In the calm, she drifts, but any time his heart races, she floats back up towards waking, close as the beating is to her ear. It's never true waking, not actual lucid consciousness, but that half-in, half-out fuzziness.
"Shhh," she tells that drumming, drumming, drumming thing beneath her head. She kisses his chest, then scoots up until her face nestles against his neck. Arms looping up and around lazily, her chest flat against his. Perhaps her steady heartbeat will show his what to do.
Her damn hair. Look at it. Perhaps it was not some attack he needed to be worried about from her fingers, it would be from her hair, trying to smother him.
But at least she felt... nice there. Warm. Pleasant, even. Granted, was there any man that wouldn't be pleased with a warm pair of tits on their chest, straddling them? None he'd ever cared to know, that's for sure.
That may be, then, wasn't so bad. Even if her hair was trying to kill him. Did she even bother to oil it? Probably not. He saw how badly they looked after themselves at the best of time. No purpose, no order, the poorest left to squall in their own filth.
Well, if she was going to be laying on him, he'd see to that. Had to do something with all that gold they care about.
The problem Athessa has with her other...people who she sleeps with, is that they're all closer to her own size. Derrica is her size. So there's a delicate balance when it comes to comfort. She would never try to cuddle Kostos, of course, but she and Derrica sometimes share a bed and it's a tangle of limbs and hair and bedding that is fine, but it's different than this.
This, of course, being a behemoth of a Qunari making the perfect perch for a petite elven frame. He's like a breathing, self-heating mattress, even if his heartbeat won't calm the fuck down. His breathing is steady enough, a gentle rise and fall that soothes the mind enough for the body to be boneless against him.
But no, his observation is correct. She doesn't oil her hair. She doesn't know that she needs to, her hair is just hair and when it's dirty she cleans it. It's not even that she hasn't the means to do it; she simply lacks the knowledge and motive. But he'll see to that.
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"Shhh," she tells that drumming, drumming, drumming thing beneath her head. She kisses his chest, then scoots up until her face nestles against his neck. Arms looping up and around lazily, her chest flat against his. Perhaps her steady heartbeat will show his what to do.
no subject
But at least she felt... nice there. Warm. Pleasant, even. Granted, was there any man that wouldn't be pleased with a warm pair of tits on their chest, straddling them? None he'd ever cared to know, that's for sure.
That may be, then, wasn't so bad. Even if her hair was trying to kill him. Did she even bother to oil it? Probably not. He saw how badly they looked after themselves at the best of time. No purpose, no order, the poorest left to squall in their own filth.
Well, if she was going to be laying on him, he'd see to that. Had to do something with all that gold they care about.
no subject
The problem Athessa has with her other...people who she sleeps with, is that they're all closer to her own size. Derrica is her size. So there's a delicate balance when it comes to comfort. She would never try to cuddle Kostos, of course, but she and Derrica sometimes share a bed and it's a tangle of limbs and hair and bedding that is fine, but it's different than this.
This, of course, being a behemoth of a Qunari making the perfect perch for a petite elven frame. He's like a breathing, self-heating mattress, even if his heartbeat won't calm the fuck down. His breathing is steady enough, a gentle rise and fall that soothes the mind enough for the body to be boneless against him.
But no, his observation is correct. She doesn't oil her hair. She doesn't know that she needs to, her hair is just hair and when it's dirty she cleans it. It's not even that she hasn't the means to do it; she simply lacks the knowledge and motive. But he'll see to that.