Faye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
said_scarlett) wrote2016-09-25 07:08 pm
said_scarlett) wrote2016-09-25 07:08 pm
Entry tags:
Scar/Lust AU Fic
Title: Harvest Night
Pairing: Scar/Lust
Word Count: 3,133
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Leynaverse. Scar and Lust spend a traditional autumn harvest in rural England.
It was harvest time in the farmlands of England. The trees had turned a spectacular riot of gold and red, and the days were growing shorter. They'd stopped off in one of the little villages during a rainy spell, and Scar was quickly taken on as harvest time labor. They might have been sleeping in a hay loft, but it was warm and protected from the weather and private. No one else stayed in the barn, and the house was a fair distance from the barn. The few animals below weren't noisy or unpleasant.
And the view from the single large window - really, more doors than a window - gave a breathtaking view of the rolling hills, quaint buildings, and brilliantly colored trees that stretched out to the distant, faint rise of the city. After all the rains, everything that wasn't gold or ruddied was a brilliant green.
It also offered an unobstructed view of the fields. It was the last day of working them, the final produce taken in that morning. Now the men were using hand pulled plows, to clear the fields of the soon to be dead remains. Scar was among them. He wore a simple white shirt, unbuttoned in the afternoon warmth, and suspenders. The sweat of the work made his shirt cling to him. God, but he was a spectacular specimen of a man.
This evening, apparently, there were festivities. A bonfire, dancing, that sort of thing. She doubted they'd go - the locals were perfectly friendly, but it wasn't the sort of thing that they did. They'd be able to hear the music and see the fire from the loft of the barn, anyway.
Which needed tidying. Reluctantly, Lust tore herself away from watching Scar laboring in the field below. It was a nice little living area, here at the far end of the loft. There was a mattress, a small table and two chairs, a cabinet, a small wood stove, a jug and basin, a curtain hung for a privacy partition... the hay was everywhere, but that couldn't be helped.
It was more comfortable than some of the places they'd slept. Maybe they'd spend the winter. The weather would be miserable for traveling before very much longer, and there was always work to be done on a farm in winter. Scar could tend the animals, she could help around the house... It was something to consider.
And it was...domestic. The two of them, living in this one space together. Over the months, they'd slowly come together into...something. They didn't exactly discuss it, beyond a quiet mutual acknowledgement, but there it was. They held each other at night, they were assumed to be a wedded couple - and for sake of ease, they never corrected the assumption - and when they made it to London, they'd find a home together.
Their home.
It was still so strange to think about. She'd been so long in this world alone, certain that nothing remained of her old life but her collected memories, trying to scrape by as a cabaret girl. No hope, no future, no comfort but a harsh bottle and an empty bed. Now she was folding Scar's clean nightclothes and wondering if he would mind terribly if she left the skins on the potatoes for tonight's stew. They were going to London. They'd saved up every penny and could afford to rent a flat.
There was a life ahead of them.
The little living area was looking all in order. Lust had hung up some shawls, for a bit of color, and there was a little fire crackling away merrily in the small stove. It was almost funny, that with the cold dead season looming, Lust had never felt such a sense of promise and brightness. But for once, things were good.
She was fixing dinner when Scar finally came up, dirtied and sweat soaked from his work. He had left his muddy boots downstairs, in the animal's part of the barn.
"It looks like you finished well before the whole celebrating's set to start." The sun was still up, though the shadows were beginning to stretch long across the land.
"The village men were insistent." Scar crossed the loft to the little corner sectioned off for changing and bathing. He drew the curtain halfway and left it. Looking out of the corner of her eye from where she stood at the stove, Lust could watch him. And she did, idly stirring the stew but paying little attention to it. It wasn't until recently that Scar had grown comfortable enough to undress even partially in her presence.
He slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and peeled off his shirt. The strapped undershirt he wore beneath it was transparent, outlining the muscles of his chest and abdomen and back. Every inch of him was perfectly chiseled. He splashed water over his face and Lust's spoon stilled in the stew. He stripped off his undershirt. Lust found herself biting her lower lip, watching intently from side cast eyes.
She'd seen him without a shirt before. She's touched him without his shirt on. But still...the sight of him. And lit so perfectly y the sinking sun, streaming in through the open window. He was practically glistening as he ran the bar of soap over his chest. Every flex and ripple of his muscles was highlighted. He twisted and stretched, soaping his back.
By the time he was rinsing himself with a damp cloth, Lust was watching him openly. Why not? She was allowed to, wasn't she?
"Is something burning?" Scar paused, dripping, and looked over at her. Lust tore her eyes away and blanched, looking down at the discolored, smoking mess in the pot on the stove.
"...damn it!" Lust snatched up a rag and grabbed the pot handle, taking it off the stove and setting it by the window so the smell would waft out. Scar looked at her speculatively and returned to his bathing.
"It's fine. There's a bag of bread and corn downstairs. Part of the harvest."
Lust sighed. It was her own fault. She'd gotten distracted. But Scar had been the one who hadn't closed the curtain all the way. Clearly, this was all his fault. And now she had to clamber down the ladder and haul up a bag and she'd miss the rest of the performance. She left Scar to finish up, reluctantly, and made her way down the loft ladder to fetch supper. At least there was something simple and easy, since she'd ruined the stew she spent the afternoon working on. She'd even peeled the damn potatoes.
Scar was sitting crook-legged in the window, the pot of burned supper moved to the corner, his back against the frame. He was wearing a clean shirt - one of the ones she'd laundered and folded earlier. It was unbuttoned over his undershirt. Even just at leisure, watching the setting sun with a stern but thoughtful gaze, he made her insides stir.
She set the corn to boil in a fresh pot and set out the bread. There was a little crock of butter, too, and a thick wedge of cheese.
"It's starting." Scar was still at the window. Lust looked out, and saw a line of horse drawn carts and people in bright colors, winding down the long road between the farmlands.
"It looks like the whole damned village has come out."
"They likely have. They take the harvest seriously."
"I'm not surprised. The modern world is very far from here." She didn't let herself get distracted this time. When the corn was done, she fixed up a pair of plates and joined Scar at the window to watch the procession. They ate in comfortable silence, watching as the carts and revelers made their way to the large field behind the farm where they were staying. The bonfire was already prepared. The carts were heaped full of the freshest and best of the season's harvest - there was some communal dinner that everyone took part in.
It was all very...homey. They were both content to watch as the fire was lit and the music began.
"It's nice here."
"Mmm."
Lust supposed that counted as agreement from Scar. He took the dirty dishes and set them in the dish basin to soak, though there was hardly anything to clean. They'd eaten every bit, it had been good. The sun was down now, and the music drifted in clearly. The bonfire winked and danced in the near distance. Their own little stove cast the loft in a soft, flickering light.
She wanted him, tonight. She'd been thinking of it all afternoon, most of the evening. She loved his skin by firelight. She loved his skin in any light, but there was something about the tones and shadows made by the play of fire...
He was washing the dishes, his movements unhurried and as relaxed as Lust had ever seen him. His back was to her. She thought about coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. But it didn't feel quite right. There was something in the air this evening. She felt...she wasn't sure how to describe it. Particularly light and content.
With a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, she began undressing where she stood. At the edge of the little living area, backed by falls and piles of loose hay, she unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to her feet. Scar was still busy with the dishes. She kicked off her house shoes and rolled down her stockings. After a very brief debate, her slip followed. There was a chill in the loft, despite the little fire, and her bare nipples tightened in open air. She stood naked, her hair still pinned on top of her head. Scar was...still doing dishes. How many dishes were there to do?
She cleared her throat. "Scar?"
It was too cold to wait for him to turn around and see her. He did turn, at his name, and she pulled the pin from her hair to let it tumble down around her shoulders. The rag he'd been holding dropped to the floor and he simply stared. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide, and she couldn't help but feel satisfied with his reaction.
"Come here." She beckoned to him, smiling but with a touch of nervousness. There was that fear he'd decline, or turn away.
But he nodded, closed his mouth, and crossed the loft to where she stood waiting. He looked down at her, still silent, his hands hovering over her hips but not quite touching.
"Well? Are you just going to look all night?"
"I could." His voice was hushed. It was such a silly thing to say, and certainly with such quiet certainty, but it made her flush faintly.
"You'd better not." She closed the distance between them, pressing her naked body against his. His arms went around her and he held her like that, his face buried in her hair. Lust filled herself with the feel of him, the scent of him. The smell of good soil and green things still clung to him. She stroked his back and tipped her head to kiss his neck. He was very still against her, only shifting slightly to give her better access to the line of his throat and jaw. He was so warm.
And overdressed. Two layers was two too many. She pulled back, that almost-shy smile still on her lips. This sort of intimacy, comfortable and...playful. It was so new. She reached for the hem of his shirt, pausing with her fingers gripping it.
"May I?"
Scar snorted in what Lust thought was almost a laugh. He stroked her hair and nodded. Maybe it was the firelight from the open stove, maybe it was the intimate moment. Either way, his eyes looked particularly soft and warm as she tugged his shirt up and over his head and tossed it aside. Before she could do the same for his undershirt, his hands were buried in her hair and he was kissing her hungrily. His mouth was open and she felt his tongue. Her knees went weak and she clung to him, wrapping one leg around him and feeling the thick cloth of his trousers against the junction of her thighs. She pulled at his undershirt, shoving it up his body, running her hands over his stomach and chest.
Somehow, in the hurried haze of kissing and frenzied touching, Lust found herself falling backwards into a cascade of soft hay. Scar, bare chested now, ran his eyes over her stretched out form and dropped to kneel over her legs. His hands rested on her breasts, thumbs stroking the sides of them gently. She pressed herself up into him, arching her back, her hair spread around her and mixing with the strands of hay. She could still hear the music, from the harvest festival out in the fields.
"You should have gotten rid of these." Lust tugged playfully at Scar's trousers. He only grunted, his attention focused on massaging her breasts. And she really didn't want him to stop doing that, despite if it was to remove his pants. Even the calloused roughness of his fingers felt pleasant on her skin. And the way he looked at her, when he touched her...
She'd never seen that look in his eyes any other time. It wasn't the light making them soft and warm. That was just how he looked at her, when she was bare and offering herself. There was almost a sense of wonderment in his gaze. She lied back, eyes closed, humming softly as he stroked her breasts and rolled his thumbs over the hard nubs of her nipples. Her belly tightened in a quick succession of small spasms, a small promise of what was to come.
There was something very refreshing about just lying back and letting Scar touch her. There was no rush to the final act, no expectations, no...ignoring her personally. He was thinking of her, he saw her. She didn't have to look at him, she could feel it in his hands. Particularly the hand that was trailing down over the small swell of her stomach. She squirmed slightly, parting her legs as his fingers slipped between her legs to gently press and stroke. She sighed softly, toes curling as his calloused fingers moved over her already slick and swollen flesh.
She'd forgotten about getting his pants off. Her eyes were closed and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth as one of Scar's broad fingers slipped inside of her. Her hips arched and she grabbed at handfuls of loose hay, feeling it slip beneath her as she moved. His other hand was still at her breast, gripping and massaging more firmly now.
"Please..." She needed him. She needed to feel him over her, inside of her, covering her and taking her entirely. She reached for him, lifting herself off the hay, drawing him into a kiss. She knew he had to be painfully hard and wanting by now anyway. "Please."
His finger withdrew and she shuddered, already feeling painfully empty. He struggled out of his pants as she kissed him, hay falling down all around them as he pushed her back down and ran his hands along her legs. It was cold from the open window, but Lust felt hot all over. Scar leaned down to crush his mouth against hers as he thrust himself inside, swallowing the loud moan that escaped her at the feel of him filling her completely.
The hay underneath them was slippery. Lust could feel it moving under them, making them slide and shift on the loft floor. Mostly making her slide and shift. It fell into her face and she laughed among her moans, trying to find some purchase as Scar thrust into her. She finally just clung to him, lifting herself off of the ever-shifting bed of hay and wrapping her legs around him.
It was always so good. Not that they'd been making love properly for very long, but...it always felt so good. Like what those ridiculous romance books described it. Joining of bodies and hearts and all of that cliched whatnot she'd dismissed as nonsense for so very long.
When they'd finished, after the frantic bucking and thrusting, the raw exclamations of climax, they lay together on the hay, sweating and gasping for breath until the aftershocks passed and the glow began to fade. The music was quieter now. Softer melodies. The festival was winding down.
"Your hair's a mess."
"I know." Lust rolled over onto her side, half propped up over him. "It's full of hay."
"It's sticking to me."
"My hair?"
"The hay."
Lust laughed and flicked a bit of it off of his shoulder.
"It comes off easy enough."
"Mmm." He played with her hair for a moment longer than moved to get up.
"Lie with me a while more?"
"We'll freeze if we don't close that window soon. I'll lie with you on our actual bed."
"Spoilsport." But Lust had to agree that after the heated moment was passed, it was cold in here. The sun was long gone, and the chill of fall was heavy in the air. And there were no blankets in the hay. And no Scar now, either. She found it mildly amusing that he put on his drawers before going to close the window. The music stopped when the wooden slabs were pushed firmly closed and latched, sealing them into the cozy little loft.
With a small sigh, Lust pushed herself up - slipping once or twice as sweaty hands tried to use hay covered floor as a point of resistance - and crossed naked to the bed. She'd deal with their scattered clothes in the morning. Scar seemed to agree, coming to join her in his drawers and undershirt. Even though they'd just made love, she felt a small flare as she watched him slip in beside her.
Maybe, if she kept him awake and talking as they held each other on their mattress, they could go another round before bed...
Pairing: Scar/Lust
Word Count: 3,133
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Leynaverse. Scar and Lust spend a traditional autumn harvest in rural England.
It was harvest time in the farmlands of England. The trees had turned a spectacular riot of gold and red, and the days were growing shorter. They'd stopped off in one of the little villages during a rainy spell, and Scar was quickly taken on as harvest time labor. They might have been sleeping in a hay loft, but it was warm and protected from the weather and private. No one else stayed in the barn, and the house was a fair distance from the barn. The few animals below weren't noisy or unpleasant.
And the view from the single large window - really, more doors than a window - gave a breathtaking view of the rolling hills, quaint buildings, and brilliantly colored trees that stretched out to the distant, faint rise of the city. After all the rains, everything that wasn't gold or ruddied was a brilliant green.
It also offered an unobstructed view of the fields. It was the last day of working them, the final produce taken in that morning. Now the men were using hand pulled plows, to clear the fields of the soon to be dead remains. Scar was among them. He wore a simple white shirt, unbuttoned in the afternoon warmth, and suspenders. The sweat of the work made his shirt cling to him. God, but he was a spectacular specimen of a man.
This evening, apparently, there were festivities. A bonfire, dancing, that sort of thing. She doubted they'd go - the locals were perfectly friendly, but it wasn't the sort of thing that they did. They'd be able to hear the music and see the fire from the loft of the barn, anyway.
Which needed tidying. Reluctantly, Lust tore herself away from watching Scar laboring in the field below. It was a nice little living area, here at the far end of the loft. There was a mattress, a small table and two chairs, a cabinet, a small wood stove, a jug and basin, a curtain hung for a privacy partition... the hay was everywhere, but that couldn't be helped.
It was more comfortable than some of the places they'd slept. Maybe they'd spend the winter. The weather would be miserable for traveling before very much longer, and there was always work to be done on a farm in winter. Scar could tend the animals, she could help around the house... It was something to consider.
And it was...domestic. The two of them, living in this one space together. Over the months, they'd slowly come together into...something. They didn't exactly discuss it, beyond a quiet mutual acknowledgement, but there it was. They held each other at night, they were assumed to be a wedded couple - and for sake of ease, they never corrected the assumption - and when they made it to London, they'd find a home together.
Their home.
It was still so strange to think about. She'd been so long in this world alone, certain that nothing remained of her old life but her collected memories, trying to scrape by as a cabaret girl. No hope, no future, no comfort but a harsh bottle and an empty bed. Now she was folding Scar's clean nightclothes and wondering if he would mind terribly if she left the skins on the potatoes for tonight's stew. They were going to London. They'd saved up every penny and could afford to rent a flat.
There was a life ahead of them.
The little living area was looking all in order. Lust had hung up some shawls, for a bit of color, and there was a little fire crackling away merrily in the small stove. It was almost funny, that with the cold dead season looming, Lust had never felt such a sense of promise and brightness. But for once, things were good.
She was fixing dinner when Scar finally came up, dirtied and sweat soaked from his work. He had left his muddy boots downstairs, in the animal's part of the barn.
"It looks like you finished well before the whole celebrating's set to start." The sun was still up, though the shadows were beginning to stretch long across the land.
"The village men were insistent." Scar crossed the loft to the little corner sectioned off for changing and bathing. He drew the curtain halfway and left it. Looking out of the corner of her eye from where she stood at the stove, Lust could watch him. And she did, idly stirring the stew but paying little attention to it. It wasn't until recently that Scar had grown comfortable enough to undress even partially in her presence.
He slipped his suspenders off his shoulders and peeled off his shirt. The strapped undershirt he wore beneath it was transparent, outlining the muscles of his chest and abdomen and back. Every inch of him was perfectly chiseled. He splashed water over his face and Lust's spoon stilled in the stew. He stripped off his undershirt. Lust found herself biting her lower lip, watching intently from side cast eyes.
She'd seen him without a shirt before. She's touched him without his shirt on. But still...the sight of him. And lit so perfectly y the sinking sun, streaming in through the open window. He was practically glistening as he ran the bar of soap over his chest. Every flex and ripple of his muscles was highlighted. He twisted and stretched, soaping his back.
By the time he was rinsing himself with a damp cloth, Lust was watching him openly. Why not? She was allowed to, wasn't she?
"Is something burning?" Scar paused, dripping, and looked over at her. Lust tore her eyes away and blanched, looking down at the discolored, smoking mess in the pot on the stove.
"...damn it!" Lust snatched up a rag and grabbed the pot handle, taking it off the stove and setting it by the window so the smell would waft out. Scar looked at her speculatively and returned to his bathing.
"It's fine. There's a bag of bread and corn downstairs. Part of the harvest."
Lust sighed. It was her own fault. She'd gotten distracted. But Scar had been the one who hadn't closed the curtain all the way. Clearly, this was all his fault. And now she had to clamber down the ladder and haul up a bag and she'd miss the rest of the performance. She left Scar to finish up, reluctantly, and made her way down the loft ladder to fetch supper. At least there was something simple and easy, since she'd ruined the stew she spent the afternoon working on. She'd even peeled the damn potatoes.
Scar was sitting crook-legged in the window, the pot of burned supper moved to the corner, his back against the frame. He was wearing a clean shirt - one of the ones she'd laundered and folded earlier. It was unbuttoned over his undershirt. Even just at leisure, watching the setting sun with a stern but thoughtful gaze, he made her insides stir.
She set the corn to boil in a fresh pot and set out the bread. There was a little crock of butter, too, and a thick wedge of cheese.
"It's starting." Scar was still at the window. Lust looked out, and saw a line of horse drawn carts and people in bright colors, winding down the long road between the farmlands.
"It looks like the whole damned village has come out."
"They likely have. They take the harvest seriously."
"I'm not surprised. The modern world is very far from here." She didn't let herself get distracted this time. When the corn was done, she fixed up a pair of plates and joined Scar at the window to watch the procession. They ate in comfortable silence, watching as the carts and revelers made their way to the large field behind the farm where they were staying. The bonfire was already prepared. The carts were heaped full of the freshest and best of the season's harvest - there was some communal dinner that everyone took part in.
It was all very...homey. They were both content to watch as the fire was lit and the music began.
"It's nice here."
"Mmm."
Lust supposed that counted as agreement from Scar. He took the dirty dishes and set them in the dish basin to soak, though there was hardly anything to clean. They'd eaten every bit, it had been good. The sun was down now, and the music drifted in clearly. The bonfire winked and danced in the near distance. Their own little stove cast the loft in a soft, flickering light.
She wanted him, tonight. She'd been thinking of it all afternoon, most of the evening. She loved his skin by firelight. She loved his skin in any light, but there was something about the tones and shadows made by the play of fire...
He was washing the dishes, his movements unhurried and as relaxed as Lust had ever seen him. His back was to her. She thought about coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. But it didn't feel quite right. There was something in the air this evening. She felt...she wasn't sure how to describe it. Particularly light and content.
With a small smile playing at the corners of her lips, she began undressing where she stood. At the edge of the little living area, backed by falls and piles of loose hay, she unbuttoned her dress and let it fall to her feet. Scar was still busy with the dishes. She kicked off her house shoes and rolled down her stockings. After a very brief debate, her slip followed. There was a chill in the loft, despite the little fire, and her bare nipples tightened in open air. She stood naked, her hair still pinned on top of her head. Scar was...still doing dishes. How many dishes were there to do?
She cleared her throat. "Scar?"
It was too cold to wait for him to turn around and see her. He did turn, at his name, and she pulled the pin from her hair to let it tumble down around her shoulders. The rag he'd been holding dropped to the floor and he simply stared. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide, and she couldn't help but feel satisfied with his reaction.
"Come here." She beckoned to him, smiling but with a touch of nervousness. There was that fear he'd decline, or turn away.
But he nodded, closed his mouth, and crossed the loft to where she stood waiting. He looked down at her, still silent, his hands hovering over her hips but not quite touching.
"Well? Are you just going to look all night?"
"I could." His voice was hushed. It was such a silly thing to say, and certainly with such quiet certainty, but it made her flush faintly.
"You'd better not." She closed the distance between them, pressing her naked body against his. His arms went around her and he held her like that, his face buried in her hair. Lust filled herself with the feel of him, the scent of him. The smell of good soil and green things still clung to him. She stroked his back and tipped her head to kiss his neck. He was very still against her, only shifting slightly to give her better access to the line of his throat and jaw. He was so warm.
And overdressed. Two layers was two too many. She pulled back, that almost-shy smile still on her lips. This sort of intimacy, comfortable and...playful. It was so new. She reached for the hem of his shirt, pausing with her fingers gripping it.
"May I?"
Scar snorted in what Lust thought was almost a laugh. He stroked her hair and nodded. Maybe it was the firelight from the open stove, maybe it was the intimate moment. Either way, his eyes looked particularly soft and warm as she tugged his shirt up and over his head and tossed it aside. Before she could do the same for his undershirt, his hands were buried in her hair and he was kissing her hungrily. His mouth was open and she felt his tongue. Her knees went weak and she clung to him, wrapping one leg around him and feeling the thick cloth of his trousers against the junction of her thighs. She pulled at his undershirt, shoving it up his body, running her hands over his stomach and chest.
Somehow, in the hurried haze of kissing and frenzied touching, Lust found herself falling backwards into a cascade of soft hay. Scar, bare chested now, ran his eyes over her stretched out form and dropped to kneel over her legs. His hands rested on her breasts, thumbs stroking the sides of them gently. She pressed herself up into him, arching her back, her hair spread around her and mixing with the strands of hay. She could still hear the music, from the harvest festival out in the fields.
"You should have gotten rid of these." Lust tugged playfully at Scar's trousers. He only grunted, his attention focused on massaging her breasts. And she really didn't want him to stop doing that, despite if it was to remove his pants. Even the calloused roughness of his fingers felt pleasant on her skin. And the way he looked at her, when he touched her...
She'd never seen that look in his eyes any other time. It wasn't the light making them soft and warm. That was just how he looked at her, when she was bare and offering herself. There was almost a sense of wonderment in his gaze. She lied back, eyes closed, humming softly as he stroked her breasts and rolled his thumbs over the hard nubs of her nipples. Her belly tightened in a quick succession of small spasms, a small promise of what was to come.
There was something very refreshing about just lying back and letting Scar touch her. There was no rush to the final act, no expectations, no...ignoring her personally. He was thinking of her, he saw her. She didn't have to look at him, she could feel it in his hands. Particularly the hand that was trailing down over the small swell of her stomach. She squirmed slightly, parting her legs as his fingers slipped between her legs to gently press and stroke. She sighed softly, toes curling as his calloused fingers moved over her already slick and swollen flesh.
She'd forgotten about getting his pants off. Her eyes were closed and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth as one of Scar's broad fingers slipped inside of her. Her hips arched and she grabbed at handfuls of loose hay, feeling it slip beneath her as she moved. His other hand was still at her breast, gripping and massaging more firmly now.
"Please..." She needed him. She needed to feel him over her, inside of her, covering her and taking her entirely. She reached for him, lifting herself off the hay, drawing him into a kiss. She knew he had to be painfully hard and wanting by now anyway. "Please."
His finger withdrew and she shuddered, already feeling painfully empty. He struggled out of his pants as she kissed him, hay falling down all around them as he pushed her back down and ran his hands along her legs. It was cold from the open window, but Lust felt hot all over. Scar leaned down to crush his mouth against hers as he thrust himself inside, swallowing the loud moan that escaped her at the feel of him filling her completely.
The hay underneath them was slippery. Lust could feel it moving under them, making them slide and shift on the loft floor. Mostly making her slide and shift. It fell into her face and she laughed among her moans, trying to find some purchase as Scar thrust into her. She finally just clung to him, lifting herself off of the ever-shifting bed of hay and wrapping her legs around him.
It was always so good. Not that they'd been making love properly for very long, but...it always felt so good. Like what those ridiculous romance books described it. Joining of bodies and hearts and all of that cliched whatnot she'd dismissed as nonsense for so very long.
When they'd finished, after the frantic bucking and thrusting, the raw exclamations of climax, they lay together on the hay, sweating and gasping for breath until the aftershocks passed and the glow began to fade. The music was quieter now. Softer melodies. The festival was winding down.
"Your hair's a mess."
"I know." Lust rolled over onto her side, half propped up over him. "It's full of hay."
"It's sticking to me."
"My hair?"
"The hay."
Lust laughed and flicked a bit of it off of his shoulder.
"It comes off easy enough."
"Mmm." He played with her hair for a moment longer than moved to get up.
"Lie with me a while more?"
"We'll freeze if we don't close that window soon. I'll lie with you on our actual bed."
"Spoilsport." But Lust had to agree that after the heated moment was passed, it was cold in here. The sun was long gone, and the chill of fall was heavy in the air. And there were no blankets in the hay. And no Scar now, either. She found it mildly amusing that he put on his drawers before going to close the window. The music stopped when the wooden slabs were pushed firmly closed and latched, sealing them into the cozy little loft.
With a small sigh, Lust pushed herself up - slipping once or twice as sweaty hands tried to use hay covered floor as a point of resistance - and crossed naked to the bed. She'd deal with their scattered clothes in the morning. Scar seemed to agree, coming to join her in his drawers and undershirt. Even though they'd just made love, she felt a small flare as she watched him slip in beside her.
Maybe, if she kept him awake and talking as they held each other on their mattress, they could go another round before bed...