Making a stupid mistake on his own time is one thing, but having an audience to it? Tyler's not sure what hurts more, his ego or everything else. He'd been lucky Amelia had taken out the balhannoth before it had squeezed that tentacle any tighter around his neck.
He can still feel the burn in his lungs, his prize from that bout not just the angry looking welts around his neck.
The tavern they find a room at is rowdy downstairs in the bar, but up above in the rooms available for a few coins, it's surprisingly quiet. In fact, Tyler feels as though all he can hear is the beating of his heart in his ears, every move he makes causing the fabric of his clothes and the bed sheets he's sat on rustle.
He realises almost abruptly that it's the self-made tension that he can't stand. The awful yawning quiet that seems to shine a spotlight on his continuing existence.
What a nightmare today has been. First the unexpected beast during what was supposed an easy job, then it almost killed Tyler, and now he's trying to play off how bad it was with that shitty comment? He's not one of hers, trained in her ways to deal with danger and changing circumstances, but she'd expected he would be better about things like this when they started traveling together. She knows he's capable and clever, but it seems dealing with the aftermath of something gone wrong isn't his strong suit.
"Don't." She says it in a stern voice that says she doesn't want to hear any arguments. She holds up a hand to keep him on the bed as she gathers a few supplies for dealing with his neck. Dreams, his neck. If she'd been any slower or he any less lucky, he would have--
"You didn't roll when I told you to," she chastises as she sets everything out on the bed beside him. "If you had, you would've had a few extra seconds without that thing trying to snap your head off." Her jaw is tense as she bends down and starts to look him over, fingers brushing through the air around his chin and neck without touching. He's seen her do this a few times by now and likely noticed the uncanny way people seem to move without her actually touching or instructing them to do so. It's in the way her fingers are careful and precise, as well as how her hazel eyes either draw someone in or tell them they will move or else. Right now she's somewhere between the two whenever she flicks her gaze to meet his.
She exhales slowly as she picks up a clean cloth and pours a little water over it from the skin on her hip. This time when she raises her hands, she touches him; gently, but with purpose as she cleans off his neck. "You hesitated. You can't do that in situations like that. I can only kill things twice my size so quickly."
The rush of annoyance flooding in is betrayed by the rippling of his jaw. He's spent so long being independent, it doesn't come natural to him to be criticised like this. Not by somebody he's desperately interested in learning from, it turns out.
None of it fits him naturally, but he's as impressed by Amelia as he is terrified of her, and usually the combination of the two is enough to have him shutting his mouth out of respect. Guilty blue eyes lift to meet her hazel gaze, and he's able to resist the urge to drop his eyes for a few steely seconds before his focus is on the other wall.
"I know, I know. I just... I thought I had it."
Clearly he didn't have it, but that doesn't need to be said. The sharp breath in as she dabs the cool cloth against his burning neck and throat spills unhindered. His adams apple bobs beneath the touches, lips pressing into a thinner line as he tries to clamp down on something.
"Why? In what way did you think you had it?" It was large, it was angry, and if it didn't seem to care when she came at it from behind it was too tough for either of them alone. Amelia rolls her eyes and continues to dab at his neck to remove all the dirt and grime still clinging to it. Once she's gotten it all off, she picks up another cloth and pours something on it to soothe the pain he's likely still feeling from the creature's tentacle.
"I don't know why you think you need to prove you can do things alone when the entire point of us traveling together is so that neither of us has to." She looks up at him, this time not moving her eyes from his face. "I know you're capable or I wouldn't have agreed to this. What I don't understand is why you seem to crave death over accepting my help."
Most of her help. He does seem to be accepting the care she's putting into his injuries right now, though dreams only know how long that will last.
He doesn't have a good answer for her first question, not when the facts speak for themselves. He was wrong, and the only reason he's still here to know he was wrong is because of Amelia.
"I don't crave death," he eventually settles on, though maybe that's not completely true. He doesn't think he does, but there's a darkness inside him that makes reckless choices at times.
"Look, I've been on my own for most of my life. It's not that I don't want to learn stuff. Or accept your help, I just... don't know how sometimes, I guess."
The end of his sentence is punctuated by a grimace, his hand moving up to rest over his shoulder. The force those tentacles had grabbed him with have left him sore and bruised beneath his shirt.
She hesitates, almost imperceptibly, for the briefest moment as he says that. She's broken more people of the habit of not knowing how to accept or recognize when they need help than she can count on her hands and feet. It's an instinct of many of those of her guild to be that way and she's trained so many to overcome that impulse. It's easy when there's two dozen other people around you can rely on and that can pull you back into line when you step out of it in a way that gets yourself - and everyone who relies on you - in trouble.
Tyler doesn't have that and he's never had it. He didn't have someone looking after him, much less a group of people who considered his life as important as their own. He doesn't understand how that works, much less why. He's not here with her because he wants to know that or learn it; he's here to improve his skills, that's all.
Her lips pull downward as she finishes dabbing at his neck. This is a crossroads for their relationship that could make or break this little expedition their own. If she does this wrong, he has every right to ask for his own room for the night before packing up and heading out on his own again. She could let him do that and it would be nothing to her. She's not going to bring him to her people and he wouldn't accept it as he is right now anyway.
But she doesn't want that. Not one single bit.
"Tyler." His name is soft on her lips as she rests her hand over his, cloth tucked into her sleeve so he can feel the roughness of her skin. "It's all right to not know when you're not used to it. But you know me fairly well after several weeks on the road together, yes?" Her head tilts slightly to one side. "Trust me enough to know I won't laugh if you tell me you need help. I want to help you, just as much as I want to protect you from the shit we run into on the road. All right?"
Another breath, and her lips twitch into a smirk. "That includes now, so I'll take your shirt when you're ready to give it. I'd wager you're bruised in a few places that could use tending."
Brows lifting immediately at the request - not really a request, he thinks - his lips part again, as if he's going to say something. But she's just given him a whole speech about learning to accept help, and what is there to say in this moment?
There's an effort to be made to resolutely ignore a thread of heat that tugs at his loins, like a taut string plucked and left to vibrate. And then he lifts his hands, fingers and thumbs pushing buttons loose of buttonholes, the V of the neckline getting deeper and deeper until he pulls the fabric apart at his bellybutton and he shrugs the shirt off.
The wince that accompanies the movement is less acute than it probably should be, especially with the thick band of welts that stretch diagonally from one shoulder, across his back and wrapping around to his ribs on the opposite side.
The two scars on his chest are pale, clearly from times past, but he does flick his eyes up to her, almost as if trying to read her for a reaction.
Scars are the least surprising thing for her to find on him. With how readily he threw himself into danger today - and has on several other occasions over the past few weeks - she would be surprised if he'd been completely covered in them. The bruises, though... dreams, those are going to take more work and healing than she can offer with her topical remedies. She frowns as her hands trace the air over his bruises on his chest and shakes her head. This calls for much more than she can do on her own.
After pushing herself to her feet and returning to her bags to dig something out, she returns to him and offers a single potion. "Here," she doesn't give him a chance to argue as she presses it into his hand and then quickly slips out of her boots. How someone can loosen so many laces and not lose the knives in them in so short a time as Amelia manages, the world may never know. Whatever the case, it only takes her a number of seconds before she's kicking them aside and climbing onto the bed behind him to look at the pattern of bruising there. "Drink that and I'll apply something to your skin to ease some of the pain. It won't fix all of it, but it should significantly lessen the pain for a while."
Perhaps long enough for him to sleep? She's not certain of that, but she only has the one vial. If he needs more, they'll have to hope an alchemist or healer is willing to listen to her deep in the night when she knocks on their door.
Her hands return to the work of gently applying pain reliever to his bruises, fingers skirting over warm skin as she first covers his back and then reaches for his shoulder to begin work on that. "You're made of sterner stuff than I thought when I first saw you," she teases in a light tone. "Lesser men would've been snapped in half by that behemoth, but not you. I'm impressed."
Very impressed. How did he manage to stay alive when it had gripped him so tightly for so long? His muscles feel strong beneath her fingers, but is that the only reason? Is he too stubborn to take such violent treatment without staying alive out of spite? A thousand options lay themselves out before her in her mind and she chuckles softly to herself, right beside his ear, as she considers and discards each one. Surely he'll tell her the truth of the matter when she's complimented him like this. Most men love to show off when their egos have been stroked.
Maybe it's the refusal to back down in the face of death, a stubborn kind of way to cling to life despite all it throws at any given opportunity. He squints down at the vial in his hand, a question already answered before he can ask.
The pain is tolerable for as long as he's been able to keep his teeth gritted. But he tips the liquid into his mouth and swallows, eyes following Amelia's progress as he does.
The hairs on the back of his neck bristle as she moves behind him, instinct first and then acceptance second. The compliments are met with a huff of a laugh.
"Just too stubborn to let anybody or anything tell me what to do."
Not that he seems to have an issue with her hands working across his back, the tension in his muscles tight and as if he's frozen in place. Despite that he still tries to keep talking. As if he isn't feeling the effects of her voice by his ear and the roughness of her palms against his back. As if he's not feeling a building heat start to grow inside him.
This is as much for him as it is for her. She needs him on his feet again tomorrow when they travel and that won't be possible if they don't do some amount of treatment tonight. It's still very little compared to what he needs, but the rest can be taken care of in the morning when the town comes to life once more and it's easy for her to haggle for more healing potions and more pain relievers for when they next stop along the road. Of course she has to do this when they have a habit of getting jumped on the road by various monsters and the occasional group of bandits who think a slim man and lithe woman can't possibly protect themselves.
She finishes with his shoulder and starts on his chest, reaching over him from behind. She's careful not to press herself to him, but he'll still feel the heat of her body and cool metal of various buckles and eyelets on her leather bodice. Her eyes stay on her work, but her voice lowers again as she speaks. They're close now, there's no need to raise her voice at all.
"Unless it's not the potion you're talking about." Her breath is warm against his face, his neck as she pauses to apply more liquid to her cloth. "If you don't want my hands on you, say so. I can let you finish now that I've taken care of your back."
If she insisted on doing it anyway, Tyler immediately acknowledges to himself he wouldn't be surprised. Why let anything get in the way of doing something? He respects that as a way to live, too. So seeing it so bright in Amelia creates the kind of two-truths scenario that he often contemplates. Independence urges him to draw back, but he isn't not enjoying her careful ministrations, even if there's still discomfort. The potion really has helped dull a lot of the pain.
All that's left is for him to admit he's actually, underneath it all, grateful for her touch than anything else. He tries to swallow the grim laughter at how desperate that feels, especially as that warmth beneath his skin starts to translate through to other places in his body. The fair hair covering his arms starts to stand up, lips parting, tongue swiping across them to dampen them too. He shifts briefly, as if sitting like this is distracting. And it is, the tingle between his legs momentarily commanding his entire attention.
"You're doing a better job that I could probably," he finally says, eyes dipping to look down at his front as she moistens the cloth more behind him. His chest is looking more bruised than he'd like it, but he's always more than elated to see the lack of breasts whether he's black and blue or not. He definitely doesn't miss those.
"It's um. You know how it is, maybe? Travelling alone. Taking care of my own wounds is pretty common. This is... it's nice."
They've spent enough time together that she's fairly certain he's not telling her the entire truth. She watches his face closely as she starts to dab the cloth along his bruises, fingers brushing across his skin at times to check the areas around where she's working. The warmth isn't surprising - he'd nearly been squeezed to death, of course his body is angry about it - but he looks a little more flushed than she'd expect. Perhaps a side effect of the potion she gave him? She can't tell.
"A little, but likely not as much as you. Everyone in my guild is trained enough to help the others with things like this, and I've not traveled by myself in a long while." If she ever needs to treat her wounds by herself, it's only long enough to get back to the House for help. Wrapping a few cuts or doing a small line of stitches on her arm isn't the same as what she's doing for him now.
Her expression turns curious as her fingers dip toward the waistband of his trousers. "Is it nice because you don't have to do it or because you enjoy having someone's hands on you? Both are acceptable answers." A beat, and she leans a little closer to whisper, "If it's the latter, you can tell me what else you might like. I'm almost done tending to your bruises and my hands will be free for any number of other uses."
His throat works hard around words that he can't get out immediately, not when Amelia's hand travels dangerously close to the waistband of his trousers. It's plain as day, very suddenly, that he's turned on. The flushed quality to his skin pivots into a full blush, one that he briefly ducks his head to try and hide. But this close up it's almost impossible.
"What-- you mean, uh."
Sex. His brain works hard to try and ascertain if this is his own horny thoughts or if there's actually something being put on the table. His eyes lift, trying to understand how they've moved from what happened to the offer of whatever Amelia is offering.
The fidgeting doesn't stop, not even when he thinks he can maybe string words together again.
She chuckles softly, a light and silvery sound. That certainly took him long enough to figure out.
"If you want me to be. I'm perfectly capable of keeping my hands to myself if you'd rather I take that path." She presses a kiss to his jaw as she retreats, drawing her hands back from finishing her work as that would require him to be pantsless so she can get to his hip. Important as that work is, consent is required for that.
"The bruising below your waist will require less clothing for treatment, but I'll leave it to you to decide if you want me to do that or if you want to do it on your own." Her lips curve into a smirk. "If I do it, you won't need to put anything back on - if you don't want to."
The deep breath in isn't just because he's trying to manuver himself through deep discomfort. The potion has taken the edge off and then some, so it's an ache more in the distance than right up in his face.
But there's an audible tremor to that breath, not catching in his throat so much as wobbling slightly as his thoughts turn unmistakably sexual.
He hadn't expected the situation to develop like this earlier, off the back of almost losing his life, but suddenly his whole body is aching for attention. Sated only by Amelia's talented hands.
"Uh, little of column A, lot of column B."
Now that the confession is out, his eyes search for hers, wondering if they'll find a connection or thread to follow to each other. His body is hungry for more of her attention, and he realizes his mind is too.
"Should I uh... take these off? For healing purposes?" He hooks a thumb into his waistband, lips quirking up into a small grin at the minor joke.
It's unexpectedly endearing to watch him fumble over his words just a little. She can't tell if it's lack of experience, eagerness, or shock about her coming onto him like this - perhaps a bit of all three? - and that only makes the reaction all the sweeter. She's not going to deny, though, not for a single second that he says he's wanting and not while she feels that call in her blood that came from an unexpectedly hard but good fight.
"You should. It'll be easier for us both if you're the one to take them off." She chuckles before pecking his cheek and getting off the bed so he can have that proper space to get off his trousers. As soon as he's kicked them off, she sinks to her knees in front of him and starts tending to the last few inches of bruised flesh below his waist and around his hip. The longer she's down there, the closer she leans, until her lips are a mere inch from one of the scars on his chest. Her breath is hot as her hands continue their work and it's clear she's only waiting because she's able to hold herself back.
"It feels like you could use something to ease some of your stress. You're tense, Tyler. Relax." A breath, and she gently presses her lips to his scar, then an inch below, and then another lower. "I've got you, though you can tell me at any time if something is too much." Consent and enjoyment are paramount to her, and if anything's wrong for Tyler, then it's wrong for them as they do this. She trusts he'll speak his mind if that comes to pass.
Well, assuming he has any mind and ability to say something when she's got her face between his legs. Dreams only know if that'll be true.
He loses the trousers enthusiastically fast, the only hesitation coming a split second before he shoves them down. He doesn't pause all that long, whatever may be after he reveals his entire body to Amelia will shape the rest of the night, he guesses.
Bare now in front of her, his eyes drop to his own body, to his swollen, hard clit jutting out over his pussy lips. There's no hiding how aroused he is, but if there had been any question, he's slick between his folds too.
"Tense?" He says and then almost seems like he's incredulous. "Sure, if we can call that 'horny' too?"
Hornier the lower Amelia drops those kisses, his clit aching for a touch. He shudders visibly, lips parting and his breathing starting to pick up as he realizes she hasn't even said anything about the fact he has a pussy and not a cock. She's still working her way down between his legs regardless and he takes that as a good sign.
"They can coexist. Nothing's stopping that." The tension is likely from the suddenness of all this and the fact that his body's been so thoroughly abused. Tending to the last of the marks she hasn't yet gotten to will help some, but getting him off will likely help more. Orgasms are wonderful for distracting the body from a number of ailments.
She's quiet as her hands continue their work and her lips continue to descend his chest. Eventually she sets aside the cloth in her hand, finished with everything she can easily reach on him, and presses one hand to his shoulder and touches the other to his hip. Her face is lightly flushed with wanting as she looks up at him. "Lie back," she encourages in a husky murmur, giving his shoulder a gentle push. "Let me take care of you first before I put myself over you and allow you your chance to touch."
Dreams, she does want to be touched right now, but with the way he's breathing and the slickness she can already see between his legs, she's distracted enough to wait. Let her simmer in her own needs a bit longer; it'll be all the sweeter to have his hands and lips on her after she's had a chance to taste and tease him.
"Relax, and trust me to take care of you." Another little push, and then she dips her head lower to press her face directly between his legs so she can swipe her tongue slowly over his pussy to enjoy that first, sweet taste. It makes her shudder with pleasure and moan softly, a short prelude and warning before she dives in fully to explore and find those first few places that make him shiver.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Amelia
Date: 2025-06-27 08:21 pm (UTC)He can still feel the burn in his lungs, his prize from that bout not just the angry looking welts around his neck.
The tavern they find a room at is rowdy downstairs in the bar, but up above in the rooms available for a few coins, it's surprisingly quiet. In fact, Tyler feels as though all he can hear is the beating of his heart in his ears, every move he makes causing the fabric of his clothes and the bed sheets he's sat on rustle.
He realises almost abruptly that it's the self-made tension that he can't stand. The awful yawning quiet that seems to shine a spotlight on his continuing existence.
"So, um. That... could've gone better."
no subject
Date: 2025-06-27 09:27 pm (UTC)"Don't." She says it in a stern voice that says she doesn't want to hear any arguments. She holds up a hand to keep him on the bed as she gathers a few supplies for dealing with his neck. Dreams, his neck. If she'd been any slower or he any less lucky, he would have--
"You didn't roll when I told you to," she chastises as she sets everything out on the bed beside him. "If you had, you would've had a few extra seconds without that thing trying to snap your head off." Her jaw is tense as she bends down and starts to look him over, fingers brushing through the air around his chin and neck without touching. He's seen her do this a few times by now and likely noticed the uncanny way people seem to move without her actually touching or instructing them to do so. It's in the way her fingers are careful and precise, as well as how her hazel eyes either draw someone in or tell them they will move or else. Right now she's somewhere between the two whenever she flicks her gaze to meet his.
She exhales slowly as she picks up a clean cloth and pours a little water over it from the skin on her hip. This time when she raises her hands, she touches him; gently, but with purpose as she cleans off his neck. "You hesitated. You can't do that in situations like that. I can only kill things twice my size so quickly."
no subject
Date: 2025-06-27 09:45 pm (UTC)None of it fits him naturally, but he's as impressed by Amelia as he is terrified of her, and usually the combination of the two is enough to have him shutting his mouth out of respect. Guilty blue eyes lift to meet her hazel gaze, and he's able to resist the urge to drop his eyes for a few steely seconds before his focus is on the other wall.
"I know, I know. I just... I thought I had it."
Clearly he didn't have it, but that doesn't need to be said. The sharp breath in as she dabs the cool cloth against his burning neck and throat spills unhindered. His adams apple bobs beneath the touches, lips pressing into a thinner line as he tries to clamp down on something.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-27 10:01 pm (UTC)"I don't know why you think you need to prove you can do things alone when the entire point of us traveling together is so that neither of us has to." She looks up at him, this time not moving her eyes from his face. "I know you're capable or I wouldn't have agreed to this. What I don't understand is why you seem to crave death over accepting my help."
Most of her help. He does seem to be accepting the care she's putting into his injuries right now, though dreams only know how long that will last.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-27 10:20 pm (UTC)"I don't crave death," he eventually settles on, though maybe that's not completely true. He doesn't think he does, but there's a darkness inside him that makes reckless choices at times.
"Look, I've been on my own for most of my life. It's not that I don't want to learn stuff. Or accept your help, I just... don't know how sometimes, I guess."
The end of his sentence is punctuated by a grimace, his hand moving up to rest over his shoulder. The force those tentacles had grabbed him with have left him sore and bruised beneath his shirt.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-27 10:40 pm (UTC)Tyler doesn't have that and he's never had it. He didn't have someone looking after him, much less a group of people who considered his life as important as their own. He doesn't understand how that works, much less why. He's not here with her because he wants to know that or learn it; he's here to improve his skills, that's all.
Her lips pull downward as she finishes dabbing at his neck. This is a crossroads for their relationship that could make or break this little expedition their own. If she does this wrong, he has every right to ask for his own room for the night before packing up and heading out on his own again. She could let him do that and it would be nothing to her. She's not going to bring him to her people and he wouldn't accept it as he is right now anyway.
But she doesn't want that. Not one single bit.
"Tyler." His name is soft on her lips as she rests her hand over his, cloth tucked into her sleeve so he can feel the roughness of her skin. "It's all right to not know when you're not used to it. But you know me fairly well after several weeks on the road together, yes?" Her head tilts slightly to one side. "Trust me enough to know I won't laugh if you tell me you need help. I want to help you, just as much as I want to protect you from the shit we run into on the road. All right?"
Another breath, and her lips twitch into a smirk. "That includes now, so I'll take your shirt when you're ready to give it. I'd wager you're bruised in a few places that could use tending."
no subject
Date: 2025-06-27 10:59 pm (UTC)There's an effort to be made to resolutely ignore a thread of heat that tugs at his loins, like a taut string plucked and left to vibrate. And then he lifts his hands, fingers and thumbs pushing buttons loose of buttonholes, the V of the neckline getting deeper and deeper until he pulls the fabric apart at his bellybutton and he shrugs the shirt off.
The wince that accompanies the movement is less acute than it probably should be, especially with the thick band of welts that stretch diagonally from one shoulder, across his back and wrapping around to his ribs on the opposite side.
The two scars on his chest are pale, clearly from times past, but he does flick his eyes up to her, almost as if trying to read her for a reaction.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-27 11:17 pm (UTC)After pushing herself to her feet and returning to her bags to dig something out, she returns to him and offers a single potion. "Here," she doesn't give him a chance to argue as she presses it into his hand and then quickly slips out of her boots. How someone can loosen so many laces and not lose the knives in them in so short a time as Amelia manages, the world may never know. Whatever the case, it only takes her a number of seconds before she's kicking them aside and climbing onto the bed behind him to look at the pattern of bruising there. "Drink that and I'll apply something to your skin to ease some of the pain. It won't fix all of it, but it should significantly lessen the pain for a while."
Perhaps long enough for him to sleep? She's not certain of that, but she only has the one vial. If he needs more, they'll have to hope an alchemist or healer is willing to listen to her deep in the night when she knocks on their door.
Her hands return to the work of gently applying pain reliever to his bruises, fingers skirting over warm skin as she first covers his back and then reaches for his shoulder to begin work on that. "You're made of sterner stuff than I thought when I first saw you," she teases in a light tone. "Lesser men would've been snapped in half by that behemoth, but not you. I'm impressed."
Very impressed. How did he manage to stay alive when it had gripped him so tightly for so long? His muscles feel strong beneath her fingers, but is that the only reason? Is he too stubborn to take such violent treatment without staying alive out of spite? A thousand options lay themselves out before her in her mind and she chuckles softly to herself, right beside his ear, as she considers and discards each one. Surely he'll tell her the truth of the matter when she's complimented him like this. Most men love to show off when their egos have been stroked.
no subject
Date: 2025-06-27 11:41 pm (UTC)The pain is tolerable for as long as he's been able to keep his teeth gritted. But he tips the liquid into his mouth and swallows, eyes following Amelia's progress as he does.
The hairs on the back of his neck bristle as she moves behind him, instinct first and then acceptance second. The compliments are met with a huff of a laugh.
"Just too stubborn to let anybody or anything tell me what to do."
Not that he seems to have an issue with her hands working across his back, the tension in his muscles tight and as if he's frozen in place. Despite that he still tries to keep talking. As if he isn't feeling the effects of her voice by his ear and the roughness of her palms against his back. As if he's not feeling a building heat start to grow inside him.
"You don't have to do this."
no subject
Date: 2025-06-27 11:49 pm (UTC)This is as much for him as it is for her. She needs him on his feet again tomorrow when they travel and that won't be possible if they don't do some amount of treatment tonight. It's still very little compared to what he needs, but the rest can be taken care of in the morning when the town comes to life once more and it's easy for her to haggle for more healing potions and more pain relievers for when they next stop along the road. Of course she has to do this when they have a habit of getting jumped on the road by various monsters and the occasional group of bandits who think a slim man and lithe woman can't possibly protect themselves.
She finishes with his shoulder and starts on his chest, reaching over him from behind. She's careful not to press herself to him, but he'll still feel the heat of her body and cool metal of various buckles and eyelets on her leather bodice. Her eyes stay on her work, but her voice lowers again as she speaks. They're close now, there's no need to raise her voice at all.
"Unless it's not the potion you're talking about." Her breath is warm against his face, his neck as she pauses to apply more liquid to her cloth. "If you don't want my hands on you, say so. I can let you finish now that I've taken care of your back."
no subject
Date: 2025-06-28 10:44 am (UTC)All that's left is for him to admit he's actually, underneath it all, grateful for her touch than anything else. He tries to swallow the grim laughter at how desperate that feels, especially as that warmth beneath his skin starts to translate through to other places in his body. The fair hair covering his arms starts to stand up, lips parting, tongue swiping across them to dampen them too. He shifts briefly, as if sitting like this is distracting. And it is, the tingle between his legs momentarily commanding his entire attention.
"You're doing a better job that I could probably," he finally says, eyes dipping to look down at his front as she moistens the cloth more behind him. His chest is looking more bruised than he'd like it, but he's always more than elated to see the lack of breasts whether he's black and blue or not. He definitely doesn't miss those.
"It's um. You know how it is, maybe? Travelling alone. Taking care of my own wounds is pretty common. This is... it's nice."
no subject
Date: 2025-06-28 11:14 pm (UTC)"A little, but likely not as much as you. Everyone in my guild is trained enough to help the others with things like this, and I've not traveled by myself in a long while." If she ever needs to treat her wounds by herself, it's only long enough to get back to the House for help. Wrapping a few cuts or doing a small line of stitches on her arm isn't the same as what she's doing for him now.
Her expression turns curious as her fingers dip toward the waistband of his trousers. "Is it nice because you don't have to do it or because you enjoy having someone's hands on you? Both are acceptable answers." A beat, and she leans a little closer to whisper, "If it's the latter, you can tell me what else you might like. I'm almost done tending to your bruises and my hands will be free for any number of other uses."
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Date: 2025-06-28 11:34 pm (UTC)"What-- you mean, uh."
Sex. His brain works hard to try and ascertain if this is his own horny thoughts or if there's actually something being put on the table. His eyes lift, trying to understand how they've moved from what happened to the offer of whatever Amelia is offering.
The fidgeting doesn't stop, not even when he thinks he can maybe string words together again.
"Are you coming on to me?"
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Date: 2025-06-29 02:58 am (UTC)"If you want me to be. I'm perfectly capable of keeping my hands to myself if you'd rather I take that path." She presses a kiss to his jaw as she retreats, drawing her hands back from finishing her work as that would require him to be pantsless so she can get to his hip. Important as that work is, consent is required for that.
"The bruising below your waist will require less clothing for treatment, but I'll leave it to you to decide if you want me to do that or if you want to do it on your own." Her lips curve into a smirk. "If I do it, you won't need to put anything back on - if you don't want to."
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Date: 2025-06-29 03:18 pm (UTC)But there's an audible tremor to that breath, not catching in his throat so much as wobbling slightly as his thoughts turn unmistakably sexual.
He hadn't expected the situation to develop like this earlier, off the back of almost losing his life, but suddenly his whole body is aching for attention. Sated only by Amelia's talented hands.
"Uh, little of column A, lot of column B."
Now that the confession is out, his eyes search for hers, wondering if they'll find a connection or thread to follow to each other. His body is hungry for more of her attention, and he realizes his mind is too.
"Should I uh... take these off? For healing purposes?" He hooks a thumb into his waistband, lips quirking up into a small grin at the minor joke.
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Date: 2025-07-03 06:17 pm (UTC)"You should. It'll be easier for us both if you're the one to take them off." She chuckles before pecking his cheek and getting off the bed so he can have that proper space to get off his trousers. As soon as he's kicked them off, she sinks to her knees in front of him and starts tending to the last few inches of bruised flesh below his waist and around his hip. The longer she's down there, the closer she leans, until her lips are a mere inch from one of the scars on his chest. Her breath is hot as her hands continue their work and it's clear she's only waiting because she's able to hold herself back.
"It feels like you could use something to ease some of your stress. You're tense, Tyler. Relax." A breath, and she gently presses her lips to his scar, then an inch below, and then another lower. "I've got you, though you can tell me at any time if something is too much." Consent and enjoyment are paramount to her, and if anything's wrong for Tyler, then it's wrong for them as they do this. She trusts he'll speak his mind if that comes to pass.
Well, assuming he has any mind and ability to say something when she's got her face between his legs. Dreams only know if that'll be true.
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Date: 2025-07-03 10:02 pm (UTC)Bare now in front of her, his eyes drop to his own body, to his swollen, hard clit jutting out over his pussy lips. There's no hiding how aroused he is, but if there had been any question, he's slick between his folds too.
"Tense?" He says and then almost seems like he's incredulous. "Sure, if we can call that 'horny' too?"
Hornier the lower Amelia drops those kisses, his clit aching for a touch. He shudders visibly, lips parting and his breathing starting to pick up as he realizes she hasn't even said anything about the fact he has a pussy and not a cock. She's still working her way down between his legs regardless and he takes that as a good sign.
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Date: 2025-09-20 07:10 pm (UTC)She's quiet as her hands continue their work and her lips continue to descend his chest. Eventually she sets aside the cloth in her hand, finished with everything she can easily reach on him, and presses one hand to his shoulder and touches the other to his hip. Her face is lightly flushed with wanting as she looks up at him. "Lie back," she encourages in a husky murmur, giving his shoulder a gentle push. "Let me take care of you first before I put myself over you and allow you your chance to touch."
Dreams, she does want to be touched right now, but with the way he's breathing and the slickness she can already see between his legs, she's distracted enough to wait. Let her simmer in her own needs a bit longer; it'll be all the sweeter to have his hands and lips on her after she's had a chance to taste and tease him.
"Relax, and trust me to take care of you." Another little push, and then she dips her head lower to press her face directly between his legs so she can swipe her tongue slowly over his pussy to enjoy that first, sweet taste. It makes her shudder with pleasure and moan softly, a short prelude and warning before she dives in fully to explore and find those first few places that make him shiver.