[milliways] Lost for you, I'm so lost for you

[dejah_thoris]

[ cont'd from here ]

'More private' to her right now simply means away from people.  She takes his hand and leads him into the shadows, moving down the beach away from the music and the flickering light of the bonfire.  The white sand beach is flat here, gently sloping down to the waterline.  The quiet envelopes them, the susurration of the waves the only sound save for the occasional distant laughter.

Her blood still sings with the heat of his kiss, her breath ragged and shallow even as she attempts to calm herself.  She can feel him, deeper now than ever before.  If she is like fire to him, then he is red hot metal, radiating strength and something more.  Something raw.  Powerful.  She's almost afraid to look too closely, terrified she'll see what she wants to see and not the truth.

But this doesn't feel like simple lust to her.  They've skirted around that for months now.  But this is different.  This feels real.

"Curtis..."  So many words crowd up behind her teeth, catching in the back of her throat.  She glances at him, watching the distant firelight catch in his eyelashes.  When she speaks, all that comes out is,

"I love you."

Comments

[2goodarms]

"I am not," he says, indignant -- but still smiling. "I only had two glasses, I'm just kinda..."

He wobbles a hand back in forth. Their hands meet in the middle of the shirt; he catches them, like always.

"I'm not plastered yet."

He is, however, at the stage where a third glass of champagne sounds like the absolute best idea ever. Maybe he'll have one while Dejah's enjoying her hot chocolate. Hm.

[dejah_thoris]

"You are certainly well on your way," she said, squeezing his hands. She kisses his knuckles and then let his his hands go. She bites her lip, a little hard truth be told, as her hands slip beneath his shirt, easing it over his shoulders. Goddess, she will dream dreams tonight. He's still thin, yes, but he's so much more healthy than he was the first time she did this.

"Mmmm, here, lean forward for me."

[2goodarms]

He can pick up the little crackling sparks she radiates; it spurs another chuckle out of Curtis.

"Okay," he says, stretching forward a bit to help her ease off the shirt. Teasing: "Having fun?"

[dejah_thoris]

"Oh yes," she purrs. "But I'm still behaving myself."

She tugged his shirt out of his trousers and carefully folded it, setting it aside. "But I'm allowed, aren't I? To enjoy myself?"

She looks up at him through her lashes, still chewing on her lip a little.

[2goodarms]

"Of course." Earnestly. "Of course you are."

He takes her face in both hands. His smile's gone a little smaller, but far more warm; he just looks into her eyes for a moment, one thumb lightly stroking her cheek.

Soft, "I want you to be happy."

I'm glad I make you happy.

[dejah_thoris]

She meets his gaze, and it's easier this time. This close, curled up on his bare chest, his heart beating warm and steady beneath her touch, she hears and feels his words stronger than a whisper.

A frisson washes over her. This is happening. It's really happening.

Her hands rise to cover his, and her eyes drift closed as she gives the tiniest nod. She is happy here, with him. She hopes against all hope she can do the same for him. She hopes he knows that's what she wants, for them both.

[2goodarms]

Curtis returns the nod. He leans in, gives her another small, gentle kiss.

And then more giggles escape before he can fight them back.

As innocently as he can while caught in laughter, "Now help me take off my pants."

[dejah_thoris]

Her nose wrinkles with laughter, and she steals another somewhat sloppier kiss before doing as he asks.

"Your wish is my command," she drawls, and her shoulders rise to her ears for a brief moment, a look of unholy glee in her eyes.

She rises from the couch and gives him a hand up, steadying him. "And then we can ask the magic wardrobe if it has something comfy for you to wrap up in. Otherwise I might get distracted from the strawberries and start nibbling on you instead."

[2goodarms]

"Well..." he says, trailing off with the same mock-innocence. If he'd already had that third glass of champagne, he'd be waggling his eyebrows right now.

Curtis braces one hand on Dejah and starts shimmying out of his pants. Yeah, okay, maybe he's slightly worse off than he thought: now that he's standing up, there's a definite wobble to the room he's studiously ignoring.

[dejah_thoris]

She has to slip an arm around his waist to catch him, still chuckling under her breath.  She gives him a firm hand to lean against while he disrobes.  (She will never quite understand pants.  They seem so restrictive.)  And when they're off, she doesn't let go.  She keeps him close.

He's still pale as milk, and he could use a bit more insulation over his ribs, especially with winter coming.  She smoothes a hand down his chest down to his abdomen, her fingertips lingering at a thin silver scar just a few inches above his hip.

"What's this?"

[2goodarms]

"What's what?" He follows her fingertips down, blinking when the spots the scar. "Oh. Huh."

Curtis's hand lights on the back of hers.

"No idea. I think it's from before. Some kind of surgery I got."

[dejah_thoris]

"Oh." There's a wisp of curiosity and consternation. His lack of memory is something she has trouble grasping. Rationally, she knows it is simply how his mind works, but it still confounds her. She relies on her memory, and the idea of not being able to remember, it's utterly foreign to her.

She pushes the worry away, her hand coasting down to light on his hip bone. Absentmindedly, she drops a kiss on his shoulder, and whispers against his skin. "Let me find something for you to change into. I'll be right back."

The wardrobe is only a few steps away, but it still feels like she has to tear herself away from him. Tonight, any air at all between them feels like too much.

[2goodarms]

"Okay." It sounds a bit more absent than before. Curtis keeps examining the scar, running his fingertips over it like he's never seen it before.

He hasn't, really. Not like this. It's been there so long -- and often hidden beneath so many layers of clothes -- that he tends to forget it's even there. And he's not so far gone that he doesn't catch that breath of Dejah's feelings: that little needle-prick of annoyance, or worry, or something that stands out amidst all the good stuff floating through the room.

A little quieter: "Sorry I can't remember."

[dejah_thoris]

"It's all right," she says, and he can feel the wash of assurance with her words. It really is okay. She opens the wardrobe and is pleasantly surprised to find a raw silk kimono that is clearly more masculine than her tastes. She murmurs a quiet thanks and pulls it out for him. After a moment's thought, she pulls out her own cobalt blue robe and drapes it over her arm.

She comes back, unfolding his robe as she goes. "Here we are. This is for you." She helps him slip it on and tie it shut.

And then she drapes her robe over his arm and steps back, giving him a crooked grin. She reaches up with one hand and undoes the clasp at her shoulder.

"Fair's fair."

[2goodarms]

Well then. Curtis does his best not too look too eager, but his own smile betrays him; he steps closer, assisting Dejah as she sheds her dress.

He's caught glimpses of her clan markings -- never all at once, but, through a bared shoulder there or a short skirt there, enough to map out a rough sketch in his head. The vine-like swirls across her shoulders sweep down into a more geometric pattern along her spine, following the tracks down to split at her legs. Mesmerized, he brushes his fingers over them as the dress falls lower.

His hand stops at a thick ridge of scar tissue. Curtis's smile fades; gently, he traces its path around her hip and shoots Dejah a questioning glance.

[dejah_thoris]

The dress falls away like mist. It pools at her feet and she steps out of it, into his embrace. His hand lights on her scar and she chuffs a quiet laugh.

"An old war wound," she says, twisting her leg so he can see the whole of it. "Zodangan raiders, caught us by surprise. We got out by the skin of our teeth, but don't worry. I took his head in payment."

[2goodarms]

"Good." A quiet ferocity bites at his words. He keeps smoothing his palm over the scar, as if trying to brush it away. "Did you use that, um, that Thark stuff on on it?"

It doesn't look like she did. Which means if she did...Christ, she's lucky she's still got the leg at all.

[dejah_thoris]

"I did," she says, a touch sheepish, glancing back down at it, twisting her leg a bit from side to side.

"I know it's ugly, but -- I've grown used to it, if that makes any sense. Sometimes it aches, when the weather shifts. I've noticed it throbs a little when it rains here? And I still use the salve on it from time to time."

[2goodarms]

"It's not ugly," he's quick to say. "I'm just...glad it wasn't worse."

A crooked smile.

"Wouldn't want us to be missing limb buddies."

[dejah_thoris]

She smirked at him and rocked her weight into his at the hip.

"Thanks, I think?" she says, laughing under her breath. "Robe, please? Unless you want me traipsing about like this."

[2goodarms]

" -- Right, yeah," he says, and quickly shakes out the robe to drape around her. Deadpan, "That'd just be a tragedy."

[dejah_thoris]

"If it wasn't winter, I wouldn't mind really." She shrugs on the robe and ties it shut. "But I promised to behave," she says, her hands smoothing down the front of his robe to rest at his waist.

"Such an arduous request, but I will do my best."

[2goodarms]

"Mm."

He smiles, drops another light kiss on her nose.

"So what you're saying is we gotta do this again in the summer." Beat. "And a lot of other times in between."

[dejah_thoris]

"If you like," she says, stealing that kiss back from his lips.

She giggles under her breath and gently urges him back to the couch. She plucks the champagne bottle out of the basket and refills their glasses. That done, she settles beside him again.

"But I also don't want to make you uncomfortable. I know you don't care for having less than three layers on. Which is a pity really. You're not the only one who enjoys the view."

[2goodarms]

"I don't mind having less on," he points out. "Depends where I am."

Mmm, champagne. He takes a long swig, nestling his head on her shoulder.

The faintly drunken earnestness creeps back into his voice as he goes on, "Like up here with you. It gets hot in here anyway, it's probably better I'm not wearing everything, you know? It's not uncomfortable then."