verbrannt | you don't talk to no one, don't you look at nothin'

Even as she corners Lark against the wall, Astrid continues pressing her advance until their bodies are flush. It's been a time longer than she cares to remember since she has done this with another woman; with anyone but Eadwulf, really. Such assignments that might have once required it have been given to others better suited for espionage. Lark's smaller and softer frame is a revelation unto itself, and Astrid finally lets her hands begin their wandering as her lips trail down her lovely neck. How often she had caught herself staring at the slope of it, the graceful curve of her shoulder or soft hollow of collar bones? More than she would admit.

She allows herself a smile against flushed skin, teeth grazing lightly over the pulse.

"I've many more ways to expand your imagination...if you'll allow me."

Lark closes her eyes and she can't help the sigh that escapes her as Astrid traces the line of her neck with her lips. The gentle brush of teeth sends a spark of excitement right through her and her hands tighten briefly where she's holding on to the other woman.

"Yes," she breathes. Lark is intensely aware of all the places their bodies meet, the effort Astrid has put into making sure that there is almost no space between them. Can she fell the way Lark's heart is pounding this close? She turns her head, nose brushing against Astrid's cheek.

"I--I think I'd like that."

"Good." Lips find lips again, and Astrid easily and eagerly takes the lead. Her hands slide over Lark's form, feeling the curves of her body, mapping out the easiest way to remove her clothing. One pauses on one full breast, massaging through the linen in her palm. Ten different options for the things she most wants are considered and sorted and some discarded in a matter of seconds.

Then, seemingly abruptly, she pulls back, with a final nip on a kiss-swollen, lower lip.

"Go sit on the bed."

Lark takes a sharp breath as Astrid's hand grips and caresses her breast, sharply excited by the touch itself and the way the fabric drags against her skin. Her lips are still parted when Astrid breaks the kiss, offering that sharp little nip at the end.

It takes a moment for the words to actually sink in. Right. They are up against a wall and there are probably better places to do... whatever they are about to do. Lark's hands slide over Astrid's arm and her side as she pulls away, reluctant to let the other woman go.

She has just a moment to clear her head as she slips away into the bedroom, and as she sits on the edge of the bed she wonders if she should, maybe, undress a bit. But maybe that would be assuming too much? Lark squirms just a bit, thighs pressing briefly together in an attempt to get a moment of relief. Then she stills and lets herself enjoy the fact that her lips still sort of tingle from the last kiss.

Once her mind catches up with the rest of her, Lark rolls her eyes at herself and at least reaches back to untie the garden apron she's wearing.

A quick, half-dressed tryst has its time and place, but not for the first encounter, so far as Astrid is concerned. They'd only just come in from their chores, clothing half damp, boots muddy, bits of plant material clinging to skirts. No.

As Lark leaves, Astrid closes the front door and locks it, hastily bundling away their baskets before undoing her own apron and unlacing her boots. The socks she stuffs into the boots, her feet settling on the cool stone floor before she finally goes to join Lark in the bedroom. She stops only for a moment over the threshold, taking her in. Long dark hair falling in gentle waves, the swell of her lips, freshly kissed, the bright anticipation in her eyes and the rise and fall of her chest...she's entirely different than anyone she's known intimately, and yet her mind tries picking out bits and pieces that remind her of her beloved Bren and Wulf.

No, she thinks. Lark should only ever exist outside of those thoughts.

Astrid steps forward, hooks a finger under that sweet chin and tilts her upward. The kiss this time is less forceful, but never lacking in heat. Another kiss, and another, before she kneels on the floor between Lark's knees, and begins to unlace her boots. she shifts her skirts away, one hand sliding up underneath the curve of her calf before pulling the shoe free, and setting it aside with the stocking. Lips follow again, first to her knee, then just slightly above, at the inside of her thigh, as her hands massage down the leg. After a few moments, she repeats her attentions to the other leg.

Lark smiles when Astrid appears in the doorway, and she takes the momentary pause to admire her. She's different from anyone Lark's known with her short hair and her sharp eyes and the mystery of the tattoos on her arms, and Lark realizes she quite likes that.

She tips her head up more to lean into the kiss, spurred by the heat it sends through her. Lark is also very quickly deciding that she likes the way Astrid touches her, even if they've really only kissed. They'll haunt her dreams, she knows it.

Her blush deepens as Astrid knees, mostly because it's in that moment that Lark realizes she never took off her damned boots. She tries to hold back an apology as Astrid moves her skirts, though. Instead, she watches as nimble fingers pluck the laces free and she cannot help the little hitch of her breath as warm lips press against her skin. Oh. Soft lips part and there is undeniable warmth in her gaze as Astrid repeats herself with the other leg. She tries not to move when she feels the other woman's warm breath against her thigh, but the muscles still jump beneath the kiss Astrid presses there.

"Thank you," she murmurs when she finally finds her voice again. "I really ought to have taken those off sooner."

"You were distracted," Astrid quips lowly. Her lips trail a little farther upward along the soft skin of Lark's thigh. The temptation to bite is strong, as is the desire to just take her entirely with her mouth now. This close, the scent of her arousal is unmistakable, and Astrid feels a responding throbbing between her own legs. Gods, it's been months.

She surfaces again, rising up onto both knees now, bringing her perfectly to chest-height. Swift fingers make quick work of Larke's bodice, her eyes flicking upward to watch her watch. This could be done more quickly if they wished, but Astrid suspects she is not the only one who has gone without for a long time. Laces loosen, and her shirt opens enough for her hands to slide underneath, seeking soft skin and sweet, plump breasts.

"Have you been with a woman?"

"Just a little," she agrees with a laugh that sounds more strained than she means it to. Lark takes a deeper breath as Astrid rises and she keeps her eyes, vivid and green, on the other woman as those wonderfully dexterous hands go after her bodice. There's that faint rush of sensation as it comes loose and she swears the color in her face deepens as a warm hand slips beneath fabric to slide over her breast.

She shrugs out of the bodice, leaving it where it falls as she scoots a little closer to the edge of the bed. It is deliriously thrilling to feel Astrid between her legs.

"No," she admits. "I've been with men, though." She's definitely been with men, she isn't entirely a novice at this. And she's thought of women, but that hardly gives her the same experience beyond knowing her own body.

An almost bemused smile curls on her lips. "Well, as I said: allow me to broaden your imagination, hm?"

Blouse sufficiently loosened, Astrid tugs the wide neckline off one shoulder, and lower, finally, to expose one breast. The sight of this sweet young woman, eager and flushed and willing, sends another heated wave of arousal through her own body. Another flash of memory.

She cups Larke gently in her palm, fingertips rolling and fondling until the dusty pink nipple hardens. With a heated flash of her eyes, her mouth descends, and takes her in to take up the work of her fingers with her tongue and teeth instead.

Her heart is already beating faster and she feels an answering throb between her legs as Astrid strokes and squeezes and pinches until she has what she wants. But it isn't until Astrid's mouth replaces her fingers that Lark reaches for her.

She makes a sweet sound, almost a whimper, and her fingers sink into Astrid's hair, holding it back as her teeth and tongue tease her. Even after living and working like this most of her life, Lark still has soft curves, and more of them are revealed as she lets the wide neck of her blouse slide off the other shoulder.

Lark has to remind herself to stop trying to move closer: she'll run out of bed and she doesn't really want to knock both of them to the floor because she can't manage to sit still.

That little sound is what spurs her on, sucking and tonguing and nibbling at that sweet little nub. Lark is surprisingly reticent thus far otherwise, so Astrid resolves to find more ways to pull noises from her; she has plenty of ideas, yet.

She pauses just enough to push the shirt upward, up and off Lark completely. Dark hair tousles downward over her bared chest, lovely breasts on full display. Astrid wastes no time in resuming giving them her full attention with her hands and her mouth, placing hungry kisses between them, over them, fingertips stroking suggestively low on her stomach. She sucks the other nipple to full attention, moaning greedily to feel it respond against her tongue. More kisses, burying her face amidst the softness there before finally setting her teeth against the sweet curve of one breast, and sucks a dark mark into warm skin.

Lark helps get her blouse off and manages not to get tangled in it. Her legs tighten on either side of Astrid and her fingers stroke back into her shorter hair as she takes her other nipple. Every knead and stroke of her hands makes it feel more impossible to stay still and she can't help the moan that escapes her as Astrid's mouth moves to suck a bruise onto her breast.

"Astrid," she gasps out, but rather than saying anything else, Lark's hands move to try and relieve Astrid of her clothes. She tries not to be impatient with the lace holding Astrid's bodice closed and she manages to get it loose without getting in Astrid's way. Her fingers tug and pluck until the lace is gone completely. Her hands slide beneath the other woman's blouse, over her shoulders and down her back as far as Lark can reach. And in doing so, she pushes herself against Astrid's mouth.

Lark pushes at her clothes, her hands slipping beneath to touch skin, and Astrid nearly arches away on reflex; there are more scars on her body, more than than the ones Lark sees every day, and there's a moment where she nearly stops her.

The desire thrumming through her body quickly overrides any hesitation. It's nothing worse than what she's already seen on her face, or her neck, or the tattoos on her arms. Lark knows better than to ask by now, and the eagerness she feels in her only spurs her forward.

Astrid does pull back, but only enough to get back to her feet and push Lark back onto the bed. She stalks after her, shedding bodice and blouse and even her skirt, pulled hastily up over her head. Lark's dark hair is a beautiful spread across pale sheets, and Astrid curls a hand in it, leans in to capture her lips with her own again.

"You're beautiful," she purrs between kisses, pressing a knee between Lark's legs. "You're so beautiful, and I want to taste your sweet cunt."

Lark doesn't ask about the scars, but neither does she treat them like something to avoid unless Astrid asks her to.

She laughs breathlessly as she's pushed onto the bed. Lark moves higher along the mattress, her eyes still intent on Astrid as the other woman gets out of her clothes. She's still smiling when she's pulled into a kiss. Her hands caress over Astrid's cheeks and down her neck and she breathes in sharply as Astrid's knee pushes between her legs. The promise of pressure makes her ache and she thinks she'd rub herself off against Astrid's leg if that's what she wanted.

"Please," she murmurs, voice warmer and heavier as arousal floods her. Even as Astrid makes that declaration, Lark leans closer to press a kiss between Astrid's breasts as she hovers over her.

For a brief moment, the tender touch flashes another memory to the front of her mind, so strong and visceral that Astrid nearly turns to look for someone else behind her. Her chest clenches for the space of a heartbeat before the pain passes; it's been well over a decade since it's ever been more than one person with her like this.

She fights the memory back once more, grinding her knee against the heat between Lark's legs and tugging a little at her hair just to feel the tension in it. Her other hand is already shifting skirts out of the way, already too impatient to find the ties or clasps to loosen them and instead trailing fingertips along a soft, inner thigh. Gods, when was the last time she had gotten to do this?

Her hand eventually replaces her knee, exploring, rubbing, watching and listening hungrily for the sounds loosed from Lark's pretty lips. She should have done this weeks ago.

you don't talk to no one, don't you look at nothin'

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