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warriorborn) wrote2027-05-14 09:22 pm
warriorborn) wrote2027-05-14 09:22 pm
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She laughs softly with him, leaning in to press her lips to his in a playful, brief kiss. "You needn't say anything." And that was the truth. It was a compliment, no thanks were required or needed. Especially that his cock is doing the talking for him, so to speak. His body reacts to her touch almost instantly and she smiles to herself thinking that must be glory of youth and inexperience.
Her touch is far less hesitant now, her fingers curl around him, her thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock to coax more out of him. "I want to feel you inside of me. I suppose you might find that tolerable?"
Her touch is far less hesitant now, her fingers curl around him, her thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock to coax more out of him. "I want to feel you inside of me. I suppose you might find that tolerable?"
Well, she's going to get what she wants, if she keeps speaking to him like that, especially when combined with the way she rubs her fingers over his flesh. There is much to be said for having a partner with experience, Benedict decides, and quietly laments that he cannot be more than an eager pupil for her, though she does not seem to mind very much.
He groans in response to her question, his head falling back with a thump against the headboard as his cock twitches eagerly in her grasp.
"Please," is all he can manage, now that the majority of the blood in his body has swiftly descended south.
He groans in response to her question, his head falling back with a thump against the headboard as his cock twitches eagerly in her grasp.
"Please," is all he can manage, now that the majority of the blood in his body has swiftly descended south.
There is nothing to lament in her mind. While it is nice to be with someone who has experience, there is something to be said about being able to teach him everything she knows, to be able to almost train him to be just as she needs him to be while in her bed. In any other situation, he may have the upper hand physically but here, here is where she is in complete control. It feels good.
Grinning at his answer, she nods. "That is good." However, she does not move to align their bodies just right, to sink down upon him with the knowledge that he will only grow harder once he's inside of her. Instead, her mouth moves along his throat, down his chest, leaving his skin wet with open mouth kisses as she moves her way down his chest.
Pausing, she looks up at him, nuzzling (perhaps vexingly) at his nipple. "Shall I use my mouth on you or would you prefer we jump right in?" Perhaps it was unfair, to tease him so, to force him into making decisions in a moment such as these.
Grinning at his answer, she nods. "That is good." However, she does not move to align their bodies just right, to sink down upon him with the knowledge that he will only grow harder once he's inside of her. Instead, her mouth moves along his throat, down his chest, leaving his skin wet with open mouth kisses as she moves her way down his chest.
Pausing, she looks up at him, nuzzling (perhaps vexingly) at his nipple. "Shall I use my mouth on you or would you prefer we jump right in?" Perhaps it was unfair, to tease him so, to force him into making decisions in a moment such as these.
She can mold him to be exactly how she likes him, and he will be an eager and willing pupil, applying the entirety of his not inconsiderable intellect towards doing exactly what he is told and remembering it for later. For now, however, he simply groans at her in lieu of a proper response, his hard cock already aching in her grasp.
"Ninon," he all but whines, losing the battle he waged against squirming, shifting restlessly beneath her as she mouths at his chest in a highly distracting manner.
"Ninon," he all but whines, losing the battle he waged against squirming, shifting restlessly beneath her as she mouths at his chest in a highly distracting manner.
"That was hardly an answer," she says with an impish grin. But she knows what he wants, what he's impatient for even if he has no idea what it will be like. She is impatient for it too, her body warms just thinking of how it will feel to have him inside of her. So she bites gently at his chest, just above his nipple on her way back up his body.
It's a quick journey, she simply moves to settle back on his lap, moving to take his hands and set them on her waist. "Hold on tight," she instructs him, perhaps meaning it figuratively more than literally. The last thing she wants is for him to come undone as quickly as he had the first time.
Kneeling more above him, she once again grasps his cock, guiding him between her thighs but not quite where they both want to be. She slides the tip of him against her slick skin, her eyes lifting to meet with his before the flutter a little. "Tell me you want me, Benedict."
It's a quick journey, she simply moves to settle back on his lap, moving to take his hands and set them on her waist. "Hold on tight," she instructs him, perhaps meaning it figuratively more than literally. The last thing she wants is for him to come undone as quickly as he had the first time.
Kneeling more above him, she once again grasps his cock, guiding him between her thighs but not quite where they both want to be. She slides the tip of him against her slick skin, her eyes lifting to meet with his before the flutter a little. "Tell me you want me, Benedict."
As mortifying as it had been at the time, it is probably for the best that Benedict's body had betrayed him earlier; he's fairly certain if he had not already climaxed not fifteen minutes ago, he would certainly do so now, when Ninon draws the head of his cock along her slick flesh, the sensation of her wet and eager body one he has never felt before and one that is slightly overwhelming, if he's honest.
Forgetting for a moment to keep his grip gentle to avoid bruising her, he digs his fingers into her hips when she tells him to, watching her with wide golden eyes, his pupils blown so wide they nearly appear round.
"More than anything," he replies, earnest and painfully honest.
Forgetting for a moment to keep his grip gentle to avoid bruising her, he digs his fingers into her hips when she tells him to, watching her with wide golden eyes, his pupils blown so wide they nearly appear round.
"More than anything," he replies, earnest and painfully honest.
His grip is delightfully tight, just as she told him to. And if he leaves bruises, she'll wear them like a secret badge of honor. The slight pain is sweet with the pleasure she feels even just grinding against his cock and hearing him say those words. No one has wanted her more than anything and she can see it in the way he looks at her, the way his eyes react.
She presses a kiss to his lips before she shifts, moving to align their bodies and slowly sink down upon him, taking him slowly, inch by delicious inch. Her free hand moves to tangle into his hair, not kissing him yet.
Ninon wants him to keep his breath, his wits as best he can and truly be consumed by the way it feels to have her wrapped around him just as she relishes in the way it feels to have him inside of her.
She presses a kiss to his lips before she shifts, moving to align their bodies and slowly sink down upon him, taking him slowly, inch by delicious inch. Her free hand moves to tangle into his hair, not kissing him yet.
Ninon wants him to keep his breath, his wits as best he can and truly be consumed by the way it feels to have her wrapped around him just as she relishes in the way it feels to have him inside of her.
Intellectually, Benedict understands the mechanics of intercourse. He has read about it in dry and factual medical textbooks, in slightly more veiled language in fiction, and in very abstract and flowery terms in poetry. Never having experienced it himself, he couldn't dismiss it out of hand as a ridiculous farce, but he had somewhat been of the opinion that everyone was blowing the whole thing out of proportion, and surely it wasn't quite as earth-shattering as people made it seem.
Based on the boasting of his peers in the Guard, Benedict had assumed the whole thing was mostly used to one-up others around you, and had drawn on his deep wells of patience to tolerate the endless bragging until they grew bored of it and talked of other things.
He understands, now.
He groans softly as Ninon works herself down onto him, her hand tangled in his hair, the noise vibrating deep in his chest.
Based on the boasting of his peers in the Guard, Benedict had assumed the whole thing was mostly used to one-up others around you, and had drawn on his deep wells of patience to tolerate the endless bragging until they grew bored of it and talked of other things.
He understands, now.
He groans softly as Ninon works herself down onto him, her hand tangled in his hair, the noise vibrating deep in his chest.
For Ninon, she'd been taught to fear intercourse, to think of it as a duty put forth before women to bring children into the world. It was not meant to be enjoyed or desired, it was a man's game and women were but a piece of that gameboard.
It took time for her to come to truly enjoy it, although even early on, she found things about sex she'd liked. It took longer to find what it was she enjoyed exactly, what made her feel good.
It makes her feel good to hear him groan, to feel his body tense beneath hers in reaction to her own. And she lets out a soft moan that peters out into a greedy hum, her other hand moving to grip his shoulder once enough of him is inside of her, once their bodies are pressed flush together.
"Mmm... yes," she whispers, lean in to kiss him hotly.
It took time for her to come to truly enjoy it, although even early on, she found things about sex she'd liked. It took longer to find what it was she enjoyed exactly, what made her feel good.
It makes her feel good to hear him groan, to feel his body tense beneath hers in reaction to her own. And she lets out a soft moan that peters out into a greedy hum, her other hand moving to grip his shoulder once enough of him is inside of her, once their bodies are pressed flush together.
"Mmm... yes," she whispers, lean in to kiss him hotly.
If pressed, Benedict might admit that he thought that, if he was ever returned to his home, no time at all might have passed. Admitting to that thought felt like a betrayal of what he and Kate had built with each other, but what other explanation could he give? If he was being rational, the two whole years he spent living on the Surface made far more sense when viewed through lens of some sort of injury-induced hallucination, the fevered ramblings of a sick and dying brain desperate to cobble together a few more moments of clarity before succumbing to Silkweaver venom. He would have said that, if this theory were true, if he woke up at all he would expect to simply wake up in a sickbed, his body sore, the world the same as he left it.
In actual fact, the two years he spent living down on the Surface passed above it as well.
When Benedict woke up in his own bed, taller and broader and sporting a full beard he had never worn in his life before, he had given the maid coming into his room such a fright she actually fainted. What followed was a cacophony of yelling, both from members of his family and from himself, as everyone tried to wrest answers out of everyone else, all to no avail. Eventually, the yelling had ceased and he had been washed, had his hair trimmed — though he had categorically refused to let anyone force him to shave; a beard such as his might not be fashionable in the high houses of Spire Albion, but goddammit, it's one of the only things he has that proves (to him, at least) that what happened to him was real — and new clothes were procured for him, and then he was whisked off to meet with the Spirearch.
Countless tests and interrogations later, and still, nobody is any the wiser as to where he had gone, why he had been chosen, or even how he had been taken.
Gwen had cried on his chest when she finally came by to see him a few days later, too busy with her duties to the Spirearch to be living at home when he had arrived. He had held her close, almost crushingly close, and tried to keep his own tears at bay. For two whole years he had wished to know how she was doing, had wished to see her, had wished to speak to her again, and now that she was here beside him, all he could do was think about how much he wished he was back in that little primitive habble, back in his own home, back with his wife.
Slowly, over the following weeks, Benedict adjusted back to the way life used to be before, returning to the Guard for lack of anything better to do, his once-easy demeanor markedly changed. While he was always happy enough to keep his own company unless in the company of his family or closest friends, now it would be more accurate to describe Benedict as withdrawn, lost in his own head when he wasn't doggedly putting himself through the rigorous training exercises given to him to get him back to fighting shape. With single-minded focus, he clawed his way back up the ranks, regaining his skill with gauntlet and saber alike, a harsher edge to his fighting style that he would have said sat better on the shoulders of Bucky Barnes than himself. No matter. Despite his own conviction to remember his life below, those memories seem to drift farther and farther away from him with every day, and there are nights he lies awake in his bed and misses the warm shape of his wife beside him and wonders if she had been a dream after all.
While her memory was still fresh in his mind, he had drawn a portrait of Kate, lamenting not having practiced — though how could he, really, have practiced a skill such as this one, when paper and pencil was so hard to come by? — for so many years, unhappy with the final product but knowing he would be unable to improve upon it. The little drawing remains tucked in his jacket, beneath the Ethersilk lining, where it will be safe and he can withdraw it to glance at it whenever he likes. He has nothing else to remember her by, after all. The ring he was gifted did not come with a companion for him to wear, so now that he has been torn from her side, the only memory he has of Kate even existing is his beard and the scar on his arm from that time he dropped a pot of boiling water on the kitchen floor and scalded himself.
His gauntlet is a heavy weight on his left hand, his sword an uncomfortable pressure on his hip, and even his uniform seems to sit strangely on him now, even though it has been made precisely to his measurements. Dressing every day in his fine woolen coat and shined leather boots, clothes he had dreamed wistfully of while trapped down below, he finds himself perversely missing soft cotton and rough denim. Even the lack of wood surrounding him is hard to adjust to again, and he had spent his entire tenure on the Surface mildly astonished to see trees growing.
Hardest to adjust to is how alone he feels, despite the fact that he is once more surrounded by every living member of his extended family, the majority of which live in Lancaster House alongside him, the more removed members living nearby in less-grand houses of their own. Never did Benedict think he would truly miss their one little room in the inn, or the small little cottage across the way that they had eventually moved into. He had thought them so lonely, before, and now he feels lonelier than ever.
In actual fact, the two years he spent living down on the Surface passed above it as well.
When Benedict woke up in his own bed, taller and broader and sporting a full beard he had never worn in his life before, he had given the maid coming into his room such a fright she actually fainted. What followed was a cacophony of yelling, both from members of his family and from himself, as everyone tried to wrest answers out of everyone else, all to no avail. Eventually, the yelling had ceased and he had been washed, had his hair trimmed — though he had categorically refused to let anyone force him to shave; a beard such as his might not be fashionable in the high houses of Spire Albion, but goddammit, it's one of the only things he has that proves (to him, at least) that what happened to him was real — and new clothes were procured for him, and then he was whisked off to meet with the Spirearch.
Countless tests and interrogations later, and still, nobody is any the wiser as to where he had gone, why he had been chosen, or even how he had been taken.
Gwen had cried on his chest when she finally came by to see him a few days later, too busy with her duties to the Spirearch to be living at home when he had arrived. He had held her close, almost crushingly close, and tried to keep his own tears at bay. For two whole years he had wished to know how she was doing, had wished to see her, had wished to speak to her again, and now that she was here beside him, all he could do was think about how much he wished he was back in that little primitive habble, back in his own home, back with his wife.
Slowly, over the following weeks, Benedict adjusted back to the way life used to be before, returning to the Guard for lack of anything better to do, his once-easy demeanor markedly changed. While he was always happy enough to keep his own company unless in the company of his family or closest friends, now it would be more accurate to describe Benedict as withdrawn, lost in his own head when he wasn't doggedly putting himself through the rigorous training exercises given to him to get him back to fighting shape. With single-minded focus, he clawed his way back up the ranks, regaining his skill with gauntlet and saber alike, a harsher edge to his fighting style that he would have said sat better on the shoulders of Bucky Barnes than himself. No matter. Despite his own conviction to remember his life below, those memories seem to drift farther and farther away from him with every day, and there are nights he lies awake in his bed and misses the warm shape of his wife beside him and wonders if she had been a dream after all.
While her memory was still fresh in his mind, he had drawn a portrait of Kate, lamenting not having practiced — though how could he, really, have practiced a skill such as this one, when paper and pencil was so hard to come by? — for so many years, unhappy with the final product but knowing he would be unable to improve upon it. The little drawing remains tucked in his jacket, beneath the Ethersilk lining, where it will be safe and he can withdraw it to glance at it whenever he likes. He has nothing else to remember her by, after all. The ring he was gifted did not come with a companion for him to wear, so now that he has been torn from her side, the only memory he has of Kate even existing is his beard and the scar on his arm from that time he dropped a pot of boiling water on the kitchen floor and scalded himself.
His gauntlet is a heavy weight on his left hand, his sword an uncomfortable pressure on his hip, and even his uniform seems to sit strangely on him now, even though it has been made precisely to his measurements. Dressing every day in his fine woolen coat and shined leather boots, clothes he had dreamed wistfully of while trapped down below, he finds himself perversely missing soft cotton and rough denim. Even the lack of wood surrounding him is hard to adjust to again, and he had spent his entire tenure on the Surface mildly astonished to see trees growing.
Hardest to adjust to is how alone he feels, despite the fact that he is once more surrounded by every living member of his extended family, the majority of which live in Lancaster House alongside him, the more removed members living nearby in less-grand houses of their own. Never did Benedict think he would truly miss their one little room in the inn, or the small little cottage across the way that they had eventually moved into. He had thought them so lonely, before, and now he feels lonelier than ever.
[ all things considered, it's not a terrible plan. it's certainly not the worst she's ever had, nor is it even the most impulsive. but the facade of bringing home a fake significant other to run interference and/or deterrence is a tale as old as time, a tradition tried and true. kate and benedict would be engaging in a pastime that is lifetime movie sacred, so they pretty much have the entire cosmos on their side here. she's not worried.
if nothing else, she means for her presence to be nothing more than a steady source of security for him. a harbor amidst the storm that is navigating complicated family structures and responsibilities because, hey, she gets it. if all that comes out of this weekend is a little peace for him when he needs it the most, then she will have considered it all a massive success.
besides, it's just one weekend. a long weekend, sure, but barely a handful of days. it'll be over before they know it, and soon enough they'll be back on a plane, laughing the experience off because that's what friends do.
fortunately, the show doesn't begin as soon as they touch land. they'd been picked up, but not by anybody they had to expend too much energy convincing, so the ride to lancaster house is a quiet, easy one. the matron of the house isn't available to greet them upon arrival, which is more than fine by kate, who takes it all in with the quiet reverence of someone who knows old money when she sees it — and she knows she's barely seen everything at this point.
they're ushered into the house and to the room, luckily left to their own devices to unwind from the flight before dear auntie requires their presence for dinner or something. they're given a few hours, at least, though it might be even less when benedict suddenly stops at the doorway to their room, his broad frame blocking out everything from view. did his shoulders just tense up? ]
What's wrong, did they forget the crystal chandelier—
[ she maneuvers around his frame to slip into the room, casting a quick panning glance around in inspection. as expected, it's as opulent as the rest of the estate, complete with what is undoubtedly only the finest of egyptian cotton and silks spread across the bed and—
wait.
the bed? the one, singular bed?? ]
Ohhhhhh.
if nothing else, she means for her presence to be nothing more than a steady source of security for him. a harbor amidst the storm that is navigating complicated family structures and responsibilities because, hey, she gets it. if all that comes out of this weekend is a little peace for him when he needs it the most, then she will have considered it all a massive success.
besides, it's just one weekend. a long weekend, sure, but barely a handful of days. it'll be over before they know it, and soon enough they'll be back on a plane, laughing the experience off because that's what friends do.
fortunately, the show doesn't begin as soon as they touch land. they'd been picked up, but not by anybody they had to expend too much energy convincing, so the ride to lancaster house is a quiet, easy one. the matron of the house isn't available to greet them upon arrival, which is more than fine by kate, who takes it all in with the quiet reverence of someone who knows old money when she sees it — and she knows she's barely seen everything at this point.
they're ushered into the house and to the room, luckily left to their own devices to unwind from the flight before dear auntie requires their presence for dinner or something. they're given a few hours, at least, though it might be even less when benedict suddenly stops at the doorway to their room, his broad frame blocking out everything from view. did his shoulders just tense up? ]
What's wrong, did they forget the crystal chandelier—
[ she maneuvers around his frame to slip into the room, casting a quick panning glance around in inspection. as expected, it's as opulent as the rest of the estate, complete with what is undoubtedly only the finest of egyptian cotton and silks spread across the bed and—
wait.
the bed? the one, singular bed?? ]
Ohhhhhh.
[ Being picked up by a driver from the airport isn't an unfamiliar experience for Benedict, and it doesn't seem to faze Kate either, which means they get an extra hour or so's respite before he has to brace himself for the Lancaster family welcome, which...
Is also very subdued and basically a non-event.
He keeps his arm around Kate's shoulders as they walk up the drive to the main entrance, where the housekeeper is waiting for them to show them to the room they've been assigned for the duration of their visit — technically, since Benedict moved out at fifteen to join the Temple, and then later the Guard, the room that he grew up in is no longer "his," but instead reverted back to its original form of a generic child's room, ready and waiting for either the next generation of Lancasters or a guest bringing a child along in tow — while a footman and the driver deal with their bags.
Etiquette dictates that he should let Kate enter their room before him, but he's a little bit suspicious of the easy acceptance his announcement of a girlfriend received, and he can't quite shake the belief that somehow, even though she's not even in the country right now, Gwen will have found a way to prank him.
What awaits them is no prank, but it is something Benedict hadn't quite considered:
One single solitary king-sized bed. ]
Somehow this possibility slipped my mind.
Is also very subdued and basically a non-event.
He keeps his arm around Kate's shoulders as they walk up the drive to the main entrance, where the housekeeper is waiting for them to show them to the room they've been assigned for the duration of their visit — technically, since Benedict moved out at fifteen to join the Temple, and then later the Guard, the room that he grew up in is no longer "his," but instead reverted back to its original form of a generic child's room, ready and waiting for either the next generation of Lancasters or a guest bringing a child along in tow — while a footman and the driver deal with their bags.
Etiquette dictates that he should let Kate enter their room before him, but he's a little bit suspicious of the easy acceptance his announcement of a girlfriend received, and he can't quite shake the belief that somehow, even though she's not even in the country right now, Gwen will have found a way to prank him.
What awaits them is no prank, but it is something Benedict hadn't quite considered:
One single solitary king-sized bed. ]
Somehow this possibility slipped my mind.
[ all in all? it could be worse. she's not quite sure how yet, but she's almost definitely sure it could be. statistically, there was bound to be at least one hiccup in their plan and if this is that? kate will take it. at the very least, it's something they can keep behind a literal closed door. heck, she'll even bunk on the floor if she has to or — is that a chaise? good god that is indeed a chaise. ]
I guess in retrospect, your last minute guest announcement wouldn't have really necessitated a change in rooms.
[ he's an adult, after all. no one's going to assume two adults who were seeing each other would require separate rooms. even if one of those adults is benedict himself...
honestly, kate's not looking to get too bent out of shape about it. it's a large enough bed, even if she's pretty sure benedict can easily take up half (or more) of it, and, again, it's just a weekend. slipping further into the room, she helps herself to one side of the bed already, letting out a soft sigh as she sinks into the plush mattress. she knows better than to get too comfortable; it would be foolish to let one's guard down so early on, especially after how smoothly everything else has been going. she's skeptical by nature, and so naturally she doesn't trust all the good luck they've had so far. the fact benedict had managed to make it from the car to the front door with his arm around her and not pass out from blood suddenly rushing to his cheeks is little too lucky for kate's liking. ]
So, what's next? A festival celebrating your magnificent return?
I guess in retrospect, your last minute guest announcement wouldn't have really necessitated a change in rooms.
[ he's an adult, after all. no one's going to assume two adults who were seeing each other would require separate rooms. even if one of those adults is benedict himself...
honestly, kate's not looking to get too bent out of shape about it. it's a large enough bed, even if she's pretty sure benedict can easily take up half (or more) of it, and, again, it's just a weekend. slipping further into the room, she helps herself to one side of the bed already, letting out a soft sigh as she sinks into the plush mattress. she knows better than to get too comfortable; it would be foolish to let one's guard down so early on, especially after how smoothly everything else has been going. she's skeptical by nature, and so naturally she doesn't trust all the good luck they've had so far. the fact benedict had managed to make it from the car to the front door with his arm around her and not pass out from blood suddenly rushing to his cheeks is little too lucky for kate's liking. ]
So, what's next? A festival celebrating your magnificent return?
[ In no universe would Benedict allow Kate to sleep on the floor while he takes the bed, regardless of what relationship they're faking for his family. If she doesn't want to share with him — understandable — then he'll take the floor. Or the chaise. In any case, he's not making his guest give up the bed, not under any circumstance.
He looks around the room with its soft blue walls and antique furnishings; they've been given one of the nicer guest suites. Probably to impress Kate, he's pretty sure he'd have been given one of the rooms down by the kitchens if he came alone. He's never minded, being closer to the kitchens means having an easier time sneaking snacks and he does like the distance that affords him a little more privacy.
The rooms down by the kitchens don't have their own balconies, though. ]
No, it wouldn't have. [ Except that it absolutely, very obviously, did. ] I think we're looking over the hedge maze, [ he adds, nodding towards the french doors that lead out to the juliette balcony, just large enough for a tiny table and two chairs and a few potted plants.
Watching Kate settle down on the edge of the bed has a strange dissonance twanging in his head: he's suddenly struck by the desire to lie down, tired from their journey here, while also being acutely aware of the fact that in just a few hours, they're going to be expected to slip into that bed together and sleep only a few feet apart.
Gods, his family will probably expect them to have sex at some point in this trip. Otherwise why would they have given him the nicest spare guest room? ]
Cocktails, probably. Then dinner. Not for another few hours, though. [ His aunt will descend from her rooms about an hour before the main meal is served, and they'll all be expected to gather in one of the drawing rooms to have an apéritif and make small-talk before they're allowed to be seated. ]
He looks around the room with its soft blue walls and antique furnishings; they've been given one of the nicer guest suites. Probably to impress Kate, he's pretty sure he'd have been given one of the rooms down by the kitchens if he came alone. He's never minded, being closer to the kitchens means having an easier time sneaking snacks and he does like the distance that affords him a little more privacy.
The rooms down by the kitchens don't have their own balconies, though. ]
No, it wouldn't have. [ Except that it absolutely, very obviously, did. ] I think we're looking over the hedge maze, [ he adds, nodding towards the french doors that lead out to the juliette balcony, just large enough for a tiny table and two chairs and a few potted plants.
Watching Kate settle down on the edge of the bed has a strange dissonance twanging in his head: he's suddenly struck by the desire to lie down, tired from their journey here, while also being acutely aware of the fact that in just a few hours, they're going to be expected to slip into that bed together and sleep only a few feet apart.
Gods, his family will probably expect them to have sex at some point in this trip. Otherwise why would they have given him the nicest spare guest room? ]
Cocktails, probably. Then dinner. Not for another few hours, though. [ His aunt will descend from her rooms about an hour before the main meal is served, and they'll all be expected to gather in one of the drawing rooms to have an apéritif and make small-talk before they're allowed to be seated. ]
[ kate follows benedict's line of sight towards the balcony doors and can't help but think, of course there's a hedge maze. she hadn't caught it on the way in but there was only so much her wandering eyes could have taken in in those handful of seconds from car to door. there's undoubtedly a lot to take in — the room itself oozes detail begging for attention at every corner — but now that the initial adrenaline has begun to fade, kate turns her focus on the man still standing stiffly before her. the promise of cocktails is a welcome oasis in the desert of all this fronting, but it isn't for some time now. and benedict looks like he could use a breather or two.
she offers him a warm smile, patting the space on the bed beside her. ]
Sit. Relax. It's just you and me now. No faking.
she offers him a warm smile, patting the space on the bed beside her. ]
Sit. Relax. It's just you and me now. No faking.
[ He's tense, but also not; this is the house he grew up in, a place full of happy memories, a sanctuary he knew he could always return to if ever he needed it, if ever the outside world became too much for him to bear. It wasn't until he got to school age that he fully understood that being warriorborn was seen as a bad thing, and he's grateful that his parents and his aunts and uncles made such an effort to treat him normally when he was small. He always knew he was different, but it never felt so bad within these walls.
And yet...
He toes off his shoes and lowers himself down on the bed beside Kate, letting himself flop back onto the plush comforter and sprawl out for a moment before folding an arm behind his head so he can see her better. ]
Thank you. For doing this for me. [ He reaches out with his free hand, brushing the backs of his fingers against her forearm. ] I really appreciate it.
And yet...
He toes off his shoes and lowers himself down on the bed beside Kate, letting himself flop back onto the plush comforter and sprawl out for a moment before folding an arm behind his head so he can see her better. ]
Thank you. For doing this for me. [ He reaches out with his free hand, brushing the backs of his fingers against her forearm. ] I really appreciate it.
[ the bed doesn't even bounce when he flops himself down, a testament to its quality and price tag. she's tempted to lay back and join him, really let the rest of that fatigue seep out, but the gross of the airport clings stubbornly to her hair. and a part of her wonders if laying down right next to him right now would be a little too much. she'd hate to shatter what peace he's already achieved. ]
Of course. You know I always have your back.
[ there's a particular lock of hair that benedict has. his hair is thick and fluffy as it is, but every so often a specific tawny lock will fall just over his brow, curling just slightly at the end that it looks almost coy in a way. like a tease of a curl. kate's fingers itch at her side until she finally reaches out, lightly flicking it back up to rest atop his head with the rest. ]
I'm not going to get lost if I attempt to freshen up in the bathroom, will I?
Of course. You know I always have your back.
[ there's a particular lock of hair that benedict has. his hair is thick and fluffy as it is, but every so often a specific tawny lock will fall just over his brow, curling just slightly at the end that it looks almost coy in a way. like a tease of a curl. kate's fingers itch at her side until she finally reaches out, lightly flicking it back up to rest atop his head with the rest. ]
I'm not going to get lost if I attempt to freshen up in the bathroom, will I?
[ It's not that Benedict is especially prudish, but he tends not to share a bed even with his closest female friends, which... alright, his closest female friend is his cousin Gwen, but his point still stands. He doesn't share a bed with his cousin, either. Still, unusual or not, the thing that stands out the most to him right now is how comfortable this feels. It's just Kate. He doesn't have to worry about her judging him for something weird his family says, or the fact that one of the antechambers off the grand foyer had their family crest made out of actual sabers mounted on the wall.
Some of his ancestors were fucking weird.
He blinks at her slowly when she pushes his hair out of his face, his lips curling slightly, the tips of his teeth gleaming in the soft sunlight coming through the breezy curtains drawn across the french doors.
After half a second to let her question filter through, he pulls his hand out from behind his head to gesture towards a door in the wall opposite the bed. ]
Just over there. It should be well-stocked, but obviously it won't have your toiletries in it just yet. They're not quite that quick with the unpacking.
[ What soaps and lotions are in the bathroom will be the very expensive, conspicuously unscented kinds, so they don't offend Benedict's keen nose. Even the soap they use in the laundry is carefully selected not to upset him or give him a headache without cause. ]
Some of his ancestors were fucking weird.
He blinks at her slowly when she pushes his hair out of his face, his lips curling slightly, the tips of his teeth gleaming in the soft sunlight coming through the breezy curtains drawn across the french doors.
After half a second to let her question filter through, he pulls his hand out from behind his head to gesture towards a door in the wall opposite the bed. ]
Just over there. It should be well-stocked, but obviously it won't have your toiletries in it just yet. They're not quite that quick with the unpacking.
[ What soaps and lotions are in the bathroom will be the very expensive, conspicuously unscented kinds, so they don't offend Benedict's keen nose. Even the soap they use in the laundry is carefully selected not to upset him or give him a headache without cause. ]
[ honestly, kate will be pleased to notice these little details. heartened, even. if it wasn't obvious enough, she can be a little protective of her friends, and even big, strong warriorborns like benedict is no exception. it's for the same reason she's taken to unscented options as well, now mindful of his sensitive nose. after all, the last thing she'd want to do is give him reason to avoid or not want to be around her. ]
That's alright, I really just want to wash the airport out of my hair.
[ the problem with having so much of it is how easily it can carry the environment with it. she slips off the bed and takes a moment to stretch her arms up high over her head, work out the kink that'd settled into her lower back from all her sitting and slouching.
now, she doesn't actually mean to take very long. just a quick rinse, in and out. but the moment she stands under the warm spray of the shower the tension dissolves from her muscles and the fading adrenaline leaves her with the desire to be sluggish, indulge. she winds up taking a full shower, lingering if only to further soak in the steam, and by the end of it she's feeling even better than brand new.
and that's when it hits her — she forgot to bring in any of her clothes. ]
Good job, Kit-Kate, you moron...
[ slowly, kate tiptoes out of the walk in shower, arms hugging around her check for both decency and to ward off the sudden chill that clings to her. she inspects the walls and hooks for any robes, but finds only folded up fluffy towels instead. it'll have to do.
at the door, she peeks her head around after cracking it open, her long hair still dripping puddles at her feet. ]
...Benny? Did you fall asleep?
That's alright, I really just want to wash the airport out of my hair.
[ the problem with having so much of it is how easily it can carry the environment with it. she slips off the bed and takes a moment to stretch her arms up high over her head, work out the kink that'd settled into her lower back from all her sitting and slouching.
now, she doesn't actually mean to take very long. just a quick rinse, in and out. but the moment she stands under the warm spray of the shower the tension dissolves from her muscles and the fading adrenaline leaves her with the desire to be sluggish, indulge. she winds up taking a full shower, lingering if only to further soak in the steam, and by the end of it she's feeling even better than brand new.
and that's when it hits her — she forgot to bring in any of her clothes. ]
Good job, Kit-Kate, you moron...
[ slowly, kate tiptoes out of the walk in shower, arms hugging around her check for both decency and to ward off the sudden chill that clings to her. she inspects the walls and hooks for any robes, but finds only folded up fluffy towels instead. it'll have to do.
at the door, she peeks her head around after cracking it open, her long hair still dripping puddles at her feet. ]
...Benny? Did you fall asleep?
[ A few minutes after Kate slips off the bed and shuts herself away in the bathroom, their luggage arrives, carried in by members of staff who've been working for the Lancasters since before Benedict was even born. After extending a token effort to help which is immediately rebuffed, as he expected, he decides to simply get out of the way and retreats onto the balconette, wanting to remain as unobtrusive as possible while their things are unpacked and put away.
If it ever occurs to him to find it odd or unsettling to have others rifle through all his belongings, he certainly doesn't say anything about it. Benedict knows how to do his own laundry, was taught how to dye and clean and tie his own robes at the monastery, but when he comes home it's far simpler to let the housekeeping staff take care of it. It's their job, after all, and most of them take great pride in doing their job well. His insistence to help would just create more work for them later when they took it upon themselves to fix what he'd done incorrectly.
He's still leaning against the railing, idly scrolling through his emails on his phone, when Kate emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of soapy steam.
Hearing his name, he steps back into the room, only to be confronted with the sight of her in the doorway, dripping wet, ensconced in a soft white towel and nothing else. Honestly, the towel covers more of her than some outfits he's seen her wear, but it's different. ]
I was just outside, [ he replies, as if that wasn't obvious. ] Do you... I can go back out if you want to grab your clothes? Or I can... bring them to you?
If it ever occurs to him to find it odd or unsettling to have others rifle through all his belongings, he certainly doesn't say anything about it. Benedict knows how to do his own laundry, was taught how to dye and clean and tie his own robes at the monastery, but when he comes home it's far simpler to let the housekeeping staff take care of it. It's their job, after all, and most of them take great pride in doing their job well. His insistence to help would just create more work for them later when they took it upon themselves to fix what he'd done incorrectly.
He's still leaning against the railing, idly scrolling through his emails on his phone, when Kate emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of soapy steam.
Hearing his name, he steps back into the room, only to be confronted with the sight of her in the doorway, dripping wet, ensconced in a soft white towel and nothing else. Honestly, the towel covers more of her than some outfits he's seen her wear, but it's different. ]
I was just outside, [ he replies, as if that wasn't obvious. ] Do you... I can go back out if you want to grab your clothes? Or I can... bring them to you?
[ the steam, unfortunately, doesn't linger for long, as if the cloudy vapors could somehow veil her any more than this slip of a towel can. in her haste to find clothing she hadn't even bothered to properly dry herself off, so rivulets of water cling and trickle down every exposed inch of skin like some kind of clear scarlet letter.
the smile she offers him is more a grimace, apologetic. ]
Sorry, I thought you were out-out.
[ she hadn't seen him on the bed. in the short time it had taken for him to answer her after her call, she had already assumed and made the snap decision to flit out into the room, seeing their luggage, and acquire the clothes herself. she gets about two feet from the door when benedict emerges from the double doors, fading daylight announcing his presence like some kind of golden glow.
she gestures towards the drawers. ]
Do you mind? I don't want to track more water in...
[ SHE'S MADE ENOUGH OF A MESS AS IT IS. turning on her heel, she makes a quick beeline back to the bathroom, the door snapping shut tightly behind her. ]
the smile she offers him is more a grimace, apologetic. ]
Sorry, I thought you were out-out.
[ she hadn't seen him on the bed. in the short time it had taken for him to answer her after her call, she had already assumed and made the snap decision to flit out into the room, seeing their luggage, and acquire the clothes herself. she gets about two feet from the door when benedict emerges from the double doors, fading daylight announcing his presence like some kind of golden glow.
she gestures towards the drawers. ]
Do you mind? I don't want to track more water in...
[ SHE'S MADE ENOUGH OF A MESS AS IT IS. turning on her heel, she makes a quick beeline back to the bathroom, the door snapping shut tightly behind her. ]
[ There are certain times that Benedict curses his keen senses. When he's standing next to someone who hasn't showered in a few days. When a garbage truck drives by. When a dog farts on the other side of the room.
And, apparently, when his very dear friend stands only a few feet away from him with water trickling down her neck to slide along the cut of her collar bones, lovingly tracing the curves and planes of her body.
He doesn't let himself stare, he's not rude, but even that brief glimpse feels seared into his brain. For gods' sake, he needs to pull himself together already. ]
You're fine. [ He may have to clear his throat a little, but once that's taken care of, he rallies. He can be normal about this. It's fine. He's just... picking out clothes for his fake girlfriend. ] That carpet's seen worse than a little water, don't worry.
[ Faced with the realization that he's going to have to pick out underwear for her, Benedict swallows and stares at the dresser their clothes had been unpacked into with trepidation. He knows he's being ridiculous. It's just clothing, everyone wears is, and it shouldn't feel like he's invading her privacy at all. She asked him to, for one thing, and for another, they're going to have to play act at being very close this entire weekend just to get his family off his back.
Steeling himself, telling himself to stop being such a little bitch about this, he walks over to the dresser and goes searching. Ignoring the fact that their clothes have been unpacked into the same drawers, he pulls out what he hopes are comfortable undergarments — don't think about how that plum-colored lace might look stretching across her hips, Benedict — and a nice dark-wash pair of jeans, as well as a pretty blouse with a neckline he knows will flatter her. Figuring she could pick out anything else she might want, he stacks those items on top of each other and goes over to the bathroom.
Knocking briefly on the door, he slowly opens it and sticks his hand through, holding out her clothes to her while remaining safely on the other side of the door. ] Here you go, Katie. Hope these are okay...
And, apparently, when his very dear friend stands only a few feet away from him with water trickling down her neck to slide along the cut of her collar bones, lovingly tracing the curves and planes of her body.
He doesn't let himself stare, he's not rude, but even that brief glimpse feels seared into his brain. For gods' sake, he needs to pull himself together already. ]
You're fine. [ He may have to clear his throat a little, but once that's taken care of, he rallies. He can be normal about this. It's fine. He's just... picking out clothes for his fake girlfriend. ] That carpet's seen worse than a little water, don't worry.
[ Faced with the realization that he's going to have to pick out underwear for her, Benedict swallows and stares at the dresser their clothes had been unpacked into with trepidation. He knows he's being ridiculous. It's just clothing, everyone wears is, and it shouldn't feel like he's invading her privacy at all. She asked him to, for one thing, and for another, they're going to have to play act at being very close this entire weekend just to get his family off his back.
Steeling himself, telling himself to stop being such a little bitch about this, he walks over to the dresser and goes searching. Ignoring the fact that their clothes have been unpacked into the same drawers, he pulls out what he hopes are comfortable undergarments — don't think about how that plum-colored lace might look stretching across her hips, Benedict — and a nice dark-wash pair of jeans, as well as a pretty blouse with a neckline he knows will flatter her. Figuring she could pick out anything else she might want, he stacks those items on top of each other and goes over to the bathroom.
Knocking briefly on the door, he slowly opens it and sticks his hand through, holding out her clothes to her while remaining safely on the other side of the door. ] Here you go, Katie. Hope these are okay...
[ so here's the thing. the layout of the bathroom, while ridiculous in its expansiveness and inclusion of a jacuzzi tub, follows the general sort of layout of any bathroom... meaning when benedict opens the door to hand kate her belongings, what lays exactly opposite said door is the large mirror that nearly stretches across the entire wall. benedict may have remained behind the door to ensure he wouldn't be able to see inside, but said door has cracked open just enough that he'd be able to catch a glimpse of the mirror...
more specifically, of kate's reflection in the mirror. of kate, standing just beyond the opposite side of that door, towel no longer wrapped around her body but instead currently being used to wring out the water from her long hair. ]
Oh — thanks!
[ she doesn't notice, innocently reaching around the door to take the clothing from benedict's hands.
and, no, it has not actually occured to kate yet just what exactly she has asked him to do. knowing kate, it won't occur to her until much later, probably not until she's pulling that lace over her legs will she realize oh. that's right. benedict has touched these as well.
by then her mortification will know no bounds, and she'll have a brief moment to contemplate actually flinging herself off the balcony. ]
more specifically, of kate's reflection in the mirror. of kate, standing just beyond the opposite side of that door, towel no longer wrapped around her body but instead currently being used to wring out the water from her long hair. ]
Oh — thanks!
[ she doesn't notice, innocently reaching around the door to take the clothing from benedict's hands.
and, no, it has not actually occured to kate yet just what exactly she has asked him to do. knowing kate, it won't occur to her until much later, probably not until she's pulling that lace over her legs will she realize oh. that's right. benedict has touched these as well.
by then her mortification will know no bounds, and she'll have a brief moment to contemplate actually flinging herself off the balcony. ]
[ It's no surprise that Benedict grew up with a lot of comfortable wealth surrounding him. It's certainly not a secret to Kate, who's experiencing the fruits of that first-hand. With that amount of wealth comes a certain kind of schooling, which means he's studied human anatomy from both an academic standpoint, poring over highly-detailed textbooks, and he's also taken his fair share of field medicine courses, an endeavor helped along by his own brief stint in the military.
Plus, he's grown up surrounded by women, from his mother, to his cousin who's close enough to him in age that they were often bathed together as young children, to the twins whose diapers he helped change when they were young.
All that is to say that the sight of a naked woman shouldn't be enough to fluster him. And yet...
He doesn't drop her clothes, mainly because his reflexes are too good for that, but it's a near thing. What he does, actually, is notice the expanse of honeyed skin on display in the reflection of the mirror, freeze for a half-second, then snap his eyes shut like that's going to do anything but force him to look at the after-image behind his eyelids.
If his voice is a little bit strangled when he replies, well. Hopefully she won't notice. ]
It's no problem.
Plus, he's grown up surrounded by women, from his mother, to his cousin who's close enough to him in age that they were often bathed together as young children, to the twins whose diapers he helped change when they were young.
All that is to say that the sight of a naked woman shouldn't be enough to fluster him. And yet...
He doesn't drop her clothes, mainly because his reflexes are too good for that, but it's a near thing. What he does, actually, is notice the expanse of honeyed skin on display in the reflection of the mirror, freeze for a half-second, then snap his eyes shut like that's going to do anything but force him to look at the after-image behind his eyelids.
If his voice is a little bit strangled when he replies, well. Hopefully she won't notice. ]
It's no problem.
[ she notices, but attributes it to her previous fuck up and thus takes another moment to silently berate herself for her stupidity. her entire purpose here is meant to make this visit home bearable for him... the last thing he needs is having to deal with the awkwardness of the repercussions of your friend's trashfire tendencies.
she tries to dress quickly. save for the slight hiccup wherein she finally realizes she made her friend dig through her underwear (goddammit, katejamin) it goes off without a hitch, and she is soon shuffling out of the bathroom looking still damp but significantly drier.
it stands to reason that her clothes would look good on her, as no one really picks items out that are unflattering on purpose. but there's a difference between single items looking good, and an entire outfit working out. the ensemble that benedict has chosen is classy and chic, displaying a modern femininity that only highlights her worldliness. she feels oddly shy standing before him in the outfit he'd chosen, tucking a damp lock of hair behind her ear. it'll take her a while longer to shake off the embarrassment from earlier, but she's determined not to make it too obvious. ]
Did you want to take a quick shower too? I swear I didn't use up all the hot water.
she tries to dress quickly. save for the slight hiccup wherein she finally realizes she made her friend dig through her underwear (goddammit, katejamin) it goes off without a hitch, and she is soon shuffling out of the bathroom looking still damp but significantly drier.
it stands to reason that her clothes would look good on her, as no one really picks items out that are unflattering on purpose. but there's a difference between single items looking good, and an entire outfit working out. the ensemble that benedict has chosen is classy and chic, displaying a modern femininity that only highlights her worldliness. she feels oddly shy standing before him in the outfit he'd chosen, tucking a damp lock of hair behind her ear. it'll take her a while longer to shake off the embarrassment from earlier, but she's determined not to make it too obvious. ]
Did you want to take a quick shower too? I swear I didn't use up all the hot water.
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