18
It took her an unusually long time to get ready for bed, the process normally only lasting a minute or two so they could have more time together in the cubby before dawn claimed them. This time, however, Godric found himself waiting impatiently by the edge of the grand bed for more than ten minutes after having changed into the comfortable linen shirt and pants he usually donned at home, before the bathroom door finally creaked open.
The sight of her anxious face popping out through the crack first made him frown in concern, and he managed to worriedly wonder if he had been too harsh with her earlier, before she stepped fully into the bedroom and his contemplations came to a full stop.
She was wearing some form of a women's undergarment made from what appeared to be ghostly thin, red silk loosely representing a chemise, though he'd seen handkerchiefs made from more fabric. The result was a whole lot of creamy skin on display, including the top swell of the modest breasts she was trying to cover up, and the full expanse of smooth legs ending in black lace panties not quite hidden under the wisp-like top.
He blinked, suddenly uncomfortably aware of every delicate curve exposed to his gaze, and Irin's awkwardly hunched posture as she tried to hide from him only helped to emphasise her state of undress. It probably wouldn't have fazed him much if she had acted her normal, carefree self in his presence, but the change in behaviour made it quite obvious that she'd suddenly realised that her usual bed partner was, in fact, a male. And in turn, it was very hard to ignore that his kitten was quite obviously a woman, despite her slight frame and often childish antics.
It was, however, also abundantly clear that she was not behind the choice of sleepwear.
"I take it Isabel neglected to pack something comfortable to sleep in?"
Irin nodded, tugging awkwardly at the hemline in an attempt at hiding the black lace, which just resulted in more of her chest being exposed.
His eyes narrowed slightly at the confirmation. His Second had been begging him to take a pet for a long time, before Irin came to the nest, and had been suspiciously quiet about it ever since he'd walked in the door with the stray in his arms. She had obviously assumed that the girl would fill whatever void she thought the lack of a sex partner left in his life.
How long had it been since he mated with a female? Years, definitely, possibly decades. He frowned in mild surprise; not drinking human blood had been a deliberate choice. Celibacy seemed to have just… happened.
But the scarred girl in his care was not a suitable tool for whatever plans the Latina had for his wellbeing, and the realisation that he frightened her now, because of this folly, angered him. The precious trust between them was too sacred for any type of games, however well intended.
With measured movements he unbuttoned his linen top and shrugged it off, holding it out for her. "You can have this, if you prefer."
Relief flickered in her eyes as she lifted her face to the offered garment. "Thank you." Slender hands grabbed it and pressed it against her chest, covering most of the unaccustomedly displayed breasts and thighs, and a soft kiss was brushed over his still-outstretched palm before she twirled around and disappeared back into the bathroom to change.
Godric sighed deeply and turned back around to the bed. He'd have to ensure that his Second knew which boundaries not to cross in the future, but more importantly he needed his little one to trust that she was safe with him. Hopefully, she would not be too scared to share a bed with him so he could slowly coerce her into relaxing in his embrace again.
Getting out of the suggestive lingerie and into Godric's wonderfully-scented linen shirt was like coming home to a nice fireplace after being out in a blizzard all day, her body instantly relaxing at the touch of it against her skin. It was second-best only to being wrapped up in the ancient vampire himself, though being nearly-naked in front of him had been… She frowned, looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. Before he had saved her from those humans trying to drain her she had been wary of him, had felt shy in his overwhelming presence and scared that he might harm her. But when he'd come for her, had hurt himself by ripping at the silver to free her, she'd known that the odd sense of safety she'd felt radiating from him from that very first time she spotted him in the park was for her. That with him she'd have light again.
Standing uncovered in front of him had made her feel so shy and strangely vulnerable; emotions she could no longer connect with his nearness. But the familiar sense of linen against her body had removed those unsettling feelings, and she shook their memory off with a roll of her shoulders; Godric was waiting for her, and after the both terrifyingly eventful and excruciatingly boring night she needed her moment in private with him. The offending camisole was bundled up in the corner of the bathroom, and in the bedroom was the reason the world was still pivoting on its axis. With a not even fully conscious decision to forget all about that awkward moment she'd stood before him as a woman she twirled out of the bathroom and bounded to the bedroom, all other thoughts than the immediate need to be with her Godric gone.
He was in bed already, with the covers pulled up and the lights off, but her excellent night vision allowed her to fully appreciate his soft smile when she dove underneath the duvet and popped back up, pressed close against his side.
"Hello kitten," he greeted her, and followed up with a hand stroking smoothly through her hair.
Irin leaned into it, hooking a thigh over his hips so she could nuzzle closer, and pushed the duvet away to bury her face in his neck.
"I've been waiting for this all night," she confessed, hand trailing over the expanse of marble skin. The sensation was new, and she marvelled in the way he felt underneath her fingertips. Hard as steel, yet soft to the touch, and brimming with that shining life force that drew her like a moth to a flame, though he was lying carefully still.
"I have been by your side almost from the moment you rose," he murmured, and she got the odd sensation that he was speaking softly as to not spook her, like he sometimes had in the park.
"But not like this. This is just for us," she countered, lifting her head so she could follow the trail her fingers were drawing over his hairless chest. The lack of body hair drew her attention. "How old were you? When you were Turned?"
"I am unsure." His head leaned against the top of hers, stroking his cheek along her hair in reciprocation to her petting; something he never did when there were others to see them. "My age was not tracked as is the custom today, but I believe I was somewhere close to 18 years old. Why do you ask?"
She squinted up at him, trying to see him as an 18 year old guy and not the ancient being whose tranquil energy embraced her so fully. He did have very youthful features. "Your chest is all smooth, and so is your face, but… you are so strong." She trailed a finger down his one bicep to illustrate, pausing distractedly by the runed band running around it. "Do you shave in the afternoons while I sleep?"
A chuckle sounded against her hair. "No. I was not yet old enough to develop those traits. Back then, people worked harder from an early age, and that is why I have more muscle than a young man of modern days. But you must know that strength for us is not determined by physique; only age."
"Hmm," she hummed, focus now firmly on the beautiful tattoo. "And what about this? When did you get this?"
"It was granted after I passed my trials to join the men's ranks. It tells the story of how I slew a beast and brought my kin food in the depths of winter." His voice was oddly far, as if he was pulling the memory back from across the millennia.
Irin stared at the tattoo, suddenly seeing more than pretty markings. They were visual reminders of the ancient man's history, each one the key to a sliver of his past. And he was sharing them with her. Gently, she pressed a kiss to a rune in the band, and another one.
Her Maker's shaky breath was nearly inaudible, even to her sharpened senses, but the soft note of pleasure in it encouraged her to continue one rune at a time, revelling in bringing him joy. But he stopped her before she managed to ask him to lift his arm so she could continue around, grabbing her by the chin and tugging her down against his chest again while ignoring her pout.
"What about this, then?" she asked when he released his grip on her chin and her head popped back up so she could carry on with her discovery of his rarely revealed skin.
Godric's hand found hers on top of his collarbones as she stroked along the semi-circle decorated with diamond shapes. "This is my warrior's mark."
She scraped a fingernail ever so lightly over the circle and wondered what he would have looked like back then, all fierce and dressed as a warrior… not that she had a very firm grasp on what a warrior from his time would have worn. "Will you tell me the story?"
He paused, and she thought he might deny her.
"Please?" she begged, raising her head higher and catching the far-away look in his hooded eyes.
"I do not remember the details, kitten, but I will share what I do," he relented. "I had recently gained my place among the men in my tribe and started down the Spiritual path, when news of the Romans encroaching on the land of a clan a few days south reached us. All able bodied men from the neighbouring tribes put aside their differences to fight this common enemy. I remember… being excited as we rode down to meet our foe. Battle intrigued me, and I longed to vanquish the threat and show them that our people were not to be underestimated. It was early spring, I believe—I seem to recall the most delicate of green buds on the trees."
The picture he painted was intriguing to Irin; he was so very much here with her more than two thousand years later, but the image of a young man eager for his first fight didn't resemble anything she connected with her stoic guardian. She wondered if he would still have taken her in and cared for her if their paths had crossed back then, or if his gentle soul had been developed over the course of a long life. The little tug in the pit of her stomach at the thought of not being given a chance to be his made her decide that no; he would most certainly have been as compassionate in his human life.
Wanting him to continue the story she pulled her hand from his tattoo and stroked his chest encouragingly, pulling an involuntary purr of pleasure from the male lost in deep thought in the process.
Oh, but that sound! She felt it rumble through her chest pressed against his, down through her spine and all the way to her curling toes. Nothing had ever sounded so soothing and safe and wonderful, ever! Feeling her own purr vibrate up through her chest in response she stroked his chest more determinedly, enjoying how she could make the tone of his sound deepen or pitch depending on where she touched him. It seemed to increase in strength as she dipped to his stomach, and she kept going lower until she felt the indent of his belly button and then a narrow trail of soft hair that tickled her fingertips pleasantly.
"What happened next? When you came to the battle?" she asked, when her Maker seemed to be lost in thought and the pleasure of her fingers stroking through the hairs above his pants.
Godric stirred, the purring immediately cutting out, and she narrowed her eyes as she realised he'd slipped into downtime, giving the hairs a small tug to ensure his attention, before carrying on with the petting. Maybe he'd purr for her again later if she continued.
"We fought, and we won, though many of our own died," he said, grasping her hand from his stomach and pulling it back up from underneath the covers. When she tugged to get loose he only tightened his grip. "I killed many, honouring my clan. I was so proud when the spiritual leader granted me the Warrior's ceremony—it was rare that a man followed both the path of the Spirits and that of the Warrior."
There was more to the story—something he'd neglected to tell. She placed a few kisses to his Warrior's mark, since she couldn't stroke it, wanting to know more; to know absolutely everything about him, and this was the first real opening he'd allowed into his past. "What happened after the battle? Did the Romans stay away?"
Godric shifted again, this time gathering her to him and twisting them both around so she was trapped with her back to his chest, though the duvet was irritatingly lodged between most of their bodies, his arms locking her securely in place. She tried to wriggle free, annoyed that she could no longer touch him at all, but he kept her still until she gave up with a frustrated sigh.
"They did not," he said, something in the soft rumble against her back making her frown. "But that is a story for another night, kitten. Dawn is nearly upon us."
Pain was down this trail, she realised with a start. Her invincible centre of the universe had an ache from his past. The thought was upsetting, to say the least—nothing and no one could hurt him, and the knowledge that someone had broke her heart and made her fangs ache to rip and tear at the perpetrator. Though, they were likely long gone.
Not quite sure what else to do she pressed air into her chest, trying to force a purr out; if his soothed her so, maybe hers would make him feel good too.
It came out a little brokenly at first, but by the time the sun broke the horizon her purr was vibrating loudly through them both, comfortingly emphasised by her Godric's tight embrace.
xXx
A/N: At some point I'm sure we'll see some character development not brought on by snuggles.