bakerstreet | You're my home

You're my home

You're My Home

You can never stay in one place for too long, be the cause your own itching feet or less than pleasant circumstances keeping you on the run. Still, more often than not, you find yourself returning to the same old places, like animals returning from winter migration. Actually, you keep coming back to one person, because you know no matter where you roam, you'll always have a place with them...and in their bed.

Absence really does make the heart grow fonder with you two, so live in this moment. Who knows when you'll have to leave yet again?

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[we live as circles, my love. she bites down on her lip, mouth blooming into a smile. circles unbroken. she closes her eyes and she can still see him, blushing and sated and they'll talk, you know? they do that. holding you close enough that you feel like you'll melt into him.]

You promise?

[he laughs quietly, fingertips lightly brushing up and down her bare back.]

Excuse me, I waited almost ten years for you. I think that more than proves my promise.

[almost ten years of wondering how to get through another year without her, and then somehow it passing. almost ten years of the weight of missing her almost being enough to be a hindrance to his focus, but the memory of her greatness being more than enough to keep propelling him forward. almost ten years of touching himself alone of the wilderness, thinking only of her and the feel of her hips in his hands, her breath as her lips ghosted near his. almost ten years of considering brothels for something more satisfying, and then never even entering because none of them are her.

he kisses the top of her head and lingers there for a moment.]

You...are the only one I'll ever need or want. I promise.

[Ten years is a long time to cling to a woman's shadow. she lets out a long, long sigh, moving to claim his mouth as he finally pulls away; ten years is a time long enough to forget the way a man fits against you, but her tongue has a mind of its own, and a clearer memory-- so it has not forgotten the way to push and pull and coil, how to get a lasting taste of him before their lungs give out. it still remembers.

ah. and the ache in her chest when she must part from him-- she remembers that too.

she sits on his stomach then, hands already undoing what's left of his uniform while she watches him with lazy eyes.]

... Yes. Just like that. Demons could never get it right, you know.

[red lips, moist and full. and eyes that know only truth.]

This face you make for me.

[the hand suddenly holding her arm finds itself there without him noticing; there's no grip, just an anchor as the world starts spinning, his hand at her back maybe pressing her into him a little more.

he'd forgotten the taste of her; a faded sense memory lost to absence. but her full, soft lips against his, the way she knows his mouth with little effort--

he quietly gulps for air when she moves away, flushed and breathless, eyes heavy-lidded and slightly glazed over. she's moved out of his reach, so the hand that had rested on her back now hovers without direction or guidance, arm resting on its elbow. the other has found purchase on her knee.]

It's not fair to take advantage of the disabled.

[a grin spreads slowly as his chest rises and falls against her weight, still trying to find enough air.]

Though...I won't complain that they took my shape for you.

Mostly yours.

[a light tease, lazy eyes and a lazy smile to match. a hand holds the one left abandoned, fingers entwining with ease and this much she hasn't forgotten, the way to fit. the other stops working on his jerkin, resting on her thigh instead as she lift herself from her perch on him.]

And I can stop. Would that be fair, my lord?

[laughing softly, he lets his head fall back again, all he's wearing from the waist up halfway undone by now, showing his torso and chest a little.]

Hardly. Now you're manipulating me.

Then what would you have me do, beloved?

[she tilts her head, hair spilling over her shoulder.]

What would be fair in your eyes?

[a fair question. what does he want.

he stares at the ceiling, considering that. they've missed so much time together; so many lost dances and nights at campfires and gentle touches and soft kisses. but there's also no rush to make up for that time.

he really would be more than happy to just hold her all night as they slept in the same bed for the first time in years. but what she wants...

he sits up with a little difficulty, having only his left leg to put weight on, with the most melted, happy smile he's given in many years; his whole expression is soft, and warm, as he cups her cheek.]

It would be fair to let me dance with you first.

Edited 2015-10-30 12:26 (UTC)

You do realize we are doing this in the wrong order?

[want. what does she want? dancing. holding him. having him. listening to him. for them to exist together, no more distances, no more layers getting in between.

she sighs, her expression a mirror of the one he's sporting, all soft edges and contained laughter.]

You're also straining your leg. [hands cupping his face, soft kisses that don't linger.] You have been doing it all day.

[eyebrows jump up towards hairline, smile growing into a grin.]

How is this the wrong order? Don't ladies like to be- [he twists to grab one of the long stemmed roses sitting on the bed behind him, then covering his grin with it and winking at Seren] -romanced before being bedded?

[he waggles his eyebrows, before he's unable to keep a straight face. he takes the rose out in order to start laughing.

it peters out as he looks at her again, expression melting back into the warm, soft one from before.]

I think you're also forgetting that I didn't really care.

[she gets hugged around the middle, Alistair's face resting against her sternum.]

You're back. I can do anything.

Edited 2015-11-06 05:55 (UTC)

[she laughs then, gently and warmly and how quick, how right it feels when her arms move around his shoulders to hold him in place, roses and musk and something that's entirely him, his face a weight that warms her.]

But you must care.

[kissing his hair, a hand going up to gently scratch his scalp and again she is quietly, vaguely afraid of what could have been, of what almost was.]

You have many, many years of life ahead of you now, Warden.

Ahead of us?

[he kisses the spot right over heart, feeling its beat pulse gently through her warm skin to his lips.]

Unless you go on another long trek without me.

[don't. I don't think my heart could take it.]

No. No more journeys.

[she cups one cheek, gently urging him to look up to her. for the first time, she looks tired, a sadness haunting the corners of her smile very much like the one that clung to her so many years ago.]

I am tired of waking up alone. I am tired of not seeing your face.

[he searches her face, seeing it darken with quiet sorrow. he wonders how often he was likewise so colored over these long years, but his heart aches to see her wear it.

reaching up, his fingertips barely swiping across her forehead to brush away hair threatening to hide her face; to trace down the scar along her jaw to rest on her cheek, thumb rubbing a little. all as if he could wipe her troubles away.

oh, her eyes. one of the most beautiful things about her, but he likes them best when they shine.

but to him...she always shines.

a deep sigh, sympathetic and likewise tired, admiring everything about her face.]

...Took the words right out of my mouth.

[a gentle kiss, as soft as a whisper, at the corner of her lips.

I love you. keep your promise. don't leave me again.]

Edited 2015-11-11 13:11 (UTC)

[she leans against his forehead and breathes, her chest burning. she's not cold anymore, she's not weary; the years on her back are no longer a bitter reminder, a solemn duty, a desperate need for a way out for both of them.

and they lived happily ever after, 'til the end of their days.

she opens her eyes, a smile lighting them with something besides sorrow-- an echo of lost days and hushed promises, forests and firelight and I'll love you, always.]

So... Are we married now?

[it's very, very jarring to be...just feeling so intensely and for the almost dream-like state of his mind to be so suddenly broken. his eyes pop wide open, and he pulls away to stare at her for a good moment.

it quickly becomes clear that he's not irritated or offended by the mood being shattered when he starts laughing, loud and full, clapping a hand to his forehead as if in disbelief.]

You could've told me you were serious with the song!

[she crosses her arms -making her very best effort to maybe look a bit offended-, leaving him to ride out his jolly little fit.]

I crossed the bloody Amaranthine -twice, mind you-, fought against demons and sea monsters and all sorts of unsavory people for years, all for the slim chance to maybe cleanse our blood and have a little more time to spend with you--

[an accusing finger breaking free to poke his chest.]

--and the children that I so shamelessly demanded upon seeing you. I'm sorry, serrah, but if you don't take the words of your love-starved commander seriously then that's hardly my fault!

[her false insulted attitude only keeps him laughing, although reduced to undignified giggles.]

Maybe I underestimated how "love-starved" you've been? Besides, we immediately started joking around. About Zevran.

[he'd figured over the absence that he probably missed her more than she did him. he knows he's slightly needier, knows that his feelings are too obvious; maybe even embarrassing to anyone else.

he'd stopped being embarrassed for himself a long time ago, accepting that he can't contain or hide how his love for her just radiates out of him; too big for his body to keep.

but if she's serious...

he runs a hand through her drying hair, resting his hand against her face.]

Do you really want to...?

I don't see your point, warden.

[ in her heart of hearts... in her heart of hearts there is too much for her to sort, too much for her to face and take and even to discard. perhaps she's too greedy-- her heart craves for mountains, mountains and the sea and antiva and the wilds and for so many roads unknown, so many different stories, so many wonders she's too weary to grasp, too tired to place over the harbor that she's come back to.

I want you as well. My need for you is no less than the others.]

I really, really do.

[big hands and a broad back, arms that circle her completely. a body to shield and hide her. a dream that does not end. a knight the world won't sully. she covers his hand with hers.]

Alistair. Say you want me for you.

[permanence, and finality. stability, and a promise.

and a choice.

his breath catches and he searches her face, wide-eyed and lashes prickling as his eyes fill.]

If you do this, I'll never let you go. Ever. I won't wait again. I'll follow you, until my last breath.

[he says it firmly, without doubt. she must be clear about what she's asking. there's no way to know, but maybe he would have accepted it if she moved on from him. he'd like to think he would, that he'd want her happiness more. but this...

it's getting harder to breathe. so he whispers, but that doesn't diminish the power behind what he has to say.]

You amaze me. You inspire me. You blossomed from a caged bird to a griffon. You came back for me. Twice. And you...give me the freedom of choice. No one else ever did.

[his breath trembles, but he refuses to break.]

You are the only person who ever made me feel like I was enough. So I want you to be mine. Forever.

Oh, hush now.

[and so she pushes him, rose petals and a bubbling laugh, a little more weight to her than what she used to have -but still light enough for him to hold, and ground, and carry-. and truly, in this ever changing world, there are some things that still manage to remain the same, and be all the luckier for it.

(soft lips. a warm mouth. the thrill that runs through her back when they part and he's there, real and vulnerable and hers - bleeding heart and ridiculous jokes for her use and keeping only.)

her hair falls like a curtain for them to hide behind.]

Really, why would I even want to go away from this? When you make such a luxurious bed and pillow; they don't have such comforts on a ship, you know.

[it would be insulting from anyone else to have his sincerity seemingly brushed off with lightness, but for her he just blinks away the burn in his eyes, and turns a little pink, shy and giggling a little like he hasn't been in a long time.]

You forgot the part where I also make a very good blanket and comforter.

[to make his point, his arms still wrapped around her waist, and squeezes just a little as he turns them both onto their sides, enveloping her and still giggling.]

[like a boy, and she likes it just fine, this lightness and this affection and to be laying down here with him and the many petals now clinging to their asses.]

Ah, yes. Old models like you were made to surprise and last. By far one of the less regrettable investments. [a finger traces his nose, eyes warm with laughter.] It was so smart of me to let you tag along.

"Let me tag along"?!

[he huffs indignantly in a short, powerful snort, eyes narrowed and pout fairly pronounced.]

Rude. Absolutely incorrigible. I should kick you out of my nice fancy inn room right this instant. What would you have do--

[unexpectedly, he stops...and his childish pout turns from insulted to thoughtful.]

...No, no, you probably could've still done all that without me.

[now she does laugh, without really bothering to answer such claims. and why should she? when kissing that pout is by far a much attractive prospect, teeth gently biting and pulling his lower lip.]

Can you imagine it? That sweet little tower-mage left for the taking of Morrigan or Flemeth or both. Cheese-less and completely wild - picture the horror.

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