Mine
The stream was practically ice cold, but its water was clean and fresh. Octavia splashed some over her face and then re-filled her water bottle. They'd been hiking for hours through the forest with no hope of reaching their destination any time soon. Lincoln had said it would take three days. They were only half a day in and already she was exhausted.
Taking advantage of their short break, she lowered herself atop a large rock and massaged her thigh. The muscle still ached from where the arrow had torn through it. It was healing thanks to Lincoln's expertise, but walking on it for hours at a time certainly didn't help it feel any better.
When the throbbing had settled into a dull ache, she looked up to find that Lincoln had removed his jacket and was in the process of rolling up his pants.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting us some lunch," he answered matter-of-factly and waded out into the river.
His large form crouched unmoving over the rushing water and she tilted her head to the side, curious as to what he was doing. It didn't take long for her to find out. With a sudden burst of movement his hands shot beneath the surface and emerged holding a squirming fish. He tossed the wriggling body up onto the shore and she nodded her head, impressed.
"Nice trick," she remarked with a grin and hopped off her rock to retrieve the fish. It flopped about on the ground, its mouth gaping for water. Feeling sorry for it, she hit it sharply in the head with a rock. It ceased moving about and she carried it over to the nearest flat stone to clean and filet it.
Lincoln joined her a few minutes later carrying two more fish.
"Where'd you learn how to do that?" she wondered, keeping an eye on her knife as she sliced open the belly of her fish.
"Practice," he replied and set his fish down atop the stone. Retrieving his hunting knife, he made quick work of his fishes' heads and began slicing up the bodies. His hands moved skillfully, never hesitating in their work. She loved those hands, their strength, their touch… She used to love her mother's hands too, the way they would push her bangs out of her eyes and dry her tears when she was frightened. A thought suddenly occurred to her and the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
"Do you have a family here?"
"A family?"
His hands paused and he glanced up at her with a curious lift of his brow.
"Yeah, you know…" she stammered and hastily looked away, disguising her discomfort beneath an apathetic shrug. "Like a mother, a father, siblings, children…"
An understanding look slowly spread across his features and he resumed de-boning his fish.
"We don't have families the way you have families. We live as a community, a single family."
"Then, how do you raise children?"
Lincoln thought about it a moment, then shrugged. "The community raises them. Then, once they are old enough, they begin training in the art of war."
"That doesn't sound like much of a childhood."
"Childhood… Here it would be considered a waste of time and resources."
She snorted in disbelief and shook her head. She'd finished cleaning her fish but continued to pick idly at the bones with the tip of her knife. Was it possible he…? Would he even tell her if he did? When she mustered up the courage she asked outright, "What about you? Do you…have many children?"
She'd done her best to sound casual, but there was no causal way to ask the man you're roaming the forest with if he has hoards of children, or maybe even wives, you know nothing about.
"No," he said, lifting his head long enough to grin at her. "I don't have any children."
She exhaled a quiet sigh and smiled, setting her knife down. Lincoln began covering their fish with various herbs form his pouch to prepare them for the fire.
"Why did you want to know?" he wondered, hazarding a glance at her.
A blush rushed to her cheeks and she turned away, suddenly deciding she needed to clean her knife in the river. The cool wind brushed against her skin, helping to soothe her flaming cheeks. She took her time washing the blade, hoping that by the time she returned Lincoln would have forgotten about his earlier question. No such luck. When she eventually made her way back he was in the process of building a small fire to roast their fish.
"You didn't answer my question," he said with a secretive sort of smile.
"Which question was that?" she replied, hoping to dissuade him.
"Why did you want to know if I had any children?"
Realizing there was no way out of this, she steeled herself and breathed out her answer in a rush.
"I was curious, okay? I don't know anything about your life before we met. You could have a hundred wives for all I know!"
"You think I have a hundred wives?" he asked with a genuine look of surprise.
"No," she scoffed rather unconvincingly. "Well… do you?"
Lincoln laughed out loud, a rare sound, and took a seat next to her, pulling her down into his lap.
"I don't have a hundred wives. I don't have any wives."
"Why not? You seem like good husband material. No grounder ladies wanted you for themselves?"
A reluctant smile pulled at one corner of his mouth and he leaned in closer until his nose brushed the side of her cheek. "I'm glad you think so."
"So no secret wives or girlfriends then?"
"None," he promised and turned her head so that his lips could taste hers. "Except you of course."
Her eyes brightened and she leaned into him, her fingers brushing teasingly across his mouth.
"Be warned," she said and pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. "I don't like to share."
His fingers buried deep into her hair and dragged her mouth to his for a searing kiss. He fell back atop the rocky ground, pulling her down with him. She moved against him instinctively, her hands disappearing under his shirt to explore the solid planes of his chest while her hips ground against his. He groaned into her mouth as his hands went to her hips and the sound set her blood on fire.
When she finally pulled back to catch her breath, her lips were tingling and her eyes were glazed over with want. A smile flickered across her mouth when she saw that he was no better off. She teasingly rocked her hips against his and his eyes fluttered closed.
"Octavia…" Her name was a warning. His voice was so rough with want it was practically a growl.
He sat up and pulled her against him, his mouth tracing a careful path down the side of her neck and across the ridge of her collarbone.
"I like that you don't like to share," he confessed into the hollow of her shoulder before his lips claimed that spot too.
The way he was kissing her…she could hardly think straight. Her mind struggled to focus and she managed a breathy, "Oh?"
He answered with a light "Uh-huh" and the whispering touch of his breath against her skin sent shivers coursing down her spine. He pulled back just enough to hold her gaze, a teasing grin curling up the corners of his mouth.
"Because neither do I."
oOo
The fish were practically burnt by the time they removed them from the fire, but she would swear she'd never tasted anything more delicious.