CW: Light sexual themes, I lost Horny Roulette again and this time it’s Horny On Main so no side characters!
She’d had another one of those dreams.
It wasn’t a bad one, more of the same in different locales, but the bard was a little frustrated about it.
Really, brain? I just killed my brother and this is what you’re making me dream about?
Wisely, instead of yielding to Natsumi’s comforting touch - not knowing what would happen if she did with all of those thoughts clouding her judgment - she slid her way out of bed.
“Are you okay, Ayla? Did you have a nightmare?”
“Yes, I’m okay. It was another sort of dream, I think I just need to take a cold shower.”
“You can go back to sleep, it’s okay.”
There were no arguments there. It had been several moons since either of them had slept in their bed at home, and nothing was going to stop Natsumi from getting her beauty rest. Not that she needed it, thought the bard, She would still be beautiful on day 53 of no-sleep. But very, very cranky.
She softly made her way over to their restroom. A simply furnished room of stone tiling and some of the best light in the house.
“Why do I keep dreaming about her like this?” Ayla muttered, throwing off a sleep shirt that almost assuredly was stolen and actually belonged to Natsumi, “Have I decided that I really do want to… look into this?”
Ayla took a breath, then ran her hands under the sink, pressing the cooled hands against her face and running the water through red hair. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror - the dampened strands stuck up and out in a wild way. And matched with her blue eyes, so blue against the fire of her hair that they stood out starkly, she likened herself to a wolf or some other predator animal.
“Nat, you didn’t tell me your roommate had such beautiful, piercing eyes.”
A flirtatious comment she didn’t realize was flirtatious, from long ago. From someone or another that Natsumi had been seeing or was acquainted with somehow - Ayla couldn’t remember. But she thought about the comment a lot. And she wasn’t the only one to remark on that aspect of her appearance.
And as much as she hated how she got that scar that bisected her nose, she decided it was so much a part of herself now that she’d look strange without it.
The bard backed up from the mirror, the broadness of her always-talked-about shoulders barely contained in the frame. Her shirtlessness wasn’t as much of an issue when she was all by herself. But she stared down her own reflection. Rolling a strong shoulder back, watching the muscles move with it. Noticing the surgery scars dotting a trail across a freckled chest and feeling relieved that they healed so well, in no small part to Kowa and Asharielle. The other scars littered across her body, fading with time, stood out against the pinkish skin cold from exposure.
“Who would want this?” Ayla asked curiously, barely above a whisper, “Who would desire this?”
She ran her right hand slowly against the topographical monument to the Calamity, etched into the skin of her left arm, stopping at her shoulder.
With every passing dream, her mind fought her heart, fought her body. At her deepest, most unconscious level, she supposed she did want Natsumi in that way. Which was new to her, she had never wanted someone in the way that made her body stir in such odd and alien ways. She caught herself staring in more unsavory ways when her thoughts were left to roam free. She caught herself holding onto her for too long. Kissing her much deeper than she had before.
What, then, was stopping her?
There was nothing in her religious doctrine that would shame someone for acting on their desires, however plain. However ordinary. In fact, she figured the Matron would approve. Something something seeds and sowing, blah blah blah.
Was it just herself then?
Who would love this, she asked once, Who would love little old damaged me?
She had that question answered easily. The answer - the person in question - was the person she loved most in the whole wide world. The revelation made her heart sing, and she had healed and become more herself than she had been in turns, thanks to being by Natsumi’s side.
Another easily answered question if she thought above her own insecurities for one moment - if the myriad folk flirting with her over the turns have told her anything, it’s that she was physically attractive. She was desirable.
She knew Natsumi didn’t expect or want this from her. The love and bond they had was more than enough.
But would Natsumi want more from her if she offered?
The bard hoped yes, but from looking into her own eyes and seeing the expression there - one of uncertainty and confusion - she knew she wouldn’t know until she asked.
“I’m… not ready to ask her yet anyway,” Ayla mumbled to herself, watching her face as she spoke.
She knew she’d never be comfortable being vulnerable with her until she could be vulnerable with herself. So she spent more time than she should've just watching herself. How she moved. How her chest rose and fell when she breathed. The twitch of her mouth when she thought. The coldness of her eyes, staring back at her. A luxury she hadn’t had growing up in such a tiny, full house. A luxury she didn’t have with roommates. But one she could have now, in her home with the love of her life.
Maybe she should spend some time getting better acquainted with this broken body. Get to know its every intricacy. Become comfortable with its topography. Perhaps, take Esen up on that offer to dress it up. Wrap that sinewy muscle in something soft and delicate.
Maybe eventually, she wouldn’t mind if Natsumi walked in on her like this.
But after a bell, she gasped in realization.
“I was going to take a shower!”
The bard shucked off the rest of her clothing and eventually got to what she meant to do.
romaincrisis
blakekathryn
izzy806
titsay
vaporwave
prguitarman
theartofmadeline
tangentwithtanner
andulkaphoto
ellievsbear
