[Some might mention beauty or grace, for Hayame has both.] You are a warrior, strong and honourable. I have seen you face down a fight without fear- and I have seen you face down the things which you fear most and overcome them. [Does she truly not see that any man ought be proud to be invited to her bed? Leaning across the space between them he presses his mouth gently to hers. It's a chaste thing from which he pulls back after a heartbeat.
He can't help but grin as he does.] ...and when we first met you threatened to cut my tongue out. I admire a woman who isn't afraid to threaten bodily harm when it's called for.
[They are the things she admires in him. Strength. Honor. Fearlessness. And the things she lacks- confidence in this arena, experience beyond the one little world she had known.
... Ah, yes.
It isn't until after he pulls away that it registers he's kissed her. That she had liked the promise in it. That he says the things that she'd always wanted to be acknowledged for, and not the baser things she had always feared to be wanted for.]
... I do recall that.
[The barest hint of an upturn in her lips at the corners, to do so now of all times. To carefully, anxiously summon up the courage it took her to kiss him in turn, finally letting go of the cradle of his hand in order to transfer her own to his shoulders, hold perhaps a bit too tight.]
Her tight hold on him is fine, it helps give an indication of how she's feeling. When he slides his own hand to her waist it's firm, with the slightest pull that suggests she could come even closer if she wanted.]
[More than anything... Hayame is lonely, aching to see that smile (feel that smile, against her lips). The only one of her kind in this new group she has reluctantly agreed to serve, lacking the lord who had grounded her and encouraged her to interact with the others and protect them. Afraid of the vastness of space so beyond what her own world could imagine, of being alone for a single night more, cold despite the seasonal heat stirring her loins.
So she chases the warmth of it, all too willingly giving in to the desire for closeness in that pull at her waist, clutches tight and presses up against his chest, kisses desperate to make up for the fact that she has never kissed a man before, even touched a man before. Distracts herself from the undercurrent tremble of something like fear of the thing she has shunned all her life, afraid it would make her less.
But it feels too good, to be held. (And maybe, she could admit- it felt good to be held by this man.)]
[There's no need to rush. There's no sun that will rise out there in the darkness of space, no candles to mark the passage of time as they hold each other and Odinson tries to show her that this doesn't need to be something to fear. His good humour is ever present as they explore each other, helpful when things go awry (as they always do- a god bedding a mortal always calls for some adjustments).
It has been a long time since he fell asleep with someone in his arms. He is glad to have Hayame here as he does. When he sleeps, he does not dream of a masked woman taking his name and his place or of crushing failure and hopelessness.
Like the lovers in the stories she had heard as a filly, she had planned to slip from his bed before dawn leaving only a few drops of blood behind, shamefully skulk back to her own quarters before anyone else might be awake and see her exiting his room, under the impression that such things ought be kept secret.
But that was before she'd learned the heavy, sleepy call of the aftermath of pleasure she had never known. How could she, when her only exposure to sex in her own world had been the bestial grunting of the breeding stables and the sick glimpses of humans with their fingers clutched tight in the hair of jinba on their knees in the hay? None of what she'd known ever spoke to actual pleasure on the woman's part, ever promised much of happiness or comfort or satisfaction, let alone... mutual efforts.
It hadn't... been like that at all.
She felt warm even still, body aching in a way she had not anticipated but could not dislike, shifting slightly beneath the sheets, the comforting weight of Odinson's arm, seeking to slip closer to-
Hayame's eyes open in alarm, stiffening up in shock to see that she was not an inch from his chest, breath frozen in her lungs. Where was this- this was... this was still his bed, and she was still in it, and she still had two legs, (one of which, she realizes belatedly, is half slipped over one of his), and they are tangled, and-
Anxiously, she lifts her head to try and catch a glimpse of his face. If he were still sleeping...]
[The memories of the previous night come flooding back all too easily now that she is actually awake, cheeks flushing red in recollection as she looks up at his face, as she finds herself instinctively wanting to reach, to slip even closer before the heat leaves her and touch his cheek again, feel the strange, ticklish sensation of that beard against her skin, of lips against hers, of hands, and breath, and the patient way he'd-
No. No, no, no-
That was foolish, that was... that was womanly weakness, compounded by human weakness, and she...
She ought to go. That was... how it was done, wasn't it? Hayame tries to conveniently ignore the voice that tells her she could hardly expect to know anything any longer about how such things were done, considering how much she'd learned the last few hours already, skittishly trying to pull her silly human legs out from the tangle with his, carefully, carefully, trying to-
[Waking is a process. Recognising movement beside him, shifting his shoulders and taking deeper breaths, rubbing his leg along the one tangled with his. The slight soreness in his muscles is a pleasant reminder of the night before.
He's already smiling as he opens his eyes. There's no effort made to move yet, past the stretching.] Morning.
In a sudden, embarrassed surge of strength, Hayame sits up as best she can in the circle of his arm, only to remember that she is naked, that they both are, one arm coming up to attempt and cover her usually bound breasts, struggling to find something to say, some excuse as to why she was still here, mouth opening uselessly a moment before she averts her gaze, shivering slightly as colder air outside the warmth of his sheets and his embrace hits her skin.]
[His arm is unceremoniously shoved away. He's been kicked naked out of many beds, and on one memorable occasion chased out why half an army. A little shove doesn't phase him.]
Did you sleep well? [He reaches over to rub a gentle thumb at her hip.]
[He looks so calm, so normal, and perhaps... that is something she should have expected. He claimed godhood, years of experience beyond her own, both in life and in... beds. (She certainly hadn't had any complaints for that experience last night.)
Whereas she... her flighty gaze flits between his face, his cloak thrown over the chair in the room, and her robe on the floor, shuddering slightly where he touches her bare hip, setting off a twitch in her knee and a press of her thighs she couldn't account for.]
[If anything his smile only grows fonder as she appears to not know what to do with herself. In contrast he remains still. He doesn't want to spook her out of his bed already.]
[He's glad. She's... glad, that he is, but there's still a small, welling panic in her chest she can't account for, a sense of lingering wrongness in the body she had come to him in, but she'd never have worked up the courage as a jinba, still too scarred by her experiences with relations between her kind and man, so she cannot do a thing for it, her wavering gaze falling her legs, and where they yet tangle with his.
But the change brings to mind a drunken memory, a story he had told her once, of his brother and a stallion, and he'd said it merely words, she thinks, but the recollection is enough to frighten her, blanching slightly.]
I am in season, what if-
[Why hadn't she thought of this earlier, how foolish, how stupid to give in to instinct and loneliness and not think of everything-]
What if I am stuck like this, like that tale you told me-
[Apparently the idea of being stuck in a human body scares her more than actually being pregnant, but???]
[The concern crossing her face has him worried a moment- until she reveals what's on her mind.
His shoulders relax and he pushes himself up to sit beside her, hand sliding further around her waist.] A child will only take off I wish it to. There's no danger of you getting stuck with half the number of legs you need.
[Only if he wishes? That sort of line would sound mad coming from anyone one else, but... if she accepts that he is as a god in his world... then it does not sound so far fetched, and it's enough to make her breath shudder out in relief, curling inward slightly as a way to minimize her nakedness, fiddling anxiously with the ring on her finger that had enabled the transformation in the first place. Of course- If she did the math... she still had time. That was all, it just hadn't been an entire day yet, she wasn't stuck, she needn't rip it off just to make sure, no matter how she wanted to-]
Good...
[She should go. She should leave- but his hand is around her waist, and she doesn't know what to do with that, unwilling to treat him poorly after how he had treated her... but afraid to truly examine his face, for fear of finding something different there than she had a day before.]
Hayame- [The way she curls in on herself and twists the ring on her finger keeps him from leaning in closer. She's not completely at her ease and Odinson isn't sure what he can do to help.]
You needn't stay. [He'd like her to stay, he can envision a morning spent pleasantly together... but.] You owe me nothing.
[She owed him much, she is quite sure. Yet beyond that, there is no denying that a part of her does want to flee, does want to pull that ring off her finger more than anything else- also, definitely wants her robe back on (or at least to wrap the sheet). But more than that, in... Asgardia, in... places that weren't her world-]
Staying is... done?
[Her tone betrays that she honestly had considered leaving the more proper thing to do, the more normal thing, less shameful thing- what a partner would prefer from a... whatever this was now. Clandestine lover? One night of passion? And he says it like it's normal to needn't, in a way that finally brings her eyes back to him, forces herself to confront another fear, to look at him and search his face for anything different, even as her fingers continue to tug anxiously at the ring.]
[He meets her eyes, and he smiles that she'd look at him again. If there's anything different there it's a softness, an ease in him that hasn't been there in all the months he's been with ALASTAIR. It turns out he'd missed being intimate; holding and being held.]
If we've nothing else to do, no other engagements to keep us. [Knowing a little about Japanese culture, he can understand why she'd ask.]
We might talk of battle, and strategy, or history... [His tone and look indicate that he actually means they could talk about none of those things. Indeed, the way he ghosts his fingers over her side is very deliberate, intended to tease.]
[... he looks at her mostly the same. Even though she'd not quite thought him the type, the fear had been there despite- after a lifetime of shunning males for what they represented to her and the fate she would do anything to avoid, there had been a part of her that was sure that sex would change everything. Her entire life. How whatever partner she took saw her, made lesser in their eyes.
But here she is, and here he is, and the only thing that has changed seems to be her body.
There is an inexplicable moment, looking at him, where she feels like she might cry. But she swallows it harshly, bites her lip and forces herself to let go of the ring on her finger, to remember her two legs, and why she'd come here that way. (Admittedly, hard to forget, when she aches so- but not unpleasantly.) To try and not ruin this, with her words and stumbles.
To look to the door, and the world awaiting outside of it that she would much rather forget for as long as possible. So-]
[She slowly, carefully, sinks back down to the mattress from her anxious half-flee curl, back to the circle of warmth that had lulled her to sleep despite her original intent to be gone before he woke. If he were offering what she had craved, if he still wanted it himself, and they were the only ones who knew...
She can still blush for such insinuations as that, despite what they've done, frowning almost comically.]
[She looks as though she might flee, and Odinson does not know what to do except wait for her to come to a decision. His hand stills, to be less of an influence on her.
But she chooses to stay.
He draws her to him as she settles on the mattress, wholly unconcerned about their nudity.] If you would deign to tell me, I'd be glad to hear.
[...he may be attempting to distract her by kissing her neck again.]
[If he is not concerned, she is able to attempt to be- and it is easier, like this, than to be upright and half gone, focusing instead on running her fingers over his arms, to shoulders she had gripped so tightly the night before, to back she was afraid she may have mar-
Ah, yes, there they were.
Her fingers hesitantly brush over scratch marks left in her want for an anchor, huffing softly and all too easily falling for that distraction in this sensitive, weak shape, (she was going to blame the human shape for a lot, for a while), swallowing beneath the brush of his lips and that frustratingly hip shifting ticklish beard-]
Y- you do not care at all about Okehazama.
[A strong accusation from a woman who also... couldn't find herself to care about it, either.]
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He can't help but grin as he does.] ...and when we first met you threatened to cut my tongue out. I admire a woman who isn't afraid to threaten bodily harm when it's called for.
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... Ah, yes.
It isn't until after he pulls away that it registers he's kissed her. That she had liked the promise in it. That he says the things that she'd always wanted to be acknowledged for, and not the baser things she had always feared to be wanted for.]
... I do recall that.
[The barest hint of an upturn in her lips at the corners, to do so now of all times. To carefully, anxiously summon up the courage it took her to kiss him in turn, finally letting go of the cradle of his hand in order to transfer her own to his shoulders, hold perhaps a bit too tight.]
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Her tight hold on him is fine, it helps give an indication of how she's feeling. When he slides his own hand to her waist it's firm, with the slightest pull that suggests she could come even closer if she wanted.]
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So she chases the warmth of it, all too willingly giving in to the desire for closeness in that pull at her waist, clutches tight and presses up against his chest, kisses desperate to make up for the fact that she has never kissed a man before, even touched a man before. Distracts herself from the undercurrent tremble of something like fear of the thing she has shunned all her life, afraid it would make her less.
But it feels too good, to be held. (And maybe, she could admit- it felt good to be held by this man.)]
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It has been a long time since he fell asleep with someone in his arms. He is glad to have Hayame here as he does. When he sleeps, he does not dream of a masked woman taking his name and his place or of crushing failure and hopelessness.
He dreams of long black hair caught in the wind.]
1/2 DAWN OF THE NEXT DAY..............
Like the lovers in the stories she had heard as a filly, she had planned to slip from his bed before dawn leaving only a few drops of blood behind, shamefully skulk back to her own quarters before anyone else might be awake and see her exiting his room, under the impression that such things ought be kept secret.
But that was before she'd learned the heavy, sleepy call of the aftermath of pleasure she had never known. How could she, when her only exposure to sex in her own world had been the bestial grunting of the breeding stables and the sick glimpses of humans with their fingers clutched tight in the hair of jinba on their knees in the hay? None of what she'd known ever spoke to actual pleasure on the woman's part, ever promised much of happiness or comfort or satisfaction, let alone... mutual efforts.
It hadn't... been like that at all.
She felt warm even still, body aching in a way she had not anticipated but could not dislike, shifting slightly beneath the sheets, the comforting weight of Odinson's arm, seeking to slip closer to-
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Hayame's eyes open in alarm, stiffening up in shock to see that she was not an inch from his chest, breath frozen in her lungs. Where was this- this was... this was still his bed, and she was still in it, and she still had two legs, (one of which, she realizes belatedly, is half slipped over one of his), and they are tangled, and-
Anxiously, she lifts her head to try and catch a glimpse of his face. If he were still sleeping...]
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While he doesn't actually need sleep, the dreamless state he's fallen into is comfortable and he won't wake 'til he's needed... or someone stirs him.]
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No. No, no, no-
That was foolish, that was... that was womanly weakness, compounded by human weakness, and she...
She ought to go. That was... how it was done, wasn't it? Hayame tries to conveniently ignore the voice that tells her she could hardly expect to know anything any longer about how such things were done, considering how much she'd learned the last few hours already, skittishly trying to pull her silly human legs out from the tangle with his, carefully, carefully, trying to-
Ah.
His arm.]
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He's already smiling as he opens his eyes. There's no effort made to move yet, past the stretching.] Morning.
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He's awake.
In a sudden, embarrassed surge of strength, Hayame sits up as best she can in the circle of his arm, only to remember that she is naked, that they both are, one arm coming up to attempt and cover her usually bound breasts, struggling to find something to say, some excuse as to why she was still here, mouth opening uselessly a moment before she averts her gaze, shivering slightly as colder air outside the warmth of his sheets and his embrace hits her skin.]
M... orning...
[That couldn't be what you're supposed say-]
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Did you sleep well? [He reaches over to rub a gentle thumb at her hip.]
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[He looks so calm, so normal, and perhaps... that is something she should have expected. He claimed godhood, years of experience beyond her own, both in life and in... beds. (She certainly hadn't had any complaints for that experience last night.)
Whereas she... her flighty gaze flits between his face, his cloak thrown over the chair in the room, and her robe on the floor, shuddering slightly where he touches her bare hip, setting off a twitch in her knee and a press of her thighs she couldn't account for.]
I did not mean to intrude this long-
[Too well. She had never slept so soundly.]
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I'm glad you did.
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[He's glad. She's... glad, that he is, but there's still a small, welling panic in her chest she can't account for, a sense of lingering wrongness in the body she had come to him in, but she'd never have worked up the courage as a jinba, still too scarred by her experiences with relations between her kind and man, so she cannot do a thing for it, her wavering gaze falling her legs, and where they yet tangle with his.
But the change brings to mind a drunken memory, a story he had told her once, of his brother and a stallion, and he'd said it merely words, she thinks, but the recollection is enough to frighten her, blanching slightly.]
I am in season, what if-
[Why hadn't she thought of this earlier, how foolish, how stupid to give in to instinct and loneliness and not think of everything-]
What if I am stuck like this, like that tale you told me-
[Apparently the idea of being stuck in a human body scares her more than actually being pregnant, but???]
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His shoulders relax and he pushes himself up to sit beside her, hand sliding further around her waist.] A child will only take off I wish it to. There's no danger of you getting stuck with half the number of legs you need.
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[Only if he wishes? That sort of line would sound mad coming from anyone one else, but... if she accepts that he is as a god in his world... then it does not sound so far fetched, and it's enough to make her breath shudder out in relief, curling inward slightly as a way to minimize her nakedness, fiddling anxiously with the ring on her finger that had enabled the transformation in the first place. Of course- If she did the math... she still had time. That was all, it just hadn't been an entire day yet, she wasn't stuck, she needn't rip it off just to make sure, no matter how she wanted to-]
Good...
[She should go. She should leave- but his hand is around her waist, and she doesn't know what to do with that, unwilling to treat him poorly after how he had treated her... but afraid to truly examine his face, for fear of finding something different there than she had a day before.]
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You needn't stay. [He'd like her to stay, he can envision a morning spent pleasantly together... but.] You owe me nothing.
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Staying is... done?
[Her tone betrays that she honestly had considered leaving the more proper thing to do, the more normal thing, less shameful thing- what a partner would prefer from a... whatever this was now. Clandestine lover? One night of passion? And he says it like it's normal to needn't, in a way that finally brings her eyes back to him, forces herself to confront another fear, to look at him and search his face for anything different, even as her fingers continue to tug anxiously at the ring.]
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If we've nothing else to do, no other engagements to keep us. [Knowing a little about Japanese culture, he can understand why she'd ask.]
We might talk of battle, and strategy, or history... [His tone and look indicate that he actually means they could talk about none of those things. Indeed, the way he ghosts his fingers over her side is very deliberate, intended to tease.]
1/2
But here she is, and here he is, and the only thing that has changed seems to be her body.
There is an inexplicable moment, looking at him, where she feels like she might cry. But she swallows it harshly, bites her lip and forces herself to let go of the ring on her finger, to remember her two legs, and why she'd come here that way. (Admittedly, hard to forget, when she aches so- but not unpleasantly.) To try and not ruin this, with her words and stumbles.
To look to the door, and the world awaiting outside of it that she would much rather forget for as long as possible. So-]
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She can still blush for such insinuations as that, despite what they've done, frowning almost comically.]
Shall I begin with the Battle of Okehazama... ?
[Was that... an attempt... at teasing back?]
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But she chooses to stay.
He draws her to him as she settles on the mattress, wholly unconcerned about their nudity.] If you would deign to tell me, I'd be glad to hear.
[...he may be attempting to distract her by kissing her neck again.]
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Ah, yes, there they were.
Her fingers hesitantly brush over scratch marks left in her want for an anchor, huffing softly and all too easily falling for that distraction in this sensitive, weak shape, (she was going to blame the human shape for a lot, for a while), swallowing beneath the brush of his lips and that frustratingly hip shifting ticklish beard-]
Y- you do not care at all about Okehazama.
[A strong accusation from a woman who also... couldn't find herself to care about it, either.]
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But then he sits back, hands sitting at her hips as he looks at her.] Very well. I'll listen.
[Isn't he respectful, choosing to listen to her instead of just going for his needs? So respectful.]
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