|Sex Is Better Than Talking Pt 2|
|Summary:||With a different round of players this time. Roslyn and Kittridge steal sometime alone together on the cape.|
|Related Logs:||So There for some Roslyn and Kittridge affection already.|
|A cove. There are judgmental seals.|
|Sun Jun 11, 289|
Even in the wake of Ironborn and starvation, the line of shore that Terrick's Roost occupies is a breathtaking thing, especially where the sun has only now started to set, washing the world in vibrant reds and oranges. The ocean reflects that sunset, the high tide breaking off rocks at the shift in positions of sun and moon. It is a perfect time to explore the coast, and thus why Roslyn suggested such a time in the short, simple note penned. Only barely settled in to the Four Eagles, she has at least had time to quickly bathe away the dust of the trip, her curls pinned back up carefully and held even after the ride from the castle to the cove. It seems she has escaped without guard nor maid, or at least they are not currently within sight.
Kittridge rides up alone as well, though that's not so surprising, being a man and all. He arrives a bit after Roslyn, having had further to go from the town, rather than the castle. After the rains of the day before, the ground is muddy, and his boots are well-spattered after a brisk ride. He dismounts at the edge of the cove, his courser left to grass on the tall grasses that grow up around the edges, as he heads towards Roslyn. "Lady," he greets her, brows rising, "Have you bribed your maid and guard somehow, or did you scale the wall beneath your window to escape?"
"The latter would be rather silly, my lord," Roslyn begins, a smile flashing like lightening across hazel eyes even as she keeps her own lips held in a neutral line, "Since they never give a guest enough bedding to fashion an escape from so tall of towers." Likely, she should speak on what she has done with her maid and her guard, and she perhaps will, but as she turns more fully to Kittridge, she only spends a long, drawn moment examining the man as if memorizing him.
"A deliberate failure of hospitality, no doubt," Kittridge replies, "For precisely that reason. I suspect they had such trouble with young ladies sneaking out their windows on blanket-ropes they had no choice but to restrict how much they gave or else no one would agree to send their daughters to visit." He grins, and then lifts a brow, "Have you paid them off, then?" he asks, "Or done away with them entirely? Or are they lurking about somewhere, cunningly disguised as rocks?"
The smile that threatens on her lips finally breaks through at that grin, her chin tipping as Roslyn awards a silent point towards Kittridge for his answer. She explains, quietly, "I have bribed my maid, and ordered my guard to stay behind as he is entirely Riordan's man. There are not any bandits in this area to warrant such protection, so close to the castle." A pause. "And a lady must seek some moments away from armed men, given what I have recently been through."
"Why do you whisper, then," Kittridge says quietly back, leaning closer as he does, "Do you fear the seals will disapprove?" He grins, teasing still, as always, and sets a hand on her waist, a flicker of a frown briefly breaking through his good humor at mention of the recent ordeal. "Indeed," he says.
Her breath may catch lightly, for all that the wind covers such sounds as it rushes over the cove, but Roslyn is almost bold where she settles her hand over his and steps closer to bridge that gap between them. Murmuring still, she says, "Yes, and they will tattle on us to the next person to come by."
"Seals are well-known tattlers," Kittridge agrees, "So it's probably wise. He eyes the creatures, all three of them over on a far rocky corner of the cove, sideways, as he steps closer, and turns towards her. "Should we walk?" he whispers still, lips brushing her ear, "Or find somewhere to sit? Out of their sight?"
"I must admit that I do not know this shore well, but perhaps somewhere not so easily stumbled across?" Roslyn suggest, a slight tremble to her words as she starts to lean in to his warmth, into his whisper. Then she is moving to draw away, a brush of dry self-deprecation across her words as she adds, "I do not think the Terricks would appreciate catch me alone with a man."
"No, I cannot think they would," Kittridge agrees, a bit dryly. "And these are Terrick seals, after all." He grins, and then points down the coastline, and suggests, "That way?" He turns his steps in that direction, a more sheltered corner of the cove, out of sight of the path from the keep.
Roslyn nods her assent, drawing away only to catch at Kittridge's hand with her own, soft and small but firm as she clings to the contact in the brief time it takes to relocate. Whatever hesitation she may have had in writing of it, it seems to be gone. As soon as they are behind what little privacy as can be offered, she turns back and quickly moves to claim a bold kiss.
Kittridge smiles as Roslyn reaches for his hand, gloved fingers closing about hers as they walk. He glances about the cliffs above as they head down the beach, and leans around to check the vantage points once they reach the spot he picked - or begins to, at least. When she turns back so quickly he's caught a little by surprise, and he gets out the brief beginnings of a laugh, before he is kissed. He breaks away to finish it, and grin, and then kiss her in return.
That kiss is met with a fierce, hungry desire, nothing restrained as she throws herself into it with a wrap of her arms around his neck that slides fingers into that irresistible hair. Roslyn's own lips quirk into a smile as she drawls back, for all that she winces at her own actions. "I do not wish to waste anymore time. Not when so much can change, so quickly," she admits with a faint scrunch of her nose.
Kittridge slips arms about her waist in turn, and, rather than reply right away, simply kisses her again. And then again, putting off speech further and… maybe once or twice more. Eventually he says, "It seems like a good philosophy to me, but as you might expect I'd say that of any turn of thought that led you to this end," he grins. Hands at her waist he walks her backwards a step or two, to lean against the sheer cliff face, the better to be sheltered from ocean breezes, or something gallant like that.
Surely something gallant, though Roslyn seems not to notice even this movement in her focus on Kittridge's lips, his jaw. Her eyes have darkened some with desire, and her lips are only distractedly curved into a smile as she draws fingers against soft hair. "I think the seals would have a different opinion, surely," she agrees, breathlessly.
"Probably," Kittridge agrees with a grin, "Nasty, jealous creatures, seals. I really haven't anything good to say about them, it seems." He shrugs, alas for the seals, and grins again before his lips meet hers once more. He leans a forearm against the rock beside her head, and draws her close against him with the other, breaking the kiss to trail his mouth across her jaw and down her throat.
She reacts with all instinct, leaning into that brace and tipping her head to allow him further access. "Kit," she begins, all soft and finally hesitant, but it only seems to be for her next words, "I have never done anything like this, before. I don't—." And yet, she is reaching for the edge of his shift, one hand sliding from around his neck to capture it between her fingers.
Lips trail down, and fingers slide up, tripping across seams and ribs and up to catch in the neckline of her gown. He nips playfully at her neck and replies, "Do you want to now?" He picks his head up, just enough for hair to tumble across her cheek as he nibbles at her ear, saying, "That's the bit I care about." His shirt is easily conquered, as he makes no attempt to stop her doing as she likes with it (unless that turns out to be strangling or something, of course).
"I do," Roslyn admits on a soft exhale, her fingers drawing the shirt upwards with a light brush of their tips against the planes of his stomach, trailing against his hip in exploration. She does not strangle him with it, for all that she's a Nayland. "And you?"
Well that's something. Pleased not to be strangled, Kit kisses just below her ear, and laughs quietly, breath warm against her skin. He nods, and says, "Yes. Obviously." Beneath her fingertips, muscles tighten, and thump with the quick, steady pulse of his heart.
Her smile widens at that laugh, and there is a renewed eagerness as Roslyn drags that bit of fabric from between them even as it means they have to draw apart for a moment. "You may be a bit crazy then, my lord," she counters with a quiet laugh of her own, leaning to capture another kiss.
"Me?" Kittridge laughs again, even as he helps her wrestle his shirt out of the way, "I think you may be the crazy one," he replies, and then kisses her for a while before he pauses. "I don't want to have the whole 'are you sure? yes I'm sure! no really are you really sure?' conversation," he says, "Because it's silly. I assume you've, you know. Thought this through. You're smart. So I'm just not going to worry about it. Alright? Easier to just have fun once that's put aside."
"I am not sure of anything, but I am not going to waste my time worrying over it," Roslyn dismisses softly, for all that she does seem to draw momentarily back, the space opening between them more implied than reflected in the physical closeness. Hazel eyes search his expression, tracing a line down the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips. "And we should not bother with it, then."
Kittridge laughs softly at that reply, and catches one of her hands, raising it to his lips. He presses a kiss to each knuckle, and then one to her palm, watching her through his lashes as he does it. "Then we won't bother with it," he agrees, mouth curving into a smile. He kisses the inside of her wrist before he lets her hand go, curling fingers about her hips, instead. "We'll be careful," he promises in a murmur against her lips, "And discreet. And there won't be anything to worry about." He grins, and adds, "And you'll like it. I promise."
Her own laugh gets caught in her throat, a quiet sound as she murmurs, "Gods forbid, I think I trust that." Further words will wait for another time, Roslyn only brushing her lips against his before she draws slightly back again only to reach for the stays of her dress.
Kittridge laughs, "I should hope so, or I might have to second-guess your thinking after all." When she draws back, he shifts to help her, somewhat more practiced with loosening stays than a gentleman probably ought to admit to. Or maybe he's just a quick study with quicker fingers. It's not as if she has a basis for comparison, after all. He leans forward to kiss her neck once more as the gown is worked at, lips brushing across the hollow of her throat, the curve of her collarbone.
"Or perhaps just consider me to be the type of lady who favors careless, disruptive and disappointing," Roslyn answers, warmth teasing along her words even as they seem to roughen with desire, a soft rasp as she takes in a breath at that dangerous trail of lips. She does not notice that quickness, too caught up in other details and attempting to shed the clothing between them herself.
Kittridge laughs, and says, voice low, words breathed and lapped against her chest, "Careless and disruptive I can own, but I would hate to be disappointing." He lifts his head to grin, and find her lips again for a long and ardent kiss, helping her out of her dress as well after a moment or two.
"I would as well, since—." But whatever witty retort Roslyn may have is cut off by that kiss, a soft noise of pleasure catching in her throat as the dress slides away and she can press more fully against his frame, less fabric between them.
Now it is Kittridge's turn to make a pleased noise as she presses closer, and he sets a hand briefly on her cheek as the kiss grows even more heated, fingertips starting to slide into her hair, and then stopping. "Should I leave it pinned?" he asks, considerately. Look how considerately! He kisses the corner of her lips, her jaw, the underside of it as he awaits an answer, other hand trailing up over corset boning until he finds skin.
A small laugh escapes at the seemingly innocent question, low and soft and almost disbelieving before Roslyn is answering quickly, "No. Yes. It is easier that way." She makes no such concessions to his appearance, however, as fingers press tightly against the bare skin of his arm as if that bite of nails could erase the space between them even more. Her pulse jumps under his lips, an erratic, pounding thing as she adds breathlessly, "I do not care; I only want you."
"I'll leave it be, this time," Kittridge agrees, fingers slipping down her back instead. At her words, he laughs, the sound going huskier each time, catching in his chest now as she clutches at his arm. He covers her fingers with his, and redirects them to his chest, drawing her a step back from the wall before he suddenly lifts her off her feet, instructing quietly, "Put your legs around me."
Roslyn obediently follows his directions, instinct wrapping her legs over his hips as her shift slides up to reveal them. Her fingers splay against his chest, breath catching as she draws her gaze expectantly up to his. "This time?" she catches on and repeats, words filled with a quiet want.
Kit leans her back against the wall again, and slides hands up those bare legs, tugging her hips flush with his and leaning in for another kiss. He lifts his brows at that question, and says, "Were you hoping for just once?" he sort of jokes, replying against her jaw, "I'd like to do it somewhere we can hazard taking the time to get this corset off. You know, if I'm not disappointing," he teases, grinning.
"No, I thought—." Roslyn's words die in a laugh, however, a soft, breathless thing as she arches against him as her hips meet his. "I will tell you in detail if I find you disappointing," she promises instead in a whisper, moving to trail her own lips against his ear before stealing another desperate kiss.
"You thought…?" Kittridge prompts, and then laughs at the promise, groaning as she arches against him. He meets that kiss with matching hunger, and slides fingers up her thigh, drawing his head back eventually to catch a breath and grin, "Now I almost want to be disappointing on purpose just to see what you'd say."
"That once you had me, you may not want me, again," is answered quietly, Roslyn soon distracted by his hand on her bare skin. She meets that grin with a bright smile of her own, a counterbalance to eyes dark with desire and need. "Kit, I do not think you could be if you tried."
"Don't be silly, the first time barely counts. The second's always better," Kittridge informs her. He might be kidding? Tough to say for sure. He presses his grin to hers, and then laughs, "Oh, trust me. It could be terrible. But it won't be." He grins again, and takes another kiss, and sets about making that true.