Bethany stumbled out of her tent, blinking sleepily; she had been alone when she woke, reaching out for a lover who wasn't there, and that moment of disorientation still had her out of sorts. A few more blinks to clear her vision brought the camp into focus: a few clouds catching the pink and orange of sunrise, a pot of oatmeal over the fire, half-a-dozen Grey Wardens milling about, and the man she was looking for, Nathaniel, sitting on a fallen tree and staring intently at something.
Someone pressed a mug in her hands as she walked past. She took it and drank without really looking. It was coffee, hot and strong and sweet, just how she liked it, and she thanked the Maker for the few small pleasures of the road. Things like coffee and sunrises and the smell of trees, and Nathaniel. "Good morning," she said as she approached, words softened by a rush of shyness. They had spent over a month dancing around each other, sharing the careful banter and smoldering looks that seemed to pass for flirting in the mind of Nathaniel Howe. Eventually, they had progressed to stolen kisses and spending the occasional night together, but this was the first time they had shared a tent on the road. He'd given her no reason to doubt him, but what if he was rethinking having taken this step?
At her words, Nathaniel looked up and smiled, setting aside the small whetstone he was using to sharpen an arrowhead and taking the offered beverage. "Good morning." He sipped from the mug, then reached for her with his other hand, his long, nimble fingers closing around her wrist to tug her towards him, pulling her closer and down until her only option was to settle on his lap. Which she did, and then he kissed her, pressing his firm, generous mouth to hers, lips parting slightly, his arm coming around her waist to pull her tight to him. She rested one hand on his chest and brought the other up to his cheek, letting it slide back into his thick, unbound hair.
Somewhere far away, a Warden whistled for his hound, and Bethany pulled away, her cheeks and forehead warming at the sudden reminder of where they were. "What are you doing? Everyone will see." She glanced nervously over her shoulder, noted half a dozen of their brothers sitting by the fire, hustling around camp.
Nathaniel chuckled, deep in the back of his throat, and Bethany felt her stomach tighten. She turned back to look at him; he was smiling, and his grey eyes were warm. "Perhaps I don't care who sees." He squeezed her fingers and kissed her again, and his next words were murmured against her lips. "After last night, they'll be gossiping around the fire regardless. We may as well give them something worthwhile to discuss."
Years after, Bethany would still remember that morning as the moment she officially threw caution to the winds; she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him in return, nibbling his lips with a contented sigh. He tasted of coffee and fresh air and himself, and she let herself luxuriate in him, in one private public moment that she thought might lead to many more.
Simple Pleasures (Bethany/Nathaniel, PG)
Someone pressed a mug in her hands as she walked past. She took it and drank without really looking. It was coffee, hot and strong and sweet, just how she liked it, and she thanked the Maker for the few small pleasures of the road. Things like coffee and sunrises and the smell of trees, and Nathaniel. "Good morning," she said as she approached, words softened by a rush of shyness. They had spent over a month dancing around each other, sharing the careful banter and smoldering looks that seemed to pass for flirting in the mind of Nathaniel Howe. Eventually, they had progressed to stolen kisses and spending the occasional night together, but this was the first time they had shared a tent on the road. He'd given her no reason to doubt him, but what if he was rethinking having taken this step?
At her words, Nathaniel looked up and smiled, setting aside the small whetstone he was using to sharpen an arrowhead and taking the offered beverage. "Good morning." He sipped from the mug, then reached for her with his other hand, his long, nimble fingers closing around her wrist to tug her towards him, pulling her closer and down until her only option was to settle on his lap. Which she did, and then he kissed her, pressing his firm, generous mouth to hers, lips parting slightly, his arm coming around her waist to pull her tight to him. She rested one hand on his chest and brought the other up to his cheek, letting it slide back into his thick, unbound hair.
Somewhere far away, a Warden whistled for his hound, and Bethany pulled away, her cheeks and forehead warming at the sudden reminder of where they were. "What are you doing? Everyone will see." She glanced nervously over her shoulder, noted half a dozen of their brothers sitting by the fire, hustling around camp.
Nathaniel chuckled, deep in the back of his throat, and Bethany felt her stomach tighten. She turned back to look at him; he was smiling, and his grey eyes were warm. "Perhaps I don't care who sees." He squeezed her fingers and kissed her again, and his next words were murmured against her lips. "After last night, they'll be gossiping around the fire regardless. We may as well give them something worthwhile to discuss."
Years after, Bethany would still remember that morning as the moment she officially threw caution to the winds; she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him in return, nibbling his lips with a contented sigh. He tasted of coffee and fresh air and himself, and she let herself luxuriate in him, in one private public moment that she thought might lead to many more.