HER
She feels sorry for him.
It's a hundred degrees in his hut; the hearth is piled with burning wood and he is covered with the thickest pelts, yet he is still shivering and his teeth are constantly chattering.
He is groggy with fever and the herbs she brewed for him haven't done their job yet. She wants to help him, but she is out of ideas. His hair is a damp mess and his forehead glistens with sweat.
She sighs and kicks off her boots. Peels off her skirt. Climbs under the furs.
His skin is hot and sticky, but a pleasantly surprised moan leaves his lips when she presses against him.
"Mmm, this feels… finally warm."
His chapped lips scratch the thin skin of her neck while he talks. A weak arm crawls up her waist and rests on her ribcage.
"Don't talk. You need to sleep."
"Mmm. I just… I just wanted to tell you how thankful I am."
He has to fight for every word he says, but he needs to say them, she needs to know…
"It's okay, you are ill."
"No, I mean you are always there for me…"
She is quiet for a moment.
"I'm your friend…"
He giggles and puffs warm breathes on her skin. It feels odd, but good odd.
"My best friend."
"Something like that."
"My smartest friend."
A smile draws on her face.
"That's an easy title to win among a bunch of muttonheads."
"And you're also the prettiest."
Her face gets warm. Probably because of the heat. A simple fever-induced compliment shouldn't be meaningful. She is trying to come up with a witty retort, but she is getting tired, too…
But she is saved - his breaths get even and deep when he quietly he falls asleep.
She should leave, but she wants to stay.
They are glued together and it feels comforting. Calm. Cozy.
A few more minutes won't hurt.
He moves in his sleep, his hand unconsciously slides higher up.
His fingers touch her breast. She forgets to breathe for a second. She knows she should gently take his hand away, but she leaves it where it is.
He moves again and presses his damp nose into the crook of her neck.
His fingers move a little and her nipple hardens. She closes her eyes and mentally begs him to move his digits. To stroke her. To fondle her. To help with her arousal that is starting to get painful.
He stays still.
She twists her body a little. Finally his fingertips brush her at the right place…
She feels the slick wetness of her excitement between her legs. She is an awful being, a slave to her own vile desires.
She rubs her thighs together. It's wonderful and terrible at the same time. Now she is the one, who is suffering and he is the one sweetly sleeping, unconsciously driving her mad.
She shouldn't.
She pulls away from him to check his face. His eyes are closed and his face is peaceful.
She shouldn't.
She leans back to him, his lips move against her neck.
She must…
She opens her legs a little and slips her hand between, pressing it hard against her flaming core. She tries to move as little as possible, because if he wakes up and finds her like this…
Part of her wants him to wake up, the possibility of getting caught by him makes her even more excited.
She rubs herself, harder and faster, and she swallows a dozen moans.
His fingers move again at the very best moment and she sees a thousand bright stars behind her close eyelids while her orgasm wears off.
She waits until the throbbing ends and reaches for his hand and places it on her stomach; it will be safer there.
She is ashamed of herself.
She is a rubbish nurse and an even worse friend.
She is too tired to think about her vile weaknesses.
She doesn't notice when she falls asleep.
§§§
HIM
Something was wrong with her.
She was avoiding him at all costs and it didn't make any sense.
It's not that she wasn't co-operating, she was still helping him "run" the Edge to the best of her abilities (which of course meant way more help than he could have ever hoped for), but she was short with him.
She didn't seek him out like she used to and she always had excuses to avoid one-on-one time with him.
She disappeared. She ate alone. Her hut was always empty.
He didn't get it, he hadn't done anything…
A week ago everything was good. Nay, better. The best…
He woke up in the middle of the night, still exhausted from the fever, but she was there, next to him. It wasn't the first time they were dreaming close to each other - the pioneer life had its perks - but it was certainly the first time he woke up finding their limbs tangled together and the tip of their noses only a few inches apart.
He had time to secretly wonder at her beauty in the dim light. He had time to take note of the faint freckles on her face, to examine the perfect form of the shell of her ear, to enjoy the warmth of her breath on his skin.
He dozed off quarter of an hour later and when he woke up again, she was gone.
She left her sweet scent on his pelts, which lingered on the furs for a couple more days, making his forbidden fantasizing about her much more realistic.
But the distance between them started to grow as soon as her smell on his pillows began to fade.
He wanted to know what had happened.
He wanted to ask her about it to be able to make things right.
He missed her, he needed her.
It wasn't particularly late, but her hut was dark and so was the outside world.
He new where she was. There was a clearing not very far, surrounded by wide-trunked trees - the perfect place for throwing the axe.
He walked there. Soon he heard her heavy grunts and the dull thumps of her axe cutting into the trees.
Then he saw her and didn't dare to go any closer, he stopped behind a thick bush only a few feet away.
She must have felt warm, because she barely had any clothes on. Her tunic was gone, she was only wearing her breast bindings.
Of course, he knew that girls wore those things, but he had never seen them with his own two curious eyes.
Hers seemed to be loose and thanks to the sharp light of the full Moon and her hard-earned sweat, they were also see-through.
He gasped for air.
Her breasts were larger and fuller than he had guessed in his filthier moments, and two little nipples pebbled through the fabric. She was resting now, panting through her teeth, wiping the sweat off from her cleavage.
He bit his lower lip.
He knew he shouldn't watch, it was very disrespectful. But she was so beautiful and he couldn't stop adoring her.
His pants started to feel tight… His "thing" was very unreliable these days when she was around, causing him all sorts of troubles and uncomfortable moments.
He knew that he had to do something about his growing problem soon, but one more look at her amazing curves wouldn't hurt…
A few moments later he left, ears burning with shame and lips trembling with unuttered groans.
He hurried to his hut, shut the door and freed himself from the leather prison, almost tearing off the straps of his pants.
"Shit… Astrid, you are sooo beautiful… You are so… so… ah…"
He mumbled while he was almost furiously working on himself. It didn't take him long to finish and a second later, still dripping drops of pleasure, he looked dumbfounded at the mess he made on the floor.
Oh, fuck… He had different plans for this night, he should have talked to her instead of…
Oh, fuck, he will talk to her tomorrow, he misses her, he needs her, he wants her…
And oh, fuck, it's going to be awkward.