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The nutritional adequacy of plant-based diets
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Joined: Sept 2010 Gender: Male Posts: 1,334 Location: The Arse-End of Ferelden Karma: 22
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #30 on Jan 2, 2012, 7:52pm »
Siorus watched with growing amusement as Sol giggled and sipped her wine. As always, her happiness affected him oddly. It made him want to smile, which he noticed he wanted to do a lot more often of late, it made him feel what he liked to describe as content, but suspected might be more. He dared not call himself happy, that would tempt Fate. He did not want to dwell on his superstitious nature today, however, he wanted to taste wine and enjoy the company of someone who made him smile.
Sol undid a couple of the buttons at her throat, then patted her cheek. Siorus allowed his gaze to wander, his smile widening toward a grin.
"C'est chaud, n'est-ce pas?"
“Yes,” Siorus agreed. Blonde brows flicked upward. “Is that your assessment of the wine?”
She tasted the wine again. "There is a difference, yes, but it's subtle," she decided. "I think it is spicier. A little heavier than the earlier one."
Siorus nodded. He’d thought the same. Confidence bolstered, he took another sip from his glass. Yes, it was spicier, it was better. Again, he liked it.
To his surprise, Sol drained her glass and reached for the previous bottle. "Let's compare!"
Eyes widening slightly, Siorus let out an exasperated breath. “But I am not finished this glass.” He eyed the half full glass in his hand. “You can compare, or I will taste yours.” Ah! He had hit upon a plan. If Sol wanted to drink so much he had to carry her up the stairs, so be it. He would remain sober enough to do the carrying.
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #31 on Jan 2, 2012, 8:22pm »
"No, you cannot taste mine, because it is mine," she reasoned. "You must have your own. What if you spit in my glass, hm?"
She wrinkled her nose at the idea, then arched a brow at the blond mercenary-bann. He looked quite relaxed and...almost happy. The lightest she'd seen him, easily. His grey eyes wandered, investigating her cleavage—the bare hint revealed by the release of the buttons—and warmth of an entirely different sort flooded her, fueling her smile.
"You can finish your glass. I will wait." She waved at him to do so, noting his slight hesitation. Sharp green eyes picked up the slight indications from Siorus that he, too, was starting to feel the effects of the wine.
"Now, why would you suggest sharing such small glasses of wine?" she pondered, playing idly with the open bottle of the earlier Arbor Red. It danced across the table in a slow jig. "It can't be for fear of wasting it." She gave the cellar a pointed look. "I think not. No! I know what it is."
Leaving the bottle alone for the moment, the older wine unpoured, Sol rose from her seat and moved around the table. She settled in front of Siorus's chair, resting her derriere against the table, one foot propped up beside his leg. Leaning forward, she bopped a finger against his nose, her smile growing.
"You," she began, timing her words with the taps, "don't want to get drunk." She drew back and continued, not allowing him to offer a rebuttal. "It is something I usually avoid. Not really because of the magic. I did not err when I was sick, yes? It is always emotion that is my weakness. But enough of that." She waved a hand and shook her head, dismissing her words. "We are here, in your lovely cellar, your lovely private cellar, and what does it matter if we get drunk? There is no one to see. No one we are trying to impress, or woo, or—" The Ferelden word escaped her. She frowned, then waved her hand again. "My point is...let us live a little, hm?" Her eyes gleamed with mischief. "If you giggle, I will not tell anyone. I promise."
Joined: Sept 2010 Gender: Male Posts: 1,334 Location: The Arse-End of Ferelden Karma: 22
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #32 on Jan 3, 2012, 8:56am »
"No, you cannot taste mine, because it is mine," Sol stated. "You must have your own. What if you spit in my glass, hm?"
Siorus laughed. The very idea he might spit in her glass tickling his sense of the absurd.
With a wider smile, Sol encouraged him to finish his glass and Siorus considered the few mouthfuls of liquid with as neutral an expression as he could muster. What excuse could he offer for not wanting to finish his glass? Perhaps he could tell her he liked the wine and wanted to savour it. Sol had her own ideas. Moving the bottle in an idle pattern across the table, she proposed his reticence did not stem from a fear of wasting the wine.
Actually...
"I think not. No! I know what it is."
Siorus looked toward the cellar, wondering what had provoked sudden inspiration. Sol moved, rising from her chair and moving in front of him. Resting her behind on the table, she set a foot near his leg and leaned forward to tap his nose. Siorus blinked, more than a little confused, more than a little distracted by her proximity. Of its own accord, his gaze dipped into her cleavage.
"You," the finger tapped his nose again, "don't want to get drunk." Leaning back, she continued. "It is something I usually avoid. Not really because of the magic. I did not err when I was sick, yes? It is always emotion that is my weakness. But enough of that." Dismissing that direction of conversation, Sol returned to the notion, the correct conclusion, of his abstinence. "We are here, in your lovely cellar, your lovely private cellar,” Why must it be lovely? It is just a cellar, albeit a private one, “and what does it matter if we get drunk?” Siorus’ brows dipped. “There is no one to see. No one we are trying to impress, or woo, or—" She paused, fingers flicking through the air again. "My point is...let us live a little, hm?" Mischief lit her eyes. "If you giggle, I will not tell anyone. I promise."
Siorus laughed again. “I do not giggle,” he stated. A hand moved to the leg propped up on his chair, tracing the line of Sol’s calf toward her knee. He kept the pressure light, she would barely feel his touch beneath her breeches... it might tickle. “That is your job,” he proposed with a grin. “And when you are drunk and giggling, I will carry you up the stairs.” Lifting his hand from her leg, Siorus leaned forward to pick up his wine glass. “It would take more than a few glasses of wine to make me drunk anyway.”
Dimly, he realised he had just issued a challenge of sorts. Rather than back it up with a look, he kept his eyes pointed toward his glass and took a healthy mouthful. He deliberately put the glass back down and relaxed in his chair, gaze roaming over the woman perched before him. “Maybe I will not carry you back upstairs,” he commented. “As you say, the cellar is private.” He looked up with a wolfish grin. “But, we have all this tasting to do, yes?” Reaching for his glass, he drained the last mouthful.
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #33 on Jan 3, 2012, 10:02am »
Sol's mischief-laden suggestion that she would not share if he giggled was met with a hearty laugh. “I do not giggle,” Siorus insisted, a hand moving to her leg. If she did not see the fingers brushing along her breeches, she would not know they were there. “That is your job.”
"Is it?" Sol leaned in a little.
“And when you are drunk and giggling, I will carry you up the stairs.” He removed his hand from her leg and reached around her to retrieve his glass of wine. “It would take more than a few glasses of wine to make me drunk anyway.”
"Vraiment?" She watched as he took a generous mouthful of the wine, then relaxed in his chair. His eyes travelled over her, and again the warmth that had nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with him flooded her.
“Maybe I will not carry you back upstairs,” he commented. “As you say, the cellar is private.”
"Mmhmm." She looked around, as if evaluating its privacy. "Shall we send for a blanket, then? Or will the table suffice?" She answered his wolfish grin with one of her own. "The chair looks sturdy enough."
“But, we have all this tasting to do, yes?” He drained the last mouthful of his glass, and Sol couldn't help it: she giggled.
"Yes. Work before pleasure, no? We can get to other tasting later." She arched her brow, knowing it was not needed to convey her meaning.
Leaning back, Sol retrieved the older Arbor Red and poured a (rather sloppy) portion into Siorus's glass. Then, leaning back again, she performed a rather athletic and highly impractical reach to get her own glass—getting up would have been much more efficient, but she was loathe to leave her perch in front of Siorus. After grasping for the glass, she finally managed to get it, and righted herself with a grin. Another measure was poured into it—then she looked at Siorus with something akin to horror in her expression.
"We have not toasted!" She placed the bottle of wine carefully on the table, then raised her glass. "À votre santé, Siorus..." A soft giggle-snort left her. "Et votre endurance."
« Last Edit: Jan 3, 2012, 10:03am by Renée Cadigan »
Joined: Sept 2010 Gender: Male Posts: 1,334 Location: The Arse-End of Ferelden Karma: 22
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #34 on Jan 3, 2012, 5:53pm »
At his suggestion they might stay in the cellar for other reasons, Sol made a thoughtful sound and looked around. "Shall we send for a blanket, then? Or will the table suffice?" Her grin matched his. "The chair looks sturdy enough."
Snickering, Siorus mentioned they had more tasting to tend to first. Sol agreed, adding they could taste each other later – not in so many words. Siorus made a sound, something between a grunt and pleasurable hum. It seemed easier than verbalizing an actual response and they both knew he would be more than amenable to the plan.
Sol then performed some interesting acrobatics. Remaining seated before him, she sloshed wine into his glass, then twisted about to retrieve her own glass. Siorus took advantage of the situation. He placed a steadying hand to either side of her hips, as if he meant to assist, then he let his hands travel upward, fingers exploring the dip of her waist as she turned. Somehow, she managed to pour herself a glass without spilling the wine.
"We have not toasted!"
No, we have ‘tasted’, Siorus answered silently, amusing himself.
Putting the bottle down, Sol raised her glass. "À votre santé, Siorus..." Something between a giggle and s snort interrupted her. "Et votre endurance."
“Hah!” he said, smile widening. So, it was to be a contest, hm? Leaving one hand on her thigh in a proprietary manner, Siorus picked up his glass and raised it. “Salute.”
The wine tasted familiar, but lacked the depth of the one they had just sampled. “The twenty-six is better,” he commented. A second mouthful drained his glass and he could feel the wine coursing down his gullet, leaving a light burn that warmed his chest and loosened his shoulders. Fingers curling against Sol’s thigh, he let a slow grin creep over his mouth as he appeared to relax more in his seat. Perhaps if he seemed more inebriated than he was, Sol would stop plying him with alcohol. His only other option was to outlast her.
“Is it time to try the fickle wine?” he asked, holding out his glass.
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #35 on Jan 3, 2012, 7:58pm »
Siorus answered her challenge with a "hah!" and she smiled at him over the rim of her glass. His hand stayed on her thigh, continued contact that Sol did not protest in the slightest, and he raised his glass to return her toast.
“The twenty-six is better,” he declared, and Sol had to agree. The earlier vintage lacked the depth of the newer one, the richness that made it interesting.
Her smile grew as Siorus drained his glass, then relaxed in his seat, his fingers pressing into her skin. It was almost an intimate touch, and yet not. Sol sipped at her wine, knowing it would do nothing to cool the heat in her cheeks and not really caring.
It seemed he was eager to meet her challenge. “Is it time to try the fickle wine?” he asked, holding out his glass.
Sol downed the remainder of her own glass, then cast a glance behind her to evaluate the distance to the blend. "If I try to reach backwards for that, we will probably end up with wine bottles scattered on the floor," she confessed. Her eyes travelled to the hand on her leg. "So either you will need to release me so I can get up and get it…or you can retrieve it." Which would mean him moving closer…so that was, of course, her favored choice.
Joined: Sept 2010 Gender: Male Posts: 1,334 Location: The Arse-End of Ferelden Karma: 22
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #36 on Jan 4, 2012, 10:13am »
“I will retrieve it,” Siorus decided.
Instead of moving his hand, he pressed down against Sol’s thigh, as if gaining leverage. He did not need it, but liked the tease of his fingers grasping her leg. Lazy smile in place, he leaned forward as he rose, moving closer to Sol until a hand’s breadth separated them. She sat slightly below him, forehead level with his chin, and Siorus looked down at her from his new height as he reached around her for the bottle, leaning closer still, the space between them disappearing.
Her shoulder brushed his chest, the warmth of her skin apparent through the layers of cloth, and the scent of her hair filled his nostrils. His fingers grazed the bottle, then curled about the neck, his other hand still gripping her leg lightly, the balance now almost necessary. He grasped the bottle, but did not lean back. Instead, he turned his head so that his lips touched soft strands of red hair and he inhaled the aroma of her soap, her skin, peppermint and herbs, salt and spice.
“I smell peppermint,” he murmured against her ear. “And rosemary.” She had used the soap he had bought her. Did she wonder where it had come from? Lips grazing the rim of her ear, he tasted her skin, then bent to find the line of her jaw, her neck. “I taste...” He paused, contemplating the taste of her skin. “You.” Vaguely aware he’d voiced thoughts, Siorus kissed his way toward her lips, then withdrew before tasting her mouth. The air between them felt charged and the cool air of the cellar did not intervene until he leaned back a little more, needing a breath not filled with warmth and wine and Sol.
Smile crooking up on one side, Siorus drew in that needed breath and lifted the bottle over her shoulder, placing it conveniently between them. “I will taste your lips after we try the Anwadal, see if it suits you.”
He sat a little more heavily than he should have, relieved to take weight of legs that felt... loose. Grinning at the bottle, he picked up the corkscrew and relieved it of its cork, noting the date as he did so. “Twenty-six.” He looked up. “A good year, perhaps.” In his current state of ‘relaxation’, the date meant little. One year felt much like another and he did not bother to contemplate the reason Dragon twenty-six had produced better wine than the year before, or the year after.
Pouring two modest portions, Siorus put the bottle aside and handed Sol her glass.
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #37 on Jan 4, 2012, 1:17pm »
Siorus was amenable to retrieving the bottle. Sol's breath caught as his fingers tightened on her leg, the weight upon his hand increasing as he rose from his seat. He leaned over her, reaching behind her, and she resisted the urge to turn her head and taste the skin of his neck, so close. Though her breath was ragged, the scent of him flooded her senses—leather, steel, musk, heat.
His lips brushed against her hair and she heard him inhale. “I smell peppermint,” he breathed. “And rosemary.”
An inarticulate sound left her, something that might have been a confirmation. After Siorus had returned from Lothering, she'd discovered a peppermint and rosemary scented bar of soap in the bathing room—for her, she'd assumed. She'd smiled at both the gesture, and the lack of attention called to it. So typically Siorus. A hand rose to brush against the other gift he'd given her, the silver necklace with green stones that twined about her neck more days than not.
Lips found the ridge of her ear through her hair and she closed her eyes as desire shot through her. Her chin rose of its own accord, giving him access to her jaw, her neck, as the path of his mouth silently demanded it.
“I taste...” A pause. “You.”
His lips continued on their path toward hers, her breath growing more ragged with each caress. She clenched her hands on the edge of the table, wanting to lift her arms to embrace him, to hold him to her, but she held back even as he drew away before his lips could claim hers. He wanted to tease, and she wanted to be teased. Sometimes the most pleasure was found in not listening to one's body, hm?
Her eyes blinked open, her lids heavy with want, to see Siorus smiling crookedly at her. He lifted the bottle, placing it on the edge of the table between them, ensuring there was space enough to breathe without the other's scent intruding, even if Sol couldn't quite manage a clear thought yet. Her mind swirled pleasantly, warm with contentment and desire.
“I will taste your lips after we try the Anwadal, see if it suits you,” Siorus declared.
She nodded. Any words she voiced would be breathy, barely audible; there was no need for them, no need for her to support the desire that had to be flashing in her gaze.
Siorus returned to his seat and uncorked the wine. “Twenty-six,” he said, looking up. “A good year, perhaps.”
Sol took the glass he poured her, her eyes on his, and tilted it back for a generous mouthful, not bothering with the tasting ritual. The flavor of the vintage hit her like a punch. Sweet, much sweeter than the Arbor Red had been, but just as bold, just as deep and rich. An unapologetic wine, it would not suit many meals, overwhelming tastes rather than complementing them. The Anwadal was overpowering, too much.
She loved it.
A low sound of pleasure left her and Sol drained her glass, her eyes closing as she savored the second mouthful. Her head tipped back as she swallowed, and when she opened her eyes again, the room swayed slightly before settling. She put her glass aside, barely noting that it tipped and rolled in a lazy semi-circle, then leaned forward, her hands on the back of Siorus's chair. Moving forward slowly, sinuously, she placed one leg on one side of his, and the other over the other side and drew herself close, seating herself upon his lap.
"Now you may taste me," she purred, not realizing she'd slipped into Orlesian. Her teeth nipped at Siorus's lips, daring him to do more.
Joined: Sept 2010 Gender: Male Posts: 1,334 Location: The Arse-End of Ferelden Karma: 22
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #38 on Jan 4, 2012, 4:04pm »
Siorus almost laughed as Sol tipped back her glass without bothering to sniff and swirl. He grinned instead – I seem to be smiling more than scowling, I must be inebriated – and watched her ‘taste’ the wine. She reacted physically to it, a low sound in her throat, eyes closing as she drained the glass, and Siorus decided to try his.
Like Sol, Siorus neglected protocol and simply drank it. After swallowing, he blinked in surprise as the residual flavour lingered on his tongue. He registered the boldness that characterized the Arbor red, but something else rivaled it, a spicy sweetness he could not identify.
Because I have drunk too much wine.
The sound of a glass rolling across the table drew his attention and Siorus looked up to see Sol leaning toward him, her hands seeking the back of his chair. A breath later, she settled in his lap, bringing with her the scent of soap and wine, and warmth that had little to do with body heat. Stifling a groan, That is not how we play the game, Siorus tipped his wine glass back one more time to drain it, then let it roll across the table toward the other so he could wrap his hands about her waist.
Sol murmured something in Orlesian, her lips against his. Without pausing to translate, Siorus decided it had been an invitation to kiss her. Should he comply, or tease? A nip of teeth drew a sharp breath and Siorus lost the will to tease. Capturing her lips with his, he kissed her, tasted her, wine and all.
Thumbs moved over her ribs while fingers pressed into the back of her hips. He thought about undressing her, but became too involved in the kiss to remember the thought. Like the kisses they sometimes exchanged, this one felt all encompassing until the flush of his skin no longer felt proportionate to the amount of wine he’d had to drink. Then his hands became more purposeful.
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #39 on Jan 4, 2012, 4:43pm »
Siorus accepted her invitation, his lips slanting over hers possessively. He did not start slowly; he did not tease. He took, stealing her breath and her thoughts, leaving her with heat and need and desire in their place. The kiss pulled her more deeply into him, into them, until all Sol could think of was taking the next step, divesting themselves of their breeches, and finding completion in each other.
But where was the tease in that?
She drew back, inhaling deeply in an effort to stop the room from continuing its lazy drifting. Vaguely she noted that Siorus's hands were busy at her waist, pulling her tunic up and revealing what skin he could. She leaned forward, pressing herself even more closely against him, a sound that could only be described as a purr leaving her lips.
"My head is spinning," she confessed, still speaking Orlesian, a fact that escaped her. She nipped at Siorus's ear, shifting purposely as she did so. "Is it the wine? Is it you? I think it is both." She nuzzled where her teeth had grazed him. "You intoxicate me, my wolf. You fill my head…you fill my blood…" Something like a growl escaped her as she scraped her teeth along his jaw. "I want you, I always want you. I need you."
Her teeth reached his chin and she drew back, looking at him with mischievous eyes. When she spoke, it was in Fereldan once more, but far more heavily accented than usual. "But, we know this stamina is perfect, do we not? That is not the challenge before us." Her smile grew. "Unless you are already drunk. Then I have won, because I am not." She frowned. "Not totally. I can still talk, no? And clearly. So clearly, I am not drunk. Clearly." In case it wasn't…clear.
Joined: Sept 2010 Gender: Male Posts: 1,334 Location: The Arse-End of Ferelden Karma: 22
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #40 on Jan 5, 2012, 10:05am »
Sol pulled back, drawing in a deep breath, and Siorus took the opportunity to do the same, though the air between them, scented as it was with Sol, wine and warmth did little to clear his head. Sol leaned in again, but her lips escaped him. He contented himself with what skin he could find, lips tracing the line of her neck down toward the necklace, the presence of which he noted with a flare of... something... pleasure? Skipping over the filigreed silver, he nosed aside the fabric of her tunic and kissed her collar bone, the tip of his tongue tasting her skin, his mind still vaguely cataloguing notes.
"My head is spinning," Sol whispered against his ear. The following nip drew an inarticulate sound from the mercenary. "Is it the wine? Is it you? I think it is both."
“Both,” Siorus breathed, unaware he’d spoken aloud, unaware he had answered in Orlesian, aware he suffered a similar conundrum. His fingers crawled upwards beneath her tunic, exploring warm, smooth flesh.
"You intoxicate me, my wolf. You fill my head…you fill my blood…" Sol might have groaned, Siorus’ was louder. "I want you, I always want you. I need you."
Sol leaned back and Siorus leaned toward her instinctively. He would follow; right now, he would follow. He did not want to play, he simply wanted. The look in Sol’s eyes gave him reason to pause, a reason that echoed through his head as soft whine and left his lips as a low sound, something between a whine and a growl.
Not a whimper. I do not whimper.
Speaking Fereldan again, Sol continued with the tease. "But, we know this stamina is perfect, do we not? That is not the challenge before us."
“No...?” I did not just whine. Siorus worked to banish the heat from his eyes, the neediness from his posture. He may as well have tried to pull the moon from the heavens. His hands were cold, he wanted to slip them beneath her tunic again.
Sol’s smile widened. "Unless you are already drunk. Then I have won, because I am not." She frowned. "Not totally. I can still talk, no? And clearly. So clearly, I am not drunk. Clearly."
Sol’ intoxicated babble served to distract Siorus from the base need to throw her back across the table and tear her breeches off... just. He still entertained the thought, heat and desire occupied more than half his brain, but he remembered the challenge now and he could not let her claim victory, not when he still had the capacity to drink more, if he must. Of course, he had not tried to stand recently, and he had trouble thinking about more than the taste of Sol’s lips.
“I am not drunk,” he stated, unsure what language he had just spoken. Making the mental shift to Ferelden, he found his half grin and continued. “I am intoxicated, though.” I just said that aloud, yes? More than heat suffused his skin. Waving a hand, the motion creating a small, but welcome breeze, he changed the subject. “And drinking does not inhibit the tongue, it loosens it.” His grin widened as he scored his point.
Leaning forward, he traced a finger just inside the unbuttoned neckline of her tunic. “So, do you want to talk more, or less?”
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #41 on Jan 5, 2012, 11:41am »
As Sol drew back, an odd sound left Siorus. Something like…a whimper? A growling whimper, if there was such a thing. When she stated that this was not the challenge before them, Siorus answered with a denial that had an edge to it to which Sol wasn't accustomed. A needy edge.
She rather liked it.
Clearly, Sol was not drunk (clearly), so if Siorus was, then she had won their challenge. She looked at him, somewhat triumphantly, her focused gaze preventing the room from swaying too much.
He said something that sounded like another denial, from the tone, but Sol couldn't identify the words. A half-grin appeared on his lips. “I am intoxicated, though.” He waved a hand, as if to brush away the admission. “And drinking does not inhibit the tongue, it loosens it.”
Sol's smile widened to match Siorus's and she nodded, giggling softly as it felt like her head was about to nod its way off her neck. "Yes, it does that, does it not? My tongue is very loose." She stuck it out and wiggled it to demonstrate, then laughed again.
Had she ever felt this free, this happy, this…this open? Her cheeks ached from smiling so widely, but it wasn't enough to dim her expression. She leaned back some more, her hands gripping the back of Siorus's chair so she wouldn't fall backwards and bang her head—even through the pleasant fuzziness, she knew that would be bad—and smiled up at the ceiling. Siorus took the opportunity to trace a finger beneath the gaping neck of her tunic, tickling. She jolted upright, squirming a bit as she laughed.
“So, do you want to talk more, or less?” The look in his eyes said less, much less.
"You want me." Sol nodded, as if this were a secret she had just uncovered. Of course, it wasn't—she awoke nearly every morning to the knowledge that her mercenary-bann desired her. She shimmied backwards, off Siorus's lap. "You can't have me," she added in a sing-song tone, a saucy grin dancing over her lips. "We have two more vintages to taste!"
She stood, a hand reaching for the table to steady herself as the room tilted. Fingers trailing along the tabletop, she started around to her side of the table. Her feet wanted to do funny things, but she kept them in line—until about halfway around the table. Then one did something odd and she lost her balance, tumbling to the floor. Nothing was bruised in the fall, not even her pride; it had fled with her temper sometime in the last hour or so. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she blinked up at Siorus. Then the absurdity of the moment hit her.
She snorted, then giggled…then laughed, a full, hearty belly laugh that she rarely allowed, one that brought even more color to her cheeks, set tears in her eyes, and robbed her of breath.
"The floor has voted!" she cried, then lost herself to the laughter once more.
Joined: Sept 2010 Gender: Male Posts: 1,334 Location: The Arse-End of Ferelden Karma: 22
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #42 on Jan 5, 2012, 2:56pm »
Demonstrating the looseness of her tongue, Sol waggled it at him. Siorus chuckled, not really taken by surprise, Sol had her whimsical moments, but amused nonetheless. Sol laughed and the mercenary enjoyed the sound of her laughter more than he did the sight of her making a fool of herself. Neither the wag of her tongue nor her laughter had distracted him from the flash of skin at the open neck of her tunic, however, or the feel of her flesh beneath his fingers, which itched to skim back beneath warm linen, creep upwards, explore. He teased the neckline of her tunic and invited her to give up the game, join him in less, which would be more...
Stop thinking.
"You want me."
Sol nodded and Siorus found his chin dipping in response. “Yes.” A statement of fact. “Always.” Something that could have remained unvoiced. He needed to stop talking. Less is more?
Dancing backwards, out of his reach, Sol declared he could not have her. Her grin belied her words. He could not have her now, but surely he would have her later. And later was subjective, was it not?
What does that mean?
“It means we have two more vintages to taste.” Siorus eyed the bottles warily, wondering at the folly of allowing himself to consume more alcohol. He felt warm, he felt compromised, but not dangerously so. If the situation called for it, he could throw off this lackadaisical attitude and react as he needed to. If the situation called for it. No bandits lurked in his cellar, however, and no one waited to exploit the cracks in his armour. He was alone, with Sol. Had he been standing, relief might have weakened his knees at that simple thought, that he had found someone to simply ‘be’ with.
Except, she had disappeared.
One moment she’d been a presence at the edge of the table, a direction for the warm and somewhat dissolute edge of his thoughts. Then she disappeared, a bark of laughter in her wake.
"The floor has voted!" came the sound of her voice, then more laughter.
Leaning sideways in his seat, Siorus spotted the mage seated on her behind... on the floor. “You fell,” he stated, a grin splitting his face. Righting himself before he joined her on the floor, Siorus gripped the edge of the table and leaned forward, pulling himself up and out of his chair. The floor remained steady beneath his feet and the cellar did not lurch as he’d begun to suspect it might. He did not feel sober, but neither did he feel drunk. He felt... loose, more than simply content.
“Contentedly content.” Frowning, he murmured, “Stop talking to yourself,” then edged around the table to look down at Sol. A wicked smile appeared, one backed by the mischievous glint in his eyes. “A gentleman would help you up, yes? I am no gentleman, I am a bastard. Perhaps I should join you down there, hm? Take advantage of your weakened state.” He paused, shoulders moving as he chuckled. “I would make you drink more, but then you might pass out on me, frustrate me and we cannot have that.” Where were all these words coming from? And... He had dropped to his knees, for the love of all that was holy, and he was leaning toward Sol, the proximity of her reawakening the need, desire rapidly replacing amusement.
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #43 on Jan 5, 2012, 3:26pm »
Siorus craned his head over the edge of his seat. “You fell.” A grin, wide enough to battle her own, appeared on his lips.
"I did not!" Sol huffed, then ruined her insulted mien by giggling some more. "The floor wanted to make my acquaintance. It conspired with my feet."
She watched in amusement as Siorus stood carefully, as though he thought the floor might try to make his acquaintance as well. She patted the floor, whether to invite Siorus to join her or assuage the floor's feelings, she wasn't sure.
“Contentedly content.”
"Yes!" That was exactly how she felt. Contentedly content. Nothing to worry over, nothing to concern her, just a buoyant contentment that seemed to keep her head floating a foot or two above her shoulders.
Siorus looked down at her from the edge of the table, a wicked, wolfish grin on his lips. He looked almost predatory, and the desire she'd tamped down flared.
“A gentleman would help you up, yes?" She narrowed her eyes, knowing what came next. "I am no gentleman, I am a bastard. Perhaps I should join you down there, hm? Take advantage of your weakened state.”
"Or perhaps I could take advantage of yours." The mischievous glint in her eyes matched that in his.
“I would make you drink more, but then you might pass out on me, frustrate me and we cannot have that.”
"I do not need to pass out to frustrate you, mon loup." Her grin rivalled his in wolfishness. "Will that be our new challenge? Shall I frustrate you more?"
Because there was no doubt, not in the way he looked at her, that she had not already done so to some extent. He wanted her, he'd said it himself. Always. The word repeated in her mind, echoing, consuming, as he knelt before her and leaned forward, his intention plain.
Always.
Yes.
She gave up teasing, she gave up all thoughts of frustrating him. Her arms opened and she welcomed him with a groan that said everything she felt, needing the connection, needing the heat, needing him.
Joined: Sept 2010 Gender: Male Posts: 1,334 Location: The Arse-End of Ferelden Karma: 22
Re: Viniculture [Closed] « Reply #44 on Jan 5, 2012, 4:59pm »
Siorus could feel the cool stone beneath his back. Sol had complained of the cold, which was why she lay draped across him; he had decided to be accommodating. A laconic smile spread across his mouth as grey eyes continued counting the beams supporting the cellar ceiling. Bastards could be accommodating, when they were getting what they wanted.
He had one arm curled about Sol’s back, fingers beneath her loosened tunic tracing idle circles over her warm skin. His other hand explored the floor, the edge of one massive paving stone, the same edge he could feel beneath his hips.
But for that edge and the cold seeping through rumpled linen, Siorus might let sleep overtake him. Sex in the morning energized him. In the afternoon, after several glasses of wine, it made him feel lazy, sated... content. More content than content.
Contentedly content.
His smile crooked up on one side. “I like wine tasting.”
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