She shivered, but concentrated on her task. “So many buckles,” she said as she tackled the next one.
“It needs to be tight,” he explained. He curled his hand around her neck, letting his thumb stroke the soft flesh behind her ear and his fingers sheltered in the warmth of her hair. “Tight enough to keep me safe, flexible enough to let me move.”
“You wore elven chain to the court,” she said as she freed the last strap.
“True enough,” Verice agreed. “But that’s hardly for daily usage.”
“Ah,” she lifted her hands to his collar clasp, but he shook his head.
“The bracers first. Would you mind?” he asked, lifting his arm about her, ensuring that she stayed close. “Just the two clasps.”
She turned in his arms, her back against his chest as he presented his forearm to her. She reached for the clasps.
“Careful,” he cautioned.
The clasps snapped open. “Oh,” she jerked her head slightly at the blade hidden within.
Verice leaned in, and nuzzled her ear. “I never like to be without a blade or two,” he whispered. He breathed on her soft skin, and felt her shiver in response.
She tilted her head, giving him a glance over her shoulder as she pulled off the bracer, careful to set it, and the concealed blade, on the table. Verice raised his other arm, letting her work on those clasps. He slowly moved closer, bringing his free hand to her hip, then sliding it over her stomach with a firm pressure.
Her breathing quickened. She removed the other bracer, this time expressing no surprise at the second hidden blade.
She turned back then, in the circle of his arms. The sweet scent of her skin warmed him as she reached for his collar clasp. He lifted his chin, waiting...a soft kiss pressed to his jaw.
He murmured his approval, pulling her close, nuzzling her face until she lifted her mouth to him and he could claim it with a kiss.
Gently, he reminded himself, as much as he wanted to plunge within its depths. She tasted salty and sweet. He went slow, with a gentle firm pressure, as she leaned in closer, and of her own volition opened her mouth to him.
Even then, he just nipped at her lower lip, darting his tongue within to tease, before retreating back. Warna buried her hands in his hair, holding his head, and he returned the favor, one hand buried in her hair, the other at her lower black, pressing her against him.
They broke off when breath became an issue. Still he held her close, unwilling to release her.
She swallowed with a shudder and a sigh. “Verice,” she breathed into his ear.
“The clasp?” he whispered.
With a chuckle, she fumbled with the metal, then eased her hands into the opening, pushing the armored tunic open.
Once the leather parted, he rolled his shoulders. Without any further encouragement, she eased the leather back, displaying the linen tunic beneath.
“Careful,” he warned again.
She lifted an eyebrow at the blade concealed at the neck. “One or two?”
“Or three,” he said, taking the armor from her hands and tossing it on the table.
With a soft stroke, Warna smoothed the linen tunic over his chest. Her hands left a trail of warmth through the cloth as they traced down and around to his waistband. There, she hesitated, and glanced at him.
He waited, keeping his own hands on her hips, and simply lowered his nose into her hair and took in her sweet scent.
There was no need to hurry. Discovery of a new lover, and a first lover, only happened once. They could take their time feeling, touching, tasting, exploring. Slow was preferable.
But he couldn’t help a rumble of pleasure when her hands slid along his belt, slipped around his back and started to tug his tunic free.
Followed by a clatter as his throwing knife fell to the floor behind him.
Warna’s head jerked back, her eyes wide, then narrowing. “Or four?” she asked.
