I'm already in this
1-25/27/28/29-2007 (Reyce, Issa):
After quietly and methodically stuffing himself on fish for dinner, one would think that Reyce would be slowed down by all the warm food in his stomach. Quite the opposite, though, he slides off Oshisyth's shoulder even before Issa gets down, and then turns to wait for her. It's one of those nights where Oshisyth isn't wearing any riding straps, so he has no reason not to steal her rider for himself as soon as she sets foot on the stone ledge. His jacket rustles as he slings an arm around Issa's shoulders, dragging her the half-step closer he needs for her hip to brush right up against him. Walking with the synched step he's perfected, a slow saunter that takes her shorter legs well into account, he leads her through the curtain and keeps going, ignoring the couch in favor of striking out leisurely to Issa's room.
Issa's gloved hand slaps down at his jacket padded waist on the opposite side, her arm casually slung behind him as she steps effortlessly into the pace he sets. She gradually leans into him, though the pressure is easy enough not to drag their steps slower or divert their path in any significant way. It takes her mere moments for her to determine the intended end he's chosen and a smile springs unseen to her face, the tightening of her circling arm serving as further evidence of that recognition. Oshisyth follows them in closely, head carried low as she tracks a mere few feet behind, but with a whuffed breath, she peels off and scrabbles onto her couch. "What, no drinks?" Issa asks teasingly, her cheek kept flush against the cool fabric of his coat as she turns to look up at him.
Reyce turns a look over his shoulder at the sudden scrabbling of claws that is Oshisyth crawling onto her couch, but the green is soon forgotten as the bedroom curtain looms near. Stopping there, he unwinds himself from Issa long enough to drag the curtain aside, leaving the room open so light from the outside illuminates it, however dimly. "No drinks," he confirms, though he's watching the curtain slide through its groove rather than watch Issa's face. That comes next, a slim quirk of a smile twisting onto his face when he looks at her. His hand slides under his top layer jacket, fishing around for the large pocket of his underlying trench coat, and dragging out a small jar full of clear salve. "Helps your burns," he informs her, giving the jar a demonstrative shake as he steps up in front of her and loops an arm around her waist. "Wherever you've got them." Eyebrows arched, he tilts a considering glance down at her body, as though he could see the sunburns lurking under her clothing, souvenirs from their Istan trip.
Issa rocks up onto her tiptoes, falling into the embrace he starts with that looping arm. "Huh," she comments, faux curiosity dragging at the sound. Approval and delight, however, take over the smile that Reyce only just gets a glimpse of before she turns her face down to the little jar he holds. One of her bracing hands lifts away from the edge of his jacket to cover the jar and his fingers holding it. After considering it for a few hanging seconds, she asks "You think it'll be enough?" Her tone is still marked by that facade of inquisitive innocence, but she makes no move to hide the mischief in her gaze as she flicks it back up to meet his.
Reyce's considering gaze tilts to the jar he holds, giving it another tilt and watching the thin layer of separated oils slide across the surface. "Think so," he muses, leveling the jar again. Still holding it, he curls his arm arounder her neck and lets it hang right next to her ear. Even the glass is cooling. "Have to see." He brings that twisted smile down to her mouth, leaving her with a kiss that still tastes faintly of the fish he ate for dinner. While the kiss holds, Reyce shuffles around her in a gradual circle, until he stands with his back to the bed, and then releases her and sits back on the edge of the mattress. He leans back on it, legs crossed at the ankle, with the jar of salve pushed out behind him in the hand that braces him on the bed.
"Guess so." Issa's eyes track from the jar up his still coat-covered arm to find his face, standing motionless in front of him, smile sliding up lopsidedly, for only a beat before she starts stripping. Her hands proceed slow and methodical over the outermost buttons, lingering over the unfastening pop of each one. Eventually she gets to the point where the coat slides from her shoulders and down behind her to the floor, but her motions don't seem to show any signs of quickening for the progress. Next she moves on to the ties of her riding pants, one eyebrow quirked upward at him as she takes her time tugging them out.
Reyce primarily watches the stripping, slow as it is, but the impatience he has with it is written clear on his tensed features. A glance upwards catches her gaze, quirked eyebrows and all, but doesn't hold it for half a second before dropping back to her pants with a low, frustrated growl. Tilting his arms back, he pushes off the bed and leaves the salve as well as his coats behind him, dragging them off by the sleeves and leaving the warm bundle in his place. In sweater and pants he slips around behind her, wrapping his arms through hers and reaching down to take the pace of the stripping away from her, the loosened ties giving way to a tug that has them sliding down to her ankles.
His low growl is met with a low laugh, rippling up close on the heels of the rise she gets out of him. Issa's hands give up their teasing tugs easily as he takes over their task and she leans back into him, her fingers settling over his knuckles instead, forearms resting on forearms. Pants at her ankles prompt her to simply step out of them, kicking them irreverantly to the corner of the bed with flick of her foot. Already burns are beginning to reveal themselves in a flush of red across the skin of her legs, showed off as she pivots to face him. "So helpful," she comments with mock praise as she raises her arms, waiting for him to continue with her sweater.
Reyce makes a low, gutteral sound at that tease, but he obediently reaches for her sweater. "Wouldn't mind, you actually did it once," he rumbles, but complaints aside he's taking his sweet time with the sweater. Careful of the burns, his hands cross her skin lightly, but cross it they do, running tingling lines up her reddened skin on the way to her raised arms. He tosses it off behind him, heedless of where it falls, and leans back in to go after her bra. His breath warms on her shoulder for an instant before he nips it, a light touch that registers strongly because of the burn he aimed for, and jerks his face back before she can retaliate. He's less careful with his hands, which have unhooked the clasp of her bra and now slide it forward, holding it on over her breasts.
"I do it all the time," Issa counters, playfully defensive... nevermind that when she does, it's normally just as slow as her earlier display. Submitting to the distraction of the tingling touch, she indulges in a pause with her eyelids fluttered closed and her smile drifting deeper, continuing only when she's free of the sweater. "And I /was/ doing it. It's not my fault if--" The nip cuts her off, the hiss of a breath sucked through her teeth falling in the place of further words. "Hey. I fail to see how that's helping," she chides faintly, her attempt at a pinch falling benignly onto the fabric of the sweater at his stomach. She doesn't linger over the failure, however; those same fingers reach up to hook the bit of bra between his two hands, tugging it swiftly downward so that it slips away without him having to pull his hands away. And she does it with a sly little smile, peeking up at him to catch the reaction to the sudden absence.
Surprise would be the immediate reaction. Reyce's jaw hangs slightly open, words considered but stolen from him before he has the chance to say them. The secondary reaction would be a slow rumble of laughter, his hands closing over her bare breasts as he leans down, putting his height to his advantage as he simply bends over her for a kiss. His hands squeeze along with his lips, though he's careful this time not to aggravate any burns she may have gotten swimming nude. "You were too slow," he informs her, then picks her up and spins her onto the bed, watching her bounce with an undisguised smirk. As soon as she settles, he steps forward to grab her ankles, just above the tops of sock and boot, and hold onto them while he considers her underwear and then her face with his own twisted into that quirk of a smile he had when he introduced this concept of the salve.
Issa bounces with a grunt, for though nearly all of her carries a sheen of faint redness, the burns are worst on her back and shoulders. Once settled, however, she only gives one slightly uncomfortable shift before lying still. "Slow can be good," she replies, paying more attention to the jar on the bed than to his wandering eyes or the hold he maintains on her ankles. She snags it and brings it over to her, balancing it over her bare bellybutton with both hands. Her feet idly alternate from side to side, faint movements that don't unseat his grip or distract from her consideration of the salve.
Reyce gives a faint snort when her focus moves onto the salve, letting his own slide back down to his own body. While she examines the neatly labeled jar - purpose, contents, and directions all laid forth in an obsessively neat and tidy hand - he removes his hands from his ankles and strips, starting with his shirt and moving quickly down to his boots. He leaves his underwear, and does for her as well, trapping one of her waving feet and blowing breath out through his nose as he unlaces the boots. One by one they drop to the floor, followed by her socks, and then he lifts his eyes to hers and holds his hand out for the salve. The other reaches down for the edge of his jackets, giving them a light tug to suggest she lift herself off them for a moment.
Issa cooperates with his wishes only so far. Her feet, now released, plant on the very edge of the bed, free of the jackets, so that she can rock her hips up and out of the way. But his reaching hand is left empty, as she keeps the salve, even pulling it further away from him. Pale eyes flick to meet his gaze over the top of her knees while she lightly jiggles the jar next to her face. There she'll wait for him to come get it.
No problem there. Reyce yanks the jackets out of the way and drops them on the floor, his hand already reaching for a placement on the mattress. Finding it, his other hand soon follows, and then both of his knees in slow succession as he crawls over her and stretches out for a kiss while he's so close. Not forgetful of his task, he curls his touch along the inside of her arm, making his way up to the jar of salve she holds.
Now Issa relinquishes her hold on the jar, smiling into the kiss when he finds and takes it from her. Her unburdened hand falls alongside his face, her thumb smoothing over rough stubble and her lips following in its wake. Gently her lips press down, careful of his own reddened burns, on his cheek, the point of his jaw, the area of his neck just below it. Then her head drops back down to the bed and she lets him begin his ministrations, holding out a helpful hand for the lid of the jar once he gets that far.
Reyce yields into her kisses with a soft, slow breath, his eyes slipping closed as her lips brush over his skin. Having secured the jar, he drags it in closer and only moves back when it gets to his chest. He sits up, his knees braced on either side of her body, and bundles his energy into twisting off the surprisingly tight cap. It gives way with a gentle pop, letting a wisp of aloe fragrance out into the room. Reyce just hands off the cap, dipping his fingers in for a miserly amount of the stuff and starts on her stomach. He rubs it in so thoroughly as to be nothing short of a massage, his warm dry hands contrasting with the smooth cool salve as he presses up her body. Teasing around her breasts, he slides his hands around them, but once he gets to the top he skips straight up to knead her shoulders from the front. Throughout all of it, he wears an expression of concentration, faint frown and squinted eyes combining while he works on her in the dim light.
The jar lid flips over and over in Issa's fingers as she watches him work, the other arm thrown behind her head to serve as an impromptu pillow. Her lids droop low while she switches between following the sweeps of his fingers and the concentration in his expression, her own face composed in a thoughtful quiet. "Remember," she begins musingly, voice just a murmur now that he's close enough to reach her shoulders, "when I told you I wasn't going to the island anymore?" Not to be confused with the island that brought her such sunburn. She readjusts slightly to allow him better access to those stronger burns along the tops of her shoulders, the arm she made a pillow tugged away again to instead lift a caress, soft lines from her fingernails skimming down his side as far as she can reach; then her hand falls to the bed again, limp at her side.
Not to be confused at all, Reyce recognizes the island she's referring to immediately. His touch pauses over her shoulders, but he passes it off into a need to refresh the dwindling amount of salve on his fingers. Their hands cross paths, though without touching, as hers drops from his side and his leans back to dip into the jar, catching aloe on the fingertips and bringing it back to distribute onto his other hand. "What," he asks, without much inflection. It's not a request for clarification - he remembers clearly enough - but an urging to skip to the point. His focus settles on his hands, her shoulders, as the salve rubs deeply in.
Blue eyes watch hazel as Issa studies him; half-lidded but slightly tense, they follow the flicks made as he tracks the salve-spreading efforts of his hands. "Well. I went again," she says, similarly inflection-less though it gets to the point quite well. The jar lid continues to twist between her fingers, flipping end over end in the cradle of her palm, though its pace slows to a crawl as she reveals that fact and waits for the response.
Summoned by those words, Reyce's eyes move to meet hers. There's no tension to be read in them, but there's something sharp in them all the same, some intense clarity of focus. Done with her shoulders, his hands slide together towards her arm, the one not playing with a jar lid, and lift it into a diagonal as they stroke down and around it. He waits, watching and massaging her, but he doesn't say anything.
Since he doesn't comment, Issa simply continues on to her explanation. "We needed a victim," she says, still looking up at him, though her studying stare gets interrupted by the occasional heavy blink as his massage continues. "And... that's where she is." A fact that obvious wins a quirked half-smile from her. "It wasn't really my trip. Turned out I was just the burdenbeast, actually." That newly obtained half smile twists down again with displeasure for her role in that errand, her eyes closing lazily over the thought. "I would have told you before, but... there were other people involved and they already didn't trust me. I thought it best if I didn't." This last is delivered quieter, with an edge of finality that the removal of her staring emphasizes; her eyes drift, unfocused, down to the arm he massages instead.
Reyce pushes her arm down gently, bending her elbow into the bed. It puts her forearm into easier reach, and his hands twist along it even though the aloe on his fingers is growing sparse. By the time he reaches her hands, there's just the faintest touch of salve left, barely detectable as his hands wrap around her smaller one and drag out the line of every fingerbone from wrist to nail. "Why'd you say you weren't going any more?" he wonders, and this time there actually is the soft upward curve of a question in his quiet voice. His eyes registered every word she said, occasionally with lighter versions of her blink, but now they turn to her hand.
Issa watches that hand too, her lips curling up with a dry, cynical amusement even before she says, "Roa decided." And then the smile fades again, dropping into its more relaxed, natural curve. Her fingers flex backward after that first massaging pass, but they lie limp and pliant in his grip from then on. "It was getting too risky. And I decided to let her have the upper hand. Until something important came along." Which would be this victim and the situation surrounding her, it seems.
Fingers finished, Reyce puts away the hand he was working on and reaches for the other, worming the jar lid out of her grasp before he returns to the jar itself, getting a dab more aloe onto his fingers before he moves up the burns on the other arm. "Still too risky." His eyes travel the whole path from her arm, along her shoulders, up her neck, to her face.
"Not the same way. Not any more," Issa counters, her head shaking lightly and further spreading her hair out on the bed. Her eyes wait for his and she explains once she has that solid eye contact to ground her. "I told Roa we went and she... understood. Now she and the Weyrleader-- he knows." Neither the pinning pronoun nor the thought of him knowing brings cheer to her tone, the addition dropped heavily into the middle of her explanation. "They're going to cover for me when I go next." Her gaze has drifted, but her eyes chase up after his again as she makes that casual little note.
Reyce's brows have already drawn into a frown by the time she drops that casual note, but they pull almost together when she adds it. "Cover all they want, won't be a secret to anybody when they turn up an Instigator and all those records for a harper trial." With more aloe and less need to rub in the small amounts obsessively, he's already down to the end of this arm and he works up her hand slowly. Her fingers aren't really sunburned, but he goes to them anyway. "Said I'd help you, but don't like this. Like it less, I hear more of it." His touch digs in sharply with the words, pushing through her hand quickly and putting it away. Without putting weight on them, he braces his hands on her shoulders and stares down at her.
"I know. I know," Issa mutters softly, her focus dropping off to the side with a sigh and tracking up past his shoulder before she'll meet his pinning gaze again. "I'm uneasy with the thought of bringing one of them back now, too. But what choice is there?" The hand he roughly dismissed gets tossed from the place it fell into a palm-baring gesture of helplessness. Her eyes move briefly to it and the slick coat of excess salve still sticking to a couple of her fingers and, after she's turned back to regard him, that hand moves to his arm and the redness there. With a curling caress, she spreads the lingering coolness down idly. "There's a decided lack of other options. Bribery's riskier than what we're doing, according to Roa. If we call a Weyr council with what we have, there's too many loopholes he could snake through. And I don't doubt he'd find them. Right now, she's got the Masterharper involved and interested. I haven't a clue what she has planned for the aftermath, but... I'm already in this." Resolve far from the lurking resignation of before brings her tone low and the grip of her fingers, already done with their secondary salving, suddenly tighter.
A shiver follows the touch of her hands, the reddened skin responding easily and well to the cool salve, but otherwise Reyce remains in place and staring steadily. When her grip clamps down on him, his muscles bunch against the pressure, though he slips his hands off her shoulders before they do more than press down a little. He twists suddenly to reach for the salve, though he could have simply bent an arm back; the one she has hold of stays put, but the rest of him turns into the motion. The word "Bullshit" goes with him. He picks up the bottle and promptly dips a thumb in, rubbing salve on the center of the palm opposite, and then switching the process with the other hands. As he does, his words punctuated by sharp sweeps of his thumb, he says, "Already said worst thing's doing what you can't see through. Say you're in it, but you don't know what she plans. Going to accuse Telgar's Weyrleader of torturing an Instigator, so what? Need a plan for if it fails, need one if it doesn't. Whole new set of problems. How to make him resign for it, or get him removed for it. How to make it /not/ look like Reaches does it for a power play, make it not look like a fucking Instigator did it for a power play, which is worse." He finished applying the salve to his hands long ago, but he still holds them apart from her skin. His eyes are on her breasts, but the frown that still rules his expression as well as the rough way he treated his hands gives some hint of why he's holding back for a while. Nostrils flared, he rolls his shoulders back and tries to run out tension that way.
Issa's eyes fly over his face with rapid flicks while a frown slowly sinks into her expression. When he quiets enough to begin contemplating her chest, her hands swing into action too, her palms bracing against his lower thighs while her fingers force their way into the thin line of space at the crook of his knee. The dig of her thumbs, left on the outside, calls his attention back to her face, but she continues regardless of whether she's successful or not. "Don't start fuming," she tells him with a firm and measured intonation, eyes intent beneath the tension of her frown. "Just /talk/ to me. I'm listening." Her thumbs dig again, the pressure there smoothing somewhat the lines that came with her frown. "I didn't say I didn't have a plan. I said I didn't know what hers was."
Reyce's shoulders halt, caught in a roll backwards, when her hands fall onto his knees. His first instinct leads him to watch her fingers working under the crook of his knee, but the dig from her thumb brings him back to her face. He finishes the roll of his shoulders while she speaks, gradually allowing his frown to steam away. His head and neck sink down, curving his shoulders with them to give him a sullen look, but when she finishes he says, "Okay," and takes a short sniff. Eyes flicking down to her breasts, he sets his hands down on them; though the usual entertainment he would get from this opportunity is lacking, he's not mauling her at least. "What's your plan?" he asks after he's had another moment to settle.
Issa’s thumbs set down again, but not to give a harsh dig this time but to sweep across his skin gently. A deep breath arches up under his hands and seeps back out of her with breezy contentment, for his touch and agreement both. “Telgar needs to get involved,” she begins, shifting back into the covers with an fleeting, uneasy tension around her eyes, a slight wince for the rub of the furs against a burned back. “Now. It needs to at least look like they had a part in initiating it all. Someone important, influential… trustworthy, to challenge S’lien, if we decide to. To be there when the greenrider comes. Maybe to fetch her, even, along with the Reachian delegate.” Her lips quirk for the self-appointed title, a small and subtle motion. “Though, that really should be one of the riders that originally carried out the exile. It would make it more official, make it seem like a summoning rather than a return the exiles had any control over. If this works, like you said,” thumbs sweep across his leg again, “it’s Telgar, cleaning out its own. We back off and leave the rest to Telgar, focus on our own domestic issues for a long while after. If it doesn’t work…” And this is where the hesitation sits, her mouth working into a slight purse as she contemplates the unsavory outcome. “His support is going to be shaken anyway. We can hope that Telgar’s bronzeriders will have the clout to force resignation on him. We can hope that if they don’t, the next leadership flight will unseat him, anyway, with the people’s trust compromised. But I haven’t gotten much further than hopes. Blackmail’s all but impossible once we’ve gone through with it. We do much more than hope, it /is/ likely to get High Reaches in trouble.”
Reyce watches Issa's chest for the first part of her explanation, but since it still doesn't hold as much of his attention as it might normally, it's clear that his primary focus is her words. The salve finished, he slides hands down her ribs and leans back, bringing his eyes up to meet hers directly. Apart from the occasional flick to take in a changing detail of her expression, he's still from that point onwards as his fingers warm against her skin. "Yeah," he says finally, pushing his fingers in. Shifting to the side, he swings his leg over so he's crouched next to her now, one hand still splayed across her stomach. "Like making it look like a summoning. Telgar's, not Reaches." His fingers slip down her leg and close over her ankle, pulling it up till her bent leg rests right next to him. While he puts on more salve, Reyce turns to examine the burns on her leg. "You have ideas how to do it?"
Issa's hands pull away from his legs as he begins to move, fingertips sliding down to his knee before they drop to the bed. "Some," she replies, pulling one arm back to cushion her head as she had it before, the angle allowing her to continue watching the salve-smearing. The burning on her legs is concentrated on her thighs, front and back, and a small bit on the tops of her feet, faint red deepening further there. "Roa would know who, if anyone, would work. But I need to see if the greenrider would agree to something like that first. She's not likely to want to trust anyone from Telgar at all. I wouldn't. And to keep it up, she'd have to be kept confined during the trial. She won't like that, either. If I can get her to agree, we have whoever Roa chooses come here to meet-- make it seem like he's looking for our help, for neutral territory for the greenrider to come to. Then we step into the background for the trial itself... Roa and R'vain will be witnesses for her story, sure, and there's the little fact of where all the evidence came from, but..." One shoulder lifts in a lopsided shrug. "It can't be helped."
When her hand moves away from his knee, forced off by his motion, Reyce's eyes follow the retreat and pause there for a moment before he turns to her legs. Since most of the burning lies on her thigh, he concentrates his efforts there, running a line of salve down the middle of her leg and then pressing it out till it wraps around her leg. His own, meanwhile, edges back towards her, the knee giving her a gentle nudge in the hip as he shifts forward, his crouch unwinding somewhat as he leans in to reach the far side of her leg. "No," he agrees softly with her closing statement. "Could get Ista in, maybe, they don't want it to look like they were helping S'lien if he's doing what he shouldn't. Maybe need a reason for Telgar to come to Reaches as neutral ground, too, but depends who you wind up getting from there. Just a thing." He, too, shrugs. Even without a burn to give him the excuse, he slides his hands down her calf and pulls her leg straight again. He leaves her feet alone, perhaps not noticing the burns there in the dim light, and reaches for the opposite leg.
As soon as Issa sees he's moving onto the next leg, she turns onto her side, shifting that nudged hip nearest to him into the mattress. It manages to bring that far leg closer, the bent knee of her sideways leg practically dropped into his laps, into his hands. Her cushioning arm gets recruited to prop up her head, her gaze left to tilt up at him from its lean. "Ista's an unknown," she tells him. Her other hand is slowly brought around from behind her, orienting on his knee at the same time her eyes drift down to it. "No contacts. We don't know where they stand. Roa knows the people of Telgar, though." She pauses, watching her fingers as they make contact with that knee nearest her, palm curved against his thigh as it creeps further up. "That gives reason enough for the meeting, too, I think. Roa makes no secret about being an open-minded Weyrwoman and, if the rider knows her it would make sense for him to approach her." Her hand slides slowly under the hem of his shorts, just far enough for the whole of her fingers to be slipped under before she backtracks down again.
"Not saying count on Ista," Reyce replies, though he waits for her to finish first. He's already at work on her leg by this time, pulling it all the way into his lap and holding it there while he strokes. "Might turn up their own information, though, it looks like things go against S'lien. Would help." When her fingers go to his shorts, he keeps rubbing salve into her leg although his eyes flick aside to watch her, and he doesn't notice himself rubbing the same spot for a moment or two. A light snort-sniff combination brings him back to the present long enough to finish that leg and stretch it down, his hand going to her hip afterwards. He leans onto it, shifting his own hips to the side so he can lean towards her face, his shadow interrupting the light that falls on her. "Didn't burn your ass, too, did you?" he wonders quietly, moving a finger over the portion of her ass covered by panties and sliding it up and down briefly.
Issa's fingers sweep back down to his knee and stay there, miniature caresses dealt out there while he finishes her leg. Her eyes lift from watching her smoothing fingers when he asks her a question, mouth stretching wider into a mildly sheepish, heavily mirthful smile. "Yeah," she replies, head nodding. With a squeeze, her caresses lift away as she reaches toward where his own lies along her hip. She pinches a section of the waistband and pulls it slowly away from her skin. "Need them off?" she asks, one eyebrow arched slightly above its mate.
Reyce brushes his hand against hers as it draws away, twisting around behind him till it finds where he left the jar. "Yeah," he murmurs, bringing his salved thumb back to touch pads with the thumb opposite and spread the wealth. Leaning further forward, he touches his thumbs down on either side of her nose, pushing them out to spread aloe along the faint flush on her cheeks. He pauses to drop a light kiss on her, sweeps her forehead, kisses again. "You don't mind." Drawing back, and dragging the last of the salve down her nose while he does, he returns the gesture of the raised eyebrow and waits.
The waistband snaps back down to her skin as she releases it, her surprise at the kiss drawing her hand up to his side instead. She rolls back down to her back during that first kiss, that hand put to use to drag him over with her. Closed eyes drag open again as she lifts her head to follow the kiss to its end and she meets the raised eyebrow with an impish smile, already beginning to wriggle as her legs are drawn up to support her efforts. The hand pulled away from his side joins the other one in sliding off her underwear, much faster now than she was in her earlier stripping. Soon enough, their kicked over the edge of the bed, dropping out of sight, out of mind. "There," she says, leaning up into another quick, smiling kiss before she translates that lean into a full turn, flipping over onto her stomach. "What do you think," she speaks again after a beat of settling in, chin placed on the crossed arms put in front of her, "if the trial doesn't convict him?"
Reyce moves easily into the pull of her hand, planting an arm on the other side of him to support him for the kisses to which she draws him. He stares down at her, patient as he can be, while she wriggles out of her panties, and tips his nose forward to meet that smiling kiss as it comes up to him. She turns to face the bed before he can pursue any more kisses than that, but the brush of his hand moves her hair aside long enough for him to steal just one more kiss, pressed lightly to the sunburned skin of her neck. "Think it better convict him," he says unhelpfully as he withdraws. His knee swings over her again, but he doesn't sit on her this time, remaining in elevation of her lower legs while he touches cool salve to her ass. "It doesn't, be no more chances changing him out. Not for turns, maybe not at all. Might put the Instigator at risk of retaliation, through trial or something else. Kidnapped those kids, remember, and came North against the rules for exile." He pauses, finished with her ass, to get the jar of salve. "Think of it now, might happen the case goes through or not. Want to check with Harper, something, first."
Issa's head drops to the side, cheek pressed down instead of her chin, a change that allows him a view of her profile, eyes closed, lips press together with faint tension. "Yeah," she agrees quietly, head moving lightly in a slow nod, then lapses into thoughtful silence. "I'm just afraid he's going to end up getting out of it somehow. No matter how much we have on him." Her head moves again, a gesture that might be a shake were it not impeded by her arms below, and she nestles further into the blankets with an air of finality in her silent sigh.
A cold mass slaps down in the center of Issa's back, allowed to freeze and (perhaps) startle her a moment before Reyce's hands follow it, warm palms easing the cool shock of contact as he slathers salve across her skin. It's a more generous amount than he used in previous areas, and he sets to work it in with more assiduous massaging, his lips pressed tight and brow furrowed while he concentrates. "He might," Reyce remarks at last, unhelpful even after he's had a delay for thought. "Be a different thing, then, new things to deal with. See what they are, it happens, deal with them then." He returns to her shoulders, bringing yet more aloe for this especially burned portion, and he leans his weight down into pressing her shoulderblades, keeping his body still poised above her. "Right now, just have to stay in it, not stop thinking what you can do if something starts going wrong. May not be anything. Just keep an eye out."
The sudden cold does, indeed, startle Issa; she sucks in a swift breath and her eyes fly open. But she doesn't need to look back and catch sight of the salve for recognition to set in, and when it does the breath escapes from behind a smile, amusement coloring the exhalation. The amusement is quick to quiet down and her face returns to an expression of relaxation colored by thoughtful consideration when he speaks, eyes still open but staring unfocused at the wardrobe beyond the foot of the bed. She stifles a wince when he reaches her red shoulders, leaving a little tension in the muscles beneath that fades again as he works the salve in. Her lips lift into a thin smile that stays as the silence returns, a mere beat passing before she gives another sigh, lighter this time, and nods her head. The only contribution she offers, for she drifts into a shut-eyed contentment once again and shuts up to enjoy the tail end of that massage.
The silence settles easily as Reyce's full concentration moves to his massage. If any of the salving he's already done has tired him at all, he's determined not to let it show, his press firm and steady for the next fifteen minutes, applying more aloe in smaller amounts whenever her skin seems to be drying up again. In the end he just rubs his flattened palm back and forth across her skin in a light zig-zag, a final moment's contact he draws back, bucks his shoulders into a roll, and moves off the bed. His feet slap lightly on the floor while he approaches her face, bending once her reaches it to crook her chin towards him and place a quick kiss on the corner of her lips. "Have to piss," he explains, and then walks out through the open curtains to do that.
Issa's eyes crack open when the contact ends and he slides off the bed, stirring further from the massage-induced sleepiness to angle her head and follow his progress around the bed. The announcement brings a stronger smile to those lips he just kissed and the low sound of a single lazy chuckle deep in her throat chases him out the curtain. When he returns, Issa's pushed herself back onto her knees, resting back on her feet, and has reoriented so that she faces the curtain he comes through. She's retrieved the jar and its lid both, the latter twirled about on top of a single finger while the former merely sits wedged between the points of her knees. Eyes lift from her idle reverie and she welcomes him back with her gaze as well as a ready smile. "Your turn," she tells him, the lid, already rolled to a stop on her finger, newly gripped by her thumb so she can wave him over with it.
Naked, glistening, and beckoning to him - the sight of Issa when he walks back is enough to make Reyce pause in the doorway, making a quiet sound at the back of his throat after he sees her. He makes no effort not to stare, but he does an admirable job of keeping his mouth shut until he has wits enough to move. He seats himself on the edge of the bed, beside Issa, and rolls his gaze up to her face as he scoots back far enough to get his legs on the bed. From there she'll have to guide him, it appears, for he just watches her eyes quietly.
Issa relishes the staring attention she gets, triumph and delight both gleaming in the smile that only grows the longer it takes for his wits to return to him. Her movements are almost clinical, save for that smile; once he's situated on the bed, she abandons the jar lid and lifts up to walks on her knees over to his side, a businesslike hand planted in the middle of his chest to press him prone. Once he's there, she swings one leg to the other side, knees tucked high and close against him as she straddles his stomach, keeping herself up and in plain view while she scoops out a bit of salve with her fingers. After finding a spot on the bed next to him for the jar, she begins to bend down, spreading out the salve across her palms. His turn begins with the back of his neck, elbows supporting her bent torso as her hands reach around behind to rub in the cooling stuff. She brings her face down too, curls tossed out of the way so she can murmur against his neck. "You burn your ass, too?" she asks teasingly, a toe pressing into the side of his hip as if to indicate. Then her mouth sinks into a nip at the burned skin at the base of his neck-- delayed retaliation for his earlier bite-- before her hands smooth over the spot with the salve. Her face lifts, mischief carried out, to make eye contact again.
Reyce makes her press him all the way down, his body moving where she tells it to but no further. By the time he's lying back and looking up at her, he's nursed his own smirk with which to watch the way she hovers over him, every part of her body treated to its own extended look-over until she leans right over him and blocks his view. He does nothing to help her lift his head, but once up he turns his face in towards her, his breath warming over her curls. There's time to form no more than the beginning 'N' of his answer before she sinks her teeth in and he jerks, tugging his shoulder up and for a moment pinning her hand against his neck. When eye contact resumes, he lets out a low growl - more lust than malice in it - that rolls into the full word, "No," and drops off when his hands clap down over the bare cheeks of her ass. Giving her a tug that shifts her weight forward (towards him) he rumbles, "Kept my pants on." 'Pants' meaning only his undershorts in this case, naturally.
Issa lets out a muffled note of protest as his hands clap down, straightening slightly above him with her eyes flung wide and mouth dropped open. But her smile persists when she rebounds from the initial surprise, more amused by the smarting slap than truly offended. Her hands swing around to the front of his neck, thumbs spreading salve up the line of his throat, gently still despite his rough response. Her eyes glance back over her shoulder and not more than a glimpse of fabric could have been captured before she returns her attention to her task, muttering a mockingly disappointed, "Pity." Blue eyes follow her fingers as they reach his jawline and then skip, after a brief stop at the jar to get more salve, to his forehead, smoothing down slick lines there before moving down to his nose and cheeks. And, though she slips in quick, flirting little glances up to meet his eyes, her motions are still reserved to cool strokes more collected than passionate.
Reyce drops head back, while she still supports his neck, so that his throat lies wholly exposed and his face angles wholly away. If he intended to hide his mirth over the pain he caused her with his slap, he betrays his intent with a pair of laughs that, while absolutely silent, tug his throat and upper chest. Once she returns his neck to him, he changes the angle enough that he's able to see her face (although he must peer around his nose and over his chin to do so), but leaves his throat bared to her ministrations. Closer to laughter, a low rumble shakes his neck while she works on it, triggered by that single disappointed word. His eyes fix on hers, catching each flirting glance with burning intensity, and his hands move around to cup her hips, one of them taking the scenic route as it runs lightly up and down her spine before it settles.
“Next time we go to Ista,” Issa starts, without the slightest doubt that there will be a next time. She has to break to exhale through a sudden stretch of her smile as his hand trails down her back, her bottom lip bitten before it rolls back out to form more words. “You should be naked more. Or I should stay in the shade more. Maybe both,” she decides impishly while she puts the finishing touch on his nose, dragging the pad of her finger out to its tip. Then she pushes up altogether, unkinking the curve of her back while her hands busy themselves retrieving the jar again. “That way,” she says, fishing out a clump of the diminishing salve with her fingers and smearing it across her hands, “we’ll match.” With slicked hands she snags his arm and guides it over to one of those spots their burns don’t match, placing his hand over her breast while she watches his reaction to the mischievous positioning. While he’s busy there, her arms stretch down the length of his and she ends up having to lean just slightly over again to reach the line where the reddened skin begins.
"Maybe both," Reyce agrees in a soft murmur, his eyes on the breast he's been brought to. With no political frustrations to distract him this time, he makes the best of his hand's placement, working his way down from slow massaging squeezes to a single thumb circled in a gradually tightening spiral. As he reaches her nipple, he lifts his half-lidded gaze back to her face, a slim smirk spreading across his features. "Could be now," he muses, tossing an explanatory glance down at the hem of his boxers, "you wanted." His other hand slides up her side, pressing up her other breast before he wraps it in his palm.
"Hmm," Issa hums, making a point to consider his suggestion as she works her hands up to his-- it's less about salve, now that most of it has been worked into the burns of his arm, and more about the contact, more toying than his firmly massaging touch of earlier. Her fingers weave in between his then pull down across his palm as she looks back over her shoulder. "Hm," she utters again, considering the boxers themselves this time. The smile she turns back to him is thoroughly impish, somewhat strained as she tries to quiet it unsuccessfully. She gives a dismissive little shrug and says with mock regret, "No sun." Despite that, though, her feet fumble around his sides and find the waistband of his shorts, both big toes pushing under it as best they can. Leaning forward, she starts over again, more salve retrieved so that she can sweep down from bicep to fingertips again, grinning glances tossed up to him while she works it in.
Reyce lifts his waist, taking weight off the boxer shorts and making it easier for her toes to wriggle underneath the band. His hand remains up where she left it after working her fingers down the palm, though he lets it lower slowly and finds her ankle with it. Each hand echoes the other, one over her breast and the other her foot, but his main focus is on her foot, pushing at her ankle to urge the foot to turn out and pull his shorts further down. "So?" he wonders, giving her heel and her breast a twitch.
Issa's efforts with his second arm are abandoned at his wrist, unwilling to distract his hand from its current caresses this time. Instead both hands settle slick fingerprints along his stomach as she braces herself and leans into the hand on her breast. "So," she repeats with a less questioning intonation, curls dangling over him and touching down on his cheeks just as teasingly as her words, "how am I supposed to get your ass burned if there's no sun? And really." Her addition gets interrupted by a kiss dropped down onto his lips. "Where's the fun if you're not getting burned?" Another kiss, longer than the first, and then she proves she knows exactly where the fun is, the foot not captured by him slipped out only so she can slide a hand down to take it's place, fingers pushing under to find his bare, unburned ass.
The foot is abandoned as soon as her hand reaches his ass, trusting her to figure out the undressing on her own from that point on. Instead, Reyce lifts his hand to the back of her head, digging through those curls and pulling them some of them back as his fingers clench in, holding her in place. His head lifts up to push her mouth back with his own, his weight shifted back down to trap her fingers on his ass as he thuds back down to the bed. After hanging onto the kiss for an extra minute, he pulls back for a quick, deep breath. "You tell me," he suggests, pulling her back for another kiss. The other hand has stayed between them, pressing her breast, but now it slides straight down her stomach and runs a caress down her inner thigh.
Reyce scoots his knees forward, lifting himself on them so it's easier to get his shorts off. He lost his grip on his inner thigh, but the hand returns quickly to her thigh, sliding down it till he has her calf and enough leverage to lift her leg over his back. There's no room left in his panting hurry for casual words, or really voice at all, as he pushes down for another kiss. The hand on the back of her head tugs out from beneath her, slipping between them (so long as he's braced over her) and going to the breast that hasn't seen attention lately. He pushes up on it as his hips push forward, forcing his waistband to tug against her slow-paced hand and creating his own speed.
Issa's hand tugs more steadily after the insistent press of his hips, dragging the shorts down as far as she can before her grounded foot will take over, stomping them down to the bed around his planted knees. And that's as far as she can go, so her hand traces a light line up the back of his thigh and again over the curve of his ass. Her chin tilts down out of the kiss for long enough to shoot a flicked glance down at his hand, to turn her eyes up to meet his and mutter, "Colder." With a smile, her lips return to his, delight evident with this new, if slightly obvious, guessing game.
That's as far as she needs to go, for Reyce takes over as soon as his shorts are off. His hands stomp down on either side of her head, providing a thud of objection to the hint she taunts him with. And if his next guess isn't right on the mark, then it will remain a mystery to him just what she was after, if not sex. Elbows crooked, but still holding him up, he looks down at her as he begins, his mouth hung open to let out his heavy pants. Soon his mouth gawps after hers, a few weaker efforts leading into a fierce one as he sets his full weight down on top of her so his chest moves slick against her salved one. The kiss only grows the stronger as he gathers speed, ending in a loud growl exhaled into her mouth. He moves weakly on top of her, finished but staying with her, and slides his mouth away so he can breathe again.
#417 @emit If that wasn’t the mark, Issa makes no move to stop him, her other leg joining the first to pin him between them. Her hands originally clench on his ass where they started but soon move in swift motions all along his back, as encouraging, urging as the groaning sounds she makes, muffled by his mouth or not. She manages enough voice to softly call his name, “Reyce,” but that’s all she can get out before a moan slurs away words and his fierce kiss cuts off that moan. Speed brings with it clutching fingers digging nails into his shoulders as she escalates shudderingly to the end. Rasping breaths against his face mark the slower decline on the other side before she utters with a sticking shred of mirth, “Bingo,” shedding light on a game probably already long forgotten. Her hands smooth away from the little red marks she’s left on the skin of his back and fall along either side of his face, his head tilted up to her then slowly back down as she plants soft kisses on his mouth, the tip of his nose, between his eyes, the top of his forehead all in turn. Then she curls his cheek down to her chest, one arm circled over his hair while the other hand travels back down to laze across his neck.
Sweat has loosed the aloe from his skin, making each of those kisses taste of salt and salve. Reyce knows nothing of it and yields to each of them, summoning up small purses of his lips when she's on his mouth and afterwards just nudging his nose forward and closing his eyes to encourage her. His eyes flick open again when she moves his face away, staring blankly at the moving space in front of him, but when his cheek settles down against her chest the light brush of his short eyelashes marks them closing again. He pulls down a light swallow, one of his hands moving beside her to trace the curved outline of her body beneath him. He may seem, by this point, to have forgotten or completely missed her comment, but at last he answers, "Yeah." The whispering quiet in his voice is followed by another swallow.
Issa lightly, idly strokes down his curls while she waits for her breathing to steady. Which it does with time, thrown off of the newly established pace only by a sudden if slight intake of breath, as if to warn of words to come. It culminates in an anticlimatic, "Mmm," though, hummed under that newly steadied breath, a quick swallow following it. A few more moments of silent stroking and the words signaled earlier come now with no warning. "I'm... cold," she mumbles using the pause to deal out one last press through his curls before shifting under him, and attempting to untangle her legs. "Under the covers," she instructs, the thumb on his neck massaging down lightly like it did when the salve wasn't streaked with sweat before her hand pulls away.
Reyce grunts reluctantly, but after her legs have been unwrapped he pushes off her, giving them both more room to maneuver in. He rolls over onto his side, facing the other end of the bed, and pulls back the corner of the covers there to give himself a space to slide under. Grunting more as he moves under, he eventually drops down to the bared mattress and pulls the blankets back over himself, settling on his back and folding his hands over his stomach beneath the covers. Comfortable now, he drops his head to the side and looks at Issa. There's little light left from the outer weyr, the fire having dimmed to almost nothing, but the shadow outlines are still visible.
Issa goes straight for the head of the bed once he's lifted himself from her, pushing her cooled feet deep under the covers and letting the rest of her body follow them. But even then she's far from settled-- she scoots toward his shadowed outline and rearranges herself until she's got as much contact as they had before the move, though it's her cheek resting against his chest this time. Legs busy re-twisting with his, she allows some time for the stillness to sink in, then she asks a quietly curious question. "Will we sleep in the same room, when we go to Benden?"
Reyce drops one of his arms down when he sees her shadow scooting towards him, and waits until she's next to him before he bends that elbow up and wraps her in. Absently, he tucks a curl behind her ear, letting his eyes roll up toe the darkened ceiling. To judge by the foot that turns down to caress her leg, he appreciates the resumed contact, though he leaves the twisting together up to her. Her question leaves him silent for a moment, his consideration frowned into the dark. "Probably not," he answers honestly, brushing his foot against her again. "Not like anyone won't guess we're fucking, but looks bad, and I get my same room, bed's built for one person. Long as your room's just you, though, no one cares if you leave it." Puffing a single, soundless snort of laughter, he lets his touch drag down to her shoulder.
"Mmm." That is Issa's vague response to the negation, the hum hinting at disappointment and thoughtfulness both. Her hand wanders slowly down his side, thumb tracing the lines and curves she knows by heart in any light. "Too bad Benden doesn't have any handy beaches or docks," she comments, far lighter than her initial reaction. In fact, laughter even breathes down onto his chest as she adds, "You'll have to let me hide a few pairs of underwear in your clothespress," wide smile pressed down against his skin.
"There are vineyards," Reyce points out, "and docks by the river." The hand that's not on her already reaches over, starting at her shoulder and running a lightning-fast skim down her spine, ending in the small of her back. "Store rooms. Records. Couches, desks." He drops his voice to a whisper when he adds, "Private baths," and moves his hand down to her ass, giving the near cheek a little squeeze. A soft breath of laughter rolls out of him, but even as it does the other hand has moved back to her hair, stroking her gently and with a muted air of conciliation. After a small silence has fallen, he admits softly, "Letter said I might have to help the steward, last minute things. Winds up that way, might only see you at night, same as here." The 'same as here' is not tacked on as a defense, but as a quiet complaint; compared to the amount of time they had at Ista, 'same as here' doesn't seem like much for a vacation.
Either the anticipation generated by that list or the hand sweeping down her back-- quite possibly both-- cause Issa to squirm against him, trying to make already close contact even closer. "That's alright." The hand at his side, having reached far past his hip, swings up again and falls in between them, the touch transferring to his neck and flowing down from there. "It's better that way," she tells him, eyes lifting as her hand drifts further and further down his chest. But what begins as a serious intimation at his future plans twists effortlessly into a lightly teasing joke. "I can rest up during the day, scout out places..." Her fingers drum in place to the side of his belly button then her hand changes paths and curves around to his back.
Reyce's eyelids droop lazily while she squirms and rubs her hand against him, and he goes so far as to stretch into the flowing contact that runs from his neck to his belly. While he does, his fingers tighten over their respective grips, no doubt leaving white dents in the red flush of her skin. "Okay," he murmurs as he drops back, the hand on her ass reversing its previous course as it runs up to her shoulders and drapes over them. "Better rest up well," he adds as that arm settles, his voice dulling to a mere whisper.
"Mmm," Issa murmurs again, contented sleepiness swirled with idle agreement packed into the hummed syllable this time. Apparently she takes his words literally, for with her arm draped across him, head tucked underneath his chin, she sets down one last kiss on his skin and settles in for sleep.
After quietly and methodically stuffing himself on fish for dinner, one would think that Reyce would be slowed down by all the warm food in his stomach. Quite the opposite, though, he slides off Oshisyth's shoulder even before Issa gets down, and then turns to wait for her. It's one of those nights where Oshisyth isn't wearing any riding straps, so he has no reason not to steal her rider for himself as soon as she sets foot on the stone ledge. His jacket rustles as he slings an arm around Issa's shoulders, dragging her the half-step closer he needs for her hip to brush right up against him. Walking with the synched step he's perfected, a slow saunter that takes her shorter legs well into account, he leads her through the curtain and keeps going, ignoring the couch in favor of striking out leisurely to Issa's room.
Issa's gloved hand slaps down at his jacket padded waist on the opposite side, her arm casually slung behind him as she steps effortlessly into the pace he sets. She gradually leans into him, though the pressure is easy enough not to drag their steps slower or divert their path in any significant way. It takes her mere moments for her to determine the intended end he's chosen and a smile springs unseen to her face, the tightening of her circling arm serving as further evidence of that recognition. Oshisyth follows them in closely, head carried low as she tracks a mere few feet behind, but with a whuffed breath, she peels off and scrabbles onto her couch. "What, no drinks?" Issa asks teasingly, her cheek kept flush against the cool fabric of his coat as she turns to look up at him.
Reyce turns a look over his shoulder at the sudden scrabbling of claws that is Oshisyth crawling onto her couch, but the green is soon forgotten as the bedroom curtain looms near. Stopping there, he unwinds himself from Issa long enough to drag the curtain aside, leaving the room open so light from the outside illuminates it, however dimly. "No drinks," he confirms, though he's watching the curtain slide through its groove rather than watch Issa's face. That comes next, a slim quirk of a smile twisting onto his face when he looks at her. His hand slides under his top layer jacket, fishing around for the large pocket of his underlying trench coat, and dragging out a small jar full of clear salve. "Helps your burns," he informs her, giving the jar a demonstrative shake as he steps up in front of her and loops an arm around her waist. "Wherever you've got them." Eyebrows arched, he tilts a considering glance down at her body, as though he could see the sunburns lurking under her clothing, souvenirs from their Istan trip.
Issa rocks up onto her tiptoes, falling into the embrace he starts with that looping arm. "Huh," she comments, faux curiosity dragging at the sound. Approval and delight, however, take over the smile that Reyce only just gets a glimpse of before she turns her face down to the little jar he holds. One of her bracing hands lifts away from the edge of his jacket to cover the jar and his fingers holding it. After considering it for a few hanging seconds, she asks "You think it'll be enough?" Her tone is still marked by that facade of inquisitive innocence, but she makes no move to hide the mischief in her gaze as she flicks it back up to meet his.
Reyce's considering gaze tilts to the jar he holds, giving it another tilt and watching the thin layer of separated oils slide across the surface. "Think so," he muses, leveling the jar again. Still holding it, he curls his arm arounder her neck and lets it hang right next to her ear. Even the glass is cooling. "Have to see." He brings that twisted smile down to her mouth, leaving her with a kiss that still tastes faintly of the fish he ate for dinner. While the kiss holds, Reyce shuffles around her in a gradual circle, until he stands with his back to the bed, and then releases her and sits back on the edge of the mattress. He leans back on it, legs crossed at the ankle, with the jar of salve pushed out behind him in the hand that braces him on the bed.
"Guess so." Issa's eyes track from the jar up his still coat-covered arm to find his face, standing motionless in front of him, smile sliding up lopsidedly, for only a beat before she starts stripping. Her hands proceed slow and methodical over the outermost buttons, lingering over the unfastening pop of each one. Eventually she gets to the point where the coat slides from her shoulders and down behind her to the floor, but her motions don't seem to show any signs of quickening for the progress. Next she moves on to the ties of her riding pants, one eyebrow quirked upward at him as she takes her time tugging them out.
Reyce primarily watches the stripping, slow as it is, but the impatience he has with it is written clear on his tensed features. A glance upwards catches her gaze, quirked eyebrows and all, but doesn't hold it for half a second before dropping back to her pants with a low, frustrated growl. Tilting his arms back, he pushes off the bed and leaves the salve as well as his coats behind him, dragging them off by the sleeves and leaving the warm bundle in his place. In sweater and pants he slips around behind her, wrapping his arms through hers and reaching down to take the pace of the stripping away from her, the loosened ties giving way to a tug that has them sliding down to her ankles.
His low growl is met with a low laugh, rippling up close on the heels of the rise she gets out of him. Issa's hands give up their teasing tugs easily as he takes over their task and she leans back into him, her fingers settling over his knuckles instead, forearms resting on forearms. Pants at her ankles prompt her to simply step out of them, kicking them irreverantly to the corner of the bed with flick of her foot. Already burns are beginning to reveal themselves in a flush of red across the skin of her legs, showed off as she pivots to face him. "So helpful," she comments with mock praise as she raises her arms, waiting for him to continue with her sweater.
Reyce makes a low, gutteral sound at that tease, but he obediently reaches for her sweater. "Wouldn't mind, you actually did it once," he rumbles, but complaints aside he's taking his sweet time with the sweater. Careful of the burns, his hands cross her skin lightly, but cross it they do, running tingling lines up her reddened skin on the way to her raised arms. He tosses it off behind him, heedless of where it falls, and leans back in to go after her bra. His breath warms on her shoulder for an instant before he nips it, a light touch that registers strongly because of the burn he aimed for, and jerks his face back before she can retaliate. He's less careful with his hands, which have unhooked the clasp of her bra and now slide it forward, holding it on over her breasts.
"I do it all the time," Issa counters, playfully defensive... nevermind that when she does, it's normally just as slow as her earlier display. Submitting to the distraction of the tingling touch, she indulges in a pause with her eyelids fluttered closed and her smile drifting deeper, continuing only when she's free of the sweater. "And I /was/ doing it. It's not my fault if--" The nip cuts her off, the hiss of a breath sucked through her teeth falling in the place of further words. "Hey. I fail to see how that's helping," she chides faintly, her attempt at a pinch falling benignly onto the fabric of the sweater at his stomach. She doesn't linger over the failure, however; those same fingers reach up to hook the bit of bra between his two hands, tugging it swiftly downward so that it slips away without him having to pull his hands away. And she does it with a sly little smile, peeking up at him to catch the reaction to the sudden absence.
Surprise would be the immediate reaction. Reyce's jaw hangs slightly open, words considered but stolen from him before he has the chance to say them. The secondary reaction would be a slow rumble of laughter, his hands closing over her bare breasts as he leans down, putting his height to his advantage as he simply bends over her for a kiss. His hands squeeze along with his lips, though he's careful this time not to aggravate any burns she may have gotten swimming nude. "You were too slow," he informs her, then picks her up and spins her onto the bed, watching her bounce with an undisguised smirk. As soon as she settles, he steps forward to grab her ankles, just above the tops of sock and boot, and hold onto them while he considers her underwear and then her face with his own twisted into that quirk of a smile he had when he introduced this concept of the salve.
Issa bounces with a grunt, for though nearly all of her carries a sheen of faint redness, the burns are worst on her back and shoulders. Once settled, however, she only gives one slightly uncomfortable shift before lying still. "Slow can be good," she replies, paying more attention to the jar on the bed than to his wandering eyes or the hold he maintains on her ankles. She snags it and brings it over to her, balancing it over her bare bellybutton with both hands. Her feet idly alternate from side to side, faint movements that don't unseat his grip or distract from her consideration of the salve.
Reyce gives a faint snort when her focus moves onto the salve, letting his own slide back down to his own body. While she examines the neatly labeled jar - purpose, contents, and directions all laid forth in an obsessively neat and tidy hand - he removes his hands from his ankles and strips, starting with his shirt and moving quickly down to his boots. He leaves his underwear, and does for her as well, trapping one of her waving feet and blowing breath out through his nose as he unlaces the boots. One by one they drop to the floor, followed by her socks, and then he lifts his eyes to hers and holds his hand out for the salve. The other reaches down for the edge of his jackets, giving them a light tug to suggest she lift herself off them for a moment.
Issa cooperates with his wishes only so far. Her feet, now released, plant on the very edge of the bed, free of the jackets, so that she can rock her hips up and out of the way. But his reaching hand is left empty, as she keeps the salve, even pulling it further away from him. Pale eyes flick to meet his gaze over the top of her knees while she lightly jiggles the jar next to her face. There she'll wait for him to come get it.
No problem there. Reyce yanks the jackets out of the way and drops them on the floor, his hand already reaching for a placement on the mattress. Finding it, his other hand soon follows, and then both of his knees in slow succession as he crawls over her and stretches out for a kiss while he's so close. Not forgetful of his task, he curls his touch along the inside of her arm, making his way up to the jar of salve she holds.
Now Issa relinquishes her hold on the jar, smiling into the kiss when he finds and takes it from her. Her unburdened hand falls alongside his face, her thumb smoothing over rough stubble and her lips following in its wake. Gently her lips press down, careful of his own reddened burns, on his cheek, the point of his jaw, the area of his neck just below it. Then her head drops back down to the bed and she lets him begin his ministrations, holding out a helpful hand for the lid of the jar once he gets that far.
Reyce yields into her kisses with a soft, slow breath, his eyes slipping closed as her lips brush over his skin. Having secured the jar, he drags it in closer and only moves back when it gets to his chest. He sits up, his knees braced on either side of her body, and bundles his energy into twisting off the surprisingly tight cap. It gives way with a gentle pop, letting a wisp of aloe fragrance out into the room. Reyce just hands off the cap, dipping his fingers in for a miserly amount of the stuff and starts on her stomach. He rubs it in so thoroughly as to be nothing short of a massage, his warm dry hands contrasting with the smooth cool salve as he presses up her body. Teasing around her breasts, he slides his hands around them, but once he gets to the top he skips straight up to knead her shoulders from the front. Throughout all of it, he wears an expression of concentration, faint frown and squinted eyes combining while he works on her in the dim light.
The jar lid flips over and over in Issa's fingers as she watches him work, the other arm thrown behind her head to serve as an impromptu pillow. Her lids droop low while she switches between following the sweeps of his fingers and the concentration in his expression, her own face composed in a thoughtful quiet. "Remember," she begins musingly, voice just a murmur now that he's close enough to reach her shoulders, "when I told you I wasn't going to the island anymore?" Not to be confused with the island that brought her such sunburn. She readjusts slightly to allow him better access to those stronger burns along the tops of her shoulders, the arm she made a pillow tugged away again to instead lift a caress, soft lines from her fingernails skimming down his side as far as she can reach; then her hand falls to the bed again, limp at her side.
Not to be confused at all, Reyce recognizes the island she's referring to immediately. His touch pauses over her shoulders, but he passes it off into a need to refresh the dwindling amount of salve on his fingers. Their hands cross paths, though without touching, as hers drops from his side and his leans back to dip into the jar, catching aloe on the fingertips and bringing it back to distribute onto his other hand. "What," he asks, without much inflection. It's not a request for clarification - he remembers clearly enough - but an urging to skip to the point. His focus settles on his hands, her shoulders, as the salve rubs deeply in.
Blue eyes watch hazel as Issa studies him; half-lidded but slightly tense, they follow the flicks made as he tracks the salve-spreading efforts of his hands. "Well. I went again," she says, similarly inflection-less though it gets to the point quite well. The jar lid continues to twist between her fingers, flipping end over end in the cradle of her palm, though its pace slows to a crawl as she reveals that fact and waits for the response.
Summoned by those words, Reyce's eyes move to meet hers. There's no tension to be read in them, but there's something sharp in them all the same, some intense clarity of focus. Done with her shoulders, his hands slide together towards her arm, the one not playing with a jar lid, and lift it into a diagonal as they stroke down and around it. He waits, watching and massaging her, but he doesn't say anything.
Since he doesn't comment, Issa simply continues on to her explanation. "We needed a victim," she says, still looking up at him, though her studying stare gets interrupted by the occasional heavy blink as his massage continues. "And... that's where she is." A fact that obvious wins a quirked half-smile from her. "It wasn't really my trip. Turned out I was just the burdenbeast, actually." That newly obtained half smile twists down again with displeasure for her role in that errand, her eyes closing lazily over the thought. "I would have told you before, but... there were other people involved and they already didn't trust me. I thought it best if I didn't." This last is delivered quieter, with an edge of finality that the removal of her staring emphasizes; her eyes drift, unfocused, down to the arm he massages instead.
Reyce pushes her arm down gently, bending her elbow into the bed. It puts her forearm into easier reach, and his hands twist along it even though the aloe on his fingers is growing sparse. By the time he reaches her hands, there's just the faintest touch of salve left, barely detectable as his hands wrap around her smaller one and drag out the line of every fingerbone from wrist to nail. "Why'd you say you weren't going any more?" he wonders, and this time there actually is the soft upward curve of a question in his quiet voice. His eyes registered every word she said, occasionally with lighter versions of her blink, but now they turn to her hand.
Issa watches that hand too, her lips curling up with a dry, cynical amusement even before she says, "Roa decided." And then the smile fades again, dropping into its more relaxed, natural curve. Her fingers flex backward after that first massaging pass, but they lie limp and pliant in his grip from then on. "It was getting too risky. And I decided to let her have the upper hand. Until something important came along." Which would be this victim and the situation surrounding her, it seems.
Fingers finished, Reyce puts away the hand he was working on and reaches for the other, worming the jar lid out of her grasp before he returns to the jar itself, getting a dab more aloe onto his fingers before he moves up the burns on the other arm. "Still too risky." His eyes travel the whole path from her arm, along her shoulders, up her neck, to her face.
"Not the same way. Not any more," Issa counters, her head shaking lightly and further spreading her hair out on the bed. Her eyes wait for his and she explains once she has that solid eye contact to ground her. "I told Roa we went and she... understood. Now she and the Weyrleader-- he knows." Neither the pinning pronoun nor the thought of him knowing brings cheer to her tone, the addition dropped heavily into the middle of her explanation. "They're going to cover for me when I go next." Her gaze has drifted, but her eyes chase up after his again as she makes that casual little note.
Reyce's brows have already drawn into a frown by the time she drops that casual note, but they pull almost together when she adds it. "Cover all they want, won't be a secret to anybody when they turn up an Instigator and all those records for a harper trial." With more aloe and less need to rub in the small amounts obsessively, he's already down to the end of this arm and he works up her hand slowly. Her fingers aren't really sunburned, but he goes to them anyway. "Said I'd help you, but don't like this. Like it less, I hear more of it." His touch digs in sharply with the words, pushing through her hand quickly and putting it away. Without putting weight on them, he braces his hands on her shoulders and stares down at her.
"I know. I know," Issa mutters softly, her focus dropping off to the side with a sigh and tracking up past his shoulder before she'll meet his pinning gaze again. "I'm uneasy with the thought of bringing one of them back now, too. But what choice is there?" The hand he roughly dismissed gets tossed from the place it fell into a palm-baring gesture of helplessness. Her eyes move briefly to it and the slick coat of excess salve still sticking to a couple of her fingers and, after she's turned back to regard him, that hand moves to his arm and the redness there. With a curling caress, she spreads the lingering coolness down idly. "There's a decided lack of other options. Bribery's riskier than what we're doing, according to Roa. If we call a Weyr council with what we have, there's too many loopholes he could snake through. And I don't doubt he'd find them. Right now, she's got the Masterharper involved and interested. I haven't a clue what she has planned for the aftermath, but... I'm already in this." Resolve far from the lurking resignation of before brings her tone low and the grip of her fingers, already done with their secondary salving, suddenly tighter.
A shiver follows the touch of her hands, the reddened skin responding easily and well to the cool salve, but otherwise Reyce remains in place and staring steadily. When her grip clamps down on him, his muscles bunch against the pressure, though he slips his hands off her shoulders before they do more than press down a little. He twists suddenly to reach for the salve, though he could have simply bent an arm back; the one she has hold of stays put, but the rest of him turns into the motion. The word "Bullshit" goes with him. He picks up the bottle and promptly dips a thumb in, rubbing salve on the center of the palm opposite, and then switching the process with the other hands. As he does, his words punctuated by sharp sweeps of his thumb, he says, "Already said worst thing's doing what you can't see through. Say you're in it, but you don't know what she plans. Going to accuse Telgar's Weyrleader of torturing an Instigator, so what? Need a plan for if it fails, need one if it doesn't. Whole new set of problems. How to make him resign for it, or get him removed for it. How to make it /not/ look like Reaches does it for a power play, make it not look like a fucking Instigator did it for a power play, which is worse." He finished applying the salve to his hands long ago, but he still holds them apart from her skin. His eyes are on her breasts, but the frown that still rules his expression as well as the rough way he treated his hands gives some hint of why he's holding back for a while. Nostrils flared, he rolls his shoulders back and tries to run out tension that way.
Issa's eyes fly over his face with rapid flicks while a frown slowly sinks into her expression. When he quiets enough to begin contemplating her chest, her hands swing into action too, her palms bracing against his lower thighs while her fingers force their way into the thin line of space at the crook of his knee. The dig of her thumbs, left on the outside, calls his attention back to her face, but she continues regardless of whether she's successful or not. "Don't start fuming," she tells him with a firm and measured intonation, eyes intent beneath the tension of her frown. "Just /talk/ to me. I'm listening." Her thumbs dig again, the pressure there smoothing somewhat the lines that came with her frown. "I didn't say I didn't have a plan. I said I didn't know what hers was."
Reyce's shoulders halt, caught in a roll backwards, when her hands fall onto his knees. His first instinct leads him to watch her fingers working under the crook of his knee, but the dig from her thumb brings him back to her face. He finishes the roll of his shoulders while she speaks, gradually allowing his frown to steam away. His head and neck sink down, curving his shoulders with them to give him a sullen look, but when she finishes he says, "Okay," and takes a short sniff. Eyes flicking down to her breasts, he sets his hands down on them; though the usual entertainment he would get from this opportunity is lacking, he's not mauling her at least. "What's your plan?" he asks after he's had another moment to settle.
Issa’s thumbs set down again, but not to give a harsh dig this time but to sweep across his skin gently. A deep breath arches up under his hands and seeps back out of her with breezy contentment, for his touch and agreement both. “Telgar needs to get involved,” she begins, shifting back into the covers with an fleeting, uneasy tension around her eyes, a slight wince for the rub of the furs against a burned back. “Now. It needs to at least look like they had a part in initiating it all. Someone important, influential… trustworthy, to challenge S’lien, if we decide to. To be there when the greenrider comes. Maybe to fetch her, even, along with the Reachian delegate.” Her lips quirk for the self-appointed title, a small and subtle motion. “Though, that really should be one of the riders that originally carried out the exile. It would make it more official, make it seem like a summoning rather than a return the exiles had any control over. If this works, like you said,” thumbs sweep across his leg again, “it’s Telgar, cleaning out its own. We back off and leave the rest to Telgar, focus on our own domestic issues for a long while after. If it doesn’t work…” And this is where the hesitation sits, her mouth working into a slight purse as she contemplates the unsavory outcome. “His support is going to be shaken anyway. We can hope that Telgar’s bronzeriders will have the clout to force resignation on him. We can hope that if they don’t, the next leadership flight will unseat him, anyway, with the people’s trust compromised. But I haven’t gotten much further than hopes. Blackmail’s all but impossible once we’ve gone through with it. We do much more than hope, it /is/ likely to get High Reaches in trouble.”
Reyce watches Issa's chest for the first part of her explanation, but since it still doesn't hold as much of his attention as it might normally, it's clear that his primary focus is her words. The salve finished, he slides hands down her ribs and leans back, bringing his eyes up to meet hers directly. Apart from the occasional flick to take in a changing detail of her expression, he's still from that point onwards as his fingers warm against her skin. "Yeah," he says finally, pushing his fingers in. Shifting to the side, he swings his leg over so he's crouched next to her now, one hand still splayed across her stomach. "Like making it look like a summoning. Telgar's, not Reaches." His fingers slip down her leg and close over her ankle, pulling it up till her bent leg rests right next to him. While he puts on more salve, Reyce turns to examine the burns on her leg. "You have ideas how to do it?"
Issa's hands pull away from his legs as he begins to move, fingertips sliding down to his knee before they drop to the bed. "Some," she replies, pulling one arm back to cushion her head as she had it before, the angle allowing her to continue watching the salve-smearing. The burning on her legs is concentrated on her thighs, front and back, and a small bit on the tops of her feet, faint red deepening further there. "Roa would know who, if anyone, would work. But I need to see if the greenrider would agree to something like that first. She's not likely to want to trust anyone from Telgar at all. I wouldn't. And to keep it up, she'd have to be kept confined during the trial. She won't like that, either. If I can get her to agree, we have whoever Roa chooses come here to meet-- make it seem like he's looking for our help, for neutral territory for the greenrider to come to. Then we step into the background for the trial itself... Roa and R'vain will be witnesses for her story, sure, and there's the little fact of where all the evidence came from, but..." One shoulder lifts in a lopsided shrug. "It can't be helped."
When her hand moves away from his knee, forced off by his motion, Reyce's eyes follow the retreat and pause there for a moment before he turns to her legs. Since most of the burning lies on her thigh, he concentrates his efforts there, running a line of salve down the middle of her leg and then pressing it out till it wraps around her leg. His own, meanwhile, edges back towards her, the knee giving her a gentle nudge in the hip as he shifts forward, his crouch unwinding somewhat as he leans in to reach the far side of her leg. "No," he agrees softly with her closing statement. "Could get Ista in, maybe, they don't want it to look like they were helping S'lien if he's doing what he shouldn't. Maybe need a reason for Telgar to come to Reaches as neutral ground, too, but depends who you wind up getting from there. Just a thing." He, too, shrugs. Even without a burn to give him the excuse, he slides his hands down her calf and pulls her leg straight again. He leaves her feet alone, perhaps not noticing the burns there in the dim light, and reaches for the opposite leg.
As soon as Issa sees he's moving onto the next leg, she turns onto her side, shifting that nudged hip nearest to him into the mattress. It manages to bring that far leg closer, the bent knee of her sideways leg practically dropped into his laps, into his hands. Her cushioning arm gets recruited to prop up her head, her gaze left to tilt up at him from its lean. "Ista's an unknown," she tells him. Her other hand is slowly brought around from behind her, orienting on his knee at the same time her eyes drift down to it. "No contacts. We don't know where they stand. Roa knows the people of Telgar, though." She pauses, watching her fingers as they make contact with that knee nearest her, palm curved against his thigh as it creeps further up. "That gives reason enough for the meeting, too, I think. Roa makes no secret about being an open-minded Weyrwoman and, if the rider knows her it would make sense for him to approach her." Her hand slides slowly under the hem of his shorts, just far enough for the whole of her fingers to be slipped under before she backtracks down again.
"Not saying count on Ista," Reyce replies, though he waits for her to finish first. He's already at work on her leg by this time, pulling it all the way into his lap and holding it there while he strokes. "Might turn up their own information, though, it looks like things go against S'lien. Would help." When her fingers go to his shorts, he keeps rubbing salve into her leg although his eyes flick aside to watch her, and he doesn't notice himself rubbing the same spot for a moment or two. A light snort-sniff combination brings him back to the present long enough to finish that leg and stretch it down, his hand going to her hip afterwards. He leans onto it, shifting his own hips to the side so he can lean towards her face, his shadow interrupting the light that falls on her. "Didn't burn your ass, too, did you?" he wonders quietly, moving a finger over the portion of her ass covered by panties and sliding it up and down briefly.
Issa's fingers sweep back down to his knee and stay there, miniature caresses dealt out there while he finishes her leg. Her eyes lift from watching her smoothing fingers when he asks her a question, mouth stretching wider into a mildly sheepish, heavily mirthful smile. "Yeah," she replies, head nodding. With a squeeze, her caresses lift away as she reaches toward where his own lies along her hip. She pinches a section of the waistband and pulls it slowly away from her skin. "Need them off?" she asks, one eyebrow arched slightly above its mate.
Reyce brushes his hand against hers as it draws away, twisting around behind him till it finds where he left the jar. "Yeah," he murmurs, bringing his salved thumb back to touch pads with the thumb opposite and spread the wealth. Leaning further forward, he touches his thumbs down on either side of her nose, pushing them out to spread aloe along the faint flush on her cheeks. He pauses to drop a light kiss on her, sweeps her forehead, kisses again. "You don't mind." Drawing back, and dragging the last of the salve down her nose while he does, he returns the gesture of the raised eyebrow and waits.
The waistband snaps back down to her skin as she releases it, her surprise at the kiss drawing her hand up to his side instead. She rolls back down to her back during that first kiss, that hand put to use to drag him over with her. Closed eyes drag open again as she lifts her head to follow the kiss to its end and she meets the raised eyebrow with an impish smile, already beginning to wriggle as her legs are drawn up to support her efforts. The hand pulled away from his side joins the other one in sliding off her underwear, much faster now than she was in her earlier stripping. Soon enough, their kicked over the edge of the bed, dropping out of sight, out of mind. "There," she says, leaning up into another quick, smiling kiss before she translates that lean into a full turn, flipping over onto her stomach. "What do you think," she speaks again after a beat of settling in, chin placed on the crossed arms put in front of her, "if the trial doesn't convict him?"
Reyce moves easily into the pull of her hand, planting an arm on the other side of him to support him for the kisses to which she draws him. He stares down at her, patient as he can be, while she wriggles out of her panties, and tips his nose forward to meet that smiling kiss as it comes up to him. She turns to face the bed before he can pursue any more kisses than that, but the brush of his hand moves her hair aside long enough for him to steal just one more kiss, pressed lightly to the sunburned skin of her neck. "Think it better convict him," he says unhelpfully as he withdraws. His knee swings over her again, but he doesn't sit on her this time, remaining in elevation of her lower legs while he touches cool salve to her ass. "It doesn't, be no more chances changing him out. Not for turns, maybe not at all. Might put the Instigator at risk of retaliation, through trial or something else. Kidnapped those kids, remember, and came North against the rules for exile." He pauses, finished with her ass, to get the jar of salve. "Think of it now, might happen the case goes through or not. Want to check with Harper, something, first."
Issa's head drops to the side, cheek pressed down instead of her chin, a change that allows him a view of her profile, eyes closed, lips press together with faint tension. "Yeah," she agrees quietly, head moving lightly in a slow nod, then lapses into thoughtful silence. "I'm just afraid he's going to end up getting out of it somehow. No matter how much we have on him." Her head moves again, a gesture that might be a shake were it not impeded by her arms below, and she nestles further into the blankets with an air of finality in her silent sigh.
A cold mass slaps down in the center of Issa's back, allowed to freeze and (perhaps) startle her a moment before Reyce's hands follow it, warm palms easing the cool shock of contact as he slathers salve across her skin. It's a more generous amount than he used in previous areas, and he sets to work it in with more assiduous massaging, his lips pressed tight and brow furrowed while he concentrates. "He might," Reyce remarks at last, unhelpful even after he's had a delay for thought. "Be a different thing, then, new things to deal with. See what they are, it happens, deal with them then." He returns to her shoulders, bringing yet more aloe for this especially burned portion, and he leans his weight down into pressing her shoulderblades, keeping his body still poised above her. "Right now, just have to stay in it, not stop thinking what you can do if something starts going wrong. May not be anything. Just keep an eye out."
The sudden cold does, indeed, startle Issa; she sucks in a swift breath and her eyes fly open. But she doesn't need to look back and catch sight of the salve for recognition to set in, and when it does the breath escapes from behind a smile, amusement coloring the exhalation. The amusement is quick to quiet down and her face returns to an expression of relaxation colored by thoughtful consideration when he speaks, eyes still open but staring unfocused at the wardrobe beyond the foot of the bed. She stifles a wince when he reaches her red shoulders, leaving a little tension in the muscles beneath that fades again as he works the salve in. Her lips lift into a thin smile that stays as the silence returns, a mere beat passing before she gives another sigh, lighter this time, and nods her head. The only contribution she offers, for she drifts into a shut-eyed contentment once again and shuts up to enjoy the tail end of that massage.
The silence settles easily as Reyce's full concentration moves to his massage. If any of the salving he's already done has tired him at all, he's determined not to let it show, his press firm and steady for the next fifteen minutes, applying more aloe in smaller amounts whenever her skin seems to be drying up again. In the end he just rubs his flattened palm back and forth across her skin in a light zig-zag, a final moment's contact he draws back, bucks his shoulders into a roll, and moves off the bed. His feet slap lightly on the floor while he approaches her face, bending once her reaches it to crook her chin towards him and place a quick kiss on the corner of her lips. "Have to piss," he explains, and then walks out through the open curtains to do that.
Issa's eyes crack open when the contact ends and he slides off the bed, stirring further from the massage-induced sleepiness to angle her head and follow his progress around the bed. The announcement brings a stronger smile to those lips he just kissed and the low sound of a single lazy chuckle deep in her throat chases him out the curtain. When he returns, Issa's pushed herself back onto her knees, resting back on her feet, and has reoriented so that she faces the curtain he comes through. She's retrieved the jar and its lid both, the latter twirled about on top of a single finger while the former merely sits wedged between the points of her knees. Eyes lift from her idle reverie and she welcomes him back with her gaze as well as a ready smile. "Your turn," she tells him, the lid, already rolled to a stop on her finger, newly gripped by her thumb so she can wave him over with it.
Naked, glistening, and beckoning to him - the sight of Issa when he walks back is enough to make Reyce pause in the doorway, making a quiet sound at the back of his throat after he sees her. He makes no effort not to stare, but he does an admirable job of keeping his mouth shut until he has wits enough to move. He seats himself on the edge of the bed, beside Issa, and rolls his gaze up to her face as he scoots back far enough to get his legs on the bed. From there she'll have to guide him, it appears, for he just watches her eyes quietly.
Issa relishes the staring attention she gets, triumph and delight both gleaming in the smile that only grows the longer it takes for his wits to return to him. Her movements are almost clinical, save for that smile; once he's situated on the bed, she abandons the jar lid and lifts up to walks on her knees over to his side, a businesslike hand planted in the middle of his chest to press him prone. Once he's there, she swings one leg to the other side, knees tucked high and close against him as she straddles his stomach, keeping herself up and in plain view while she scoops out a bit of salve with her fingers. After finding a spot on the bed next to him for the jar, she begins to bend down, spreading out the salve across her palms. His turn begins with the back of his neck, elbows supporting her bent torso as her hands reach around behind to rub in the cooling stuff. She brings her face down too, curls tossed out of the way so she can murmur against his neck. "You burn your ass, too?" she asks teasingly, a toe pressing into the side of his hip as if to indicate. Then her mouth sinks into a nip at the burned skin at the base of his neck-- delayed retaliation for his earlier bite-- before her hands smooth over the spot with the salve. Her face lifts, mischief carried out, to make eye contact again.
Reyce makes her press him all the way down, his body moving where she tells it to but no further. By the time he's lying back and looking up at her, he's nursed his own smirk with which to watch the way she hovers over him, every part of her body treated to its own extended look-over until she leans right over him and blocks his view. He does nothing to help her lift his head, but once up he turns his face in towards her, his breath warming over her curls. There's time to form no more than the beginning 'N' of his answer before she sinks her teeth in and he jerks, tugging his shoulder up and for a moment pinning her hand against his neck. When eye contact resumes, he lets out a low growl - more lust than malice in it - that rolls into the full word, "No," and drops off when his hands clap down over the bare cheeks of her ass. Giving her a tug that shifts her weight forward (towards him) he rumbles, "Kept my pants on." 'Pants' meaning only his undershorts in this case, naturally.
Issa lets out a muffled note of protest as his hands clap down, straightening slightly above him with her eyes flung wide and mouth dropped open. But her smile persists when she rebounds from the initial surprise, more amused by the smarting slap than truly offended. Her hands swing around to the front of his neck, thumbs spreading salve up the line of his throat, gently still despite his rough response. Her eyes glance back over her shoulder and not more than a glimpse of fabric could have been captured before she returns her attention to her task, muttering a mockingly disappointed, "Pity." Blue eyes follow her fingers as they reach his jawline and then skip, after a brief stop at the jar to get more salve, to his forehead, smoothing down slick lines there before moving down to his nose and cheeks. And, though she slips in quick, flirting little glances up to meet his eyes, her motions are still reserved to cool strokes more collected than passionate.
Reyce drops head back, while she still supports his neck, so that his throat lies wholly exposed and his face angles wholly away. If he intended to hide his mirth over the pain he caused her with his slap, he betrays his intent with a pair of laughs that, while absolutely silent, tug his throat and upper chest. Once she returns his neck to him, he changes the angle enough that he's able to see her face (although he must peer around his nose and over his chin to do so), but leaves his throat bared to her ministrations. Closer to laughter, a low rumble shakes his neck while she works on it, triggered by that single disappointed word. His eyes fix on hers, catching each flirting glance with burning intensity, and his hands move around to cup her hips, one of them taking the scenic route as it runs lightly up and down her spine before it settles.
“Next time we go to Ista,” Issa starts, without the slightest doubt that there will be a next time. She has to break to exhale through a sudden stretch of her smile as his hand trails down her back, her bottom lip bitten before it rolls back out to form more words. “You should be naked more. Or I should stay in the shade more. Maybe both,” she decides impishly while she puts the finishing touch on his nose, dragging the pad of her finger out to its tip. Then she pushes up altogether, unkinking the curve of her back while her hands busy themselves retrieving the jar again. “That way,” she says, fishing out a clump of the diminishing salve with her fingers and smearing it across her hands, “we’ll match.” With slicked hands she snags his arm and guides it over to one of those spots their burns don’t match, placing his hand over her breast while she watches his reaction to the mischievous positioning. While he’s busy there, her arms stretch down the length of his and she ends up having to lean just slightly over again to reach the line where the reddened skin begins.
"Maybe both," Reyce agrees in a soft murmur, his eyes on the breast he's been brought to. With no political frustrations to distract him this time, he makes the best of his hand's placement, working his way down from slow massaging squeezes to a single thumb circled in a gradually tightening spiral. As he reaches her nipple, he lifts his half-lidded gaze back to her face, a slim smirk spreading across his features. "Could be now," he muses, tossing an explanatory glance down at the hem of his boxers, "you wanted." His other hand slides up her side, pressing up her other breast before he wraps it in his palm.
"Hmm," Issa hums, making a point to consider his suggestion as she works her hands up to his-- it's less about salve, now that most of it has been worked into the burns of his arm, and more about the contact, more toying than his firmly massaging touch of earlier. Her fingers weave in between his then pull down across his palm as she looks back over her shoulder. "Hm," she utters again, considering the boxers themselves this time. The smile she turns back to him is thoroughly impish, somewhat strained as she tries to quiet it unsuccessfully. She gives a dismissive little shrug and says with mock regret, "No sun." Despite that, though, her feet fumble around his sides and find the waistband of his shorts, both big toes pushing under it as best they can. Leaning forward, she starts over again, more salve retrieved so that she can sweep down from bicep to fingertips again, grinning glances tossed up to him while she works it in.
Reyce lifts his waist, taking weight off the boxer shorts and making it easier for her toes to wriggle underneath the band. His hand remains up where she left it after working her fingers down the palm, though he lets it lower slowly and finds her ankle with it. Each hand echoes the other, one over her breast and the other her foot, but his main focus is on her foot, pushing at her ankle to urge the foot to turn out and pull his shorts further down. "So?" he wonders, giving her heel and her breast a twitch.
Issa's efforts with his second arm are abandoned at his wrist, unwilling to distract his hand from its current caresses this time. Instead both hands settle slick fingerprints along his stomach as she braces herself and leans into the hand on her breast. "So," she repeats with a less questioning intonation, curls dangling over him and touching down on his cheeks just as teasingly as her words, "how am I supposed to get your ass burned if there's no sun? And really." Her addition gets interrupted by a kiss dropped down onto his lips. "Where's the fun if you're not getting burned?" Another kiss, longer than the first, and then she proves she knows exactly where the fun is, the foot not captured by him slipped out only so she can slide a hand down to take it's place, fingers pushing under to find his bare, unburned ass.
The foot is abandoned as soon as her hand reaches his ass, trusting her to figure out the undressing on her own from that point on. Instead, Reyce lifts his hand to the back of her head, digging through those curls and pulling them some of them back as his fingers clench in, holding her in place. His head lifts up to push her mouth back with his own, his weight shifted back down to trap her fingers on his ass as he thuds back down to the bed. After hanging onto the kiss for an extra minute, he pulls back for a quick, deep breath. "You tell me," he suggests, pulling her back for another kiss. The other hand has stayed between them, pressing her breast, but now it slides straight down her stomach and runs a caress down her inner thigh.
Reyce scoots his knees forward, lifting himself on them so it's easier to get his shorts off. He lost his grip on his inner thigh, but the hand returns quickly to her thigh, sliding down it till he has her calf and enough leverage to lift her leg over his back. There's no room left in his panting hurry for casual words, or really voice at all, as he pushes down for another kiss. The hand on the back of her head tugs out from beneath her, slipping between them (so long as he's braced over her) and going to the breast that hasn't seen attention lately. He pushes up on it as his hips push forward, forcing his waistband to tug against her slow-paced hand and creating his own speed.
Issa's hand tugs more steadily after the insistent press of his hips, dragging the shorts down as far as she can before her grounded foot will take over, stomping them down to the bed around his planted knees. And that's as far as she can go, so her hand traces a light line up the back of his thigh and again over the curve of his ass. Her chin tilts down out of the kiss for long enough to shoot a flicked glance down at his hand, to turn her eyes up to meet his and mutter, "Colder." With a smile, her lips return to his, delight evident with this new, if slightly obvious, guessing game.
That's as far as she needs to go, for Reyce takes over as soon as his shorts are off. His hands stomp down on either side of her head, providing a thud of objection to the hint she taunts him with. And if his next guess isn't right on the mark, then it will remain a mystery to him just what she was after, if not sex. Elbows crooked, but still holding him up, he looks down at her as he begins, his mouth hung open to let out his heavy pants. Soon his mouth gawps after hers, a few weaker efforts leading into a fierce one as he sets his full weight down on top of her so his chest moves slick against her salved one. The kiss only grows the stronger as he gathers speed, ending in a loud growl exhaled into her mouth. He moves weakly on top of her, finished but staying with her, and slides his mouth away so he can breathe again.
#417 @emit If that wasn’t the mark, Issa makes no move to stop him, her other leg joining the first to pin him between them. Her hands originally clench on his ass where they started but soon move in swift motions all along his back, as encouraging, urging as the groaning sounds she makes, muffled by his mouth or not. She manages enough voice to softly call his name, “Reyce,” but that’s all she can get out before a moan slurs away words and his fierce kiss cuts off that moan. Speed brings with it clutching fingers digging nails into his shoulders as she escalates shudderingly to the end. Rasping breaths against his face mark the slower decline on the other side before she utters with a sticking shred of mirth, “Bingo,” shedding light on a game probably already long forgotten. Her hands smooth away from the little red marks she’s left on the skin of his back and fall along either side of his face, his head tilted up to her then slowly back down as she plants soft kisses on his mouth, the tip of his nose, between his eyes, the top of his forehead all in turn. Then she curls his cheek down to her chest, one arm circled over his hair while the other hand travels back down to laze across his neck.
Sweat has loosed the aloe from his skin, making each of those kisses taste of salt and salve. Reyce knows nothing of it and yields to each of them, summoning up small purses of his lips when she's on his mouth and afterwards just nudging his nose forward and closing his eyes to encourage her. His eyes flick open again when she moves his face away, staring blankly at the moving space in front of him, but when his cheek settles down against her chest the light brush of his short eyelashes marks them closing again. He pulls down a light swallow, one of his hands moving beside her to trace the curved outline of her body beneath him. He may seem, by this point, to have forgotten or completely missed her comment, but at last he answers, "Yeah." The whispering quiet in his voice is followed by another swallow.
Issa lightly, idly strokes down his curls while she waits for her breathing to steady. Which it does with time, thrown off of the newly established pace only by a sudden if slight intake of breath, as if to warn of words to come. It culminates in an anticlimatic, "Mmm," though, hummed under that newly steadied breath, a quick swallow following it. A few more moments of silent stroking and the words signaled earlier come now with no warning. "I'm... cold," she mumbles using the pause to deal out one last press through his curls before shifting under him, and attempting to untangle her legs. "Under the covers," she instructs, the thumb on his neck massaging down lightly like it did when the salve wasn't streaked with sweat before her hand pulls away.
Reyce grunts reluctantly, but after her legs have been unwrapped he pushes off her, giving them both more room to maneuver in. He rolls over onto his side, facing the other end of the bed, and pulls back the corner of the covers there to give himself a space to slide under. Grunting more as he moves under, he eventually drops down to the bared mattress and pulls the blankets back over himself, settling on his back and folding his hands over his stomach beneath the covers. Comfortable now, he drops his head to the side and looks at Issa. There's little light left from the outer weyr, the fire having dimmed to almost nothing, but the shadow outlines are still visible.
Issa goes straight for the head of the bed once he's lifted himself from her, pushing her cooled feet deep under the covers and letting the rest of her body follow them. But even then she's far from settled-- she scoots toward his shadowed outline and rearranges herself until she's got as much contact as they had before the move, though it's her cheek resting against his chest this time. Legs busy re-twisting with his, she allows some time for the stillness to sink in, then she asks a quietly curious question. "Will we sleep in the same room, when we go to Benden?"
Reyce drops one of his arms down when he sees her shadow scooting towards him, and waits until she's next to him before he bends that elbow up and wraps her in. Absently, he tucks a curl behind her ear, letting his eyes roll up toe the darkened ceiling. To judge by the foot that turns down to caress her leg, he appreciates the resumed contact, though he leaves the twisting together up to her. Her question leaves him silent for a moment, his consideration frowned into the dark. "Probably not," he answers honestly, brushing his foot against her again. "Not like anyone won't guess we're fucking, but looks bad, and I get my same room, bed's built for one person. Long as your room's just you, though, no one cares if you leave it." Puffing a single, soundless snort of laughter, he lets his touch drag down to her shoulder.
"Mmm." That is Issa's vague response to the negation, the hum hinting at disappointment and thoughtfulness both. Her hand wanders slowly down his side, thumb tracing the lines and curves she knows by heart in any light. "Too bad Benden doesn't have any handy beaches or docks," she comments, far lighter than her initial reaction. In fact, laughter even breathes down onto his chest as she adds, "You'll have to let me hide a few pairs of underwear in your clothespress," wide smile pressed down against his skin.
"There are vineyards," Reyce points out, "and docks by the river." The hand that's not on her already reaches over, starting at her shoulder and running a lightning-fast skim down her spine, ending in the small of her back. "Store rooms. Records. Couches, desks." He drops his voice to a whisper when he adds, "Private baths," and moves his hand down to her ass, giving the near cheek a little squeeze. A soft breath of laughter rolls out of him, but even as it does the other hand has moved back to her hair, stroking her gently and with a muted air of conciliation. After a small silence has fallen, he admits softly, "Letter said I might have to help the steward, last minute things. Winds up that way, might only see you at night, same as here." The 'same as here' is not tacked on as a defense, but as a quiet complaint; compared to the amount of time they had at Ista, 'same as here' doesn't seem like much for a vacation.
Either the anticipation generated by that list or the hand sweeping down her back-- quite possibly both-- cause Issa to squirm against him, trying to make already close contact even closer. "That's alright." The hand at his side, having reached far past his hip, swings up again and falls in between them, the touch transferring to his neck and flowing down from there. "It's better that way," she tells him, eyes lifting as her hand drifts further and further down his chest. But what begins as a serious intimation at his future plans twists effortlessly into a lightly teasing joke. "I can rest up during the day, scout out places..." Her fingers drum in place to the side of his belly button then her hand changes paths and curves around to his back.
Reyce's eyelids droop lazily while she squirms and rubs her hand against him, and he goes so far as to stretch into the flowing contact that runs from his neck to his belly. While he does, his fingers tighten over their respective grips, no doubt leaving white dents in the red flush of her skin. "Okay," he murmurs as he drops back, the hand on her ass reversing its previous course as it runs up to her shoulders and drapes over them. "Better rest up well," he adds as that arm settles, his voice dulling to a mere whisper.
"Mmm," Issa murmurs again, contented sleepiness swirled with idle agreement packed into the hummed syllable this time. Apparently she takes his words literally, for with her arm draped across him, head tucked underneath his chin, she sets down one last kiss on his skin and settles in for sleep.