hawkofmai | Because Ragnelle is the greatest wife EVAR.

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gawaine/ragnelle

Because Ragnelle is the greatest wife EVAR.

(Continued from here)

Gawaine ducked into his wife's discreet little bower, unsure if it were crafted or simply found- and to be honest, pretty much uncaring either way. To think that once upon a time, he had trouble with the notion of lovemaking outside a proper bed...well. After seeing the difference it made in his Ragnelle, those days were long in the past.

Thus it was that a straightening Gawaine looked about with a smile, before gently pulling his wife towards the heart of the glade. Cupping her face in his big hands, he just looked at her for a moment or two... Before his lips descended, kissing his bride slow and deep.

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Ragnelle positively blossoms, kissing back lengthily, her nimble fingers reaching up to unfasten her long dark hair, so that it sweeps forth like a branch of sweet fir. Her gown is a rich green silk that half-blends with the woods around them, and the delicate vine that grows out of her hair, as much a part of it as any part of herself, is another colour of green entirely.

She has certain distinctly foresty aspects, and being deep in some emotion always brings them out; her fingertips are silky with with a very very fine growth of tree moss.

Some guys, they might freak at kissing a fuzzy girl. Some guys, they might get creeped at the thought of making out with a tree.

Some guys don't know what they're missing, thinks Gawaine as he lets his hands comb through the tumbled glory of his wife's hair... with a sly little stroke or two over the vine, just the barest of grazing touches. Under other circumstances, he might be embarrassed to reek of leathers and steel while she smelled of fresh greenery after a rainstorm, but right now? He's a little too busy kissing the girl.

She begins unbuckling his armour slowly, teasingly, drawing back enough that he can see the smile on her lips. "Softly, my lord, thou'rt not yet properly attired."

Because she is horrible sometimes.

Eeevil woman...

"An it comes to that, dearest lady, you be hardly clad appropriate yet either..." It's a positively lecherous grin that Gawaine sports as he un-knots the belt at her waist, before helping her take off his knightly accoutrements. The sad fact is that his clothing takes a lot longer to remove than hers, despite her looking better in it anyway.

Ragnelle laughs, joyfully, and puts the rest of the armour aside, giving it a cursory polish with her sleeve. Then she turns her attention very much back towards him, sitting back a little and unlacing the bodice of her gown very slowly.

[The quilted padding under his armour goes next, leaving him bare from the waist up; given the season, he'd been forgoing the light undershirt. And his current expression is much the same as a child on Christmas morning, watching his first present being unwrapped...

Although unlike the child, Gawaine has no problem savoring the anticipation. Still, he'd rather be participating in some way, hence his crouching down to slip his hands under her dress, hands skimming over her calves with a sure and certain touch.]

She slaps his hand away lightly, still laughing. "Mary, how wicked thou art! Hast no patience? It will all come to thee by and by."

Still, that's incentive enough to finish unlacing more quickly, before she puts her bodice and then kirtle aside, leaving her in her silk shift.

Didst think me made of stone, woman?

[There's a smile on his face, in his voice, as he tucked his hands back behind his head and watched her disrobe... With maybe a little gratuitous stretching and flexing of muscles, just for fun.

And then he'll pull her against him, every curve of her body molding against his with but a thin layer of silk 'twixt skin and skin... And yet again he kisses her, losing himself between her lips.]

"Nay, my lord, I know only a little of thee is so hard."

She cups his face with one small hand, letting out a soft sigh against his mouth as she runs her free hand down his side and over his hip.

"Dearest Medusa..." He chuckled, hands roaming firm caresses over her backside high and low as his lips slipped down under her jawline, soft wet biting kisses trailing down the smooth column of her neck.

She felt so right under the sheer silk, the smell of her filling his nose as he moved to gather up the hem of her shift; completely unlike any woman he had ever known, and all the more precious for that.

Her laugh is low and throaty and rich, and her hands quickly find their way under what clothes he's still wearing, as she kisses him back, her mouth level to his temple this way.

"Let me help thee--" softly, gathering her skirts up around her waist.

A groan escaped his lips as he felt her teasing fingers upon him, a moment of surprise at her flexibility quickly smothered by the magic she works.

And while he is an AWFUL big fan of his wife's pale legs, a grin splits his lips as he retakes the folds of her shift and slips it up over her head. "Didst think I meant to stop halfway?" He teased, setting her last garment aside before taking a moment to shamelessly ogle Ragnelle. Now that is what a woman SHOULD look like!

The rest of his clothes were coming off, and they were coming off now.

Ragnelle takes a moment to ogle him back, given that this is for damn sure an equal-opportunity ogling marriage, and tugs him down to the ground by his hands.

"Do thou come with me, my lord," and then, once they're safely down upon the moss, nudges him to lie back while she leans over him, braced on her hands, her hair falling around them like a curtain.

It's always nice to know that the woman you love to look at loves to look at you, but Gawaine's distraction from smugness comes apace as he tumbles to the ground with a smile. She wishes to do the work this time, does she?

Well, he'll certainly lay back and let her do as she pleased... besides, this provides ample opportunity for him to touch, and cup, and knead, and pinch as he sees fit. "Howe'er you see fit, my love..."

She kisses his jawline and down his neck to the base of his throat, a hum of magic in her lips that only makes the experience feel better. Meanwhile she shifts her weight to free one hand, sliding it over his chest and down his body.

How he loves it when she brings the magic into this, the eldritch fire of her lips sent shimmering through his body...

And one of his hands disengages from its pleasurable activity and slips down, anchoring at her hip in anticipation of what is to come.

It isn't difficult to spread the magic from her sweet mouth to the rest of her skin, so that any contact point produces the same sensation. The effect should be reasonably unbearable when her hand brushes against him, fingertips grazing sensitive nerve endings. Her mouth quirks.

"What dost thou desire, my lord?"

He groaned at her touch, arching his back as she teased him and striving against his own instinct to thrust against her hand. Succeeding by the barest of margins, he looked her in the eye as he tersely replied "You. Every possible way I might have, I want you." His hand slipped down behind its spot, pulling and urging her to join him in shared ecstasy.

"My deeds to thy words, good sir." It is probably not fair how much self-control she has, but she lowers herself off her hands, resting with her elbows against the ground, her body lying along his, taking him into herself.

Entirely unnnnghfair, but given the results, he'd certainly be willing to put up with it. "My lady, my own..." He murmurs, moving within her in the way she showed him always lent a sparkle to her eye, even as he pulled his head up to kiss and nibble at her offered bounty.

Her smile is positively blissful, albeit still teasing; she can't help that. She trails kisses along his shoulder.

If you could get him to answer honestly, he'd admit that the tease in her smile is one of the things that drives him wild about her. He always wants to wipe that hint of a smirk off her face in the best possible way; teasing is when you're holding something of yourself back, and the moment that she wholly commits is one of the most gratifying sensations he can possibly concieve of.

He let her set the pace, hungry to feel her fulfillment- plus, with the aftershocks of her magic still setting muscles atremble, it gave him a chance to focus on controlling himself- but his lips slipped further up her pale form, a trail of soft wet bites and kisses moving up to her collarbone.

It's true that when the teasing finally does go is the moment she's wholly defenceless, and forgetting both sides of her nature in exchange for him.

She starts to rock gently against his hips, fingering his hair with one hand, the other stroking his chest.

And he'd give her all he had, cherishing everything she gave him in return.

Gawain's moans start to get louder, moving in small counterpoint to her own actions, with hands and mouth worshipping every part of her he could reach, and then he slowly, tenderly began to worship her lips.

"Shhh, softly," she murmurs, low and indistinct. "O, soft thou, do not thou cease."

"Beshrew me an I ever entertained the thought..." he gasped, trying to quiet his desire and spare her eardrums. And yet still he kissed at the corner of her mouth, gently tracing the curve of her lower lip, even as he fought to match her slow rhythmn...

Eardrums are definitely not high on her priorities list right now, and when he touches her lip she arches against him with a soft little wail, the tease in her smile vanished.

[And Gawaine in turn is hard-pressed to keep the sense of VICTORY from his own smile, and may not have succeeded completely, but with any luck she'll forgive his satisfaction. A bit more force is added to the response of his hips, her breasts brushing against his chest in her sudden movement, as his hands trail through her hair and down her back once more.

"O, Mary, Gawain, Mother of God, do not thou stop, do not thou--" moving in turn against him.

"Shh, shh, it be well, Ragnelle, it be-aghn!" Well, so much for his notion of being the one in control this time!

He fell back, fighting against the sensations she gave even as she quested for her own ecstasy, and his hands gripped her hips firmly as he thrust inside her with greater abandon, trying to give her what she wants.

She climaxes more quietly, panting, her hair falling in sweaty tangles over her shoulders, her limbs shivering from exertion as she rests her forehead against his shoulder.

Yet it was with a loud groan that he followed her not long after, spending himself freely as he clasped her in his arms at the last, holding her close.

Yet even as he tried to catch his breath, his face turned her way and seemed to smile of its own accord.

"O, Mary, thou'rt sweet," she says breathlessly, touching his face with her fingertips.

His ribs shook a little with his chuckle, the merriment dancing in his eyes; he didn't laugh long, but the twinkle of good humour remained. "I'faith, my love... 'tis you who dost... add savour to my days..." He panted, his lips quite possibly unable to stop turning upward.

"Wretch," smoothing back his hair. Ragnelle smiles.

"Drab," he murmured, hand cupping her jawline as he smiled back.

"Wilt thou rest with me now?"

"With a will, my lady... tho' a blanket mayst prove its worth at this point." Much as he loves his wife, falling asleep nakedly in a random stretch of mossy forest still seems a bit odd to him.

He's willing to roll with it, as Ragnelle seems to be awful fond of the practice, but random nudity has rather little to do with his upbringing, you know? You'd catch a chill WAY too easy.

Ragnelle is totally 100% cool with sleeping naked in the woods, she has been doing that all her life. But since it bothers him, she sits up, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and reaches for her kirtle. "Here, thou canst spread this o'er thyself."

Well, in Gawaine's defense, it IS pre-global warming England, probably.

And he'll LOOK at the kirtle, then LOOK at his wife, and while a less... relaxed man might take offense, he'll instead begin to chuckle a little. "Dost expect me to hide from the elements behind a dress?" She's getting kissed now, as he's just about certain she's messing with him. "Your husband be not so weak as that, my lady."

Which is why she's getting snuggled up to with all his red-blooded Son of Adam manly warmth, and damned be the consequences! ...Though he IS noting the location of his quilted armor-padding for later, once she's fallen asleep.

"As thou pleasest," amused, and stifling a yawn. She curls up with her back against his chest.

An arm wrapped around her chest, the other slipped beneath her waist; he kissed the back of her head, and smiled as he spooned in close. "Tis the company that pleases me..." This? Great way to go about properly enjoying the smell of her hair. Very, VERY satisfying thing for a sated knight to do, really.

Ragnelle laughs, low in her throat, her eyes already closed. "I hope so."

"Mmmhmmm..." He murmured, closing his eyes and relaxing. Let's give this naked business a proper chance again; it is summer, after all.

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Because Ragnelle is the greatest wife EVAR.

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