[He looks steadily into her eyes as he reaches down to unfasten it, strap by strap, and let it slip to the floor, leaving him in only the bare linens around his waist that cushion between the armor and his skin.]
If I make myself vulnerable, my priestess, will you protect me?
[His gaze stays on hers, the words quiet but emphatic. Being vulnerable for her - being protected by her - both are notions with storms of meaning beneath the simple syllables. He feels like he aches all over, at just the momentary absence of her touch.]
[She's set aside her cloak; underneath, she's wearing the shirt and trousers she'd taken from the chest of spare clothing some time back. It's simple enough to unfasten the trousers and step out of them, although before she gets as far as the shirt, she is... distracted.]
You are precious to me, and I take care of what is mine. [If there were any challenge in his gaze, she thinks it would be too much to bear; as it is, he is intoxicating. She smiles and draws him closer again, touching warm skin now and not inanimate leather.] Be at ease, my Duk'tak. I will strike down anyone who dares to intrude.
[The quiet husk of his voice still makes it more a declaration of dogma than anything as simple as agreement. He breathes slow and deep, leaning against her arm, shifting it just a little so that he can press kisses, one by one, to her fingertips.]
It is, so, a relief, you know. To be yours.
[With his other hand, he lifts a corner of her shirt, simply placing his palm against her hip, his fingers very careful not to wander or presume further without permission.]
[Her hand rest lightly over his, guiding it up under her shirt. Her other hand strays from his mouth - across his throat, up the side of his neck, into his hair, carefully avoiding the markings on his jaw as she traces the lines of him.]
[With quiet vehemence, he promises his obedience, and follows upward as her hand guides, breathing - sighing - lightly at her own wandering touch.
Unless she guides him otherwise, his hand will move to her chest, fingertips skimming lightly over the skin, his eyes wide, as he slowly moves closer, closer, body bumping against hers, conscious of just how obvious his body feels right now through his last wraps.
But if he is to be demonstrative... he'll begin, slowly, to lower himself to his knees, looking up at her.]
[She presses herself into his touch, the skin of her torso smooth and unmarred, gasping slightly as his wandering hand brushes against a rising nipple.
Her hand stays in his hair as he goes to his knees, her fingers entwined in pale waves and fingertips brushing against the shaved portion of his scalp in a grasp that would be guiding if not for the fact that they seem to be in perfect agreement as to where he's going.]
Eager - [She laughs, fondly, appreciatively. She shifts her weight, thighs parting slightly.] Prepare me, and I'll sheathe you within me, my weapon.
[He breathes on her skin as he murmurs his response like a prayer. He nuzzles the insides of her thighs gently, playfully. His arms hold her steady - one curled around the back of her thighs, the other still reaching up along the line of her body to tease that peaked nipple.
Then it's more than breath, as he presses his face closer and draws his tongue across her, soft and eager.
He hopes she has little cause to reflect that the motion is familiar to him, from his newest memories, but that thought is fleeting even for him, as he's anchored in the moment and its warm reality, shifting himself further down as her continues, so she can straddle him if she wishes, or simply continue to stand or lean and let him tease her one patient stroke at a time.]
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no subject
[He looks steadily into her eyes as he reaches down to unfasten it, strap by strap, and let it slip to the floor, leaving him in only the bare linens around his waist that cushion between the armor and his skin.]
If I make myself vulnerable, my priestess, will you protect me?
[His gaze stays on hers, the words quiet but emphatic. Being vulnerable for her - being protected by her - both are notions with storms of meaning beneath the simple syllables. He feels like he aches all over, at just the momentary absence of her touch.]
no subject
[She's set aside her cloak; underneath, she's wearing the shirt and trousers she'd taken from the chest of spare clothing some time back. It's simple enough to unfasten the trousers and step out of them, although before she gets as far as the shirt, she is... distracted.]
You are precious to me, and I take care of what is mine.
[If there were any challenge in his gaze, she thinks it would be too much to bear; as it is, he is intoxicating. She smiles and draws him closer again, touching warm skin now and not inanimate leather.] Be at ease, my Duk'tak. I will strike down anyone who dares to intrude.
no subject
[The quiet husk of his voice still makes it more a declaration of dogma than anything as simple as agreement. He breathes slow and deep, leaning against her arm, shifting it just a little so that he can press kisses, one by one, to her fingertips.]
It is, so, a relief, you know. To be yours.
[With his other hand, he lifts a corner of her shirt, simply placing his palm against her hip, his fingers very careful not to wander or presume further without permission.]
no subject
Show me, then.
no subject
[With quiet vehemence, he promises his obedience, and follows upward as her hand guides, breathing - sighing - lightly at her own wandering touch.
Unless she guides him otherwise, his hand will move to her chest, fingertips skimming lightly over the skin, his eyes wide, as he slowly moves closer, closer, body bumping against hers, conscious of just how obvious his body feels right now through his last wraps.
But if he is to be demonstrative... he'll begin, slowly, to lower himself to his knees, looking up at her.]
no subject
Her hand stays in his hair as he goes to his knees, her fingers entwined in pale waves and fingertips brushing against the shaved portion of his scalp in a grasp that would be guiding if not for the fact that they seem to be in perfect agreement as to where he's going.]
Eager - [She laughs, fondly, appreciatively. She shifts her weight, thighs parting slightly.] Prepare me, and I'll sheathe you within me, my weapon.
no subject
[He breathes on her skin as he murmurs his response like a prayer. He nuzzles the insides of her thighs gently, playfully. His arms hold her steady - one curled around the back of her thighs, the other still reaching up along the line of her body to tease that peaked nipple.
Then it's more than breath, as he presses his face closer and draws his tongue across her, soft and eager.
He hopes she has little cause to reflect that the motion is familiar to him, from his newest memories, but that thought is fleeting even for him, as he's anchored in the moment and its warm reality, shifting himself further down as her continues, so she can straddle him if she wishes, or simply continue to stand or lean and let him tease her one patient stroke at a time.]