[ Some may not be able to, but Rafe's eyes are steady and unflinching as the rock of Gibraltar. First rule of any poker table, of any negotiation, of life itself is you never blink first and Melisandre may well be the only person he's met who can match his stare. Or match him in other things as her fingers slide south in a move straight out of his own playbook.
The magic side of it, that's something new and strange but she explains it frankly. Matter-of-fact. A callback to ancient pagan rituals he's read about as a matter of research, homage to carnal divinities and future fertility paid in the most fitting of ways. Christianity had certainly feared it but Rafe's never been particularly religious anyway. And besides, what's the worst that can happen if the magic does turn fatal? They're all of them dead anyway. May as well make the most of it. ]
Take a wild guess.
[ He says it with a chuckle, dark and low, right before catching her mouth in a kiss meant to banish any further doubts. ]
⟪ The King had first kept her around not for any of her skill, nor for her company, but for the simple fact that plenty of his men – and the men of his enemies – would not dare to speak her name out loud, for fear of her Asshai'i ways and her Shadowbinding. He holds her gaze, holds her by the hips, he laughs in the face of death and kisses her, and it's so different from her usual poisons, this.
Doubts she has none, so much is in the way she arches up against him ––
though she does need to push him away, if only to get her hands proper beneath his shirt, and drag for him to take it off. ⟫
Can't say I don't appreciate the fashions but –– ⟪ this is, in a way, more difficult than getting rid of some armour. ⟫
Don't worry, I got a feeling it's a little easier than what you're used to. Once you've had some practice.
[ If not with him, then someone else. Doesn't really matter, didn't even before they all died and ended up here — so why not enjoy what's left to them?
So Rafe peels his t-shirt off in a trice, up and over and tossed aside as much time as it takes to say it, showing off lean muscle and olive skin covered with a dark thatch of hair tapering down to his hips and beyond. He'll even do a favor and ease the way further, one hand undoing the button his jeans and leaving it open for Melisandre to do as she will. She can decide what that may be as his hands skate along the sash of her robes, loosening it to fall to the floor as he murmurs against her mouth in another kiss, ]
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The magic side of it, that's something new and strange but she explains it frankly. Matter-of-fact. A callback to ancient pagan rituals he's read about as a matter of research, homage to carnal divinities and future fertility paid in the most fitting of ways. Christianity had certainly feared it but Rafe's never been particularly religious anyway. And besides, what's the worst that can happen if the magic does turn fatal? They're all of them dead anyway. May as well make the most of it. ]
Take a wild guess.
[ He says it with a chuckle, dark and low, right before catching her mouth in a kiss meant to banish any further doubts. ]
no subject
Doubts she has none, so much is in the way she arches up against him ––
though she does need to push him away, if only to get her hands proper beneath his shirt, and drag for him to take it off. ⟫
Can't say I don't appreciate the fashions but –– ⟪ this is, in a way, more difficult than getting rid of some armour. ⟫
no subject
[ If not with him, then someone else. Doesn't really matter, didn't even before they all died and ended up here — so why not enjoy what's left to them?
So Rafe peels his t-shirt off in a trice, up and over and tossed aside as much time as it takes to say it, showing off lean muscle and olive skin covered with a dark thatch of hair tapering down to his hips and beyond. He'll even do a favor and ease the way further, one hand undoing the button his jeans and leaving it open for Melisandre to do as she will. She can decide what that may be as his hands skate along the sash of her robes, loosening it to fall to the floor as he murmurs against her mouth in another kiss, ]
Granted yours is a little easier access...