Sunrise came far too early in Olberic's estimation. Perhaps the drink was to blame; he hadn't indulged in that much mead in years. Then again, perhaps the chronically early riser was simply content to lay abed and enjoy the feeling of the beautiful woman nestled in his arms. He glances down at her, trying not to disturb her rest. Her glossy waves of red-gold hair frame her delicately featured face, so peaceful in her repose without her customary carefully maintained expression of aloof disdain. Unable to resist, he gently brushes a stray curl away from her slightly parted lips. He holds his breath momentarily but releases it cautiously when she fails to respond. Regardless of her protests to the contrary, he felt intense guilt for hurting her last night. She had argued with him, insisting on taking most of the blame but the incident weighed on him, particularly because his lecherous brain refused to cease replaying the memory of her legs wrapped around his hips, their bodies pressed together with only layers of fabric between them. A knight of the highest order in Hornburg, he was supposed to maintain control of his emotions, mind, and body, and yet one word from this woman had put him in a tailspin ending with her wound reopened and him in her bed trying to justify his wanton behavior. Dwelling on it made him uneasy, it had been years since anyone penetrated his defenses so effortlessly. Then again, Primrose Azelhart was hardly just 'anyone', was she?
She shifts in his arms suddenly, one long bare leg having escaped the tangle of sheets to hook over his leg. His traitorous hand seemed to have a mind of its own, leading his fingertips on a slow glide down her side to trail along her hip and trace slow circles the length of her thigh to her knee. "Careful, Sir Knight, lest you start something you dare not finish," she murmurs, her low voice thick with sleep.
He chuckles softly. "I did not intend to wake you, apologies m'Lady."
"Mm. Good thing I was awake already then." She stretches, arching her back with a soft groan, and rearranges herself more comfortably against him, one arm draped across his chest and her face nuzzling his neck, just below his ear. She taps his leg with her foot, calling his attention back to the hand still cupping the back of her thigh. "I didn't say you had to stop, you know," she says quietly, her lips grazing his neck and sending goose flesh down his arms and a surge of blood to his all-too-eager groin.
He steadies himself with a deep breath before releasing her leg with a chuckle, tugging at the sheet to cover them both and discreetly taking a moment to adjust his trousers. Clasping her hand in his, he raises her palm to his lips for a gentle kiss. "It is taking every drop of self control that I possess to stop myself, madam, I assure you. You are not making this easy on me, you know."
She exhales in frustration. "It wasn't your fault, Olberic."
"Nevertheless, I cannot bear the thought of causing you harm. If that means we must delay our...satisfaction...for a few days while you rest and heal, so be it. I would not be able to live with myself should my selfish desire for you make your injury worse or delay your quest further." He tilts her chin towards him with one finger, running his thumb gently over her lower lip. "Do not think for a second, though, that it is not torturing me to wait. You are the most amazing woman I have ever known, and I swear that I have never wanted anything more in my life."
She leans over him, lying atop his chest and kissing him deeply. He buries his hands in her hair, holding her close and relishing the feel of her weight pressing into him. Abruptly she pulls away from him, sitting up to study his face. He strokes her cheek with the back of one hand, folding the other arm behind his head. "My past...the things I've done. None of that bothers you?"
"Does mine bother you?"
She huffs and draws her knees up to rest her chin atop them, her rich hazel eyes gazing at him intently. "You know what I mean. You know what I am, what I was."
"My dear, what you were and what you have been through was all just a series of steps to bring you here and now. I had feared to come back to you last night, you know, believing that all I had to offer you was the ghost of my former self: the disgraced knight who let king and country fall. Luckily, a friend pointed out the folly in letting the darkness in my past close me off to the possibility of happiness in my present."
She tilts her head. "Ophilia?"
He chuckles. "Therion, actually. You look as surprised as I was. The boy is far more insightful than I gave him credit for."
"Interesting. I need to remember that." She closes her eyes, rolling her shoulders and stretching out her neck.
A sudden rumble from Olberic's belly reminds them both that the day is moving on whether they like it or not. He smiles ruefully and pats her knee, swinging his legs out of bed and standing up with a groan and a stretch of his own. "Would you do me the honor of joining me for breakfast?"
"Do I get to know what happened to my clothes, or do you intend to keep me in yours forever? Unless you'd like to have this back now...?" She indicates her...his...shirt with a sly grin.
He blushes causing a gentle peal of laughter to spill from Primrose. Unsure if he's ever heard her laugh so often before, he decides that he rather enjoys the sound and grins back at her, shaking his head. "Your other attire was quite ruined, unfortunately. I had thought Sister Ophilia was going to send something up once you awoke."
Primrose frowns, clearly remembering her last encounter with the blonde cleric. "I see. I doubt she still wishes to come around."
Olberic finishes buttoning his surcoat and reaches for his boots. "Nonsense. I am quite certain she will be around. Nevertheless, I will go downstairs and see about finding her or Tressa. At worst, I will bring you something to break your fast while we figure out the rest. Is that acceptable, my Lady?"
The dancer smiles, crossing the room to pull the warrior close to her in a tight hug. "Prim. Or Primrose, if you must. I think we are quite past this 'milady' business, hm?"
He brushes her lips with a gentle kiss. "Old habits, my...Prim. I will do my best."
She raises herself on her toes to draw him down to another kiss, reluctantly releasing him after a long moment. "My Prim. I could get used to that." Slipping out of his arms, she turns away and heads towards the washbasin. "You had better go, before I change my mind and try and lure you back to bed." The knight readjusts his swordbelt and then reaches for the doorknob. "Olberic?"
He pauses, cocking his head.
"For the love of the Twelve, please do not let Tressa pick my clothing. Or Cyrus. Gods, I have no idea which would be worse."
Olberic barks out a laugh and bows slightly, shutting the door firmly behind him.
