Her eyes are shut as she first feels the contact. There is a softness to his lips that she would not have expected. She feels her hands sweating as he holds them, and she wishes she could relax. But it is impossible as his lips drift over to gently kiss her temple.
He doesn't break contact with her skin at all, a light amount of stubble grazing against her cheek as he continues his exploration of her face. Several slow, tender pecks on her cheek, and he turns her head so he can attend to her other cheek in the same manner.
She is surprised by how patient and thorough he is. But she supposes that he is well-versed in these sorts of activities, man of the world that he is. As his lips brush just beside her own, she turns to meet him, to taste him as he tastes her. She feels him grin against her, and he withdraws from that area, denying her.
He instead tilts her head again, and he visits her jaw line, trailing small, delicate kisses all the way to her ear. His lips move down to her neck, and he lets himself linger at her pulse. She feels his tongue dart out to taste her skin, and she releases a shuddering breath she didn't know she was holding.
His hand tightens around both of hers at the release of her breath, and she can feel his lips tremble against the softness of her neck. She has not been kissed in two years. He has to know that, and she imagines that it is the greatest temptation for him. He is the only one she has allowed to get this close in all this time.
It is as if she is being kissed for the very first time. For someone obsessed with treasure, she is astonished with how long he is taking to claim her lips. He is marking her instead, planting a claim on her forehead, her cheeks, her neck. I was here, his lips insist. And here…and here.
Her frustration increases. He moves his hand to the back of her head, resting it against the nape of her neck. He leans forward now, and she can just feel his mouth hovering in front of hers. His breath comes out in short little bursts, small puffs that brush against her lips to tease her. Why won't he just do it? She needs to learn the flavor of a pirate's lips.
She feels like she is experiencing sensory overload. His quickened breathing, the scent of him surrounding her, the feeling of his fingers caressing the skin of her neck. His lips touch the corner of her mouth, and she is barely conscious of the whimper she releases at the contact.
"Balthier…"
He feels drunk with the taste of her skin. He doesn't know exactly why he is being so deliberately slow, but he wants to pat himself on the back for doing so. He gets to savor the softness of her face, and he feels ashamed for going without a shave that day. He doesn't want to scrape the delicate flesh.
He hears his name, and he lets the syllables drift into his ears. Never before has his name rolled off a maiden's tongue with such desire, and he would never have believed her capable of such a plea. She moaned it so tenderly, but the royalty within her was still detectable. You will kiss me, he understood.
He decides to fulfill her request. He moves his lips just a fraction to the left to finally meet hers. If her face and neck were the appetizers, this is the main course. Her lips are unbelievably supple, and he almost feels guilty for tainting that softness. But not guilty enough.
The first few moments are gentle as they get used to the contact. He releases her hands, and she wraps her arms around his neck. She tastes faintly like some tart fruit, and he recalls the wine the party shared over dinner. He wants more, and he decides to finally end this dawdling.
He lets the tip of his tongue run along her bottom lip, humbly requesting entrance to the rest of her mouth. He is like a courtier awaiting an audience, and he wonders if this is what it would always be like if he remained in her life. She grants his request, letting him enjoy more of the taste of her.
When her tongue finds his, it sends a jolt through him, and he finds himself losing control. There is a rumbling sound deep within his throat, a low moan that catches him off guard. He is usually so collected, but exploring the depths of her mouth has unsettled him. They become more frantic, clutching at one another. The gentleness gives way to aggression as he presses his lips onto hers so hard he feels he may bruise her. She responds in kind, pushing forward against him. If he's not careful, she could probably knock him down. Some part of him would enjoy that.
A sharp breeze drifts in from the sea. He finally breaks the contact first when he has trouble catching his breath. A soft sigh of disappointment emerges from her as he leans back, and he is mesmerized by the swollen appearance of her lips, knowing that he is the cause.
She tries to kiss him again, but he stays her with a hand to her face. "Princess," he breathes, "I believe that's as much spontaneity as I can handle." Anything more and he knows he would start fumbling around with her clothing, and that is not something they need to do out here on this balcony. He wants her badly, and he can tell by the flushed look in her face that she wants him too. But they cannot.
It seems to register with her, and she releases her hold on him. She looks into his eyes, and he can detect the slightest trace of a satisfied grin on her face. "Oh?" she purrs seductively. She reaches behind him and lets her fingers flutter across the back of his vest again. She purposefully unsnaps another clasp. "I thought you wanted to make the most of the time you have left." Another is undone, the vest loosening around his body.
Don't do this to me, woman, he thinks. He is astounded by the mischievous look she gives him. They cannot. They should not. But if they die tomorrow?
He decides to take a leap of faith, extending his hand to her. She takes it without uttering a sound, and he leads her back into the manse. They ascend the stairs, and he guides her into his room. She undoes the last metal clasp, and he forces his lips onto hers roughly. There is a roar in his ears, and his vision seems blurred. All his senses are tingling with the taste of her. Let the world throw whatever it liked at him tomorrow. Right now he had all he needed.