A continuation from Thicker Than Water. I wanted to explore a little further as to where these two might go...
Carver stood with his hands held loosely at his sides, belying the tension that was thrumming through him while he waited for the Knight-Commander's response. Her wintry gaze was as coldly calculating as ever. He somewhat respected the woman, but he had never liked her.
Finally, she pursed her lips and nodded. "I can certainly agree with you that the Champion needs to be more closely watched. I would have had her brought to the Gallows long ago, but the current balance of power in Kirkwall is volatile, at best." Meredith paced across the room, stopping to caress the hilt of her greatsword, where it lay gleaming brightly on a side table.
Carver felt a strange, cold shiver dance along his spine when she glanced at him piercingly. "Are you certain you will be able to put aside your personal feelings in this, and act for the good of the Order, Ser Carver? A Templar's duty supersedes all other bonds."
He met her gaze calmly, his face a perfect mask of resolve. "I know where my duty lies, Knight-Commander, and I will carry it out no matter what the cost. You can rely on me in this."
Meredith narrowed her eyes, a slight smile on her thin lips. "Good. And since you are the brother to the Champion, there should be no outcry at the renewal of your presence at her side." She paused, the silence stretching for the space of several heartbeats. "I do have one further question before I agree to your proposal. Why now?"
His brows lowered in concern. "Our mother's death due to foul magic," his jaw clenched angrily. "It's hit my sister particularly hard. I have some concern about her emotional stability. I think we both know the dangers an unstable mage can present. I'm all the family she has left, and I think my presence could be the steadying influence she needs to recover." He shrugged a shoulder, his expression impassive.
Her eyes boring into him, she finally stepped away from her sword. "Very well, Ser Carver. I applaud you for your forward thinking in this matter. You are assigned to watch the Champion until further notice. I will expect regular updates from you, of course. Dismissed."
Carver nodded respectfully. "Knight-Commander." He turned on his heel and exited Meredith's office, a slight, mocking smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.
Stupid bitch. You really have no idea what the Hawkes are capable of.
He made a quick detour to his quarters to gather his belongings. He wouldn't miss the cramped space and lack of privacy, that was certain. He and Marian would need to maintain separate bedrooms at the estate for appearances sake, but he had no intention of sleeping alone. Bodahn would figure it out before long, he just hoped the dwarf would be discrete. Carver didn't want to have to threaten him, but he wouldn't tolerate interference in this.
He opened the gate, rusty metal hinges screeching in protest. He nodded to the Templar on duty and passed into the outer courtyard of the Gallows, eager to board the first boat that would take him back to the city.
Now all he had to do was tell Mari about this new development. He suppressed a grin at the thought. She would certainly resent the idea of having a Templar guardian; might even fight him over it. His blood surged hotly in anticipation. He was more than willing to convince her.
Carver leaned back against the study door, smirking, his arms crossed while he watched his sister pace.
She glared at him angrily. "What makes you think I will agree to having you spy on me for the Knight- Commander, Carver? Do you expect me to just roll over quietly and take this? If so, maybe you don't know me as well as you think."
He pushed off the door and walked forward, stalking her like a big cat. She stiffened when he pulled her against him. He gripped her chin, forcing her to look up to meet his gaze, the cool metal of his armor making her shiver.
"Oh, I know you, Mari. I know what you hate and how you scheme. I know where your loyalties lie, and what type of revenge you crave, and let's not forget," he said, reaching around to grip the swell of her bottom and push her more fully against him, "I also know your twisted desires." He lowered his head to kiss her, but she pushed him away.
"Stop it, Carver," she hissed. "If you think what we did is going to give you some kind of power over me, you're dead wrong."
He walked over to the desk, strewn with invitations and correspondence, all of it clambering for the attention of the Champion. He undid the buckles on his gauntlets, laying them on top of the pile.
"Am I?" he asked mildly, turning back to face her. "I thought we already did this, sister, but if you need another demonstration…" He shrugged.
She walked to the desk and uncorked the bottle of wine there, pouring a large amount into her goblet, before walking to the chair in front of the fire. She sat down and took a generous swallow. "You're such an ass," she muttered.
He laughed, pouring his own goblet full of the berry-colored libation. "No argument there. It seems to be a strong family trait."
She rolled her eyes. "I can't tell you how much I'd like to shoot you with lightning, right now."
He rested a hip against the edge of the desk, throwing back the rest of his wine in one long gulp. He frowned into the empty cup; he definitely preferred a good ale. "You can always try. But I'll make you pay for it later."
"Is that a threat?" she asked softly, raising a mocking brow.
He smirked. "No, a promise."
She huffed and turned her gaze to the fire, giving him her profile.
"You really need to understand something, Mari, before you get your knickers into an even bigger twist over all this."
Marian said nothing, continuing to look into the dancing flames as if there were answers to her troubles to be found there.
"I didn't join the Templars just to spite you, you know."
She snorted. "Really? Then you did an excellent impression of it."
He put his cup down a little more forcefully than he intended, the sound of metal striking wood echoing through the room. "I did it to learn the ways of the enemy, and to deflect any rumors about you, but you've always misjudged my motives."
He walked across the tiled floor to lean a hand against the mantle. "When did I ever do anything but protect you and Beth? Family has always come first, Mari, you know that. Why would you think I would betray you? I'm not capable of that kind of shit."
She stood and placed her own goblet on the mantle with shaking hands, then turned to face him, her eyes glittering with fury. "Gee, Carver, I don't know," she said mockingly. "Maybe it was the fact that you ran off to ally yourself with my greatest enemy as soon as my back was turned!"
"I did it for you," he growled. "Everything I've done since we came to Kirkwall has been for you."
She crossed her arms, digging her fingers into the soft silk of her robe. "I don't believe that for an instant."
He was silent for a moment. "No, I don't guess you would." He sighed, suddenly tired of the conversation, but unable to keep the words bottled inside him any longer.
"I'm sure you don't believe I love you either, but it's still the truth. Believe it or not, I don't give a bloody damn. My first loyalty will always be to you, but you'll never take my word for it, will you?" He looked at her, but she glanced away, unable to meet his eyes.
He scoffed. "Good night, Mari." He let himself out of the study, closing the door behind him and heading for the guest room.
Marian stood staring blindly into the fire, struggling to still the unwelcome trembling in her limbs, and trying not to feel the guilt that welled up inside of her.
Carver's eyes cracked open, the familiar touch of cool fingers sliding across his bare chest, pulling him from the smothering anxiety and clammy fear of his recurring nightmares.
"Mari?"
"Shhh, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."
He turned over, sliding his arms around her and pulling her tight against him, burying his face in the soft strands of her loosened hair.
"Do you still have the nightmares?" she whispered hesitantly.
He nodded, breathing a deep breath of her scent into his lungs.
"Was it Lothering?"
"No," he answered, "Ostagar."
She stroked his stubbled cheek, her hand coming to rest against the side of his neck where his pulse beat a strong rhythm. "Do you want to talk about it?"
He pushed a hand under her thin night rail, tracing the soft skin of her bare thigh. "Not really."
"Do you want to go back to sleep then?"
He chuckled, grinding his stiffened prick against her. "Not really."
"Maker's breath, Carver," she said laughingly.
"I want you." He feathered a line of kisses across her jaw and down her neck, his shadow beard scraping abrasively.
"Then have me," she breathed, turning her head to give him better access.
He smiled against her collarbone, already pushing her gown down. "That was easy."
"Shut up and get busy before I change my mind."
He bit into her breast, marking her possessively, then kissing the abused skin. "You're not allowed to change your mind."
Lifting her leg, he discovered she wore no smalls and was already wet and ready. He angled his hips against her and wasted no time, driving home in a single thrust.
She sighed in a shuddery exhale, and he pulled her on top of him, moving slowly with shallow thrusts, mostly content just to be inside of her.
When they finally came, it was like cresting a gentle wave in perfect harmony, even their moans of satisfaction were subdued.
It was the complete opposite of their prior coupling in nearly every way. He mused on it briefly, but his brain was too groggy for further thought.
Marian relaxed on top of him, her limbs growing heavy, hair spread across his chest and deep breaths puffing warm air against him.
Carver drifted back into sleep, still buried inside her. No more nightmares disturbed his rest, and the siblings slept entwined until the light of a new day brushed the sky.
Marian grabbed her staff and headed toward the door, Carver trailing along behind her and stuffing a final bite of buttery pastry in his mouth. They certainly hadn't been fed anything so rich in the dining hall at the Gallows. Apparently, serving the Maker meant the loss of every kind of pleasure.
No sex, shite food, a dependence on lyrium, it was a wonder anyone joined the Order. At least his prior knowledge had allowed him to avoid the last point. His use of lyrium was sparing, at best. No one was going to control him, particularly not those who lied to their warriors, then made them dependants for no good reason.
He wondered at how much he had given up to become a Templar, having left just before his sister's Deep Roads success had made everything for the family so much easier and more comfortable. Perhaps he had been too hasty when he scorned the life of a noble…
She turned and swept her eyes over him grimly. "If you're going to be working with me again, Carver, I insist you wear something other than Templar armor."
He lifted a brow, licking the lingering salt taste of butter from his fingers before putting on his gauntlets. "Since I don't happen to have a spare set of armor lying around, it's either this or nothing."
She smirked and he shook his head. "I don't fight naked, Mari, not even for you."
"That's debatable," she muttered with a significant look, making him chuckle. "Alright, Carver, I'll work on getting you something else, in the meantime that will have to do."
He pulled the door of the estate closed behind him, standing silently while Marian greeted one of the neighboring nobles. The man looked ridiculous, wearing layer upon layer of satin and lace, waving his hands expressively while he spoke.
Carver crossed his arms and glanced away, not even attempting to listen as the man fawned over his sister, begging her to come to his party, or some such.
Instead, he let his mind wander back over the previous night, puzzling over how gentle and comforting Mari had been, as well as the fact that she had come to him, and spent the night in his room. He wasn't quite certain what to make of that. Had she taken any of what he had said to heart?
"Oh yes, I can certainly see the family resemblance," the noble purred, raising a hand to Carver's arm to try and feel the muscle around the leather straps of his armor.
Carver took a step back. "Fuck off, ponce," he said coolly.
Marian quickly took the dumbstruck man's arm and led him away from her seething brother. Within minutes, the man was smiling and laughing at whatever his sister was saying.
Carver scowled, feeling a small surge of the old resentments stirring. She had always been able to effortlessly charm her way out of anything, whereas he had had to rely on indifference and intimidation.
He waited for the inevitable scolding to come when they began walking again, but Marian was silent, a small smile on her face, finally glancing at him and chuckling.
"You aren't going to make anything easy on me, are you, brother? De Longhese is a lecherous ass, and there have been many times I've wanted to break his roving fingers. If not for his influence among the nobility…"
"He'd better mind who he paws in future, or I'll break those fingers for you. Hang the nobility," he growled.
She glanced at Carver's frowning face, trying to gauge his mood. "I may regret saying this later, but still, it's good to have you back, brother. I've missed your particular way with people. I can't wait to hear the Hightown gossip about you." She laughed heartily, shaking her head.
He didn't respond, and even managed to keep most of the smile off his face, but the steady warmth of her approval spread through his chest in an entirely unstoppable force.
"Well, here you all are, just the same as before," Carver mused, startling the scattered occupants loitering inside Varric's quarters.
"If it isn't Junior Hawke, and here I thought you had decided to scorn us Lowtown types. Guess the rumors I heard were true," Varric said.
Carver scanned the room, his gaze coming to rest on the Dalish elf, her eyes wide with surprise. "Oh, hello Carver. Nice to see you."
"Merrill." He nodded a greeting.
Her magic teased his senses, but the feeling was different than with his sister. If he had to compare them, he would say Merrill was more like a gentle summer breeze, whereas Mari was a gale force wind. And Anders was….a seething, black-feathered mage. Carver crossed his arms, meeting the accusing eyes of the healer.
"Got tired of torturing innocents in the Gallows, and decided to branch out, have you, Carver? And here I thought Templars couldn't function apart from their hive mind."
Marian stepped in front of Carver, looking at Anders calmly. "Carver has pledged his loyalty to me, Anders. The Knight-Commander believes he has agreed to guard and spy on me for her benefit, when it is really the other way around. If any of you have issues or questions regarding this new dynamic, now is the time."
She turned and walked to a seat at the table, shooting Carver a look that said, don't screw this up.
Anders tilted his head curiously, some of the aggression leaving him at the surprising, new development. "Are you saying he's infiltrated their ranks for your benefit, Hawke? That's interesting. And you believe him?"
"Watch it, mage," Carver said in a low voice, "I've always thought a sword up your ass could only improve your disposition."
Fenris scoffed. "Indeed."
Instead of getting angry, as Carver expected, Anders actually smiled. "As if I haven't heard that line from a Templar before. You'd have to take it out of your own ass first."
He looked at Carver speculatively. "There were times in my past when I wasn't adverse to a good buggering, you know, but I hardly indulge in such things anymore, otherwise I might take you up on your offer."
Carver looked at his snickering sister with his mouth hanging open in shock. "Did he…just make a pass at me?"
"Something like that."
Carver scowled. "I think I'll wait downstairs."
Marian watched him walk out, struggling not to laugh aloud and Varric sidled up next to her. "You sure about this, Hawke? I remember how angry you were when he betrayed you."
She pursed her lips, nodding. "I was angry, you're right, but it's possible I misjudged his motives. At any rate, I trust him now, and so can the rest of you." She smiled appealingly. "I give you my word as Champion."
Varric strapped on Bianca, grinning, "That's good enough for me. What do you say we get down to business?"
Marian nodded. "An excellent plan. The Bone Pit awaits."
Carver lay stretched out on his bed, clad in nothing but his smalls. He had forgotten how challenging it could be to follow his sister around on all her little errands. The high dragon at the Bone Pit (and what a surprise that had been) had managed to both shred and roast his armor, much to Mari's delight.
For weeks since, he had been fighting in nothing but clothing, like he used to, feeling much too light with the weight of his armor gone, and his muscles continued to protest the unwelcome change. He groaned and turned on his side, trying to get comfortable.
A light tap sounded against his door, and Marian slipped into the room. "You didn't come down to dinner. Are you feeling unwell?"
He sat up and rubbed his bicep, shaking his head. "I'm just not hungry."
She frowned. "I could get cook to make you some of that pudding you like, or maybe some tea?"
He shook his head again. "Come here."
She walked across the small, open space of his bedroom and stopped just in front of him. He pulled her close, nuzzling against her belly and breasts. Her hands went to his shoulders and started kneading the tight muscles there. He groaned aloud and she stilled.
"Maker's sake, Mari, don't stop. I'm so bloody sore."
She dug her fingers into his shoulders again, then hesitated. "I've learned a bit of a trick, if you're open to my trying it on you."
He looked up suspiciously. "What kind of trick?"
She pushed against his shoulder to make him lie back, but he pulled her down on top of him.
"Carver," she said, in exasperation, "I can't take care of you in this position."
He licked at her ear, and ran his nose against the side of her neck. "I think you can take care of me just fine in this position," he murmured.
She pulled away from him and stood up, laughing. "Come now, brother."
He sighed. "I'd like to, if you would just cooperate. Or I could always tie you up again; I know how much you like that."
She pointed a finger at him, trying to look stern. "Do you want my magical massage or not?"
He snickered. "And the innuendo just doesn't stop. Isn't that what I've been trying to convince you of?"
"Just lay on your stomach. Andraste's ass, you're bad."
He flipped over and stretched out against the soft coverlet. "That's not what you said last night. I think it was something more along the lines of 'Maker, Carver, yes!' immediately followed by a rather loud scream. There aren't any more secrets from the servants after that, in case you were still trying to fool yourself."
"Oh, shut up. You did it on purpose just because I said I could be quiet. You get off on making me eat my words."
He turned his head to face her and smiled. "Maybe. But I definitely get off on you eating me."
Marian ignored his verbal jab and stood to one side of the bed, raising her hands over his back. Small force pushes started kneading his muscles in undulating waves with just the right amount of pressure to feel good. The massage went on for some time, the soreness lessening until it was nothing but a pale shadow of awareness.
She lowered her hands and sat beside him with a tired sigh. He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm in thanks.
"Now that you're feeling better, I have something for you, if you want to come to my room."
He rolled to his feet and followed her. She closed the door to her bedroom when he was inside. His eyes were immediately drawn to an armor stand beside her desk, holding a large set of high quality heavy armor. Bright silver gleamed in the reflected firelight, the Amell family crest emblazoned in black and red on the chest plate. He glanced at his sister, finding her watching him avidly.
"Do you like it? I had it made to suit your style of fighting, and with your enormous muscles, I know the heaviest armor doesn't bother you."
He ran his fingers through his hair. "Do I like it? Mari, it's…yes, I like it." His eyes traced the family crest again, a surge of pride welling up. "Meredith is going to shit herself when she sees me kitted out in that, you know."
She laughed, a sinister smile playing around her lips. "Yes, I rather hope she does."
He turned to look at her with a teasing smile. "Enormous muscles, was it?"
Marian skimmed her fingers along one of his bare arms, across the chiseled contours of his chest and ridges of muscled stomach. "Well, there certainly isn't anything small on you."
He pushed her hand against his hardening cock, his eyes lidding in pleasure when she stroked him through his smalls.
"I think I've rediscovered my lost appetite," he said.
She withdrew her hand, doing a poor job of hiding her disappointment. "I can get something for you. What would you like to eat?"
His smile was predatory, though he made no move to touch her, and his voice was low and rough when he spoke. "Just you."
Marian inhaled sharply, a sudden stab of arousal tingling through her, sending a warm flush to her cheeks. One side of his mouth tugged up in a knowing smile.
"Go and lock the door."
She examined his face, repressing a shiver when she saw the keen watchfulness in his eyes that revealed to her what his request really was- an order, not a request at all. She hesitated as long as she dared, the smallest amount of defiance on her face, then went and turned the key in the lock.
Carver felt the unnamed darkness rising in him and welcomed it, eager for her challenge, wanting to break her of her stubbornness, if only a little. She wanted him to win, even if she would never be completely conquered. They both needed this, but for different reasons.
"Come here and strip me."
Marian walked toward him slowly, hips swaying enticingly, navigating the narrow path between compliance and defiance. She enjoyed the game just as much as her brother, though she would never admit to it.
Before she could bend to remove the only item of clothing he still wore, he seized her face between his hands, kissing her roughly. His lips slid across her jaw, hot breath loud against her ear.
"You're pushing me, Mari, because you want me to push back," Carver breathed against her neck, moving his lips up and down against her throat, in a barely-there caress that he knew drove her mad.
"If you try to defy me further," he said in a soft voice that belied his seriousness, "I'm going to spank your ass red, then I'm going to fuck you and not let you come. Is that what you want?"
A minute shake of the head was the only answer she gave. He released her and she knelt in front of him, her hands pushing down the clinging fabric of the half-pants that passed for men's small clothes.
Her nails grazed against his skin when he was finally naked, teasing across his thighs. Marian looked up at him questioningly. He urged her head nearer to his aching length.
"Yes, I want you to."
The wet warmth and tight suction of her mouth enveloped his cock and he grit his teeth to keep from hissing in pleasure. He kept his hand resting against the back of her head, exerting light pressure, looking down at her bobbing head. It wasn't enough.
"Relax your throat, you can take more of me."
Her adjustment hit him hard when the head of his prick bumped the back of her throat. He groaned, moving his fingers to touch the side of her mouth where they were connected.
"Enough," he growled, yanking her hair, and she released him with a small popping sound. He jerked her to her feet, his tongue delving into her mouth, smugly satisfied when he tasted himself there.
Carver quickly liberated her of her finery and under things, retaining the sash from her robe. He wrapped it around her eyes, circling the fabric twice and securing it in a knot at the back of her head.
He stepped away and left her standing in the middle of the floor, walking a small circle around her. "What is it that you want me to do to you tonight, sister?"
Her head turned toward the sound of his voice. She chuckled uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot. It was strange to be standing naked but unable to see. "Um, the usual?"
Carver reached for her breast, but only touched her lightly, denying her the firmness she craved. She pushed herself against him, wordlessly asking for more, whimpering in frustration when his hand drew away then touched her sex lightly, in the same unsatisfying way.
"You're not going to get anything unless you ask me for it. I want you to tell me exactly what you want, Mari. Can you do that for me?"
She swallowed visibly and nodded. He moved away, watching her closely.
"I…" she shifted again, rubbing her thumb against her index finger. It was one of her tells when she was stressed or scared. He reached for her hand, sucking the twitching finger into his mouth, tongue swirling soothingly.
"Just say it. There's no shame between us. Not ever."
She exhaled slowly. "I want you to fuck me."
He pinched her nipples between his fingers. Not hard enough to really hurt, but enough to bring a breathy moan spilling from her lips.
"Is that all, nothing else?"
She tilted her head and bit her lip. His hand skimmed her belly and touched her aching cunt again, making her gasp.
"You're so wet for me, I'm almost tempted to bend you over right here, but I'm still waiting for you to ask for what you really want. You know what I'm talking about. Now let me hear it."
Marian licked her lips, nearly shaking with desire. Unable to see him, but surrounded by his voice and the force of his presence. She was ready to beg if that's what it took to move him.
"Please, Carver, I want you to use your tongue on me. Please."
His kiss was domineering and full of approval, but he kept space between their bodies instead of pulling her against him like she wanted.
"And do you think I want to use my tongue on you, Mari?"
"I don't know," she said uncertainly. "Maybe?"
He laughed and walked off again, his voice getting further away. Her nails dug into her palms as she barely stopped herself from following him blindly. She cocked her head, trying to determine where he was, and reached for the sash to remove it from her eyes.
Her hand was caught in an iron grip. She yelped in surprise at the firm smack to her bottom. His hand returned to rub the sting away.
"I didn't say you could touch that," he said mildly. "I was going to tell you how much I like to taste you. Do you know what I taste when I have my tongue inside you?"
"No," she said sullenly, starting to get impatient.
His finger delved deep inside her core, her knees going weak when he withdrew them and she heard him sucking his fingers.
"Mmhhh, I taste your magic, Mari. You're a little bit sweet, and a little bit salty." His thumb rubbed a circle around her clit while he talked.
"And your smell. Maker, it makes me weak." She trembled harder when she felt his hot breath against her sex, willing him to put an end to her torment.
"I see you shaved yourself for me here, all silk and smoothness. You knew I wouldn't be able to resist that, didn't you?"
His tongue moved against her clit in an agonizingly slow stroke, then his teeth scraped gently. She wailed, her knees buckling. Marian blinked at the sudden brightness when the blindfold disappeared. He threw it down and lifted her into his arms.
Carver's face was the picture of lust when he carried her to the bed and threw her on her back, grabbing her legs and dragging her to the edge while he knelt between her thighs.
His mouth covered her sex, tongue delving as deeply inside her as he could go, before he moved up, stopping briefly to flick his blue eyes up to hers.
"I want you to come for me now, Mari. I want to taste it," he said with a sensual smirk.
With single-minded focus he sucked on her pearl, tongue flicking strongly, pumping two fingers inside her. His fingers curled to hit her sweet spot and he groaned against her core when she shrieked her release.
He stood immediately and lifted her hips off the edge of the bed, filling his hands with the generous curve of her ass. She wrapped her legs around him when he poised his cock at her entrance, teasing her swollen folds with his first thick inch. His lips twisted in a mocking smile at her desperate panting.
"Ask me again. I need to hear it."
Marian swore, lifting her hips higher. "No more talking, damn you. Shut up and fuck me!"
He pushed in slowly, giving her another inch before pulling back, leaving her empty. She snarled at his teasing and he finally filled her completely, driving her across the bed with the force of his thrust.
He braced his arms against the bed on either side of her, bringing their faces closer together as he loomed above her, watching her face as he gave her the good, hard fucking he knew she needed. Hips pistoning against hers, skin slapping lewdly with their movement. He kissed her, hungry for her lips and tongue.
"Shit, Mari, you're so damn tight."
Carver rolled her on top of him so he could watch her ride him, hair wild and cheeks blazing with color. She moaned, bracing her hands against his chest when he slid even deeper into her slippery sheathe.
"Touch yourself, I want you to come again" he growled, feeling his own climax growing close.
She circled her clit with her middle finger, speeding up as his thrusts grew more vigorous.
"Maker, Carver!"
Her body trembled and spasmed around him, demanding he join her release. He rolled her under him again, pounding into her as he felt the orgasm race up his spine, an electric jolt to his cock making him come harder than he ever had in his life, with a guttural howl of ecstasy. He stayed inside her, buried deep, riding out the small eternity of pleasure.
He rolled to his side before he could crush Marian with his weight, dragging in great gulps of air, feeling the tingle of magic still skittering across his skin. Turning his head, he looked at his sister's smug smile.
"What in the bloody blue blazes was that?"
She snickered, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. "Revenge, brother. Sweet, sweet revenge. You were at least as loud as me that time."
He rubbed a hand across his eyes, his nerves still firing with aftershocks. "If that's how you take your revenge, I think I'll have to piss you off every chance I get."
She curled up close, using his arm for a pillow and pressed a kiss to his chest, smiling when he wrapped his arms tightly around her, caging her against him.
"I don't really mind, Carver. I enjoy sparring with you."
He laughed. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
She looked up impishly. "We always did like to fight, we've just found a new way to do it."
"I think I like the new way better, sister. These bruises are more pleasantly obtained."
He turned and propped his head in his hand so he could look down at her. Running a finger up the bare skin of her belly, he circled her nipple, smiling as gooseflesh sprouted then sobering as darker thoughts of recent tragedies took over.
"You're mine, you know," he said quietly, "I'll kill anyone that tries to take you from me, and I won't make it quick or easy." He examined her face, watching the changing expressions there as he spoke.
She linked her fingers with his, marveling at the contrasting image of slender femininity joined with thick manliness. Marian leaned up to kiss him, smiling against his lips.
"I think I'm prepared to live with that. So long as you remember the same goes for you. No more writing letters to Peaches."
He lifted a brow. "Who?" He cupped her sex in his hand. "This is the only peach I'll ever want."
She slapped his hand away, rolling her eyes. His fingers danced across her ribs, expertly sussing out every one of her most ticklish spots.
"Carver!" she shrieked, trying to catch her breath from laughing so hard and push away his darting hands at the same time. "No! Stop! Ah!"
Bodahn pursed his lips and shook his head, herding Sandal back toward the servants quarters.
"Not enchantment?" Sandal asked in confusion.
"No, my boy, you go on and get ready for bed. I'll be along to tuck you in soon."
Another loud scream came from upstairs, making Bodahn sigh.
"Such an odd family."