Carver inhaled deeply, smiling as Nathra's scent filled his senses. Wildflowers mingled with an earthiness that was distinctly her. He exhaled slowly, letting his warm breath tickle the tip of her ear. Nathra giggled in reply, turning around so she could peer up at him. Carver's eyes danced over all her face, lingering on her vallaslin. His brow furrowed in thought as he began to trace a finger along the delicate swirls. Pink flushed across her cheeks at the attention.
"Do these mean anything?" he asked quietly. He'd never has the opportunity to ask Merrill. Always stumbling over himself and getting too flustered to remember even the simple questions he'd planned out. Maker, that woman still baffled him. But Nathra, something about her was different. Not that he could place a finger on how exactly.
Nathra had closed her eyes, lips curving up into a smile. "They represent Ghilan'nain," she answered. Her eyes fluttered back open, voice soft as she continued. "She is the Mother of the Halla."
Carver blinked down at her in wonder, still swirling his finger gently along the intricate patterns. His brows remained pulled together as he formed words in his mind, lost in his own thoughts for a few moments.
"The Dalish… you… I mean…" he fumbled.
Carver bit his lower lip. And here he was again. Just like he was 19 and back in Kirkwall, fumbling around to try and find a topic of conversation. Maker but these women were infuriating in their simple ability to muddle him. She tilted her head, brows lifting expectantly. His finger traced down her cheek, ghosting across her lips to memorize the lines on her chin.
"I've never seen these before," he managed. Not that he claimed to have seen many Dalish in his time. He'd hardly even paid attention on the few occasions he'd seen Merrill's clan.
"The Keeper helped me settle on them," Nathra explained. "I… I have more," she added, her voice growing quieter.
Carver strained to hear her over the loud thumping of his heart against his chest. A surge of heat ran through his body at the implications that swirled around her simple statement. "C-can I… could you… I mean…" He bit his lip again, this time railing himself internally with a string of curses. "I'd love to see them," he finally got out, words spilling out of his mouth in a near jumble.
In a heartbeat, she'd agreed. Carver watched as she stepped away from him, reminding himself how to breath as she easily stripped down to her smalls. He could feel a tightening in his chest as his eyes widened, taking in the sight of her lithe body. She'd stopped shy of divesting herself of everything. To which Carver couldn't settle on whether he was relieved or a bit frustrated. After a moment of looking her over again, he decided he was a mix of both.
His eyes locked in on the dark lines that started at the center of her chest, and swirled outward and across her breasts. A mirror of the design set upon her forehead. He could swear her body felt electrified as he traced a finger along the pattern of her chest.
Carver's attention began to drift upward toward her face. It was a long moment before he could drag his gaze beyond her lips, up to her eyes to see she was staring intently at him. Determination, confidence and something Carver found himself too nervous to place.
Nathra turned and his attention drifted downward. As she pulled her breast band away, Carver's eyes widened to see another set of tattoos that were revealed. His hands started at her shoulders, gliding down her skin to the vallaslin along her back. With both hands, he traced the markings. His strokes were careful, yet determined as he worked to memorize the curves.
His attention soon began to drift away as he dragged his fingers down the length of her back to the curve of her hips. Carver allowed his head to drop, resting it against her shoulder as he let out a slow breath. "Maker you're so beautiful." Nathra's body shuddered and he could hear her airy giggles. It drew a smile to his lips as he dared to continue. He lifted his head, pressing his lips on the back of her neck in a gentle kiss.
Before Carver could continue, Nathra was spinning about on her tip toes to face him. He had little opportunity to process the change as her hands on either side of his face dragged him down into a searing kiss. His hands departed their place upon her hips, snaking upward as he wound one around her back and the other slid into her hair.
With some effort, Carver managed to work the braids in her hair free. And they'd only parted for air once during the endeavor. Briefly, very briefly, he patted himself on the back for progress. After all, last time it had taken him at least a good ten minutes or more to figure out how she kept it pinned up in the first place.
Nathra, herself, squeaked in delight once her hair was set free. Pulling away, and dragging Carver's lower lip for part of the distance, she shook her head to free whatever he hadn't taken care of already. He gave her a lopsided grin, gladly allowing her to tug him further into the room. He stopped her just before reaching the bed, lifting his tunic up and over his head. He swore, even as she pressed him down to sit on the bed, he saw her breath catch. Instead of following him, she splayed a small hand out on his chest over his heart. Where his mabari tattoo was.
Carver's heart fluttered, his stomach twisting up and lurching as he watched her. She pulled her hand away, only to return with two fingers as she traced the outline of the dog. A smile curled onto her lips. "I'd heard Mabari were important to some… humans." Her gaze flicked up from his chest and he grinned at her. "Does it mean anything?" she asked. Her voice was soft as she resumed examining the tattoo.
"It was for strength." He licked his lips, mouth feeling terribly dry.
"Was?" she asked, brow furrowing.
He shifted in place, her fingers now beginning to trace absently over the muscles of his chest and causing him a bit of distraction. "I… ah!" As her fingers caught over a somewhat ticklish spot, Nathra immediately launched into a string of apologies. He waved her off, shaking his head and laughing awkwardly. "I was young when I got it, it had more meaning then. I, uh, I guess," he finally answered.
Nathra whispered something, though Carver couldn't discern if it was elven or the King's Tongue. Not through his distraction, at least. His eyes had skimmed down the length of her body to notice what he hadn't before. On the flat plane of her stomach was one more set of swirls, like that on her chin. He immediately lifted a hand to trail his fingers down her stomach to swirl around the tattoo.
She didn't allow him much time this go around, instead climbing up onto the bed next to him and pulling him over top of her. Carver went with the flow, his knees straddling her thighs as he sat back on his heels to watch her. A few stray locks of her copper hair had fallen in front of her eyes and he leaned down, bracing himself on one forearm as he used his free hand to brush the erroneous pieces aside. His fingers grazed over the tips of her ears as he moved, eliciting a gasp from her lips.
Carver hesitated, watching her for a reaction. A reason to stop, call himself foolish and flee. Yet she gave him none. Leaning down further, he captured her lips again in a kiss as he dared to trace his fingers over her sensitive ears again. A moan escaped her lips and Carver couldn't help pulling away, surprised as he peered down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, chest heaving as she let her breath return to her.
"If you're going to just sit there and stare at me, I'm sure Josephine can arrange a painting done up for you. It might last longer for you," she said, an impish smile curving at her lips.
"I guess when you put it that way…" he replied with a laugh.
He moved down her body, head dropping and lips connecting to hollow of her neck. He traced his lips downward, seeking the vallaslin he'd been studying with his hands. She writhed under him as he flicked his tongue out along the pattern, tracing it gently. One hand kept him braced up as the other traced along her side, up and down a few times before he settled upon one of her breasts. His breeches grew ever more confining as he continued, kissing and swirling his tongue along her tattoos.
Carver rolled his hips forward as he continued his trail downward, unable to quell the groan that escaped from the back of his throat. Nathra's hands had found their way into his hair, massaging into his head and egging him onward.
And onward he went, happily spending the evening exploring and memorizing every last inch of her body. Especially that which left her gasping, moaning, or screaming his name.