Just a kiss?

You can't decide whether this feeling causing you to tremble so is anxiety or desire, and hope that instead you're perhaps not quite warmed through yet. But more so than any of those emotions, you're seized by curiosity. This man is dashing, handsome, and has already extended more aid to you than you could have possibly expected. Were he not a stranger, you might have embraced him for his generosity anyway, and is a kiss so much more than that? It's really only for the asking of it that you have any misgivings, but he could have swept you off your feet instead or **** himself upon you... in that light, it's only your pride that stands in the way of awarding him as requested, and pride seems a foolish thing before your benefactor.

You say nothing, but close your eyes and rise up on your toes to softly press your lips against his. The contact is soft and warm, not quite what you expected, but the room spins around you the way the world used to when you would turn in place over and over again as a child. In that same manner, your knees grow weak and you prepare to step away from him.

As your weight shifts, he slides his other hand around your shoulders and pulls your waist against his. It's all such a natural movement that you wouldn't have noticed it if you hadn't, quite literally, just fallen into his arms. You feel a moment of fight, but he catches your bottom lip with his teeth, biting ever so softly, as you gasp in surprise. Your hands move to his chest, you thought to shove him away from you, but they linger there instead. When his tongue brushes against your mouth, you don't catch yourself in time to keep your own tongue from parting your lips in return.

Russ proves himself to be a fine fencer, the tip of his tongue dueling with yours, never quite thrusting into your mouth, but luring yours into his. When he starts to pull away from you, you find yourself chasing his lips, seeking their soft wetness, but he releases you despite your sudden eagerness. It never occurred to you that the hand on your hip had slid to cup the swell of your arse, nor did you recognize the hardness of his manhood that he had pressed your waist against.

"I have not tasted a finer payment in many years, though I fear it may have indebted me to you. Or perhaps not if your demeanor is any indication. A burning rose, indeed."

You narrow your eyes at him. Such a remark is near to an insult to your goddess and should not be ignored. However you hesitate to strike the man. It might inflame his lust... or yours.

"If it was to your... liking," You choose your words carefully, so as not to encourage him further, "Then we are settled for now?"

He smiles in his practiced manner. "To my liking does not properly describe such a small sampling, but the taste is one which I could most agreeably become acquainted. But we are settled, or at least I am, and I will see to it that your horse is properly tended. Take whatever rest you require, fair Sabine, I will await you in the common room."

You're still aflutter, and his words aren't helping. Is this flirting? You decide that in dealing with Russ, it would be wise to ignore the majority of what he says and try to focus on only the important parts. "Wait, so, you're not planning to return?"

He presses the key to his room into your hands and then bows low once again. "Trust is the most valuable commodity between companions on the road. It cannot be ****, but will grow naturally when it is freely extended. If we are to see this journey's success, I would have you trust me, and to earn that, I shall first entrust you with this room, and these meager possessions. More than that, I would not ask you to be at ease with a strange man keeping watch while you sleep. Worry not, I will fetch you in time to depart before first light."

The man called Russ DeLarco leaves you alone to claim a scant few hours of rest, though even that is much-needed. You follow him to the door and seal it behind him... and then in a flight of fancy, unlock the door again. You press fingers to your lips as you walk backwards to the bed and fall upon it. Naive fantasies of the gentleman scoundrel returning in the darkness and sliding into bed beside you entertain your thoughts before passing into sleep.