I want the K [ /gently places ]
13: Stomach Kiss
Inviting people beneath her furs was not a common occurrence. It was a widely regarded misconception that the free-folk were entirely promiscuous. Granted, they did believe in a far freer degree of love than that of the South, but there was still loyalty and self-worth to take into account too. The redhead had always been fairly meticulous when it came to deciding who was worthy of her warmth. She favoured fighters amongst all others, those that were headstrong and opinionated enough to match her own fires when it came to wit and speculation. It was understandable really, wasn’t it? To want to seek out a courageous flame when you’d been brought up in the very depths of a cold and bleak Winter? In respite from the snows of her homeland, Jhagon had been her first taste of Summer. He was an insufferable git, like many of her bedmates had been, but he was warm despite his eccentric and eclectic behaviour, and surprisingly appealing despite that unbridled sense of arrogance that seemed to creep into every one of his actions. Maybe they were too much alike to see things differently, far too similar in their own bad habits and unavoidable personality traits. It was how she liked it though, the world had always been perfect solely because of it’s imperfections, and the same could be said for her dark skinned companion. Nestled deep beneath her sleeping furs in a tangle of limbs, unruly strands of copper draped across a bare chest as Ygritte dipped her head in muted laughter, her mouth ghosting along the lines of well defined pectorals before chapped lips pressed to his stomach with a deceptively innocent hum. Tilting her head upwards, with a flash of ivory and a quirk of a flame hued brow, the spearwife raised her voice in mischievous challenge. “Round two?"
