite down, but grins as he teases, his eyes flicking up to look at her.]
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Another day. In a bed. Those piles of furs. [ Truly, what better way than body heat to stay warm on a chilly Kirkwall morning, with these bedrooms and towers all made of cold forbidding stone? Even now, half out of the water, Gannicusā body radiates tantalising heat: his warm mouth at her nipple, his warm flesh beneath her hand. Two can be a tease, and so she runs a finger along his cock before giving another exploratory stroke, sedate for the moment despite her words about hurrying. Impishly: ]
A feast implies a while. I think your mouth deserves a chance to take its time, for that.
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As my lady Starling commands.
[He slips one hand back down, to her leg, to tug it up over his hip. His cock presses against her, and he rocks his hips a little to run it over her wetness and to tease her, just a little, to get her warmer for him.
He keeps his other hand moving until he can cup her cheek and tug her to kiss him again, his chest against hers. She's glorious; not as soft as the women he's used to, but beautiful and lithe just the same.]
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And Astrid makes another strangled noise as he rocks against her, her mouth against his, and winds up biting his lip; chiding, for remaining so tantalisingly out-of-reach. Damp from the baths and her own arousal, itās easy for him to slick himself with her. Itās been a while; she hasnāt been with anyone since before Kirkwall, either. One could say sheās hungry for it, that loneliness knocking at her door. ]
Alright, [ Astridās voice is ragged, between kisses. ] You literal cocktease. Fuck me already.
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Just-
[His smile is broad against her skin, and he bites on her throat to worry a mark there as he begins to fuck her with long, hard strokes.]
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