Feudal Japan

Maybe it was the sun that has always attracted me to work in the rice fields instead of becoming one of those geisha always hidden behind curtains, if not, following the soldiers on the field to ease them off.
I have always been content with the duty of being one of the lowly peasants, fetching water and rice for the army- helping and building the structures under anyone's command. At this young age, I knew I was built for hard labor and definitely hands-on service to the Serpent clan. I knew right then and there that I'd be a peasant forever- I have no problem with that.

My name is Akay- a name intended for a male since my father always wanted one; typical for any parent in the Serpent descent. But as I arrived to my early pubescent years, he regretted giving the name to me, his second born daughter- the only one of his offspring that will not be accepted into the army because of her gender. One of the late loyal generals, he wanted to give me up to train as a geisha to serve the high officers. I refused and went out of the caste I am in to a lower rank- that is being a peasant.

Standing five times a feet and maybe seven inches- I work in the pond today, traveling from a hut to the water back and forth with two wooden buckets in both hands, the sweat breaking out and seeping through the cheap rough cotton of the pale gray kimono, my feet bandaged to protect it's rough bare skin- my facial features I have been blessed with from my mother hidden under a wide rimmed and low pointed hat to prevent the sun from striking any further.
But there was a strange stirring down in me; would that even slow me down? Maybe it didn't- but it certainly is starting to blur my thoughts, flashes of flesh appearing inside my blinking eyes. As I open it, there he was- on the far elevated side of the ricefield, with the samurai sword slung on his left hip, his hair flowing softly and in rythm with the wind blowing against the rough- facial hair stubbled face- the lord of the land.

[This is set in feudal Japan in a small town under military rule- you can always make up a new character. ^_^ I know there was a thread that I posted up before this one but maybe this'll work. I hope. There can be soldiers, the land lord/ general of the army- and geishas. Just make up your character!]

Yoritomo yogo

He walked softly along the path, between the massive paddies. His geta(wooden sandals) leaving little marks in the dirt of the road. His kimono was fine silk, white with green cherry leaves patterned onto it. His hat was just as finely crafted -- wide, conical, and made of fine strips of bamboo. On his left side was his family katana, strapped just into place above his personal wakizashi. Both were one hundred corpse steel: the katana etched with his family crest and the names of the heros of his family; the wakizashi had his personal crest and family name etched along it's length.

His face was clean shaven, his body clean even though he traveled the road. He made sure he was presentable to a lord at all times. That was his goal, for he lived the half life of a Ronin. His lord had died of old age, and left no heir, so he traveled the road looking for a new lord to bring glory too.

That is what brought him here, he was seeking the lord of the land to try and impress, but he could also see the peasents working the paddies. He even noticed one peasent woman, slightly taller than the others. He watched her as he walked slowly, his hands folded into the opposite sleeves of the kimono.

Akay

Her heart pounded wildly beneath her chest as her temples urged her blood to stream faster in her veins. There is no way- but it was as if she could see beyond the robes, the man starting to yell at the other slaves to go faster with sacks and carts of rice- wheeling it into some huts and the pails of water being emptied into the massive drums intended to store the water as supply for the troops and the people- Oh how she would want to silence his throat and block his mouth with her tongue and lips, grasp eveything she can with her own bare and dirty hands on his bare skin.
But she can't.
Pretty soon, tension grew on her chest- an excited kind of tension that had made her breasts even more obvious behind the robe- without her knowing. It did not last for long as she went to pick up the pails again and start over her work, filling both with water from the pond and makes her trip back to the hollow drums maybe a few meters away from the pond. On her way, lingering as always- taking in what might be of veiw, she sees someone she has never seen before. A foreigner perhaps? With the short time that her gaze passes him, the man nearby the rice paddies- she has marvelled at the robe- and the odd way his face is set- it was clean- never seeing that in someone before, even in another woman. But she stops in her short musing and goes back to her duties, soft gasps escaping from her parted lips as she struggles to catch her breathing, doing it with ease.

[Thank you for joining!]

Yoritomo Yogo

He noticed the peasant woman looking at him as she hauled water. He could tell that she had to tear her gaze from something else in order to look at him. He raised an eyebrow, wondering why the peasant would stare. Then she went back to work, but he was interested. He started to pick his way across the paddy, moving towards her and avoiding water. His sandals quickly picking up mud but keeping his feet clean.

He worked his way slowly, his hands holding his kimono off of the ground until he stopped nearby. His kimono settling in soft folds on the ground, consealing his feet as he found a dry spot to stand. His hands went to his kimono belt, resting a safe but easy distance from his katana. He watched the woman a moment in silence.

Akay

Her skin gleamed with the light brushes of dirt, the woman stopping and putting the two buckets on the ground nearby the wooden drum bound by nailed-together tree barks to prevent spilling. The gong for the resting period had sounded, making her let out a heavy groan of contentment as she picks up a pail with two hands and pours over all the contents into the large container. The splash violent as the the heat of the high sun takes toll on the woman. She does the same to the other bucket and picks the now empty things with her right hand, turning to go back to a hut- with the thought that a meal might be waiting.

Taking a step forward to being her walk, she looks up to see where might the others be going to only to find the man in the silk robe standing near her. There she began to see him up close in dumb examination- eyeing him from the hat that looked a lot better than hers, her gaze running over the face beneath it. This man is of a different stance- probably breeding. This thought came over her, her eyes going down to his obi- seeing the shiny katana to his left.
Now she knows what is before, making her step back with a frown, blinking to take her gaze off him, putting her left hand over her own hat to take a waist bow without thinking nor words, turning back to walk away quickly, shaking her head while mumbling to herself, her breathing quickening as if she had killed someone. Could this be another new ruler over them?

this sounds like a cool thread, ill join in when others join

Yoritomo Yogo

He watched her gaze lock onto his face for a moment, before shifting across his form. Then she made a hasty bow from the waist, mumbling to herself as she walked away.

"Wait," he said softly. It was soft in volume, but commanding in tone. While Yoritomo was not as high casted as a samurai with a lord, but he was certainly higher casted than a henin peasent. His feet widened their stance and his hands folded back into his Kimono with a calm ease.

He was intruiged by this woman. She was obviously a peasent, but she should be working as a Geisha with that face, not watering paddies. He reached up and pressed the edge of his hat upwards, so that it did not cloud his face. He waited for her to turn around before speaking again.

"Come here," again it was soft, but said with the command evident, as he was used to peasents doing what he said.

Akay

His voice was like a magnet that had exerted enough ower on her feet to stop on her pacing. She may be a peasant- but she evidently can still think clearly- the thought of a the man being in a high position with the massive pang of command echoing in his voice, ringing hard through the insides of her ears. But something shot through her, from her collarbones and the area beneath it. Could it be of shock?
Bowing her head low, Akay turns around, untying the straw band swiftly that keeps the hat on her head and takes it off- some strands of hair matted on her forehead, the sweat and dirt strolling down to her neck and to the robe- placing it in on her lap as she clasps her hands in front of it, giving out the waist bow once again and without even thinking, her eyes studying the man's face for the nth time, beneath the hat in front of her- a feeling trapped inside her throat. For sure- he is not from here. Perhaps a visitor from another region? All she saw was regality- the clean face now up close: hard-chiseled and stern, the form hidden behind the robe still obvious made her wonder even more who he is. Realizing that she had locked her gaze, she blinks hard once again and lowers her gaze, but does not bow her head as she rises up- "What is it foreign Sir?" She manages to stammer, her chest heaving as the pounding gets heavier, her lips parted to let out the soft exhales.

Yoritomo Yogo

He watched her freeze in her steps, before turning around and moving back towards him. She stripped her hat from her head and bowed once again before him. His eyes looked her over again, noticing that while her garb wasn't the most expensive, it was still well made. His eyes danced with a unnamed light as she locked gazes with him, then she blinked and averted her eyes.

"What is it foreign Sir?"

His eyes took in her form as she had obviously done to him. She was sweat stained, dirty, probably tired. He pulled his hands from his kimono, placing them together in front of himself and bowed to her.

"Might I know your name? So I need not call you Peasent?" His voice lilted at the end as if it were a question, but his tone, stance and body language made it a command. The corners of his lips show just a tiny little smile.

Yoritomo Yogo

When he looked up from his bow, he could see her face clearly. She bit her lip and blushed a bit. Then she moved closer and spoke.

"Akay."

"But you are clearly not a boy...Akay," he straighted out, looking her in the eye again as that seems to be where her eyes keep going to on him. She placed her hat under her left arm, and spoke again.

"What might you be here for Sir?"

"I thought I might stop for a drink of water...and since you were the one with the pails, I thought I should ask you before I just took it." Again his words and inflection made it seem like he ment it, but his tone and body language said he knew he could take the water and her too if he really wanted to.

She puffed out a breath and blushed furiously. "The sun is high Sir... might you want shade?"

The shadow of a grin brightens a bit, but then goes back to what it was -- a shadow. "Did you just invite me inside Akay? To share a drink of water?" This time, it was acctually a question, no command to the words.

Akay

She winces as the high noon's sun streams down the fields mercilessly, nodding at the words of the man as she looks up, lifting her hat to shield the rays from coming down towards her face and body directly. Taking the two pails, she nods politely in motion for the man to follow her. She turns, shaking her head in a discreet manner, puffing her cheeks slowly breathing out as she starts to walk, making her way down a path of drying loam leading to a low one story hut- built right on top of the soil. She stops in front of it and puts down the pails and the hat on the earth, sliding the doors from the middle and parts them wide, the inside being a roughly carpeted wooden floor, the walls of thick white paper with acacia binders and borders with a fair-sized low table of a fresh wooden finish.

She steps in with her bare filthy feet, turning to the man with her eyes lowered, "Come in Sir- do not bother taking off your footwear. They are of nice handwork, there is not doubt they would be stolen." She enters the flat further and turns to the portion to her right- kneeling down and sits on her calves in front of a low table and takes a small wooden box of a dark red-brown color. She sets it on the floor in front of her and opens the top, unwrapping the thick white silk embroidered with wisps of winds of a color blue and small rooftops. Beneath it were three medium sized teacups. She pulls one out, feeling the cool ceramic material of the light green trinket- handpainted with flowers- different ones. She never used these as these were given to her before she left home. But this man was different. She stands up and head out to the back to fill the cup from a clean basin. The noon was soundless- the water filling the cup even drowned by the silence. With a sigh, she walks back in and takes her seat in a kneel sitting on her calves and places the cup in the middle of the table. She looks up towards the foreigner and motions towards it, "this is the only thing I can offer you Sir." With that she streams out her silence, not even daring to ask anything, even what he might have come to the land for or even his name.

She didn't answer his question, well not truly. She placed her hat back on her head to shield her from the sun and then turned and hefting both large pails of water she moved along towards a small hut set back from the paddies and on a small hill to stay above the water. She seemed to have some trouble, but he wasn't sure if it was just being tired from all the work, or if the pails were to heavy or if she had something else going on.

He scanned the inside of her hut, noticing that once again, the materials were not the best but they were well crafted.

"Come in Sir- do not bother taking off your footwear. They are of nice handwork, there is not doubt they would be stolen."

"They shall be fine...I should think."

He was a little surprised that she would let him disgrace her home like that, and it showed in his face. He calmly stepped down from his geta to the carpet, avoiding the places where her dirty steps had fallen. He removed his hat, turning and placing it atop his shoes. When he turned back to her, his hair was draw back into a high pony tail, knoted in a club to not fall farther than his neck and previously hidden inside of his hat. The hair was ink black, and had an indigo sheen.

He watched her drop down to fetch the tea cups, not very surprised that her most expensive item would be a set of teacups.
He idly wondered if she knew the tea ceremony.

She walked off with one cup, eventually returning and placing it on the table. He lowered himself in one fluid movement, the kimono pooling out around him as he dropped onto his legs at the edge of the table. He could hear her sigh as she came back with the single cup. She placed it in the middle of the table and he could tell it was water.

"This is the only thing I can offer you Sir."

He looked at the cup and then up to her. "Wont you join me in sharing this drink?" He let it sit there, a pure question once again. She intrigued him...she should certainly be a geisha and not a paddie worker.

Yoritomo Yogo

"Go ahead my lord- I do not feel the need to do so."

He reached out, both hands encircling the cup and lifting it gently from the table. He smiled at her over the cup, before bowing over it. He raised it to his lips and sipped from the edge of the cup.
He placed the cup back on the table top, pressing his hands down on onto it. He looked across the table again, the smile growing on his face.

"My name is Yoritomo Yogo...it is a pleasure to meet you Akay." His hands reached up and released the club of hair at his neck, letting it fall down around his shoulders in a black and indigo wave. He ran a hand through it before looking back to her. "Might you have a brush I could use? I've been traveling for some time and I fear I must look dreadful."

He shrugged his shoulders slightly as he placed his hands back around her cup, sipping from it to await her answer.

Akay

From his appearance- she have note expect that he had a vanity, and that was his hair. This made her smile from the corner of her lips, nodding a bit. She stands up without any more words and rises swiftly to walks back to the low table where she got the cupo from and pulls out a drawer- taking a wooden brush from it with, the bristles fine and black, evident that it comes from some dried plant material. She gets up, the brush taking up all the space in her left hand and walks back to the table, kneeling a feet away beside the man, her eyes set on his hair.
It did not really need brushing- its luster was lovely and spotless, no hair out of place. Every strand seemed to follow one direction and movement and that was to flow down on his broad shoulders and down his back.
She rests the brush on her lap as she mindlessly raises a hand to touch a lock gently- just enough for him not to notice.
"My Lord..."
She blinks hard, taking her hand away from the soft lock quickly and folds in her lap. It was the first time she ever saw that kind of hair in a man, actually, on somebody. She would love to have a feel of it. "Lord Yoritomo- might I?"
She cuts off her question, inhaling a bit to relax herself. "I want to ask you if you would give me the privelege of brushing your hair for you?" She keeps her eyes on his wet lips politely, the curve of his face amazingly striking.

Yoritomo Yogo

He watched her pad across the room to a sideboard, opening a drawer to withdraw a large brush. He sipped from the cup again as she came and stopped beside him, a small smile on her face. He placed the cup back onto the table and his hands in his lap, mirroring her smile.

"My Lord..." he turned to look at her, her hands folded in her lap over the brush.

"Yes?"

"Lord Yoritomo- might I?...I want to ask you if you would give me the privelege of brushing your hair for you?"

He leaned his head to one side, bringing his eyes in line with hers, his lips dropping from view as he made eye contact.

"If you'd like to brush my hair for me, it would be a delight. But only if you don't call me Lord. I am only Ronin," his shoulders loose a bit of their straightness as he says that, a small amount of shame entering his face unbidden and he couldn't force it's removal. He settled down onto his legs, turning his head from side to side to allow the hair to spread fully across his back and shoulders. Not only was it well maintained, it was also very thick, falling in black and indigo waves across his silk kimono.

Akay

Her throat has loosened with the simple delight of having to brush his hair. She nods, pursing her lips to stop a wide smile as she watches his lips move while he spoke- the fleshy lips of his mouth seemed to draw her deeper into his majestic presence- the blood beneath her skin rushing wildly. Kneeling up behind Yoritomo, she takes the whole tail of his hair with her left hand and starts brushing it gently.
So soft and shiny- she does not even know why she combs it. The brush, she runs from his head down to the tip of the tail, admiring the reflection of the hot high noon sun rays streaming into the small hut. And yes- it did smell good- like running water.

For a while, her eyes removed its attention from the locks of hair on the man's back, the woman trying to catch site of the man's face again. Kneeling closer to take in the pleasing scent of his hair, she clenches he jaw slightly- slightly furrowing her brows as she carefully and discreetly bows over to the hair as her hand lifts to her face, her lips almost kissing the silk-like material, the hands grip tightening slowly. Now- Akay could not bear the rush, but still exerts enough effort to hide it- her breathing becoming heavy- almost like little whimpers.

Yoritomo Yogo

He could feel her kneel behind him, and gathered all of his hair in one of her hands. The brush moved smoothly through his hair, possibly because she was good at what she did, or possibly because his hair was utterly tangle free, clean and straight -- or possibly both.

He can feel the bristles touch his scalp as she moves it from the very top to the very tip of his hair. Yoritomo was suddenly self concious about the smell of his hair and body after having traveled all day. Due to a prevailing breeze, the lightness of his clothes and his hat, he hadn't sweated to much, but he had sweated some, and the distinct musk of maleness could be detected wafting from his body.

He bowed his head, letting her have access to all of his hair. He could feel her move closer to his back, but he assumed it was to help her brush and to do what she did. He could hear her breathing change, and he could feel her grip tighten some on his hair. He reached a hand back and gripped her knee slightly, his voice drifting over his shoulder.

"You need not grip my hair so...I will not run away." His hand rested on her knee, fingers on either side of her knee cap, but not touching flesh due to the cotton of the kimono. He had a firm enough grip that she could easily feel the touch. He leaned back a little bit, straighting his back and causing his hair to move back towards her as he closes the distance some between their bodies.

Akay

The light touch on the cloth was pure torture- so near the part where the robe parts. It was pure electricity streaming up from her thighs like a lovely crack of whip that has been casted upone her. Oh how she hated remembering that feeling, but this was different- so soft, gentle, yet so firm and punishing at the same time given her state. This was not the first time that the heat was taking toll on her insides, urging her to depart and go to a water hole where she can be alone and ease of the wieght in her flesh. This, she cannot possibly do in front of anybody- lest she wanted her hands cut off or her most sensitive parts mutilated.
It was what she did not like about being close to men that she found beautiful- she felt something castrated in her insides.

A massive, gentle and tickling flush slowly giving out a silky feel between her thighs. She just had to stop.
That thing she would do- but no. She just pauses- her grip on the hairbrush tightening as she finally hears the words of the man- loosening her grip on his hair with an embarassed look on her face- lowering her gaze once again as she straightens up, her chest heaving as if wanting release- the nipples shamelessly showing off their perkiness a little through the rough cotton- and how it scraped the raw little stones. Akay furrows her brows as she bites her lowerlip softly- her body pressing on the man's back. She takes half of the hair again and accidentally lets go of the brush. It was as if she did not know what was happening even. The fingers of her two hands run over the top of the Ronin's head as if giving a mindless massage- the dropping of the brush occuring to her.

She lets out a loud gasp and swallows- taking in a deep breath. "O! Forgive me Sir... I did not know I was gripping on your hair- and-"
A sigh breaks her off- swallowing once again: "the brush..." She runs her fingers idly trought the scalp in a frim manner, the warmth of the man's back seemingly transferring from the cloth through her, the sweat forming on her brows and neck even at the presence of the cool noon breeze.

Yoritomo Yogo

He could not even guess at a fraction of all the things she was feeling. He was however delighting in the simple touch to his hair. It wasn't sexual, but at the same time -- it certainly was. His hand loosened it's grip on her knee and instead spread flat on her thigh, directly above the knee. His other hand moved to a similar position on her other knee until he leaned back into her space, his weight supported by his arms on her legs.

He could feel her chest pressed against his back, and he thought he might even be able to feel her nipples, but he dismissed it as whimsy. He enjoyed the closeness of her. She smelled of woman, good soil and work. He knew that if he looked at her hands she would be calloused, dirty and hard worked. Which juxtaposed to his own hands, which were baby soft and well kept. His nails were perfectly rounded, and clean. Of course he enjoyed status, money and up bringing...while she had to work, always for fear of the local lord taking her or a family members life.

He hears the brush fall to the floor between her legs, and tips his head to the left some. Her fingers spread and ran through his hair, tickling at his scalp. He didn't know he was going to get a massage, but he wouldn't complain either.

"O! Forgive me Sir... I did not know I was gripping on your hair- and-" he can hear her swallow, "the brush..."

"Do not trouble yourself Akay, my hair shall be fine even with a little tugging. And the brush seems to have fallen...I'm sure it shall be fine. That fall was less than three feet." He talked soothingly, all command removed from his voice. He got the impression that she was just about to run off scared like a rabbit, and that was the last thing he wished to do. Especially since she had offered such nice hospitality as it was.

He sighed contentedly.

Akay

And then she heard him sigh. The strands falling loosely from the tight bun at the back of her head seemed to caress and tease her skin. The touch getting firmer on her thighs- this became a movement for her to part her legs with shame, but this, she was not able to control.
His weight was something she cannot complain about- as she sees that he has rested on her. His voice was all soothing- his hands firm and let out a touch of dominance. This overpowered her- driving her mind to think of things she encounters everytime she's asleep. Her heart now bashes beneath her chest- making her let out a whimper- louder than the ones she let out before. She does not even notice this. All she cares about was taking over the rushes inside her. The jolts of electricity continues to stream in her. She opens her mouth to speak, letting go of the hair immediately and assists the man to sit back up, moving back as she does while still sitting, putting a hand above her chest as she does, just above the small mounds. The struggling was making her chest heave harder- the woman's cheeks in the deepest red blushes. The unnecessary beads of sweat running down her cheeks.
"Would... would my Lord be needing anything else?" She asks after regaining her composure slowly, rising up in her kneeling position again, folding her hands on her lap- her eyes lowered to hide the fire in her.

Yoritomo Yogo

He could hear her let out a loud whimper, as if she were pained. She pushed him forward until he was sitting straight again, so his right hand reached behind his head, gathering his hair in it's movement from left to right and pulling the thick bundle over his shoulder; at the same time he looked over his left shoulder at her.

"Would... would my Lord be needing anything else?"

Her chest was heaving, her face was red in blush, her eyes were down cast, and she was suddenly sweating profusely. She was having all of the signs of heat stroke. He quickly but carefully snatched up the cup and turned in place, so that he was facing her, his knees lightly brushing against hers. He held up the cup very near to her lips.

"Drink...you are flushed. Perhaps you shouldn't go back out to work today? And Akay...I'm still not a lord...and do not worry about my needs...at the very least do not worry about them until you yourself feel better. Drink." As he said drink, he lifted the cup. That was the only word of command he spoke, the rest of his sentence was edged with concern.

The side of the cup her presented her was the side he had drank from before. The lip shiny with drying water. His face was a study in concern, he had no idea that she was feeling aroused -- or to such extent. He desperatly hoped to himself that this nice peasent woman Akay would not be injured or perish. He knew he wasn't supposed to care about the Henin(peasents) but he couldn't help himself.

Akay

She looks up, now seeing the man closer to her, the fine luster of his nails gleaming as he held the cup near her lips. His words were all blurry- she has started to ignore what he was saying, she was taking in every movement of his lips- naturally tinted with a glowing pink. It was like the fumes of fermenting alcohol, drowning her with its comforting effects, not to mention, hypnotizing her with its solid flowing beauty.
She does not think twice- nor even take into consideration what this man might be. She clasps the cups, covering the soft hands- as is the rough sand has covered the soft water of the sea, rough versus smooth.
"Beauty..."
She kept repeating to herself, her own mind whispering the word again and again as her eyes remain open, her tongue relishing the taste of the man's mouth on the cups rim, her lips sucking in every drop of water that it needs to replenish what it had lost during the morning. She could not help but let her body take over her mind, her filthy hands wrapping around the man, tightening with every energy she regains from the small portions of water she takes in, her back straightening up again. She closes her eyes as her mouth lets go of the cup, her left running up his wrist to clasp it firmly, her eyes gazing down at his knees- oh the soft and expensive fabric. Such a man!

Acting by instinct, she bows her head and plants a kiss on the backs of the man's hands, her wet lips pressing gently over it in a repeating and firm manner.
And even the taste is sweet. This is a gift. Could this be? No. My hard work gathers other rewards. How could he be so kind and commanding at the same time. He- he is different. Lovely beauty. Spotless sculpture. Looking up at him, with a grateful glint in her eyes, she lets out the tip of her tongue to take a taste of the skin, not caring about what could be said or done to her. She just wants something- and maybe, it was that little taste.

Yoritomo Yogo

He could feel her hands touching his. He suddenly got the impression of a person drowning and trying to save themselves by grasping onto anything solid -- in this case, her hands on his hands. He smiled at her, he could feel the strength in her fingers. But her strength did not come from training with a sword but more likely with garden tools. Where as he was like silk, fine and strong, she was like hemp, stronger but rough.

He watched her suck the rest of the water from the cup greedily. She must certainly have been parched, if not dehydrated. As she drank, her grip became tighter, and he thought that a good sign. At least she wasn't so far gone to recover. He looked over their hands grasping the cup, and noted the soil on her hands, and caked under her nails. He smiled to himself really, she didn't shy away from work. She would make any man a worthy wife. He watched her straighten herself up, having leaned in to drink.

He was surprised when her grip shifted to his wrist, his muscles locked in a fighters responce even as his mind commands them not to move. His muscles tighten percepably, especially as her they moved beneath her hand. Then his muscles relaxed again, allowing her touch. He watched her bow over their hands and the cup, and gently kiss the back of his hand. First one and then the other.

He raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him, he was a little confused, but his face showed amusement. When her tongue hit the back of his hand lightly, he looked more confused and then lust streaked across his face to be replaced with a quiet smile.
He moved his hands, bringing hers along with his due to her grip. He turned the cup and their hands until he could place a kiss on the back of her hand, amidst the soil that was still there. He looked over there hands at her again.

"Do you feel better now?" His tongue dragged across his lips, pulling a tiny fleck of dirt from his skin.