The touch to his back is not expected, and yet he leans into it like it's familiar, smiling at her surprise. "We've found this one has better flavor. Also, knock on wood, not aphrodisiac surprises thus far."
Not that he'd mind in the given company, but he also cherishes all their sober time together deeply. And he's still a little stunned they've had sex technically three times in less than a day, even if one was not ideal.
"Am I not your only tall, handsome friend?" he teases lightly, enjoying that their games extend to playful conversation. It's just...easy to be with her. "Lead the way. Unless you want me to cook this first."
She tilts her head to the side coyly at the question, doing what she can to keep the smile on her face from evolving into a full-fledged grin. "Well, you're my tallest, handsomest friend. That counts right?"
Even though Aerith is no expert on these things, she can tell that the situation between them has changed, the word friend feeling like a more awkward fit than it did this time yesterday. It's something she wants to be careful with, as unsure of what to make of it as she is, so she stops herself before she says anything more damning, like telling him he's her favorite friend.
"You're going to cook for me too?" Her eyes widen, and she takes a step towards the door, the hand on his back leading him along. "I guess there's no way around inviting you to stay for dinner then, huh?" As though she would even consider doing otherwise.
"Now I'm trying to recall if you are my shortest friend. I think you are. Even if I don't remember you that way." No, friend doesn't entirely fit, but he isn't going to dwell on it. It doesn't fit for Fran either. That's...kind of like what this is. Closeness that's hard to pinpoint or explain.
Perhaps he's misstepped in offering to cook for her, even if his grin at her inviting him to stay is quick and wide. "Alas, I'm a snob about food. Have I managed to hide this from you? Must be why you like me so much -- haven't found any of my flaws yet."
Making a face at being called short, Aerith leans sideways enough to bump her hip against him lightly. "You're definitely the biggest pirate I know," she chides playfully, looking towards him with a roll of her eyes.
"You never told me that, but, I figured you must live a pretty fancy life." Her hand falls away from his back, catching his hand briefly to tug him towards the fence once they step outside. "That room at the palace, remember? You said it looked like your ship."
Aerith stops after they reach the fence, gesturing towards a salvaged square of latticed wood. "If you can hang it up there for me, my moonflowers will have somewhere to go," she points towards a stout nail sticking out of the high hanging top of the fencepost before her hand goes to her hip, fixing him with a smirk. "Then I'll let you cook dinner for me."
"Are all the pirates small where you come from?" he asks, ignoring how pleased he is with the warmth of being bumped like that. "Fran's taller than me even without her ears. And you'd make an excellent pirate, I wager."
He follows her fluidly, momentarily distracted when she takes his hand and by the words that followed. For some reason, he's touched that she remembers, and maybe a little uncertain about what she knows about him. It hadn't really mattered that night, but now it feels like maybe it does.
"I've lived a life of finery and one of very little resources," he shrugs, drawing much less attention to it than he feels. "I prefer nice things when I can get them. Like my ship."
The lattice gives him safer territory to navigate, and it's easy enough to lift the lattice and maneuver it onto the nail. He's done significantly harder under significantly more pressure and less light. "Moon flowers, hmm? Are they special?"
"You really think so?" Aerith beams, giving Balthier a wink that suggests she shares his opinion. "There aren't any pirates back home, so I got into selling flowers instead. Don't worry though, I'm figuring out how to make up for it in other ways." Something she's pretty sure he already knows but is obliged to cheekily remind him of, even if it makes her cheeks go slightly pink in the process.
It's almost funny - flirting with him like this after so many things have already happened between them. There shouldn't be that much left to feel out, and yet as she chatters on cheerfully, Aerith can't help but get the sense there's a lot that remains to be turned over and explored when it comes to the progressively complex issue of Balthier.
She casts that line of thinking aside for the time being, far too interested in listening to Balthier talk while he hangs up her future trellis for her. "I bet it's a great ship. The airships in my world were pretty rare, but they always sounded wonderful."
In a smooth, graceful movement she hops up onto the fence by the spot he's working, sitting down and swinging her legs while looking on. "They bloom at night, and I'll be able to smell them from my room."
"Disarming. Secretly ferocious. Attractive enough to distract people. Enjoy ordering people around. I'd say you fit the bill." He doesn't miss the way her cheeks go slightly pink and can't resist teasing. This may be a new game for them, flirting and poking, but it has some of the same electric energy their time together does. Well, the times before the last day or so.
And for him, flirting is safer territory, something he does without thinking. It is odd, though, for this to feel new when there's so much they've crossed together.
"Ah, your world had airships? Interesting. You're the first person who's said so." His voice shifts as he talks about the Strahl, wistful and proud. "My ship was one of a kind. Military prototype, only one made. Stole it. Stripped the interior and refinished it, mostly myself, hired some workers for parts. Fran and I have lived on it for near a decade. World's best apartment. Maybe the universe's.'
When he glances over, she's sitting on the fence listening to him thoughtfully, legs swinging, and the smile he gives her is warm and full of affection. "I always liked night blooming flowers -- a lot of them in the deserts. They suit you." And because he can't help himself, "You'll have to point the scent out sometime when I'm over."
"Secretly?" She scoffs nose wrinkling at him. Just like last night, the thought that they were being people instead of prisoners crosses her mind, though, at present, it's a very different context, one she decides she likes. He's been interesting and sweet in every light she's seen him in so far, but Aerith isn't sure what she's supposed to do with that information given the circumstances.
Aerith smiles as he describes his life before arriving here, trying to piece together an image in her mind of what life as a pirate aboard an airship must be like. It's a little beyond the frame of reference she has from things seen in passing on the television or heard in stories, but it sounds wonderful, and more than that, it sounds so perfectly him.
A detail she feels weird about pointing out and so refrains, even if she couldn't say why. "It sounds like a lot more than an apartment," she begins. "Were you always in danger?"
Smiling at him even while she tries not to imagine what future visits from him might entail, Aerith nods, humming in agreement before she holds a hand out towards him. "Hey, help me get down." She could absolutely hop down by herself as easily as she hopped up, but, that wasn't the point.
"Are you going to break my heart and tell me you're this intense with everyone?" He regrets the phrasing as soon as it's out, feeling oddly self-conscious that a definitely playful joke may have come off as something else.
Still, safer to latch onto the other conversation, and he's nothing if not a man who listens to his instincts. "Apartment. Transportation. Military grade defense systems. Cache of priceless artifacts and illicit magick. She has her charms." He laughs at the other question though. "I would say technically yes and practically speaking, no. Usually if we made it back to the Strahl, we were more or less in the clear." It's been...months since he's talked about any of that. There's something pleasant about it, and a little wistful.
Aerith brings his attention back to the present though, holding out a hand and giving him another order so easily he almost says yes, my lady. There's a tiny flush in his cheeks even as he smiles at her, offering his hand and steadying her as she jumps down. And then lingering a beat too long with her hand in his and his frame around her, making sure she's stable, noticing the way she smells clean and warm, mind drifting back to being in the blankets with her all night like it happened weeks ago and a thousand miles away.
The remark sticks in her head for a moment too long, and Aerith has to stop herself from saying the first ten or so things that spring to mind on the heels of it, glad she's already a little red in the face so he can't see how he's flustered her all over again. After a split second of pause, Aerith purses her lips together, rolling her shoulders in an elusive shrug.
"You see more of me than most people do." To her credit, she doesn't wince, even though she wants to, saying something like that to him. Aerith shakes her head, glad for the talk of the Strahl for a multitude of reasons. "Maybe one day you can draw me a picture of your ship, I'd like to see it." Just when she thinks she can't inadvertently expose herself anymore in this conversation.
Since she doesn't know what's going on here, exactly, she can't tell if Balthier helping her down has made things better or worse. Looking up at him while he's close, she's pretty sure it's better, even if the desire to kiss him while he stands there, and the uncertainty over whether she should feels preposterous, all things considered. Aerith's expression softens, and she reaches up, smoothing out the front of his vest where it's creased, presumably from hanging the trellis, or she's making up excuses to touch him.
There's...a lot in this exchange he could dig into, but he's choosing not to, trying to find the safest place to put his feet. And that, at least, is something he can do on autopilot after years of piracy and conning. Not that he wants to be anything but honest with her, but, well -- choosing safe topics isn't exactly dishonesty.
"That's not a bad idea. I wonder if the commissary has drawing supplies -- might be good for me." It's a habit he picks up when he's stressed. Hasn't in awhile, but he's decent.
Those thoughts are derailed when she's suddenly nearly in his arms again. Before he can decide what he's going to do about that, she's smoothing her hand down his chest, and he knows exactly how she would fit if he just curled around her, head on her chin -- and do? What?
The result is he's just staring at her, lips parted and brow just barely wrinkled. His hands come up to her sides but don't quite touch and honestly it's the first time in probably years he's genuinely not sure what to do with himself.
On the verge of reminding him that he's certainly earned enough points for drawing supplies between the two of them alone, Aerith's train of thought is derailed when Balthier brings his hands to her sides and stops, hesitating with his palms hovering not quite against her.
Arching an eyebrow she glances down at his hands, laughing in surprise when she looks back at his face, eyes widening expectantly. "Um," she lifts her hands, covering his and guiding them to rest on her sides. "Better?" Aerith tries not to sound hopeful when she asks, ignoring the silly little flutter that moves through her chest at the thought that he wanted to touch her. He's touched her lots of times, there's no reason for it.
Disguising her nervousness poorly with another spell of gentle laughter, Aerith sets her hands on his shoulders before rising onto the balls of her feet to resolutely press a kiss to his lips, having no idea why it felt like such a gamble.
Maybe it feels more illicit because they're still dressed. Or outside. Or because his heart skips then starts to pound against his chest. He licks his bottom lip, mouth suddenly gone dry.
This is absurd. He's been with her numerous times. Nothing has changed, and a hand at a waist is hardly something to get ruffled over.
Which makes it that much more ridiculous when she stretches up to kiss him and he hums in surprised delight, hands tightening around her middle as he leans into her. Nervousness and heat flare in his stomach and he can't help pulling her to him. The way their bodies fit together is starting to feel familiar, and some part of him is screaming to abort, but the rest of him is kissing her back like he never wants to stop.
He breaks away, eyes searching her face. For what? Asking if this is okay? He gives her a lopsided grin, as much at himself as anything. "We seem to be unable to keep our hands to ourselves." Not that he withdraws them, he just -- doesn't want to cross some line he feels like is there.
Even if he's absolutely aware that somehow his cock is starting to harden. Again.
The way he returns that kiss doesn't put all these weird little passing worries she's working so hard to brush off aside, but it does fill her with a warmth she knows she shouldn't look at too hard. Whatever this is, it's enjoyable enough that whatever warning signs there might be are easy to ignore in favor of the thrill of being pulled closer and kissed like she's someone he's wanted to see very badly.
The crooked smile on Balthier's face makes Aerith's stomach do a little flip, her jaw tensing as she fights with herself and the rising urge to tell him how beautiful he looks like that. She's called him beautiful before in far more tawdry circumstances, but fully clothed kissing in a field feels like a step too far.
He is beautiful though, in a way that makes her stop and stare up at him before forcing herself to look away, glancing left and right as if to verify something for herself.
Looking back at him, Aerith rolls a shoulder in a shrug. "I don't think I have neighbors who'll mind." She didn't know if she had neighbors, period.
She stares at him a little too long and he wonders if he's crossed a line, or if he hasn't crossed one he ought to have. It's been a long time since he felt this socially clueless, and some part of him delights in that too. She is certainly an adventure.
Then she looks around conspiratorially and tells him the neighbors won't mind. His bark of laughter is loud enough that if she does have any, they definitely heard. "I don't think you would care if they did," he points out, mischief catching.
Somehow the suggestion of them getting up to illicit things is safer territory. That's what this entire place wants them to do. Surely that's nothing to pay attention to. Nothing that means anything between them.
Besides, doesn't she need help with her house? He'd love to have a regular bath -- they can get credit for all the fucking they're doing. It's reasonable, as far as this jail goes.
He slides a hand down her arm and up her back, and this time when he kisses her his tongue joins in, searching until he gets a good gasp from her.
"Is this what you were thinking about while I was gone? Taking you in the garden?" Maybe he doesn't want the real answer to that question, but the ease of their game fits better than...whatever was happening a minute ago.
"You are pretty great to look at," she agrees, her tone kept carefully light, avoiding letting herself dwell on how true that was. When he leans in and kisses her again it's a welcome distraction, one Aerith lets herself lean into fully. Her lips part at the gentle brush of his tongue, eager to deepen that kiss, a pleasant shiver tickling down her spine in response.
"I thought you wanted to help me with my house," Aerith counters softly, the tip of her tongue brushing over his bottom lip. "Testing how strong the fence is, is helping." Maybe. Probably. It's not hurting anything anyway!
Most importantly, it's not being caught in a weird, elating kind of stalemate where she's caught in a loop of smiling at him stupidly, while fighting off a thousand things she has no business thinking or saying.
"You're not bad yourself," he agrees like she hasn't caught him staring at her in the last day. Like he isn't now.
By the time she brushes her tongue over his lip, there is no doubt she can feel him hardening between them. "I can stop and go back to house tasks," he teases, turning his head away just enough she has to either chase him with her mouth or turn his face back to her.
And he's not thinking about whether it's alright that he wants her to chase him, expects her to protest him pulling away. Maybe there's something in these flowers making him like this, and if so, he doesn't mind.
The way he turns draws a girlish laugh from her, and Aerith unwraps an arm so she can bring a gentle hand to his cheek, and guide his face back to look at her, color rising to her face while she smiles at him, perhaps more adoringly than she should.
"You could," she offers quietly, her thumb brushing across his cheek before she presses her lips against his again. "But, there are better things we could do, too." Which would be ludicrous to suggest any other time, because there is a lot of work to be done, and Aerith doesn't usually shy away from getting her hands dirty while fixing something up, be it the house or that little patch of garden she's made for herself in the North Yard.
"I mean if you really want to fix my house, and cook me dinner, and take a bath with me, that sounds like a pretty nice day too, but," Aerith trails off, looking over her shoulder at the fence behind him before she returns her attention to Balthier, her stupid heart skipping a stupid beat very stupidly. "If the neighbors don't mind."
There's no reason her touch should make his heart skip. She's touched his cheek and kissed him a hundred times, probably in the last day. His grin is bright and wide, though, and he receives her kiss eagerly, chuckling at her teasing invite, a wave of...something going through him at it being offered again.
"I frankly couldn't give a chocobo's ass what the neighbors think," he informs her. And this time while he kisses her, he guides her hips to his, rolling his growing bulge against the front of her dress. He curls an arm around her to keep her there, the other coming to run over her breast, fingertips teasing the edge of the fabric.
The temptation is too great, and he bends his head down as he slides his hand inside her dress, pushing the fabric away to expose her breast to the sun for a brief moment before he envelops it with his mouth, biting at her nipple as he rocks against her, bolstered by the strange zing of being outside where someone could catch them.
Moving with him, she's all too happy to angle herself against the hardening press of his cock through the fabric of his pants, resting her thigh lightly against the side of Balthier's hip as he guides her leg around him, bolstered by the way he grins at her. There's an added level of happiness that comes along with this closeness, one that Aerith does not dare let herself dwell on, deciding it's easier to lean into it and choose to believe it's all just the residual softness of their ordeal and recovery from the night before.
"You know what chocobos are?" She asks in a delighted murmur between kisses, not bothering to dig that deeply, instead cozily leaning herself into him, a hand moving between their bodies to tug the skirt of her dress up and out from between them, wanting him to feel the warmth of her sex against his length each time he let his hips tilt closer to hers. If there were any neighbors, it's a very trivial matter compared with the nearness and increasingly familiar warmth of Balthier's body.
She shivers, feeling fresh air as it travels over her newly exposed breast, and turns her head, laughing gently against his neck as the gentle bite to her nipple pulls a gasp out of her. "Can we? Right here?" It's not a question so much as it is a giddily issued invitation. She wants him everywhere she can have him, and in that moments it's okay to feel that way.
Whatever else was in his head falls aways as she pulls her dress up to push herself more directly against him. There's a tiny moment where he freezes, the last time she pulled her dress up being that horrible compulsive collar --
Gods was that only last night? He squeezes her arms, kissing her harder and pressing his length firmly against her. That must still be what this is, surely. Taking back everything it unsettled. Her eagerness in asking if they can go, right here right now, eases him further. He lets her nipple go to grin against her. "I have no intention of waiting a second longer than I have to." His mouth walks back up her breast and to her neck, sucking hard against her flesh as his hand slides across the front of her panties, beginning to massage her opening through the fabric. He wants to feel her wetness there, shifting so he can grind against her thigh as he works her heat.
All the while the breeze dances across his face, reminding him how out in the open they are, and he did not expect to be this into it.
Gazing down at him, she shivers when he lifts his mouth away from her breast, suddenly very aware of the fresh air of outdoors, and grins caught up in how good everything felt at that moment. "What a good answer," Aerith sighs, tilting her head back as his lips travel up her throat and his hand moves between their bodies to tease her through the thin fabric of her panties. "A great answer," she adds moaning softly as she turns her thigh enough to press back against his cock, teasing him as he does her.
Arching her back, pressing herself against him insistently, Aerith's hips move slowly against his hand, as eager to draw this moment out as she had been last night in bed, and the following morning - purely just because it was fun to be like this with him, she's sure.
Her hands skim over his chest, one slipping down to join his, caught between their forms as her fingers find the firming outline of his cock and trace over it, ducking her chin down to kiss him again while her free hand runs through his hair.
Surely he hums against her neck because her thigh feels good against his cock, and the way she rolls her hips against his hand. Just like last night and this morning, there's no real urgency, just a savoring of their bodies and being in control of their own desires.
"I do like pleasing you," he murmurs. And that's completely in line with the normal game they play.
Her fingers trace his cock as she kisses him, settling more comfortably into his hold. A humid cling is starting to form beneath his hand as she shifts and kisses against him. He bends his cheek down next to hers, letting his pleased sighs fall directly into her ear. The only part of this he doesn't like is that he knows it will be over soon, regardless of their gentle pace.
"I believe you're making my pants too tight," he whispers. "I'm going to need your assistance with that."
"You're very good at it," and more than anything she wants to tell him just how much he pleases her, how much she wants to do the same for him, but it toes the same line as the lurking desire to remind him of how beautiful she finds him with every smile and flash of his eyes - she knows that just like she's sure this softness is residual, and merely part of the way they're reclaiming what belongs to them after the incident in the field.
Aware of the way he can feel how wet and hot she's become for him, desire flares through her, making the press of her hand against his length firmer, stroking over him through the fabric of his trousers until the words he whispers against her ear draw a low giggle out of her.
"I make your pants too tight a lot," she begins, turning her head to kiss his temple, as her hand squeezes his shaft lightly. "Maybe you should stop wearing pants so much," Aerith concludes in a whisper as her hand moves to the fastening of his trousers. Her hand delves below the fabric the moment she works his pants loose, wrapping around the base of his cock before guiding him to press against the skin of her thigh. "I think I need your assistance too Balthier," Aerith purrs, gently catching his bottom lip in her teeth.
"Is there something else you want to see me in?" he teases, eyes fluttering and moaning lightly as she squeezes against him then moves to get him out of his pants. The moment his flesh touches her thigh, he feels his want swell, further buoyed by her low words and the bite on his lip. Leaning into the bliss of wanting her, he slides his free hand up the small of her back, rubbing his length along her thigh as he presses a finger into her over the fabric, knowing it's getting tight as it pulls against her skin. He can almost ignore the way his heart flipped at her saying she needed him
"Happy to oblige, my lady." His fingers twist, pulling her panties aside, the way she had him do last night. He wants to reclaim that too, fill every possible crack with good memory. He shifts his hips, slowly running his hot length against her slick opening, wetness gathered there from being pressed against her panties. Only after he's gotten both their breathing jagged does he murmur, "Guide me in." He could do it himself but...he likes her helping, likes her welcoming him, and he doesn't really want to let go of her, even for this.
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Not that he'd mind in the given company, but he also cherishes all their sober time together deeply. And he's still a little stunned they've had sex technically three times in less than a day, even if one was not ideal.
"Am I not your only tall, handsome friend?" he teases lightly, enjoying that their games extend to playful conversation. It's just...easy to be with her. "Lead the way. Unless you want me to cook this first."
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Even though Aerith is no expert on these things, she can tell that the situation between them has changed, the word friend feeling like a more awkward fit than it did this time yesterday. It's something she wants to be careful with, as unsure of what to make of it as she is, so she stops herself before she says anything more damning, like telling him he's her favorite friend.
"You're going to cook for me too?" Her eyes widen, and she takes a step towards the door, the hand on his back leading him along. "I guess there's no way around inviting you to stay for dinner then, huh?" As though she would even consider doing otherwise.
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Perhaps he's misstepped in offering to cook for her, even if his grin at her inviting him to stay is quick and wide. "Alas, I'm a snob about food. Have I managed to hide this from you? Must be why you like me so much -- haven't found any of my flaws yet."
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"You never told me that, but, I figured you must live a pretty fancy life." Her hand falls away from his back, catching his hand briefly to tug him towards the fence once they step outside. "That room at the palace, remember? You said it looked like your ship."
Aerith stops after they reach the fence, gesturing towards a salvaged square of latticed wood. "If you can hang it up there for me, my moonflowers will have somewhere to go," she points towards a stout nail sticking out of the high hanging top of the fencepost before her hand goes to her hip, fixing him with a smirk. "Then I'll let you cook dinner for me."
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He follows her fluidly, momentarily distracted when she takes his hand and by the words that followed. For some reason, he's touched that she remembers, and maybe a little uncertain about what she knows about him. It hadn't really mattered that night, but now it feels like maybe it does.
"I've lived a life of finery and one of very little resources," he shrugs, drawing much less attention to it than he feels. "I prefer nice things when I can get them. Like my ship."
The lattice gives him safer territory to navigate, and it's easy enough to lift the lattice and maneuver it onto the nail. He's done significantly harder under significantly more pressure and less light. "Moon flowers, hmm? Are they special?"
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It's almost funny - flirting with him like this after so many things have already happened between them. There shouldn't be that much left to feel out, and yet as she chatters on cheerfully, Aerith can't help but get the sense there's a lot that remains to be turned over and explored when it comes to the progressively complex issue of Balthier.
She casts that line of thinking aside for the time being, far too interested in listening to Balthier talk while he hangs up her future trellis for her. "I bet it's a great ship. The airships in my world were pretty rare, but they always sounded wonderful."
In a smooth, graceful movement she hops up onto the fence by the spot he's working, sitting down and swinging her legs while looking on. "They bloom at night, and I'll be able to smell them from my room."
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And for him, flirting is safer territory, something he does without thinking. It is odd, though, for this to feel new when there's so much they've crossed together.
"Ah, your world had airships? Interesting. You're the first person who's said so." His voice shifts as he talks about the Strahl, wistful and proud. "My ship was one of a kind. Military prototype, only one made. Stole it. Stripped the interior and refinished it, mostly myself, hired some workers for parts. Fran and I have lived on it for near a decade. World's best apartment. Maybe the universe's.'
When he glances over, she's sitting on the fence listening to him thoughtfully, legs swinging, and the smile he gives her is warm and full of affection. "I always liked night blooming flowers -- a lot of them in the deserts. They suit you." And because he can't help himself, "You'll have to point the scent out sometime when I'm over."
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Aerith smiles as he describes his life before arriving here, trying to piece together an image in her mind of what life as a pirate aboard an airship must be like. It's a little beyond the frame of reference she has from things seen in passing on the television or heard in stories, but it sounds wonderful, and more than that, it sounds so perfectly him.
A detail she feels weird about pointing out and so refrains, even if she couldn't say why. "It sounds like a lot more than an apartment," she begins. "Were you always in danger?"
Smiling at him even while she tries not to imagine what future visits from him might entail, Aerith nods, humming in agreement before she holds a hand out towards him. "Hey, help me get down." She could absolutely hop down by herself as easily as she hopped up, but, that wasn't the point.
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Still, safer to latch onto the other conversation, and he's nothing if not a man who listens to his instincts. "Apartment. Transportation. Military grade defense systems. Cache of priceless artifacts and illicit magick. She has her charms." He laughs at the other question though. "I would say technically yes and practically speaking, no. Usually if we made it back to the Strahl, we were more or less in the clear." It's been...months since he's talked about any of that. There's something pleasant about it, and a little wistful.
Aerith brings his attention back to the present though, holding out a hand and giving him another order so easily he almost says yes, my lady. There's a tiny flush in his cheeks even as he smiles at her, offering his hand and steadying her as she jumps down. And then lingering a beat too long with her hand in his and his frame around her, making sure she's stable, noticing the way she smells clean and warm, mind drifting back to being in the blankets with her all night like it happened weeks ago and a thousand miles away.
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"You see more of me than most people do." To her credit, she doesn't wince, even though she wants to, saying something like that to him. Aerith shakes her head, glad for the talk of the Strahl for a multitude of reasons. "Maybe one day you can draw me a picture of your ship, I'd like to see it." Just when she thinks she can't inadvertently expose herself anymore in this conversation.
Since she doesn't know what's going on here, exactly, she can't tell if Balthier helping her down has made things better or worse. Looking up at him while he's close, she's pretty sure it's better, even if the desire to kiss him while he stands there, and the uncertainty over whether she should feels preposterous, all things considered. Aerith's expression softens, and she reaches up, smoothing out the front of his vest where it's creased, presumably from hanging the trellis, or she's making up excuses to touch him.
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"That's not a bad idea. I wonder if the commissary has drawing supplies -- might be good for me." It's a habit he picks up when he's stressed. Hasn't in awhile, but he's decent.
Those thoughts are derailed when she's suddenly nearly in his arms again. Before he can decide what he's going to do about that, she's smoothing her hand down his chest, and he knows exactly how she would fit if he just curled around her, head on her chin -- and do? What?
The result is he's just staring at her, lips parted and brow just barely wrinkled. His hands come up to her sides but don't quite touch and honestly it's the first time in probably years he's genuinely not sure what to do with himself.
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Arching an eyebrow she glances down at his hands, laughing in surprise when she looks back at his face, eyes widening expectantly. "Um," she lifts her hands, covering his and guiding them to rest on her sides. "Better?" Aerith tries not to sound hopeful when she asks, ignoring the silly little flutter that moves through her chest at the thought that he wanted to touch her. He's touched her lots of times, there's no reason for it.
Disguising her nervousness poorly with another spell of gentle laughter, Aerith sets her hands on his shoulders before rising onto the balls of her feet to resolutely press a kiss to his lips, having no idea why it felt like such a gamble.
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This is absurd. He's been with her numerous times. Nothing has changed, and a hand at a waist is hardly something to get ruffled over.
Which makes it that much more ridiculous when she stretches up to kiss him and he hums in surprised delight, hands tightening around her middle as he leans into her. Nervousness and heat flare in his stomach and he can't help pulling her to him. The way their bodies fit together is starting to feel familiar, and some part of him is screaming to abort, but the rest of him is kissing her back like he never wants to stop.
He breaks away, eyes searching her face. For what? Asking if this is okay? He gives her a lopsided grin, as much at himself as anything. "We seem to be unable to keep our hands to ourselves." Not that he withdraws them, he just -- doesn't want to cross some line he feels like is there.
Even if he's absolutely aware that somehow his cock is starting to harden. Again.
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The crooked smile on Balthier's face makes Aerith's stomach do a little flip, her jaw tensing as she fights with herself and the rising urge to tell him how beautiful he looks like that. She's called him beautiful before in far more tawdry circumstances, but fully clothed kissing in a field feels like a step too far.
He is beautiful though, in a way that makes her stop and stare up at him before forcing herself to look away, glancing left and right as if to verify something for herself.
Looking back at him, Aerith rolls a shoulder in a shrug. "I don't think I have neighbors who'll mind." She didn't know if she had neighbors, period.
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Then she looks around conspiratorially and tells him the neighbors won't mind. His bark of laughter is loud enough that if she does have any, they definitely heard. "I don't think you would care if they did," he points out, mischief catching.
Somehow the suggestion of them getting up to illicit things is safer territory. That's what this entire place wants them to do. Surely that's nothing to pay attention to. Nothing that means anything between them.
Besides, doesn't she need help with her house? He'd love to have a regular bath -- they can get credit for all the fucking they're doing. It's reasonable, as far as this jail goes.
He slides a hand down her arm and up her back, and this time when he kisses her his tongue joins in, searching until he gets a good gasp from her.
"Is this what you were thinking about while I was gone? Taking you in the garden?" Maybe he doesn't want the real answer to that question, but the ease of their game fits better than...whatever was happening a minute ago.
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"I thought you wanted to help me with my house," Aerith counters softly, the tip of her tongue brushing over his bottom lip. "Testing how strong the fence is, is helping." Maybe. Probably. It's not hurting anything anyway!
Most importantly, it's not being caught in a weird, elating kind of stalemate where she's caught in a loop of smiling at him stupidly, while fighting off a thousand things she has no business thinking or saying.
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By the time she brushes her tongue over his lip, there is no doubt she can feel him hardening between them. "I can stop and go back to house tasks," he teases, turning his head away just enough she has to either chase him with her mouth or turn his face back to her.
And he's not thinking about whether it's alright that he wants her to chase him, expects her to protest him pulling away. Maybe there's something in these flowers making him like this, and if so, he doesn't mind.
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"You could," she offers quietly, her thumb brushing across his cheek before she presses her lips against his again. "But, there are better things we could do, too." Which would be ludicrous to suggest any other time, because there is a lot of work to be done, and Aerith doesn't usually shy away from getting her hands dirty while fixing something up, be it the house or that little patch of garden she's made for herself in the North Yard.
"I mean if you really want to fix my house, and cook me dinner, and take a bath with me, that sounds like a pretty nice day too, but," Aerith trails off, looking over her shoulder at the fence behind him before she returns her attention to Balthier, her stupid heart skipping a stupid beat very stupidly. "If the neighbors don't mind."
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"I frankly couldn't give a chocobo's ass what the neighbors think," he informs her. And this time while he kisses her, he guides her hips to his, rolling his growing bulge against the front of her dress. He curls an arm around her to keep her there, the other coming to run over her breast, fingertips teasing the edge of the fabric.
The temptation is too great, and he bends his head down as he slides his hand inside her dress, pushing the fabric away to expose her breast to the sun for a brief moment before he envelops it with his mouth, biting at her nipple as he rocks against her, bolstered by the strange zing of being outside where someone could catch them.
Let them. Right now, she was his.
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"You know what chocobos are?" She asks in a delighted murmur between kisses, not bothering to dig that deeply, instead cozily leaning herself into him, a hand moving between their bodies to tug the skirt of her dress up and out from between them, wanting him to feel the warmth of her sex against his length each time he let his hips tilt closer to hers. If there were any neighbors, it's a very trivial matter compared with the nearness and increasingly familiar warmth of Balthier's body.
She shivers, feeling fresh air as it travels over her newly exposed breast, and turns her head, laughing gently against his neck as the gentle bite to her nipple pulls a gasp out of her. "Can we? Right here?" It's not a question so much as it is a giddily issued invitation. She wants him everywhere she can have him, and in that moments it's okay to feel that way.
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Gods was that only last night? He squeezes her arms, kissing her harder and pressing his length firmly against her. That must still be what this is, surely. Taking back everything it unsettled. Her eagerness in asking if they can go, right here right now, eases him further. He lets her nipple go to grin against her. "I have no intention of waiting a second longer than I have to." His mouth walks back up her breast and to her neck, sucking hard against her flesh as his hand slides across the front of her panties, beginning to massage her opening through the fabric. He wants to feel her wetness there, shifting so he can grind against her thigh as he works her heat.
All the while the breeze dances across his face, reminding him how out in the open they are, and he did not expect to be this into it.
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Arching her back, pressing herself against him insistently, Aerith's hips move slowly against his hand, as eager to draw this moment out as she had been last night in bed, and the following morning - purely just because it was fun to be like this with him, she's sure.
Her hands skim over his chest, one slipping down to join his, caught between their forms as her fingers find the firming outline of his cock and trace over it, ducking her chin down to kiss him again while her free hand runs through his hair.
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"I do like pleasing you," he murmurs. And that's completely in line with the normal game they play.
Her fingers trace his cock as she kisses him, settling more comfortably into his hold. A humid cling is starting to form beneath his hand as she shifts and kisses against him. He bends his cheek down next to hers, letting his pleased sighs fall directly into her ear. The only part of this he doesn't like is that he knows it will be over soon, regardless of their gentle pace.
"I believe you're making my pants too tight," he whispers. "I'm going to need your assistance with that."
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Aware of the way he can feel how wet and hot she's become for him, desire flares through her, making the press of her hand against his length firmer, stroking over him through the fabric of his trousers until the words he whispers against her ear draw a low giggle out of her.
"I make your pants too tight a lot," she begins, turning her head to kiss his temple, as her hand squeezes his shaft lightly. "Maybe you should stop wearing pants so much," Aerith concludes in a whisper as her hand moves to the fastening of his trousers. Her hand delves below the fabric the moment she works his pants loose, wrapping around the base of his cock before guiding him to press against the skin of her thigh. "I think I need your assistance too Balthier," Aerith purrs, gently catching his bottom lip in her teeth.
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"Happy to oblige, my lady." His fingers twist, pulling her panties aside, the way she had him do last night. He wants to reclaim that too, fill every possible crack with good memory. He shifts his hips, slowly running his hot length against her slick opening, wetness gathered there from being pressed against her panties. Only after he's gotten both their breathing jagged does he murmur, "Guide me in." He could do it himself but...he likes her helping, likes her welcoming him, and he doesn't really want to let go of her, even for this.
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