"Yes." Amielle was far from proud to admit it but she didn't regret the decision. "When I told Amasius...he shouted at me and called me selfish. Then he said that he never loved me anyway and that it was all part of a plan he had so he could rule Cheydinhal." She sighed and, to her surprise, felt unburdened and distant from the whole thing. "He left after that - went to the City and never came back. I heard the next year he had married one of the Emperor's cousins." She let out a small laugh and realised that there was no pain. "So I suppose everything worked out for the best. He was cruel and sly."
"Or maybe he did love you." Farkas said thoughtfully. "And he just said those things because he was angry and hurt."
Amielle blinked. Seven years had passed since that argument and not once had that theory crossed her mind.
She stared at Farkas and he just shrugged, taking another glug of his wine. 'How wonderful,' she thought suddenly. 'How wonderful to think the best in people - to see the world through beautiful eyes.'
She wanted to tell him that her memories of the Captain's son were fuzzy at best, that she appreciated that he was the one that was here for her now, that he made her happy even when she didn't want to be. But she didn't know what words to use and how to bend them to her will.
So she just leaned across and kissed him.
He responded straight away, one hand winding into her loose hair and holding her against his lips. She let out a soft moan and he licked her lips. She opened her mouth and their kiss deepened, her body singing with relief but her mind still surprised and wary. She pulled away only a hair's breadth away from his lips.
"Is this good idea?"
"Yes."
And without another word, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her again. She straddled his legs with her own and pressed her body flush against his. She felt his fingers fumble near her ankle and then his hand slid up her calf, over her knee and up her thigh. She moaned and scratched his scalp when he squeezed her thigh, his hands rough and calloused.
A bravery came over her and she nibbled his bottom lip. Her hips ground against his, jolting when she felt the bulge in his breeches growing harder. His sudden growl send a wave of lust through her and she said, "Bed. Now."
He scooped her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her over to the bed and threw her onto it. She knew she must look quite the sight: her hair mussed, her lips red and swollen and in nothing but her white nightdress and a skewed robe that were both rucked up to her thighs. Farkas apparently enjoyed her messy appearance as he stood over her for a little while, his eyes trailing down from her hair, to her lips, to her heaving breasts and then down to her legs.
She suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Her body was very different to a Nord woman. She didn't have their typical hourglass figure, their long legs or their perfect, ample breasts. Instead, she had shorter legs with muscled thighs and a backside that always stuck out, round and noticeable in whatever she wore. And she knew that she could barely make a handful of her breasts, her top half smaller than her bottom half.
Would he be disappointed? Would he miss the ample swell of cleavage; the perfect curve from breast to hip?
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timeasmymeasure
F!DB/Farkas + Barbas: A Dog's Loyalty 6/?
Date: 2014-06-23 09:34 pm (UTC)"Or maybe he did love you." Farkas said thoughtfully. "And he just said those things because he was angry and hurt."
Amielle blinked. Seven years had passed since that argument and not once had that theory crossed her mind.
She stared at Farkas and he just shrugged, taking another glug of his wine. 'How wonderful,' she thought suddenly. 'How wonderful to think the best in people - to see the world through beautiful eyes.'
She wanted to tell him that her memories of the Captain's son were fuzzy at best, that she appreciated that he was the one that was here for her now, that he made her happy even when she didn't want to be. But she didn't know what words to use and how to bend them to her will.
So she just leaned across and kissed him.
He responded straight away, one hand winding into her loose hair and holding her against his lips. She let out a soft moan and he licked her lips. She opened her mouth and their kiss deepened, her body singing with relief but her mind still surprised and wary. She pulled away only a hair's breadth away from his lips.
"Is this good idea?"
"Yes."
And without another word, he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her again. She straddled his legs with her own and pressed her body flush against his. She felt his fingers fumble near her ankle and then his hand slid up her calf, over her knee and up her thigh. She moaned and scratched his scalp when he squeezed her thigh, his hands rough and calloused.
A bravery came over her and she nibbled his bottom lip. Her hips ground against his, jolting when she felt the bulge in his breeches growing harder. His sudden growl send a wave of lust through her and she said, "Bed. Now."
He scooped her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her over to the bed and threw her onto it. She knew she must look quite the sight: her hair mussed, her lips red and swollen and in nothing but her white nightdress and a skewed robe that were both rucked up to her thighs. Farkas apparently enjoyed her messy appearance as he stood over her for a little while, his eyes trailing down from her hair, to her lips, to her heaving breasts and then down to her legs.
She suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Her body was very different to a Nord woman. She didn't have their typical hourglass figure, their long legs or their perfect, ample breasts. Instead, she had shorter legs with muscled thighs and a backside that always stuck out, round and noticeable in whatever she wore. And she knew that she could barely make a handful of her breasts, her top half smaller than her bottom half.
Would he be disappointed? Would he miss the ample swell of cleavage; the perfect curve from breast to hip?