|Crazy in the Storm|
|Summary:||Baneforts Gone Wild: Wet Dress Contest? There's at least one Banefort gone wild up on the roof with Jacsen as the storm rolls in.|
|Related Logs:||Accusations and Apologies is where Jacsen gets those cuts on his cheek.|
|Roof Terrace - Four Eagles Tower|
|This is open to the air except for the rookery at the opposite end of the open walkway. Parapets and crenellations are about.|
|Sun Jun 10, 289|
A storm is rolling in off the Cape, and dark clouds crowd the horizon. Lightning jumps from bank to bank, and the wind whips over the parapets, rushing in to feed the storm. Despite the threatening weather, Anais is not only outside, but watching the horizon. The younger guard who stayed with her from the Banefort - red-haired, insouciant Kincaid - slouches in the windbreak provided by one of the crenellations, while Anais stands at the very edge of the wall, hands braced on the stone to let her lean out into the wind. "It's going to be a violent one, Kincaid," she calls over her shoulder. "Look at the lightning!"
A recently doped Jacsen makes his way up to the roof, taking his time even more than usual. "They told me you were up here," he says, though his quiet voice might be drowned out by the whipping winds. "I thought, who'd come up here with a storm rolling in, and then I remembered." He offers her a lazy, sleepy smile, inching his way toward her. The wind is blowing his shaggy hair every which way and is strong enough to make him unsteady on his cane. Once he gets close enough, the small cuts on his cheek become visible, though they've been treated.
The wind has tugged strands of hair free from the braid wrapped around Anais' head, whipping them around her cheeks as she turns to the sound of Jacsen's arrival. There's a flash of a genuine smile, all wild thrill and freedom, before she pushes back from the wall, ducking into the shelter of the crenellations. "It's beautiful," she declares, stepping forward and reaching up to pull him down for a bold, impulsive kiss. Energized by the storm, she doesn't even notice the cuts just yet.
Jacsen is so out of it and caught off-guard by the kiss that he stumbles forward when she pulls on him, almost falling on top of her and smashing her into a wall before he catches himself. "You're crazy," he says with a vacuous laugh, a hazy smile lingering on his lips. There's a look of wonder in him, but it's not at the weather, it's at her. "If it rains grains and crops, then, then I'll agree it's beautiful." He squints up at the darkening clouds, his head swaying as he looks back to her. "I like the way you look with all the…" Reaching out, he touches her windswept hair.
"Mad," Anais agrees, tilting her head to his touch with a bright laugh. "And reckless. And sure to catch my death of cold some day, so I've been told." She doesn't seem to be the least bit bothered by the fall against the wall, an arm looped around his neck. "But don't tell anyone." She winks, and only then seems to note the cuts at his cheek, reaching up to brush a finger lightly over the broken skin. "That's a new look for you," she observes. "What happened?"
Jacsen grins like a fool at Anais' good spirits. "Our little secret," he agrees conspiratorially. When asked about the cuts, he looks confused, reaching up to his face to touch the same spot as her fingers. "What - oh!" he says, remembering when it stings. "I got a couple scratches. Fell getting up earlier and just…" He makes a toppling-over gesture with his hand. "But it's okay, it's fine."
"You fell?" There's a dampening of those spirits, concern flickering through Anais eyes. "Maybe we should find you an attendant. Just in case things like this happen." Her smile flickers back again, almost in time with a flash of lightning on the horizon, and just as bright. "You're too pretty to risk your face like that," she adds, bobbing up to brush a kiss over the cuts. "Anyhow. You were looking for me?"
"Willem helps when I need it," Jacsen says, still grinning from ear to ear. "He's a good boy. Smart. Fast. Bit too serious, but that's all right." He puts his arms around her waist and pulls her in close, nuzzling her neck in a decidedly un-Jacsen way, his stubble likely more tickly than rough at this length. "Was I?" he asks, sounding distracted. "I must have been, to come up here in weather like this."
"Willem brought you Milk of the Poppy without mentioning it to anyone else," Anais points out, though she's distracted by the touch of his lips at her neck, head falling back against the stone with a soft sound as her fingers curl in the hair at his nape. "Jacsen," she laughs softly, pulling ever to slightly against his hold. "This is highly inappropriate, you know." And yet it's a token resistance, as she nods to her guard and the Banefort man whistles a bit on his way to guard the stairs.
"I know, isn't he great?" Jacsen says. He's not being sarcastic, he really means it - secret doping is pretty awesome. "Maybe I like that it's highly inappropriate," he says petulantly, planting a flurry of kisses along the side of her neck. "I can be crazy too, you're not the only one who's allowed to be crazy."
"Jacsen." It's the least protesting protest ever. Anais laughs, though she sound turns to a low growl at his kisses. "Kincaid is /right there/." But she's got her hands beneath his shirt anyhow, and her breath comes fast. Eyes half-closed, she shifts against the wall, trying to find his lips again. "I might like crazy," she admits reluctantly as a low rumble of thunder rolls through the air.
"Well, knock him out, then," Jacsen says distractedly, tugging on her collar to expose more skin so he can continue kissing down along her shoulder. "Of course you like crazy. You're crazy too," he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. His lips find hers again, his hands sneaking under her clothes and snaking across her skin.
"I prefer wild," Anais notes, breath catching at his touch. "What's gotten into you?" she asks, wondering, until the question is lost in his kiss. She meets it with abandon, guard be damned, as one hand moves to his nape to hold him to it. There are some things it's just better not to question too hard, and she's spent too long wishing for something like this to risk losing it. Baring her shoulder is perhaps easier than it should be; even Anais has lost weight with the hunger at the Roost. And while she should probably worry about the fact that /both/ shoulders are falling down, she's otherwise occupied at that moment. When a gust of wind tugs more hair free of her braid, it brings with it a wild scent of pine and amber, the soaps brought from the Banefort.
"What's gotten into me?" Jacsen asks. Distractedly, because he's too busy focusing on what's going on with her clothes right in the open. With his sleepy, slurred words and his imprecise movements, 'what's gotten into him' is clearly Milk of the Poppy - he's in a happy place, and much more affectionate and physical than he'd otherwise be, though it's not a usual side effect of the drug. Then again, he's taking manageable doses in his tea as opposed to battlefield conditions. "I think you should worry more about what's going into you."
Anais groans at his answer, but there's stone and storm and wind at her back, and only him in front of her. "Hold on," she murmurs, feeling at the stone behind her and trying to find the gap between the crenellations. Looking over her shoulder, she laughs, wild and breathless. "If I sit on the edge, do you think you could stand on the bench?" When she turns back to face him, her eyes are sparkling, cheeks flushed with the wind and the warmth of him so close.
There's a dull look behind Jacsen's eyes, clearly uncomprehending of what she's getting at. He looks around him in confusion, pointing at the bench with a frown. Oh well. It's a slow and unsteady process, getting up on that bench and then standing on it, his left arm waving about to maintain his balance against the wind. He's not right at the edge, but he wouldn't want to fall on the hard stone even from that small height. "Why am I…?" he asks, giving her a puzzled look.
Anais steps up onto the bench with him, then pushes herself up onto the edge of the stone wall. Watching him, she hikes her skirts up just a bit, reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck and draw him closer. "Trying to get the right angle," she explains with a wicked smile against his lips, one leg wrapping around his waist to pull his hips against hers. The higher parts of the wall rise around them, half shielding them from anyone who might be on the walk, though her back is to the courtyard below.
Jacsen is pulled in with a soft grunt, his right hand grabbing on to an edge stone for purchase and leverage as his left hooks around her waist, pulling himself right against him. So close she can feel him straining against her. "So what you really wanted," he whispers into her ear, lips teasing her lobes, "was for the whole Roost to watch me fuck you." His hand comes up to her cheek, then traces a path down to her neck where it lingers for a moment, his fingers resting lightly over her throat, then hastily down to his trousers to oblige.
"They're all inside," Anais laughs softly, keeping an arm tight around his neck. "Too afraid of the storm." Her other hand is there to help, though, breath catching with a gasp by his ear. "Besides," she whispers, "I'm tired of being on top." And then there's lightning, and thunder, and the first few spits of rain. And his wife, ready and willing and trusting him to keep her from falling. Life is good when you're not half-comatose.
"Then we'll have to make some creative changes to our room," Jacsen says, the broad dopey grin returning to his face. "Because I doubt we can come back here." Then the storm starts rolling in, just in time; rain to wash away their sweat, wind and thunder to mask their sounds, and lightning to illuminate one another in flashes of youthful passion.
Wind and thunder are good, because by the time it's finished, Anais is breathing hard against his shoulder and utterly grateful for the cover provided by the weather. "Oh, dear gods, Jacsen," she breaths against his ear, shaking a bit herself. "I…" And then words fail her, and she simply laughs, leaning forward for a hungry kiss. "We should go inside," she murmurs, hands tangled in the fabric of his shirt. The rain and the wind have plastered fair hair to her brow and her cheeks, yet she couldn't possibly look more content than she does in that moment.
Jacsen returns the kiss, breathing hard and rain-soaked and ready to pass out. It's exhausting work when you've only got one weight-bearing leg. "We should, shouldn't we," he breathes, a little more lucid than when they began. "I think if I move right now, my leg is going to give out and I'm just going to pass out right here." But he does move after giving her another kiss, sloooooowly pushing himself back and coming down to a sitting position on the bench, almost falling over a few times in the process. The cane's on the floor and he knows he's not going to be able to reach it.
It takes Anais a moment to get down from the wall, and she offers what support she can to Jacsen while he sits. Once he's settled, she jumps down to the bench, then steps down once more to the walk. Cheeks flaming despite her broad smile, she carefully pulls up the shoulders of her gown again as she retrieves his cane. "So," she says as she sits next to him, setting the cane in his lap. "What was it you were looking for me about?"
Jacsen taps his fingers against the cane when it's placed in his lap and gives her a smile of thanks. "Anais," he murmurs, starting to shiver a bit in the rain now that he's no longer warming himself with her closeness or physical exertion, "I can just barely remember where I am after that, much less what I was thinking beforehand." Flashing a grin, he pushes himself up - and stumbles, the cane slipping against the wet rocks when he puts his weight on it.
Anais is grinning back to his words, laughing as he stands. The laughter turns to a shout, though, when he stumbles. "Careful!" Both hands shoot out to try to steady him or take hold of some part of his clothing.
Lucky thing she's close, otherwise Jacsen might've ended up with some new bruises and cuts. "…Thanks," he says shakily, finding his balance again with the cane. "That got the heart back to racing." He chuckles nervously, taking another few slow steps, making absolutely sure of the crutch before moving. "I think it's gonna be a slow walk back down," he says apologetically. Sort of anticlimactic after it all. "At least, for me. You can go ahead if you want, I'm sure you want a nice hot bath about now."
"I'd be perfectly happy to stay out in the rain," Anais laughs softly, stepping to his side to take his free arm. "And I'd rather walk with you than have a hot bath. It's as much my fault you're feeling shaky as anything else," she adds with a wry curve of her lips.