A/N: Fair warning, this is probs NSFW. ...ok, it totally is. Adult language and situations ahead.
"Hells, Gunther, you are being ridiculous."
He is being stupid - idiotic even - though she doubts he'd appreciate her thoughts on the matter. Especially not now.
"I am not being ridiculous."
He is. Really, truly, he is.
"It is too cold -" he continues, a little breathless. His bottom lip is swollen. " - We are out in the middle of nowhere, and we are completely alone."
Jane gives her head a little shake. The motion makes her already-mussed hair bounce around in a crazed patterns. "Those all sound like excellent arguments for, not against. Try again."
She scoots down further into the heat of her blankets, then wiggles a bit, seeking more of that delicious warmth. He pulls a face - like he's bitten into a wormy apple and the worms aren't quite dead - and Jane can't help but laugh.
Lord, how she had missed him.
Jane might think the reasoning behind his arguments is shite - but he's not incorrect. At least, not entirely.
It is cold. Which, in her opinion, seems like an understatement. Personally, Jane thinks it's colder than hell's hairy, distended testicles but she'll never say so out loud. Gunther's had enough shocks for the moment; now is not the time to introduce him to the more ...colorful curses in her repertoire.
Especially in regards to the current subject matter.
Her mother had been appalled to hear her speak so indecently - horrified enough to feign an overly dramatic faint - but her knight's curses are so much more satisfying than the childish inoffensive expletives she'd used when she was younger, and Jane has no intention of reverting back.
Of course, Jane doesn't curse while at court; Lavinia does enough of that for the both of them, and the princess is far more creative than Jane herself. Jane's vocabulary is a small, stagnant pool compared to the vast ocean of hilarious - and sometimes disturbing - combinations Lavinia has at her royal disposal.
Or maybe… maybe this is the perfect time to introduce him to the less public side of her personality - just rip off the mask with the flick of her wrist, like skinning a rabbit - and lay herself bare.
Jane suppresses a giggle at the thought - she's certainly been trying.
But the cold itself is the whole reason for her suggestion ...mostly. The blizzard which rages and howls outside their meager shelter shows no sign of stopping and Jane - having been woken up by Gunther himself - sees no better opportunity for… well.
He's been back for almost two months, newly returned from his year-long exchange with a neighboring kingdom, but this is the first actual mission they've been assigned. The assignment itself had gone well enough; but less than a day into their six-day ride home, Gunther's horse had come up lame. They'd decided to walk to let the poor beast rest, but by that afternoon, the light flurries had turned into an actual snow storm, and by evening, they'd been wandering around in the white-out conditions of a full-on blizzard.
They'd been lucky to find a cave large enough to house them and their horses - Gunther's eyes were as keen as ever - but it was far from perfect. It could hardly even be called a cave when you got right down to it - it was more of a rock overhang with a few, well-placed fallen boulders, but it would do for their purposes. The weather meant there was no opportunity to gather firewood; even if they had managed such a feat without getting lost in the blinding snow, it was unlikely any wood gathered would be dry enough to burn.
Gunther had secured the horses into a small nook in the corner while Jane set up their tent along the back wall. She'd tried to use her own kit to act as a sort of windbreak, but the cave entrance was too wide and the gusts too changeable; so she'd just doubled up the tarpaulin in the hopes the thick fabrics would help retain their shared body heat.
It had worked well enough, but they'd still spent a long night huddled together, buried under their shared blankets and cloaks, shivering until their combined warmth had finally lulled them to sleep.
So yes, Gunther is quite correct. It is cold, they are in the middle of nowhere, and they are alone - with the exception of the horses.
Not that the horses will care, or tell, should the occasion present itself.
Gunther still hasn't said anything; he's having a difficult time formulating his next response, and Jane can see his mind spinning uselessly as his frown deepens into his trademark scowl.
Jane is enjoying the effect she has on him, perhaps a little too much.
"Yes, but-" he starts, then stops.
"But what?" she interrupts, and then hides her smile against his neck. She shouldn't taunt him like this, it isn't fair. He's completely off-kilter and this is brand-new territory for them, but he's so tantalizingly adorable when he's unsure of himself. Jane wiggles again, sliding her hands just a little higher under the rough fabric of his shirt. "But -?"
"But you are a -" the muscles of his throat under her lips work as he swallows.
"A what?" she prompts - she'll be damned if she lets him start hedging, start making excuses now. "A turnip? A rotting log? A bowl of forgotten, congealing oatmeal?"
He makes a little grunt of annoyance before choking out, "A lady."
She laughs, actually snorts at his obvious discomfort and ludicrous euphemism. Thanks to her unique choice of profession, and her general manner, she's been saddled with a variety inappropriate monikers over the years, but she's not sure if she's ever been accused of being a lady. Of all the - Jane gives another snorting laugh - have they not grown up together, trained together, fought together, bled together? More recently, almost frozen to death, together, in a blasted blizzard?
Ass.
"A lady? How charming - I would never have thought to see the day when your wordy witticisms failed you. A lady? I can only surmise that in your addled state," she scratches her short nails down his back and toys with his waistband, "you meant to say, virgin."
He stiffens at her candidness - or, most of him does anyway. There is a certain part of his anatomy that… well, it would be rather difficult for that to get any more ...stiff. Hence the situation they're both in right now.
Really, it'd be endearing if it weren't so aggravating. Men. "Hardly."
He pushes her away enough so he can study her face in the dim light - Jane isn't sure why he is so surprised - she is an adult, a knight of the realm, and well, human. Does he think she is kidding? Oh, for the love of - He does. Good lord, the arrogance - and then the realization she's telling the truth hits and - he's jealous?
Ha.
She should reject him on principle alone.
Not that she wants to. It hasn't been dreadfully long since her last encounter, but certainly long enough. Which is why she'd been pleased - delighted even - when things had progressed they way they had. Now, in her current… heightened state Jane would be unlikely to turn down anyone trustworthy and promising - but especially not Gunther. Gunther because, well, he's Gunther, and it would be a lie to say she hadn't missed him during the long, colorless year of his absence.
Or that she hadn't wanted this even before he'd gone away.
"Oh, do not look at me like that. You cannot honestly be surprised. Just because the other knights feel the need to brag ceaselessly on about their conquests -"
His eyes go wide - she can clearly see the whites around the gray of his irises - and he sucks a sharp breath. "Conquests? - I - we - what? You cannot tell me you have made conquests."
"Of course not." She can feel him start to relax before she says, "What a terribly insulting word." Jane bites her lip and screws up her face. "I find it far more accurate, and tasteful, to think of them as 'mutually beneficial arrangements'."
"You must be joking."
"I most certainly am not. What is so difficult to believe? That I, as a woman, should enjoy sex? Or that, unlike my male counterparts, I am able to remain discreet about it?"
"I do not kn-"
"I imagine the other knights' own supposed adventures usually involve a partner - so it stands to reason that other women have sex as well. I somehow doubt the world is populated solely by virgins."
"Yes, but you are not married."
"That I am not, but neither are they." Jane hums thoughtfully. "Tell me, Gunther - have you, in your time away, found yourself a wife?"
"Uh-" he coughs, "no."
"And are you still a lady, as you so charmingly put it?"
He looks ever so slightly offended. "No."
"Then I do not see the problem."
Gunther lets out a frustrated huff and releases her shoulder to rake his hand through his thoroughly messed hair. "You are trying to rile me up."
"No, I am not." Jane leans forward to nip at the tender flesh of his collar bone. "You already were all riled up. Fervently so."
He shudders as she lavs where her teeth have marked him. "Jane we cannot."
She sighs and releases him. "You keep saying that, but I think you mean you cannot. I certainly can... and I will admit I am a little disappointed… here I thought the great Gunther Breech could do anything he put his -" She gives him a coy smile, " - mind to."
He does not appreciate her humor.
"Nevermind then," she says with a resigned air, "I understand. Though this is your fault for waking me up with your wandering hands, unruly hips, and clear evidence of your -" she gives him a playful poke with one finger - "vigor."
"I did not." He can barely force out the words. "Please tell me I did not."
"You most assuredly did - although I thought I made it obvious with my own response I did not mind in the least." Gunther groans, flushing furiously - it makes her heart skip a little. "You need not be embarrassed, Gunther. I understand it is natural for men to -" she makes a little motion with her finger and presses her lips together to make a bugling sound. It causes him to duck his head in unnecessary shame.
It's adorable. "But you should be embarrassed for getting a lady all worked up and then leaving her unsatisfied. Not exactly knightly."
He nearly growls at her. "Unknightly would be taking advantage of this situation and compromising your… your honor -"
If this were the first time she'd been presented with such a stupidly asinine argument, she'd probably get angry. But, alas, it is unfortunately not, so she manages to rein in her annoyance and sound only slightly exasperated. "Gunther, are you trying to tell me my honor - despite all my hard work, honest life, heroic deeds, unfailing love for my friends, family, and country - that my honor resides between my legs?"
He actually cringes at her question.
"And that you somehow have the ability to remove said honor," she gives him a delicate squeeze, making him gasp, "with what resides between yours?"
He isn't able to meet her eyes. "When you put it -" his voice is like gravel. He swallows again, "No."
Well, good. Off-kilter or not, they've been partners long enough he should know better. His recent absence is no excuse for such complete idiocy.
"No," she echoes emphatically. "Well, I am glad to see your brain is not entirely made of rock, Gunther Breech… although… it seems another part of you might be."
He makes a strangled little "mmph" sound.
All right, perhaps that was unnecessarily cruel. But the desire to carry on teasing him, probably a holdover from their contentious youth, is nearly overpowering.
Jane gives an exaggerated sigh. "I never would have guessed you to be so… inhibited. You were certainly not being stand-offish fifteen minutes ago."
"I was… asleep," he chokes out.
"Yes, having some pleasant dreams too, I dare say. And - holy hell, Gunther - what do I have to do to convince you that I want this?" She gives a rather unladylike little snort. "Prude."
"I am not a prude." His voice is tinged with true desperation now. "I am - I - hell - I cannot even think straight."
"Hm," she says thoughtfully, "well... I must admit that the language you were using a little while ago was anything but prudish -"
"Language!?" he practically screams. "I was… talking!?"
"Were you ever." Jane chuffs laughter into his shoulder, and resumes skimming her fingers up and down the side of his body. "You have some very intriguing ideas, Gunther Breech… I wonder if half of them are physically possible… and a vocabulary that would make my mother fall down dead."
"Oh my… guh… God…"
He is discombobulated almost past the ability to string words together. It's endearing and frustrating all at once, and it's accomplishing nothing. Perhaps it's time for a shift in strategy -
A different tactic.
"Is it me then?" She's not insecure - all those scintillating whispered requests had invoked her name after all - at this point she's just curious.
"No- no- you are perfect - Jesus I wa-" he can't go on.
"Do you need me to stop? I can." She removes her hand. "However - in case I have not been straightforward enough - I would really rather we continue with what we started earlier."
"I, uh - please stop."
"Absolutely. But let us be clear - we are stopping for your sake, not my -" Jane scoffs, "- honor." The urge to provoke him is back. She scootches over a bit and stretches under the blanket. It's a dirty trick, because despite the small distance she's put between them, she still ends up rubbing herself down his length. "I must say, Gunther - even after all these years, you have a singular knack for leaving me frustrated."
He apologizes before he can catch himself - which is funny and sweet and exasperating. Why is he so resistant to this? He'd been enthusiastic enough before.
"No, no - it's fine." She soothes, a bit of mischief in her tone. "Do not apologize. I understand, really, I do. I will take care of it myself."
It takes him a second to catch on then -
"Wh- WHAT?" His voice is high and breathy, and if he's not nearing actual panic, then he's certainly close to hyperventilating. "No - you cannot be serious - holy hell you are serious. Jane - Jane! We are in the same tent - under the same blankets."
"Well then you can take yourself for a walk outside in the snow. Feed the horses. Get some fresh air. Get your blood circulating. Clear your… head." She flips the blanket over her face, so he cannot see her smile. "It will only be a minute -" the blanket muffles her words, "I mean, it would be way more fun if someone else participated," she shrugs, "but - I can get the job done."
"No! Jane - I -"
Jane lets go of the blanket and runs her hands teasingly down her sides.
"Jane, STOP! -"
Funny, it doesn't sound like he wants her to stop.
"Ju- Jane," - Oh, he is definitely panicking now - he grabs her wrists - then realizes just what he is doing and all but launches himself backward in his hurry to release them.
Jane bites her lip at the piteous whine he makes. It's unfair, how easy this is - but still - it is just far too much fun. It's not revenge for years of bullying - it's not - she'd forgiven him long ago, it's payback for leaving her over-stimulated and unsatisfied.
Jane pauses her exaggerated movements, "How rude of me - I apologize, Gunther. Did you want to watch?"
Gunther stops - goes completely and utterly motionless - he could have frozen solid, he is so still - then takes a gulping, wheezing breath, before he understands. "Jane, are you teasing me?"
She can't help it - Lord he is just so terribly easy - she explodes in giggles and flips the blanket back down.
He takes one look at her and, "Oh Jesus, you are." If Jane had thought he'd been red before - he is positively radiating heat with his embarrassment. Soon they won't need the blankets to keep warm at all.
He looks like he wants to escape, but where is he going to go? She has him between a literal rock and - ha - a hard place.
A tortured sound of terminal mortification escapes from his clenched teeth, and he rolls away from her, as if he can somehow burrow his way through the tent fabric and into the rockface beyond. He tries to wrap himself into a ball, but there's not enough room, and he can only manage an awkward half-curl.
She follows him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Where are you going?" She buries her face between his shoulder blades. "Come back. This morning was so full of potential before you decided to worry about my honor." Jane lets her hands wander back up under his shirt and across his stomach.
For warmth, of course.
He jerks at her touch, then yelps as he raps his head against the stone wall. Jane suppresses her laugh as he lets out a string of curses which - she is impressed by his creativity - would inspire Lavinia, herself.
"Really Gunther. I would not think anything that has happened between us is worth injuring yourself over." She gives him a quick, reassuring hug and releases him, giving him some space. "I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. I am sorry."
She's not though - not really. She is hoping, with a burning fervor of her own, that he will get over his discomfort and -
"Let's talk about something else, then." She starts, changing the subject. "Perhaps the weather?"
He doesn't respond - but then again, she does not expect him to.
"Unusual to have such a fierce blizzard so early in the year." She reaches out and places a comforting hand on his back. "How long do you think it will blow? Another three days? Four?"
He gives a whine of what may or may not be agreement.
"Sir Theodore told me he was once caught out in one that lasted over a week. Good thing we have plenty of rations. Though I imagine we will be rather bored."
Gunther groans.
Jane gives him a thoroughly platonic little pat… and smiles.