[ The sound she makes when his tongue meets the roof of her mouth is akin to a gasp, the feel of him making her toes curl, her stomach tighten, and her grip strengthens around him. He explores her body readily and she desperately wants to do the same, hand pressed against his back finding the lines and contours she seeks. But he's wearing too much, she thinks, and she brings her hand around to his front until it is pressed flat against his chest. He rolls his hips into hers and a quiet, thin whine bubbles up from her throat, one she would be embarrassed by if she was not so certain he wants more of the same. His answering moan is all that's necessary to make that clear. She chases his lips as he tugs at her own, body moving towards his instinctively with every shift, greedy as she is for contact.
As Cullen seeks out her throat, pressing hard kisses and nips to her sensitive skin, her hands join together at his front to begin looking for the catches of his clothes and armor so that she might explore to her heart's contentment. Neria looks for the things he can discard, his outer fur mantle and leathers being first and foremost, much as she likes the former (as any Fereldan would). But she looks, too, for the quickest way to find warm skin, to slide her hands up under his tunic so she might touch muscle beneath. He has had his moment to touch her; now she wants to touch him back.
Beneath his mouth, she shivers, every part of her sensitive to his attentions. It has been such a long time since someone has touched her this way and never someone she has felt so close to, someone she has loved so much. Head tilted just slightly back to allow him room to explore, her pulse thrums quickly, heartbeat fluttering with every graze of his teeth and suckle of his lips.
With a brief and breathless chuckle, she murmurs: ]
[ For the moment, there is no rush, at least while the comfort of their troops' abilities to handle everything on their own remains. As it stands now, they have the time they have so patiently waited for, and Cullen is keen on taking in every single moment this opportunity provides. Neria's touch, even through thick fabric, sparks a heat that comes in waves and leaves a desperate chill. ]
[ Cullen can't possibly get enough of this, tasting every angle of her neck he can reach, lingering at the chord connecting to her shoulder. He feels her hands roam, reach for whatever they can to unlatch the fur mantle on his shoulders first. A breeze follows it falling to the floor, and it comes to his attention what difficulty she is facing well before her remark. Their intentions match, it seems, and it is then that the frantic intensity starts to boil in his belly with a threat to overflow. ]
Hah--
[ Cullen chuckles, but it catches in his throat while his lips linger against her neck. Quickly, he reaches up to assist her, unlatching each piece of armor he can reach while still pressed against her. Each piece on his arms come first, and they fall with a loud clack. ]
Truly, this is the only time armor has inconvenienced me.
[ He practically lives in it, after all. Many have made a remark as to questioning whether or not it truly comes off. For once, he feels trapped in it, desperate to remove himself from it so he might assist Neria in the removal of her own. His kisses continue, launching an assault on the curve of her jaw and ear. Once more, the table creaks and he hears it, urging him to find more space and he starts to move the two of them elsewhere. Preferably towards his cot. But walking in a straight line while in the midst of removing intricate armor steals too much concentration, which sparks a greater desperation to get it off. ]
[ She could have him like this, firm against her, his lips on her throat all day, she realizes. It would drive her absolutely out of her mind, though, to let him touch her while being unable to reciprocate so wholeheartedly, and she is glad that he stops for a moment if only so she can catch her breath. Neria chuckles with him, reaching up to help him even as he continues to find pockets of sensitive skin to explore on her neck, the curve of her collar, up to her jaw and near her ear. She shivers at the first feeling of warm breath near the latter, fingers stilling on his armor as she helps him discard it. ]
I like your armor.
[ It's a very odd thing to say in the moment, truly, but she does like it. With his Templar armor left behind, he strikes an attractive figure in leathers, and she fur mantle reminds her of home. Still, she helps him, fingers attentive to the bits of skin she begins to find as his clothes come away. ]
I think, though, that I will like it better off of you.
[ It's said breathlessly even as he coaxes her to move, and Neria steps backwards towards his cot, taking him with her. Her belt comes off as quickly as she can manage, as well as the beginning buckles of the leather she wears. One hand remains on Cullen, to steer and steady him, to touch him as he has touched her, delicate fingers finding and learning the lines of muscle, toned from years of training. She caresses his shoulders, his collar, and down further to his chest, even as she works on her own clothes with a single hand.
At least she is not the only one so desperate to be rid of what keeps them confined. ]
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As Cullen seeks out her throat, pressing hard kisses and nips to her sensitive skin, her hands join together at his front to begin looking for the catches of his clothes and armor so that she might explore to her heart's contentment. Neria looks for the things he can discard, his outer fur mantle and leathers being first and foremost, much as she likes the former (as any Fereldan would). But she looks, too, for the quickest way to find warm skin, to slide her hands up under his tunic so she might touch muscle beneath. He has had his moment to touch her; now she wants to touch him back.
Beneath his mouth, she shivers, every part of her sensitive to his attentions. It has been such a long time since someone has touched her this way and never someone she has felt so close to, someone she has loved so much. Head tilted just slightly back to allow him room to explore, her pulse thrums quickly, heartbeat fluttering with every graze of his teeth and suckle of his lips.
With a brief and breathless chuckle, she murmurs: ]
You're wearing too much.
no subject
[ Cullen can't possibly get enough of this, tasting every angle of her neck he can reach, lingering at the chord connecting to her shoulder. He feels her hands roam, reach for whatever they can to unlatch the fur mantle on his shoulders first. A breeze follows it falling to the floor, and it comes to his attention what difficulty she is facing well before her remark. Their intentions match, it seems, and it is then that the frantic intensity starts to boil in his belly with a threat to overflow. ]
Hah--
[ Cullen chuckles, but it catches in his throat while his lips linger against her neck. Quickly, he reaches up to assist her, unlatching each piece of armor he can reach while still pressed against her. Each piece on his arms come first, and they fall with a loud clack. ]
Truly, this is the only time armor has inconvenienced me.
[ He practically lives in it, after all. Many have made a remark as to questioning whether or not it truly comes off. For once, he feels trapped in it, desperate to remove himself from it so he might assist Neria in the removal of her own. His kisses continue, launching an assault on the curve of her jaw and ear. Once more, the table creaks and he hears it, urging him to find more space and he starts to move the two of them elsewhere. Preferably towards his cot. But walking in a straight line while in the midst of removing intricate armor steals too much concentration, which sparks a greater desperation to get it off. ]
no subject
I like your armor.
[ It's a very odd thing to say in the moment, truly, but she does like it. With his Templar armor left behind, he strikes an attractive figure in leathers, and she fur mantle reminds her of home. Still, she helps him, fingers attentive to the bits of skin she begins to find as his clothes come away. ]
I think, though, that I will like it better off of you.
[ It's said breathlessly even as he coaxes her to move, and Neria steps backwards towards his cot, taking him with her. Her belt comes off as quickly as she can manage, as well as the beginning buckles of the leather she wears. One hand remains on Cullen, to steer and steady him, to touch him as he has touched her, delicate fingers finding and learning the lines of muscle, toned from years of training. She caresses his shoulders, his collar, and down further to his chest, even as she works on her own clothes with a single hand.
At least she is not the only one so desperate to be rid of what keeps them confined. ]