Logs:Tactical Titillation
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| RL Date: 1 November, 2013 |
| Who: Tayte, H'vier, Reisoth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: Hatching feasts are supposed to be fun, right? Expectations take a detour because Tayte and H'vier are awesome at making bad decisions. |
| Where: Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 22, Month 2, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Azaylia/Mentions, Haelana/Mentions, K'del/Mentions, N'rov/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Sexual themes, nudity, adult language, and H'vier. And Tayte. And the bathes. Another scene that neglected to get posted in all the RL-hecticness. Back-dated, played via gdocs. |
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| Bathing Pools, High Reaches Weyr Omnipresent clouds of steam slink across the tops of three naturally warm pools, set into the floor of this kidney-shaped cavern. Near the entrance the ceiling is high and polished, gleaming with little mineral specks as it sweeps downward into increasingly ragged, uneven steps. The foremost of the pools is squared off with wide steps leading down into the water and has faucets for bringing in cooler water from a rain-catching cistern. Primarily used for laundry, there's an almost constant film of suds along its surface until the circulating current clears it at the end of the day. Four sinks line the nearest wall and various tubs stored beneath allow for the washing of delicates. Laundry bags can be dropped off in the bins near the door and clean, folded laundry is stacked in rows of tall cubbies for easy pickup. The bend in the cavern leads to a rougher-hewn part of the chamber where the two circular bathing pools welcome those in need of a wash. Towels and washcloths are kept in neat stacks on shelves along the wall, along with sacks of sweetsand and a few bars of precious soap. Stone benches provide a place for sitting to remove shoes and clothing, while a row of gleaming brass hooks stand above, ready to hold clothes and robes.
Upon entering the relatively deserted caverns, Tayte slips her hand from H'vier's and moves toward the cubbies with a little bounce in her step as if she were still following the Harpers' rhythms though they're too far from the party to still hear them. She slips out of her dress, a slinky black number that ends just above the knee, and makes for an empty pool. Hatchings aren't really his favorite thing. But hatching feasts are as good of a reason as any to have a few drinks and watch the women in their pretty things. Of course Tayte draws his eye, especially when Haelena is trying to get under the dress where he still has some proprietary feelings going on. When they get to bathing cavern, H'vier isn't in such a hurry to strip down, more interested in watching Tayte do it while there's few people here to roll their eyes at him. It's only after she's heading for an empty pool that the bronzerider sits down to undo his boots and work at his shirt. "You're gonna get cold once we leave, you know." "Why? Are you going to steal my dress?" The one she sadly wasn't able to hang and instead had to be folded neatly into her cubby before she headed for the water. "I've got my cloak hanging on a peg in the living cavern. I figured we'd head back through there before we went out. Unless you want to take the long way 'round." Through all of those twisting tunnels that eventually bring interested parties from the living cavern side of the bowl around to the crafter side of the bowl. Tayte pauses at water's edge, apparently oblivious to the looks given to H'vier or the looks she might be receiving for not scolding him or some such, to grab her hair and pull it back, tying it through itself into a knot at the nape of her neck. Apparently, this is to be a body soak, not a full scrub. But then, she doesn't have her giant tote of bath items, so... "Or is it just that you won't help me warm back up?" That has a touch of the provocative as an undertone. "I wouldn't worry about me warming you back up," says H'vier with his usual hint of knowing just how great he is that so many women find off-putting. But she's saying things sexily, so you can't really blame him. When he finally manages to get out of his clothes and make his way to the pool, he slides himself in with a sigh that probably makes him sound like an old fogey. Hot water is nice, man. "If nothing else, it's a good excuse to drink more. Fuck by the hearth." Despite his words being anything but, his tone is feigning romantic. She's in the water by the time he gets there, settled on the under-water ledge that keeps the water just below her neck. Her eyes have involuntarily closed, because hot water is nice. "Mmm," is her sound of agreement. For all that he's not picking romantic words, apparently H'vier being H'vier works for her, Faranth save her. After a few moments of silence pass, she sighs contentedly. "This is nice. Maybe not as nice as if we had our own private beach on some deserted island, but still, nice." Then she shifts, placing one hand lightly against his side to draw his attention, "Did you and Reisoth enjoy the hatching? Or are you just glad the Fortian's on his way home?" Well, in theory, anyway. "I know some places I could take you that are private enough. I think a private bath might be even nicer." He's clearly been at Reaches for too damned long if he thinks that, granted. His old Istan self would surely punch him in the face. "Reisoth enjoys them. Though he'll enjoy it more when he can speak to the new bastards without getting in trouble for upsetting them. If you've seen five hatchings, you've seen them all. I will be glad when the Fortian goes home, though. He can take that sharding goldrider with him, too." "The rumors I hear say she's not going anywhere. Maybe it'd be better to find a way to bury the knife. Preferably not in her body." Tayte's tone has humor in it, her hand idly sliding up and then moving to settle on his shoulder as she draws herself in front of him. "You might be right about a private bath. I've heard there are some amazing hot springs around, but I've never been to any of them." She looks thoughtful a moment, "I wonder if I could bribe my way to a room with a private bath. I'd probably have to give up the extra space if I wanted a perk like that though." Trade-offs. She sighs. "Yvalia and I sleeping in the same space would be inconvenient. I've grown accustomed to having a little space, even if I wouldn't want more at night." Well, most nights. H'vier snorts at that. He'll keep his proverbial knife, thank you very much. But it's difficult to be annoyed about a woman that isn't here when the one that is is so naked and close. He, however, keeps his hands to himself. For now. "Come Hraedhyth's next flight, hopefully I'll be moving into that nice big weyr with a private bath and ground access." Which would obviously negate the necessity for Tayte to worry about getting her own bath. Tayte's head cants as she looks at him. She doesn't cast aspersions or voice doubts about either Reisoth's ability to catch Hraedhyth or H'vier's questionable suitability for the post, or the fact that Yvalia's father, her somehow-family, is currently Acting Weyrleader and might well want to be again. Instead, she asks, her alto curious though light - if he's had too much to drink, perhaps he won't recognize how dangerously light, "Would you take her as your lover? After the flight. Azaylia, I mean." It's hard to say if he's had too much to drink or if he's just being an oblivious male but H'vier doesn't seem to think this requires a cautious answer. If he thought that, he probably wouldn't ask, "Is this one of your questions, gorgeous?" in that joking tone that he uses. "She's not my usual type but maybe fucking her a few times would make her easier to deal with." "No, just a question I have, not one of my questions." Tayte makes the difference so clear. She purses her lips slightly, looking at his face. She doesn't immediately shift away from him, but asks: "You have a usual type?" She sounds quite serious about this, and surprised. Then she's slipping away from him, on the pretense of moving to where there's a bucket of soapsand a little ways along the ledge. "Sort of, I guess," he says, a little more carefully. Like he's just realizing that whatever he might say could actually affect his ability to get laid tonight. Not that it keeps H'vier from saying anything stupid anyway. "I mean, she's okay. I'd definitely fuck her. But she's a little thicker than I'd usually try with if there was something better available. Someone. Not better, just... less thick." Yeah, that's probably not helping. "Have you seen her work out?" Tayte glances back to H'vier with a dubious brow. "She's probably all muscle except for the curves. Maybe that's why she's not your type. Because it'd hurt if she ever had cause to knee you somewhere unpleasant." Like that one time Tayte needed to, and she's got enough muscle, but isn't all muscle. It's remarked on innocently, leaving the implications to his imagination as she reaches for the soapsand and wets it before shifting to get on her feet so the water only reaches her mid-belly. It's a tactical move, of course. The more distracting she can be, the more off his guard he'll become (she hopes) as they move further into dangerous waters. "It hurts no matter who's on the other end of the knee," says H'vier. But his attention is definitely drawn to Tayte's much more obvious nudity when she rises up out of the water that much. He falls silent and watches shamelessly instead. This probably won't help his ability to get back out of the bath in a timely manner. "Mm," is Tayte's thoughtful, if not illuminating response to that. She takes her time. Really? It's a show for an audience of one, almost as if every move were made to make it that much harder for him to leave the bathes so quickly. "Do you always use fucking as a tool to get what you want?" When she asks this, her voice is soft, but there's a little edge to the words, a warning edge. "Would you like me to tell you about all the people I've been fucking lately?" The rumors belie her words. Flirtation, there's rumors she does that. But fucking? There's really not much to be said in the way of Tayte taking people home or letting them take her home. H'vier is an attentive and appreciative audience. His arms are spread along the edge of the pool but he's starting to look like he'd really like at least one of those hands under the water. He's refraining. Probably because that definitely won't help with leaving. Fortunately her question probably will help. The bronzerider looks immediately agitated to at least a minor degree. "Who have you been fucking?" he asks. He probably doesn't actually want to know but it's a possessive impulse that's difficult for him to control. "And no. Women are manipulated with relationships, not fucking. You can fuck your way into a relationship but--" Well, she's seen how awesome he is at those already. Instead of answering H'vier's question about who she's been fucking, Tayte asks, "So, you'll win Hraedhyth's flight and fuck Azaylia enough times to to make her think of you as her beau so you can manipulate her into being easier to deal with?" Perhaps now it's obvious why this was dangerous. Even so, it's not as if she's stopping the show. "That's only assuming she'd be interested in fucking me after I won," he points out. Surely he's realized the dangerous nature of the conversation. Maybe he's just playing along with it now while he watches her. And watching her is what he's doing. Very closely. But his own hands stay firmly on the edge of the pool. They might have white knuckles, but that's where they're staying. "Who?" he asks again. Tayte doesn't answer immediately this time, either. She lets him watch in silence. Helpful, right? To thinking clearly, and handling tricky conversation? The words come, eventually, though the tone can't be helpful, "No one. But maybe I'll change that now that I know you're so eager to make other women think they're with you just because they have a shiny dragon for yours to fuck." No one. At another time, H'vier might be suspicious about that answer. But right now, he wants to believe it. So he does. "I don't care about Azaylia, woman. I just want the fucking knot her damned dragon can give me." Never mind that their relationship is one he's been trying to keep distant enough that he shouldn't care if there is anyone else. But that nonsense is for a time when all of his blood isn't in the wrong head. "Faranth help me, I'll bend you over right here and have my way with you if you keep that up." Slowly one eye peeks open. "So you don't like what I'm doing then?" Tayte obviously intentionally misinterprets H'vier's threat/promise as her other eye opens and her lower lip juts out slowly in a pout. "Fine, fine. I'll remember that for the next time you want me to put on a show for you." She siiighs and sinks down into the water, putting her assets away for the moment. She's far enough away from him to feel confident in saying what she does next, though perhaps she underestimates his ability to get to her if he so chooses, "I suppose I could start fucking other people tonight. Plenty of people looking for a good time and a good show. I might not even have to leave the cavern." There's a slight challenging raise to one of her arched brows. H'vier doesn't say anything at first. He watches Tayte as she goes to sit down, though. It's not until those last words and maybe the challenging look she gives him that the bronzerider rises to his feet and moves in her direction. Not fast but toward her. "Does it look like I don't like what you were doing?" he asks. "On the other hand, it's really hard to just watch." Woe is H'vier. "Well, maybe," Tayte presses herself back against the ledge, as though that will help her back away from H'vier, her tone sparking with both anger and annoyance openly now, "If you hadn't been so busy answering my questions so blithely about fucking and being in a relationship, feigned or no, with another woman, you'd have been invited to participate." As is, her body shifts and her legs fold over each other at the knee and arms cross across her chest. Access denied! This is not what he wanted. H'vier frowns, but he looks annoyed, too. He's all worked up and she's shutting down now? "Don't be like that, gorgeous. You'd rather I lie, instead?" He doesn't seem to think that's the case. Either way, he's coming closer now and reaching a hand out to grasp for enough purchase on her to try pulling her up and against him. "You can continue the show as soon as we leave, right?" "No. I'd rather you not need to lie." Tayte answers back, her voice equally vexed, though for a different cause. The hand reaches, and finds it's mark on her bicep, but the muscle flexes in resistance. Of course, he's stronger, so if he's wanting her against him, that's where she's ultimately going to come, especially since the water provides little traction for her to stay put, little gravity to help, either, and with her legs and arms crossed, she's not in a strong defensive position. Still, she makes a frustrated sound as she's pulled, too easily for her tastes against him. Her eyes are narrowed as she looks up at him. "I don't know that I want to." Although that's not a 'no.' "What's the use of having you--" She can't seem to say it, so she skirts it, "--care about me if you're just interested in being in a relationship with whoever has the biggest knot? I'm never going to have a gold, or a great big knot." So how can she compete? The question goes unsaid. It probably won't help that H'vier seems to deem her frustration smile-worthy. But she's cute when she's like that. It's not his fault! He wraps his big, bare arms around her when she's against him and turns so he can sit down and keep her trapped on his lap at the same time. "I'm not interested in any relationships with any of the goldriders. You not having a gold, or any dragon, is one of the many things I love about you." Yeah, he's used it once. He can use it peripherally even more easily. Man-handled! The gall of him. Tayte struggles ineffectually. Her squirming probably doesn't help the efforts of getting out of the bath sooner, or, really, her staying angry with him. She doesn't make it easy for him, requiring him to use his leg to maneuver hers into a position where she can be brought into his lap. There's annoyance in her expression and frustration, but she's not calling out or making a sound that would bring anyone running to help her, so it's probably tacit encouragement. "You are infuriating." She accuses. Although, obviously, she likes him and therefore probably, on some sick level, enjoys that, too. H'vier is probably enjoying her struggling and squirming entirely too much. And it's definitely not helping his situation at all. Especially not when he's trying to pull her back to press against him once she's down in his lap. "And you're beautiful when you're trying to be angry," he murmurs at her, sounding kind of pleased with himself. Trying, indeed. "Do you want me to let you go?" The glare probably doesn't help anything. She really does get prettier the angrier she gets. Crying? Crying's bad, crying's ugly. But angry? Angry just makes her look wild in the best way, or controlled. Right now, it's the latter, though it's pushing toward the former. Tayte glares up at him, lips tight, "So I can go fuck someone else? Would you let me go if I said yes?" It's further challenge, maybe she's trying to make him angry. Maybe this is a bad plan. But welcome to Tayte. Bad Planner Extraordinaire. "You're not fucking anyone else," he assures her like this is totally his decision to make. "Not anymore," is his response in regard to letting her go. H'vier isn't going to risk her storming off just to make a point. But as he watches her, he seems to get another idea in his head. "Maybe I'll let you go if you answer one question. How about that? Then you can go do whatever you sharding want with whoever you want." She should sense the danger. But anger makes her stupid. Well, a lot of things make her stupid, but anger is one of them. Tayte squirms again, shifting her hips, flexing her arms, trying to find a way to break free of his stupidly strong arms. Why does she have to like strong men? Why can't he be a ninety pound weakling? Just for a minute! So inconvenient. Not making progress makes her angrier, and stupider, so, "Fine." She half-growls, still moving in his grasp, still seeking release, "What's the question?" H'vier is getting kind of distracted by her struggling to be free. It has definitely not made him less aroused, either. With one arm wrapping firmly around her torso, the other lifts up toward her neck to tilt her head back with one of those big hands. His head tilts down near her temple, brushing his lips against her skin before he asks, "Do you love me?" It helps that he said the L-word not long before this moment. It means Tayte doesn't completely shut down. For three months, she's been worried about this moment. Every rendez-vous they've shared, she's breathed a sigh of relief after he's going because he didn't ask this question. But she opened the door, so she was right to worry. Her struggling abruptly stops and the anger evaporates, her body is left with a different kind of tension. This tension, though, has her leaning into him, her breaths drawing rapid and shallow. She'd probably like to look away, but his hand is tilting her head back, so her reaction is all too vulnerable for his scrutiny. She looks-- scared. Abruptly, it's hard to get words past the sudden constriction of her throat and the clumsiness of her tongue. "Last time--" She starts and stops and starts again with the same, "Last time I told you I loved you, you told me I didn't know what love is-- that we didn't, I mean." Technically, he had put them in the same boar. "If I say it again now, what makes you think that we know any better now?" He relaxes the tilt of her head but doesn't let go completely. Maybe H'vier likes her looking vulnerable and scared as much as he likes her struggling. He's kind of a bastard no matter how you look at it. He doesn't say anything for a few long, possibly uncomfortable, moments, but when he does speak, it's another question. "Do you love K'del?" The fact that he said one questions seems to have been lost on him already. That was probably the last thing she expected to have come out of his mouth next. Scratch that, she didn't expect that would ever come out of his mouth, at least not on the heels of this. On the heels of surprise, she looks hurt. And still scared. Maybe she's wishing she had found a way to answer the first question honestly without needing an answer to her own first. "Havi, that's not fair," is what Tayte manages, softly, with an edge of apology. How is that even a question? Would she let someone she didn't love adopt her daughter? "It's not like that with K'del." Now she's reaching for him, her hand slipping up to curl around his chin on one side, fingertips touching his cheek, silently willing him, maybe even begging him to somehow find a way to see that. H'vier lifts his head up when her hand lifts toward it. There's a different tension in him for a few moments, and then his hold on her goes slack. He doesn't push her away but he's not forcing her to stay there anymore, either. "You worry about silly things like weyrwomen, Tayte," he says. And it sounds like there's supposed to be more, like he's not finished saying his thought, but he doesn't continue. This, at least, is finally helping with his issue of being able to leave the pool without scandalizing anyone that might come in. "We should go," he says instead of whatever it was before. But he's not pressing for her to answer his original question now. Maybe she'd like to answer his first question now, even without his pressing, but the moment's soured, no longer right, if it ever was. Tayte looks troubled when he avoids her hand, drawing it back as though he'd made to bite it or something instead of just shying away. She probably should get up. Take the out he's offering her, but she can't seem to get that far, in fact, she doesn't move off his lap, instead her legs draw up and her arms wrap around them as she withdraws from this uncomfortable, perhaps even heart-breaking, or at least wrenching moment. "You worry about silly things like who I fuck, when you fuck whoever you like," Tayte points out after a moment, her voice small in half-hearted protest (or maybe even quarter-hearted). "Why can't I worry about weyrwomen?" "Because they don't fucking matter. They're a means to an end. I don't care about them past what they can give me. And I don't care about anyone that I fuck." Except her. That goes unsaid. It's not really something he wants to think about right now. "But you. You actually care about other people. You love other people. And you gave your daughter, my daughter, away to one of them." Yeah, he's still going with that possibility, even if he's tried to distance himself from it for Yvalia's sake. "How am I supposed to compare to that? Even if I was willing to give up everything for you, Tayte, I'd never have all of you." There's an explosion of movement from Tayte then, right after his last word is said. She's scrambling to get off his lap, which results in falling into the water, of course, so she's sopping, hair and all, damnit, when she finds her feet again. Her form is taut, on the edge of further movement, and surely some part of her wants to run away, because that's what Tayte does when things get hard. And this is hard. But for once, she doesn't run. For once, she holds her ground, staring at the big bronzerider, her face an amalgam of emotions. "Why would you ever need to compare to anyone else I love? They're them, and you're you. Would you have me as other than I am? Would you have me stop loving my daugher-" Each word of the phrase is separated for emphasis so he can really think about that, "-or other members of my family just so I could say the only person I loved was you?" It might be easier for her if she made the argument for differentiating loving and being in love with, only, for Tayte, that is the most dangerous question. "Don't be stupid," says H'vier. "Of course I wouldn't expect you to stop loving your daughter." The bronzerider looks at the woman for several long moments before he rises up himself. There's no motion toward her, though. He just looks at her. "Why, indeed," he says. "Forget it, Tayte." And just like that, no more feelings, like H'vier can just turn them on and off like a light switch. It would probably be nice for him if he actually could. "Are we fucking or not?" is his last question, after all of that, as he turns to the edge of the pool to get out and dry off enough to put his clothes back on. So many emotions. First anger, then some cousin of relief, then startlement as he says 'Why, indeed,' then confusion, then frustration when he tells her to forget it. Maybe it's the combination of all of these that have her snapping, using his words, "Don't be stupid." She moves toward the edge of the pool, "Of course we are." Why let all of these crazy emotions ruin a good fuck? Or at least that seems to be the idea, whether or not it will happen that Havi's stay turned off and Tayte's manage to not explode in some ugly fit of tears... Well, she's apparently willing to risk it as she pulls herself out of the water and heads for the towels and then her dress. "Good." That's all he says, neutral, with a brief glance back at her as she gets out of the pool. H'vier goes about dressing himself. It doesn't take long because he's kind of messy about it. It's not like he's planning on going back to the party for more than a few minutes, or at all if he can help it. He waits for Tayte to dress herself so he can accompany her when she's ready. It takes Tayte longer to towel off than to dress, but the importance of the toweling off becomes apparent when she slips the dress on over her head and wiggles it down to where it sits right on her. She doesn't bother to try to fix her hair now that it's soaked, so she just slips into her boots and heads for the living cavern. She doesn't try to talk now. Not to H'vier, not to people still enjoying the feast, she simply pauses long enough at the hooks all along the wall at the door, hooks that have become quite full, of course, to collect her cloak, pull it around her shoulders along with brown earmuffs and gloves. The earmuffs go on before they get out in the cold, and she pulls on the gloves as they walk. "My place or yours?" She anticipates the answer as hers, since from hers, he doesn't have to bother to deliver her back to the ground, and she hardly suspects he wants her all night after what's just transpired, so she starts stepping that direction (which is still into the bowl where they'd have to go to meet Reisoth anyway, but...). No doubt that question has already been rolling around in that head of his. So when she asks, H'vier has an answer for her. "Mine," is his answer, for whatever reasons that he has. And Reisoth is already waiting for them in the bowl. The bronze eyes them curiously. And if Tayte has learned anything about Reisoth, it should be that being a subject of interest is rarely a good thing. But dragons are strange creatures. It's not the expected answer, so that's one thing, although Tayte is ready enough to concede. She did offer the option, after all. But the way Reisoth eyes them... That's unsettling, because she probably has learned that. If not from H'vier directly, then from rumors she's cultivated from riders about H'vier and his lifemate. For a moment, she glances toward H'vier with a little concern, and then snags onto his hand, to hold it whether he likes it or not for the last feet they have to travel before mounting up. There's no protest for her taking his hand. He doesn't pull away, though he only just holds hers back in turn. At least until he's helping her up onto the dragon. Once he's up, Reisoth launches into the air, circling the bowl once before landing easily on the edge of his ledge. Once his passengers are safely on stone again, the big bronze doesn't retire to his wallow. He stays outside where he can watch the bowl. H'vier, thought, reaches to grasp Tayte's bicep and he guides them inside, less gentle than he might usually be at this point. Tayte's a relatively experienced passenger, but still, in the dress, she needs help getting up and settled. She might have a fleeting moment of wonder about how female riders that like to wear dresses do it, but the thought only lasts as long as it takes to arrive at the ledge because then she's using H'vier's help to get back down. Her long cloak is caught in the wind until they move into the weyr, Tayte not resisting his roughly guiding hand, giving it a brief glance before her eyes move toward his face, likely trying to read there his intentions, or his emotions, or both, or neither. Just something. Inside his weyr, H'vier releases her with a small shove in the direction of his bed so he can go and uncover enough glows that they can see, well, anything. "Take it off. All of it. And think up a question. You're using one now." When there are a few glows dimly illuminating the weyr, H'vier goes to light the hearth, leaving Tayte to obey or, you know, not while he's busy. Demanding. Tayte stumbles a little when he shoves, not that it's a big shove, just unexpected. She turns to raise a brow a the bronzerider before doing anything. As she turns away, there's a soft mumble, something under her breath. She moves to where she can draper her cloak on a handy bit of furniture then bends to pull her feet out of her boots. "You know," she starts as she pulls the dress up and over her head, "None of my questions are going to be conducive to being in the mood for a fuck." Then she clarifies as her hands fall onto her now naked hips, "I mean, for you." His mood, not necessarily hers. "And it's a little chilly, mind putting another log on fire?" There's visual evidence that she finds it to be so, at any rate. H'vier deals with the hearth in silence, though he adds another log as suggested. When he's done, his hands go to his shirt to unbutton and shrug out of it. It gets tossed carelessly away. "Don't worry about my mood, doll," he assures her. "You're at ten once you leave whether you ask it or not." Obviously, he won't care if she doesn't. His boots are kicked away since he only tied them up enough not to fall off during the flight up here. Tayte closes her eyes for a long moment, her lips move but there's no sound. Maybe if he watched closely and the light were good enough he could pick out just what her other eleven questions entail, because apparently she's already composed them all, or at least most of them. None of them are easy, so that doesn't come into the choice of which to pose in this moment. "Okay." She settles on one finally and her eyes open. "Question two is: if I want to try to have a baby, do you want to try with me?" None of the questions are easy. While Tayte closes her eyes to think about which of her questions to ruin the moment with, H'vier moves closer. He starts to unfasten his pants but stops part way through, hands still holding onto the fastenings, when she asks that question. There's something in his expression that suggests something along the lines of 'you've got to be kidding me' but he doesn't say it out loud. That should earn some sort of award. Unfortunately, he doesn't have an actual answer, either. He just stares dumbly at Tayte. There should be an award. But there's no award here now, so Tayte lets her hands fall away from her bare hips to step over two him, saying as she comes, "And this is why you should really let me choose when to use my questions. I might've picked a better moment to ask." If such a thing as a better moment existed. She comes to a stop just before him, one hand tentatively reaching out with the intention of pressing flat to his chest. "You don't have to answer me now. But I do expect an answer at some point." She's apparently feeling more charitable and forgiving about his having forced her to use-or-lose a question tonight. That dumb look persists for a long few moments. H'vier doesn't come any closer to an answer but the flat of Tayte's hand against his chest draws him somewhat back to focus on her instead of the question. He catches her at the wrist to pull her hand away, though he keeps hold of it as he steps back and takes a thorough look of her nudity. He's seen it all before but that doesn't mean he doesn't still enjoy it. "Do you already know how you want me to answer that?" he wonders. "Yes." Tayte answers, blinking down at the the hand now capturing her wrist. She elaborates as she looks back up to him, ocean eyes still blinking a little more rapidly than necessary. "Honestly." That's how she'd like him to answer. "But if you mean am I asking you for the sake of asking you or asking you because if--" No, that's not right. She corrects, "-when I'm ready to try again, I want to to try with you, it's that." Then she looks annoyed, as if just reminding herself the circumstances under which they left the baths. What does that mean for the question she couldn't just answer earlier? Who knows. H'vier snorts when she says that word. It wasn't one he'd been expecting. And, lets face it, it's kind of funny. The rest might be, too, considering he laughs properly when she starts looking annoyed. It's not the most friendly laughter, granted. But sometimes you just have to laugh to keep from crying. Not that H'vier would be crying. "You just saying that because you think that's what I want to hear right now, gorgeous?" "Havi, when have I ever told you something just because I thought you wanted to hear it?" Never. "You know I'm more inclined to tell you all the things you don't want to hear." Tayte shifts her free hand to perch on her hip again, letting it sway to one side. Her expression has brows raised, apparently not inclined to share in what he thinks is funny. His humor fades almost as quickly as it had come. H'vier steps in toward Tayte and half herds, half guides her closer to the bed. He releases her wrist, at least, and shoves the rest of the way out of his pants to kick them aside. "Ladies first," he says with a gesture at the bed as though she's welcome to get her ass in there or pick a position or something equally unromantic. Again, there's stumbling with the shove, and a roll of her eyes as she pauses at the edge of the bed to look back at him over her shoulder. Ocean eyes watch him for a moment, "Trust you to get all sentimental." Tayte quips with a little sigh, before crawling onto the bed and rolling onto her back, using her elbows to prop herself up even as knees are drawn up. A single eyebrow dares him to do something about it. "Sentiment has never gotten me anywhere," says H'vier. It's casual rather than defensive, anyway, and the bronzerider joins her on the bed, crawling in a much less sexy way to kneel by her drawn up knees where he settles his hands. For a moment, at least, before they move down her calves and then back up. He doesn't try to get between her legs, though. Instead he's silent for a few moments before finally saying, "I don't think I'm the sort of person that should be fathering your children, Tayte." The fact that he doesn't go in for the kill has Tayte's stomach flexing and hands shifting to support her torso as she sits most of the way up now, eyes intently on his face. "I know you think that. But you're not the one asking you. I am. And I still disagree with you. Do you not want to have a child with me?" Her expression darkens, ashamed, her eyes turning sad, "Is it because I lost--?" But she can't bring herself to finish the question. Clearly, even if she's thinking about this now, she's not ready, at least not right now. "Dammit, woman. That wasn't your fault." He sounds oddly angry that she'd think it was in the first place. H'vier moves forward, pressing himself in between her legs and pushing her back against the bed she's just lifted herself from as he moves over her. "Stop thinking that way. It was probably for the best, in the end, wasn't it?" Only H'vier would say something insensitive like that. "You're a fool for thinking I'd-- Fuck." The last word is said emphatically, almost an angry yell. He's most definitely not ready for any of the activities he'd wanted to be partaking in anymore. And things are totally going to get better! Because as soon as he says it was probably for the best, Tayte's arm, no longer needing to support her weight since he pushed her onto her back, is flying to try to land a slap to his face. She's not really in a good position for it, of course, so there's not a lot of momentum there, and H'vier could probably see it coming. It probably says something about his arrogance that he looks shocked by the hand that strikes his face. His first impulse is to look pissed off about it, but that only lasts for a few moments. H'vier stares at Tayte and she can probably see the change. There's something in his expression that suggests he thinks he probably deserved that before he's drawing away to sit on the edge of the bed. Tayte has to take a second to gather herself before she can bring herself to move to H'vier's side. She lies on her back a moment, clenching her fingers up into a fist, and then draws herself up and scooches to sit beside him, her thigh lightly touching his. She's looking for words, but she can't find them, so she rests her cheek against his shoulder, seeking to twine her fingers of their closest hands. "No." She finally manages. "No, it was not for the best. And there's nothing that could ever happen to convince me otherwise. Our child was wanted." Her voice is quiet, but strong with her unwavering belief. H'vier doesn't keep Tayte from touching him but he doesn't necessarily return the favor. He stares in the general direction of the hearth. He's quiet for a long time but finally says, simply, "I don't know if I want to try again, Tayte." He sounds like he's just realized this himself. The only sign that there's a negative reaction to what H'vier says is a slight tightening of Tayte's lips. She slowly draws a breath and then lets it out, her fingers squeezing his hand. "Okay." She accepts gently. "You don't have to." She shifts and brushes her far hand lightly across the top of his nearest thigh. "But if you ever change your mind... you'll tell me?" She's looking at him now, her chin tilted up and cheek no longer leaning against his shoulder, but letting her chin prop there instead. "Don't really like the idea of you trying with someone else, either." This is added after another few moments and H'vier is frowning when he finally tilts his head toward Tayte. "Sure," he says, his voice more subdued now, distant and pensive. "Why would you want to try again with me?" After everything they've been through. "We don't have to talk about that now," Tayte soothes, the pressure of her fingertips moving across his thigh a little less tentative, a little more there. "I'm not ready to try yet. I might not be for turns. I want another child someday. But after ours, and what happened... I'm not ready to try." So there's that. But then there's that question of his that needs answering. "Why do you think I would want to try with you again?" She rolls her eyes, as if it should be obvious. One more opportunity to say the L-word that presents itself and is passed over. Answering a question with a question isn't exactly reassuring, either. None of that talk is particularly satisfying as far as the bronzerider is concerned. But he doesn't complain right now. Or answer the question she returns. They've done too much damned talking tonight as it is. H'vier reaches out a hand to cover hers against his thigh. He doesn't stop it from moving, just squeezing slightly before letting it go again. "Do you want to stay the night still?" Or should he be getting dressed to take her back down to the bowl? Well, maybe she can make other things more satisfying. Tayte shifts so she can straddle his lap, her arms slipping around his neck. "Yes, I want to stay. Do you want to do things or do you want to drink and just sleep? Or just sleep? Or?" She might have more options and ideas, but she leaves it there. One hand slips into his hair, "I could get you in the mood, if you'd let me. If you want me to." As Tayte shifts into his lap, H'vier's hands move to reflexively help steady her whether she needs it or not. Better than pushing her out, anyway. That seems to be the furthest thought from his mind now that the less desirable feelings have passed. He tilts his head forward against her chest. "I think I'd quite enjoy you getting me into the mood," he murmurs, though he seems comfortable where he is now, too. "You might even enjoy it as much as I will." Tayte challenges, surrendering her tone to amusement, "If you try." Then her hands shift to push lightly against his shoulders in an attempt to indicate he ought to lie back. The 'enjoy,' too, is implied as the words slip away and the engage in the only area of life where they have no problems seeing eye to eye. |
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