Music and laughter fill the air. The sounds of life and pipe and drum mix with songs from a millennia before. Voices raised people gather and laugh breaking bread in the late Fall air as the sun passes it final hour before night blankets the sky. The mead and ale flow readily. He watches as she tosses her curly mane in mirth laughing deeply and carefree, her light green eyes dancing in the torch light as someone tells a bawdy joke to the company present. He smiles to himself pleased in her joy as he enjoys her raucous laughter and smile that could light the darkest, coldest night.
Leaning on the pole at the entrance to the food tent he admires her figure, especially how her neckline curves down to her shoulders which give way to the gentle curves of her hips which her hands rest on as she straddles the wood bench. She gives an equally bawdy retort to the previous joke, the Celtic floral pattern embroidery on the light blue brat catches in the light with flashes of green matching her eyes mixed with the gold thread and small pink and purple flowers she wears over her white linen liene.
Glancing over she smiles at him holding her hand out to him to join her at the table. He steps into the light as the musicians play another lively song. He takes her hand, fingers softly brushing his palm as she pulls him toward her. His blue eyes returning her smile. He steps behind her and straddles the bench as well sitting down breathing deeply taking her scent, the perfume mixed with the smells of dinner and cooking fires. The scents and sounds fill him and intoxicate him as puts his arms around her waist feeling the heat of her body leans into his chest.
"I've missed you," she whispers softly, head resting on his shoulder. "Where have you been?"
"Watching you, making sure you are safe," he whispers back pressing his face into her hair kissing her neck and holding her tight.
"I can take care of myself you know," she retorts, a playful indignation edging her voice.
"Hmm, I know but I enjoy it."
"Enjoy what?" she protests wiggling her body in tighter hoping to feel his excitement press into her.
Leaning forward to kiss her cheek, "Loving you, being here for you."
"I know. I just wanted to hear you say it," she whispers back in his ear.
The moon rises and the festivities begin to wane. The laughter has begun to subside and many fires burn low as people head back to their tents to rest from a long day. She sits forward and begins to rise from the table finishing her drink.
"Good sir, would you kindly escort your lady to her tent?" she asks.
Rising to take her hand and kiss her fingers, "Of course milady," he whispers back.
They walk quietly back to her tent. The canvas flaps pulled back revealing a surprisingly large bed sitting atop carpets with a wooden chest and a small unlit fire pit.
She sits on the edge of the bed feeling the effects of the long day while he reaches a small fire to keep the chill off.
"Is there anything you want tonight?" he asks. The fire glinting in his eyes gazing on her beauty.
"Hmm, yes. I believe there is. Help me with the laces on my dress and close the tent flap."
Closing the flap he returns to her gripping her hips and pulling her close. One arm wrapping around her just below her breasts, the other running fingers through her hair. He buries his face again breathing in her scent like a rose takes in the sun.
"I want you," he whispers in her ear. He begins to pull at the laces at her shoulder, the same laces well within her own reach she had asked for assistance with.
"Then take me. I want to feel you in me," she replies softly.
The brat, untied, falls to the floor. She turns in his arms to face him in her thin chemise, the chilled air hardening her nipples. She kisses him. Every time feels like the first, her soft lips touching his, mouth opening gently and expectantly, a tenderness that never fades. One hand reaches his chest while the other teases his hair, gently running her fingertips through his hair and scalp.
He grabs her harder and pulls her in like she might escape or to merge their beings into one body so they could never part which causes a soft moan to escape her throat.
She breaks the kiss feeling his desire for her harden. Unbuckling his belt, she helps him out of his cloak leaving only his linen shirt already undone at the collar, chest hair visible and his kilt. She pulls his shirt over his head exposing his chest. Taking the opportunity, she kisses his chest and lightly nips his nipples. Letting the shirt fall to the floor on the growing piles, she smiles and reaches a hand down to gently slide it up his thigh meeting his hard manhood. In mock surprise she pulls her hand away feigning a gasp of shock allowing her remaining undergarment to slip on the floor.
"Why sir, what kind of lady do you take me for?!" she teases, lust in her own eyes. The fire making her skin warm, the mead making her stomach warm, her love for him keeping her heart warm. Her pale skin contrasting beautifully against her dark chestnut curls.
"A beautiful one," he breathes almost silently.
He grins and gently tosses her on the bed hair flying backwards and spilling on the pillows and over the edge of the bed. He takes a step forward dropping his kilt then taking another step forward. The heat now beginning to take the chill out of the air. His hard shaft reminding him of the other task he hoped to help her with that evening.
She props herself on her elbows gazing at the man now crawling into the bed, spreading her legs slightly. He begins kissing her feet and begins working his way up her leg. Ankle. Kiss. Calf. Kiss. Knee. Kiss. Thigh, kisses all the way up to her mound. He surprises her and kisses her womanhood but does not part the lips as he normally enjoys. Instead he continues further up. Belly button. Kisses. Stomach. Kiss. Sternum. Kiss.
Now he runs his fingertips over her breasts and nipples, replacing the kisses with a gentle lick and suck before moving higher kissing the tops of breasts, upper chest by the collar bone but skipping that and going to her neck. His naked body pressing onto her as she leans her head backwards reveling in the attention he is lavishing on her body.
