weaponwithoutpurpose

weaponwithoutpurpose

voice . text . video . action

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From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

He slides his hands behind her back, just keeping her there with him. "I know that."

He leans forward, pressing a kiss between her breasts as she moves forward.

"Your turn. What are you thinking?"

From:

handleyourshit

"Too much," she admits, and little enough of it fair to Jacob. Too much, and little enough applicable.

She lets him kiss her, though he'll feel the boundaries of fabric where she's still wearing her bra. She shivers faintly, reactive to the cold even when she's not actively thinking about it.

"Wondering if you want a turn?" she finally decides, arms over his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

"You want that?" he asks, almost hopefully. He opens his eyes to look up at her. "Cuz I'm not gonna say no to it."

From:

handleyourshit

"I didn't say you could open your eyes," she reminds him, her smile crooked.

"But it's okay." It was just an experiment - a success, she thinks, and she leans down to kiss him, brief but sweet.

"My safeword is dulce. I've used the stoplight system, too, whichever makes you feel more comfortable." She doesn't move otherwise just yet, though. "The shirt I was using is on the bed. Tell me what you want me to do."

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

He doesn't feel admonished for it, but he just couldn't help it. So he leans in and kisses her shoulder before sitting back.

"Your turn to sit in the chair, I think," he says, giving her a little nudge.

"Tell me the stoplight system. I think I can guess but - just to make sure."

From:

handleyourshit

"It's a way to check in, before things get to needing to use the safeword," she answers, sliding off his lap so they can switch places.

"Green means everything is good, keep going. Yellow means slow down, or go carefully, or unsure, but don't necessarily stop. Red is stop - sometimes altogether, or sometimes go back to the last green, or do something different."

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

He stands up and brushes his fingers along her shoulders as he walks. "If I had known you were going to use a blindfold, I had something in the closet." He opens the door and takes out a few strips of cloth. Backup bandages, should he need them, but the infirmary is always good at giving out first aid when needed so they're mostly just decoration in the closet.

"I get it, though. The uh - stoplight thing. It works."

He stands behind her, one hand on her shoulder. "Ready?"

From:

handleyourshit

"That was part of the surprise. And I still have some ideas up my sleeves."

She takes his place on the chair, watching him move until he's back beside her, looking at the fabric.

They both know that in life, and especially on the Barge, there's no predicting what will happen next - but there's something more immediately urgent in knowing that he is planning something, however mild, and she's agreeing to it carte blanche.

She nods, hands in her lap. "Green."

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

"Alright."

He ties the cloth around her face, knotting it firmly but not too tight at the back.

"Okay." He presses a kiss to her shoulder, thoughtful, before moving away and shuffling through a drawer. He turns on his music, low and country and hums to it.

"Take off the pants. Just those," he says from behind her.

From:

handleyourshit

Rosita closes her eyes under the blindfold, and feels her mind's focus adjust accordingly. It's familiar: she's a scout, used to moving through dark buildings and terrain when necessary, among other things. She tips her head, curious, when she hears him moving and then smiles when she hears the music.

"Shall I make a show of it?" she asks, leaning back to work the button and zipper, standing to slide her jeans down slowly off her hips. Her underwear, as usual, is more functional than anything, soft black cotton boyshorts.

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

"You already are, don't worry," he says, gentle laughter in his voice.

When she settles, he contemplates her a moment. "Bra next. You can make that one a show, though."

From:

handleyourshit

"This is the wrong bra for a proper show," she answers, teasing, feeling her pulse pick up a bit involuntarily. She'd had no idea which direction Jacob might take things given the opportunity, so she's a little surprised.

Only a little, though. She slips first one arm, then the other out of the straps of her sports bra, moving slowly and smoothly. It lets her pull one side up with one hand, covering her breasts with the other as she slides it off, careful not to dislodge the blindfold and twirling it a few playful times with her finger before she holds it out to him.

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

He doesnt take it from her directly. Instead, he stands and ghosts his fingers along her shoulders, down her arm and slides it out of her hand. He never touches her intentionally, just lets her know where he was.

"And now the rest," he mutters, leaning close, almost like he's going to kiss her, but stopping himself. He hums along with the song still, sitting back on the bed again.

From:

handleyourshit

It doesn't matter that he doesn't touch her. Her skin goosepimples in the cooler air, and she shivers when the bra is pulled from her hand. She tilts her head towards his breath, waiting for the kiss, considering kissing him instead in open defiance.

She isn't a shy woman. If this had been any other night, progressing in a normal fashion, she wouldn't think twice about stripping down completely naked. But he had the right of it: there's trust involved in being exposed for him to look over at his leisure, and she almost hesitates.

She does it though. She slips her underwear off, flicks it off to a side with her foot instead of anything cheekily, and stays standing thos time.

"We locked the door, right?" she jokes, uncharacteristically self conscious.

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

"Locks better than any empty cabin," he assures her, but he's noticing the difference in her now. "Hey. I got you. Thank you for trusting me this long."

He finally slides up next to her, his arm around her tightly, and presses a kiss to her cheek. He's in just his boxers now, having shucked off his pants while she was undressing. He quickly slides the blindfold off of her.

From:

handleyourshit

"I know."

He gets that much for free, but then he's there next to her, holding onto her, and she reaches up to cover his arm with hers. When she feels him messing with the blindfold, she reaches up and puts her hand over it, covering her own eyes with the fabric still trapped in between.

"I didn't say red yet. I'm okay."

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

He lets it go. "Okay." Trust can go both ways.

So he brings her close in a kiss instead. "Tell me something you've thought about doing with me. Or me and Astarion," he mutters, his hand tracing along her hip.

From:

handleyourshit

She breathes through the kiss, and leans her shoulders back into his chest.

"We have a lot of combinations open to us now with three of us," she hums softly. Thoughtfully.

"You and I could share him. Or us, you. Get you up against a wall, trapped between a hard place and us -"

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

"Nah, that's not what I asked," he says, but it's playful. Teasing. He's keeping the mood light, even as he traces the shape of her hip, leaning down to press his fingers against her inner thigh. He kisses her jaw a little. "What do you think about? What fantasies go through your head?"

From:

handleyourshit

"No?" she chuckles, only for her breath to catch when his fingers brush the softer skin of her thigh.

She tips her head, giving him a better angle where his mouth is playing.

"You don't think I think about that? What fantasies do you want?"

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

"I do think that. But - I want details," he laughs, his breath warm against her jaw before he sucks a red mark against her skin. He keeps his hand against her thigh, even as he breaks away, pulls back. "Two steps back is the bed," he mutters. "Sit there, hm?"

From:

handleyourshit

She shivers, imagining the way he's smiling, tracking him as he steps away from her, focusing on where he's still touching her.

She resists the urge to reach back for him, instead taking one step, and then another, until her calves brush the blankets and she sits as she's bidden.

"I'm a simple girl, querido. The kinds of things I daydream about that have details are boring."

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

"What's that one?" he wonders with a smile she can't see but might hear. He's - at ease here with her. Confident in himself and his movements. Confident in her.

"Doesn't sound like a curse, so it must be something nice."

When she sits, he slides in behind her, his legs to either side, pulling her back against his chest. He's better able to touch her now that they're sitting, and he uses one hand to guide her thighs apart.

From:

handleyourshit

Her lips curve, playful, when she answers: "Darling. Or sweetheart."

She stays tense only because his weight moves the bed in ways she's not able to predict, but she relaxes again when he pulls her against him. She tips her head back onto his shoulder, and lets her knees fall further apart, aware of the warmth and weight of his hand on her like a firebrand. She smooths her hands up his thighs since he hasn't forbidden her from doing so.

"This could make it into a daydream," she murmurs.

From:

weaponwithoutpurpose

He didn't forbid her for a reason; he's quite enjoying letting her have her hands. His own drift up on the inside of her thighs, but he stops just short as he laughs. "I like that," he admits. It gives him the same warmth, the same small thrill, as when Astarion uses his name.

"And you and I have the same daydreams." His beard brushes against her shoulder as he takes her hand. "Show me how to touch you. Show me how you like it."