Horus hummed in appreciation as she settled into his lap, her movements deliberate yet as natural as the rolling waves. The warmth of the water and her body against his created a cocoon of intimacy, and for once, his usual quips and swagger softened into something deeper. He accepted the rum, taking a slow swig before setting it aside, his dark eyes meeting hers as her hands moved over his shoulders, down his arms, and traced the contours of his throat.
Now there’s a dangerous look in your eye, he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. Almost makes me wonder if you’re cleaning me up just to kill me prettier. If so, might I suggest a kiss before the blade? Seems only fair.
Her brief pause at his neck sent a thrill through him, one that curled low in his gut and spread out through his limbs. It wasn’t fear—no, he trusted her, in that strange, fragile way that only two people who’d danced so close to death together could. But the tension she created, the razor’s edge between pleasure and peril, was intoxicating.
When her hips rolled against his, aided by the slickness of the water and soap, he let out a low chuckle that rumbled from deep in his chest. Careful there, love. Keep that up, and we might never make it to the bed. His hands slid from her waist to her back, his fingers splayed wide as he pulled her closer, reveling in the heat of her skin against his.
Her suggestion drew a lopsided grin from him, a spark of mischief reigniting in his expression. Finish each other off in the bath, hmm? Now there’s a plan with merit. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear as he added in a husky whisper, Though I must admit, the idea of you riding me slow and steady until we both collapse does have a certain poetic charm.
As her touch turned from practical to teasing, rinsing the soap from his neck and shoulders with deliberate care, Horus tilted his head back, closing his eyes briefly to savor the sensation. You know, he said, his voice more thoughtful now, you’re bloody brilliant at this whole ‘living’ thing. Makes me wonder what else you’ve got up your sleeve for the morrow. Rivain, Antiva, even Ferelden—all places worth conquering, aye? But I’d wager nothing compares to this—just us, water cooling and bodies warming.
He opened his eyes and gazed at her, the grin softening into something more genuine. His hands trailed up her sides, leaving rivulets of water in their wake, before settling just below her ribs. Lead the way, Celine. Whether it’s the bed, the balconies, or beyond, I’ll follow. Just promise me one thing…
He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was less playful and more reverent, his fingers tightening on her hips as though anchoring himself to her. Breaking away just enough to rest his forehead against hers, he murmured, Whatever tomorrow brings, let’s make sure we live through it, aye? I’m rather fond of this whole ‘being alive with you’ arrangement.
I'm brilliant at it because I spent so long taking and fulfilling contracts. I've heard over a thousand people's dying words, and every time, every one of them was something of a regret, in one form or another. Her lips moved against his as one hand sunk into the water between them. She wanted him, intimately, right there, soapy bath water and all. It wasn't the worst they'd ever be in when the mood struck. She broke the kiss just as gently as she had started it, her tongue sliding across his lip as she drew down a shuddering breath of air, hand stroking a trail along his lower abdomen, fingers gently walking their way down further, over scars and hair, never directly touching where she wanted to the most. I promised myself, if the First Talon let me go, that I would live a life with no regrets, so that when the blade slipped between my ribs, and regards were given, I wouldn't be like the poor saps that met my blades in the past. I could welcome death like an old friend, with a smile, and perhaps a small curse that He had finally caught me.
Her hand slid back up his abdomen, along those scars, and muscles, over tattoos and areas that were a bit softer than they had been in their youth, up over his heart, and back around to the back of his neck as she hugged close, chest pressed to his as she relaxed into his further. And the only regret I have right now is that my body, soaking wet in need to have you buried balls deep inside me, is that I don't think I'd be much of a great partner at the moment. Everything hurts, and I'm pretty sure it's going to hurt worse in the morning. So before anything else. Potions.
Reluctantly, she pulled herself up out of the water, rivulets trailing down her equally scarred body, evidence of each of those kills she wore in her flesh, the beads catching the low candle and lantern light as she excised herself from the tub and padded across the chamber to the ex-captain's personal belongings, small stock of various sized bottles within a cabinet bolted to the wall. She plucked two from the confines and padded back to hand him one, her own vanishing between parted lips as she backed away towards the narrow bed, hopping back up onto it and placing the heels of her feet on the edge, legs spread wide to give him a glorious view of just how ready she was once that potion did the trick for the both of them. Laying back, making sure she was comfortable, she reached between her legs, deft fingers moving between her folds, teasing more of her arousal slick into coating her fingers so that she could finally start to take care of the burning need that had been building inside her since they had started flirting on deck. Feel free to continue watching, or come join me when you're ready, either way, I'm going to enjoy myself, knowing either way, come morning this whole boat is going to know your name from how loudly I'll be screaming it.
Horus watched her, his dark eyes following her every move as she climbed from the tub, the candlelight tracing along her curves like a painter’s brush. He leaned back, one arm resting lazily on the rim of the tub, his other hand still clutching the bottle of rum she’d handed him. His grin widened as she retrieved the potions, her confident stride as captivating as the droplets trailing down her scarred skin.
He accepted the bottle she handed him with a mock toast. To living with no regrets, aye? And to making sure the morning crew earns their hazard pay for the racket we’re about to make. With a smirk, he downed the contents, the tang of the potion lingering on his tongue as his gaze swept her body with open appreciation.
When she settled on the bed, legs spread in invitation, and began her slow, tantalizing play, Horus felt the heat in his blood roar to life. He set the empty bottle aside and pushed himself to stand, the water sluicing off him in rivulets, leaving his skin glistening in the warm light. He didn’t rush. No, Horus was a man who knew how to savor a moment, especially one like this.
You do have a talent for commanding an audience, love, he said, his voice a low, velvet drawl as he approached the bed. But if you think I’m content to stay a spectator, you’ve sorely underestimated my sense of adventure.
He climbed onto the bed with a predator’s grace, his hands bracing on either side of her hips as he leaned in. His lips hovered just above hers, their breaths mingling, the space between them electric. Now, as for your little declaration… His voice dropped to a teasing whisper. Let’s make sure they hear you from Rivain to Antiva, shall we?
With that, his mouth claimed hers, the kiss deep and fervent as his hands roamed her body, worshipping every scar and every curve. The promise of the night stretched before them, a symphony of whispered names, shared heat, and the unspoken bond of two souls who refused to be tamed.
Celine watched as he rose from the water, fingers pausing just a moment to allow her to appreciate the sight before her fully, before they continued their dance over slick skin. She was lost for words now, hearing only the gruffness in his voice, and the need behind them. Morning be damned, she decided, when he joined her on the bed, her hand moving to maneuver him into position, setting him exactly where she wanted him, as his lips covered hers.
She was fire, when she felt his hands, whimper lost in the crush of lips, even as she urged the kiss deeper, mouth open to let her tongue slide along his, a dance that she was urging their lower bodies towards as fast as she could. But she didn’t raise up, to engulf him fully within herself, no, she would let him make the decision of when he would join them fully. Instead, her hands joined his in their roaming exploration, gentle to avoid placed that possibly still hurt, lingering where she claimed scars that had been won in previous battles. Theirs was a twined fate, of near deaths and triumphant celebrations of still being alive — like now as she rolled her hips in a smooth circle, enticing him, welcoming him to plunge deep, to fill her.
I’ve never known you to be satisfied by missing any point of any of our adventures, Horus, her voice was reverent, when she broke the kiss for a quick breath, hands finding their way to his cheeks, rough with beard that now was free from blood. She could love him, fully, she decided, as one hand slid down his chest, and over his hip, her legs still braced on the edge of the narrow cot. She could give herself, fully to him, she knew, as said hand gripped one of his ass cheeks, urging him to finally sink into her fully, the needy whimper rising from her telegraphing her need of him. Please, Horus, was the last thing she could voice, coherently, as she felt the tremble of anticipation race through her, limbs quaking as they hovered there, clearly fully lost in one another, and not yet joined as she so desperately wanted them to be.
Sometimes, this moment in time was her favorite, the anticipation of when he would finally set them in motion. If she could bottle this moment, she’d be a rich woman, wealthy beyond words, for years and years to come. And when he finally did press his advance into her, she made sure Antiva heard her. She would make sure her voice was hoarse with how enthusiastically she would urge him on, even if most of her words at that point would degrade into pleases and yeses, fucks and more, harder and harder, right there, and the penultimate wordless cry when her sight would go blurry, black for a moment, when the little death came for her, heart beat skipping a few moments before it would find it’s frantic rhythm again. But that was hours to come. Horus had never been a quick lover with her., and she was certain that he wasn’t about to be with her.
They had time, this time. Could enjoy the act to the fullest, and in the evening time, when her legs were still jelly, and she smelled like a brothel from how exceptional a lover he had been, wrapped only in a robe, and feeling the sea air cool rivulets of sweat and other fluids along her skin, she would be a satisfied woman. Happy that they had lived, once again.
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