inbox.

[staysail]

Comments

[hassaran]

[ That gets him a sidelong look. ] Such as?

[staysail]

[He shrugs, without looking at her, while still looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Very casual and matter-of-fact, this is a serious suggestion--]

Can't you do a handstand and juggle with your feet?

[hassaran]

Through all our meetings? [ Like that's actually a thing she can do. (It's not.)]

[staysail]

It would be distracting.

[hassaran]

For me especially.

[staysail]

Now, that I don't believe. I can barely manage to distract you.

[hassaran]

You underestimate yourself.

[staysail]

Really.

[He shifts, abruptly--straightens his posture, looks down at her.]

I propose a test.

[hassaran]

[ She shifts to match, twisting back toward the couch arm to look up at him. ]

Go on.

[staysail]

Well, you're expecting it now, if we do it now, how do I know you won't fail it on purpose, just to make a point?

[hassaran]

Hmm. But it also wouldn't be fair to you to wait til I'm working.

[staysail]

Ah. True.

What if we do two rounds--one now, and one as a surprise later, while you're working? That way there won't be a chance of cheating.

[hassaran]

You're so sure I'd cheat! You should have more faith in your abilities. Or at least my interest.

[staysail]

What, c'mon--are you saying that--to make a point--you wouldn't?

[hassaran]

Not when any suspicion of cheating would defeat that point, no! Are you so determined not to believe I find you wildly distracting?

[staysail]

No, I know you find me wildly distracting. You married me while you were on a holiday, obviously I'm distracting. [And he is pleased about it, thanks.] But I also know you, so I know you can manage your feelings well enough to ignore even the wildest of distractions.

[hassaran]

Good. [ That he knows. And is pleased. He ought to be. ] And yes. Or I'd hardly have done a moment's work since you moved in here. Fine.

[ She sits up a little, enough to lift her hand palm out, and puts on a mock-serious face. ]

I promise I will do my very best not to let you distract me for the duration of this test. Whatever it may be. [ She lowers all but one of her fingers. ] If you promise that it will not involve the irritating sort of distraction.

[staysail]

With me just lounging a few feet away, at all hours, [is Darras' agreement to the first part. To the second: he considers what she's said, then, with solemnity (which he hastily assumes), he holds his hand out to her in return.]

I promise my distraction will not be the irritating sort. I know you hate to be irritated. Who doesn't, really, but you most of all. But I don't want to seal this with a handshake, I'd prefer a kiss.

[hassaran]

Beginning the distraction straight away. [ The arch of her brow is accusation, but she's not about to refuse. Though she does, just after lips meet, break away the millimeter or two required to add ] If this is a trap--

[staysail]

Shh, [Darras counters, which Yseult will not like--but she will, almost certainly, like better the way that he closes those spare millimetres between their mouths, the way he presses his fingers to the side of her head, skimming over her ear before finding where he wants them buried, in her hair, and he kisses her more firmly this time.

This kiss is distracting, and a better seal of their agreement besides.]

[hassaran]

[ Distracting and a good seal of their bargain it may be, but that does not rule out it being a trap. Yseult is not going to forget that uncertainty so quickly. But she may choose to ignore it temporarily, while she's given more important things to deal with. Like his hand in her hair, or her own creeping up over a knee to grip and pull herself closer.

Still. ] I did just swear I would do my very best to resist [ she reminds, lifting her chin away and in the process presenting her throat in its place ] so if this is part of the test....

[staysail]

Would I do that to you?

[--Darras says, as he moves to press a kiss to her throat--and then a second, and a third, following the long line of her neck down to her collarbone--and just below it, where the faintest dusting of summer freckles still can be seen on her chest, if you are close enough--which he is, frequently, and lucky to be so.]

[hassaran]

Yes. [ Yseult doesn't hesitate to accuse in kind, but also doesn't hesitate to shift a little further down the couch, angling back against the arm to make it easier for Darras to continue. The neck of her shirt is no obstacle, loose and stretched from years of washings, the sort of worn-soft thing she only puts on when the day is done and the door shut to visitors. ]

You are a pirate, after all. [ She runs fingers up the back of his neck, nails pricking at hairline before making a u-turn to slide down the back of his sweater. ] Not exactly known for fair play.

[staysail]

[He laughs, briefly interrupting the line of his kissing. The press of her fingertips, fingernails, raises the little hairs on his neck. That, too, is distracting, in a good way.]

A pirate, [another counter, as he kisses her again, just under the hollow of her throat, just below the delicate join of her collarbones, slender and bird-like, where there are more freckles, faint like stars just before sunrise,] who loves his wife. A pirate who wouldn't resort to trickery of his wife, who he loves--

[There's mercy in the stretched-out neck of her shirt. Gives him room to kiss her. He pushes his hand under it from the other direction, bare skin on bare skin.]

[hassaran]

[ She laughs, chest thrumming under his mouth, his hand. ] But I would cheat?

[ Fingertips press into muscle, the long lean lines of it roped down his spine, the bunch and pull over shoulder blades as he moves. She can see it clear in her mind, as he cuts thatch on a summer day or hauls on an oar. Another tickling bite of nails on the way back up like the instinctive awareness of attention, before her grip settles firm on his shoulder. ]

He doesn't think much of the wife he loves, this pirate.