Stranger in a Strange Land. [Balian.]

[Balian of Tiberium]

Balian had expected company that night. In fact, Balian had been drifting off to sleep when company came unannounced. His mind was thick and churning with thoughts brought on by wine; the notion of freedom brought about by Augustus Aurelius days prior when Branowen had been there. Yet, suddenly Balian felt a weight settle into his lap, and his eyes, once shut, fluttered open to stare up at the ceiling of his stark room. He lolled his head, and when he saw her, Balian furrowed his brows.

"Balian," he corrected her before he lolled his head to the pillow.

Her leg brushes across his stomach and Balian shivered at the flesh. It was warm, soft and long. He wanted to run his hands across her calf and thigh, but that would have only invited somewhat that he did not want. He sighed as her thigh settled, though, and lolled his head to look down at her. Then, reluctantly so, Balian set a hand to her thigh in a feeble attempt to push her leg free of him.

"What are you doing here? I did not ask for you, I do not want you," he said, looking to her and then away. He was tired, worn and weathered. The wine certainly didn't help either, and Balian looked ready to fall into a deep sleep, which was certainly what he wanted.

"Hasn't Demetrios claimed you? You should rest with him," he added. Yet, as his hand settled on her thigh, he did not move. He only stared at the ceiling and felt her soft, warm skin move underneath his touch. He sighed heavily and pinched his eyes shut.

"You are a strange woman," he said.

She certainly did confuse him.

[Cosette Moreau.]

Cosette offers a borderline coy smile as the boy corrects her. Whether he could see it or not, well, she didn’t know, nor did it seem to matter much. Still, she smiled, and bit toward the lower tier of her pout in order to stifle such an expression. For politeness’ sake, that was. After all, Cosette was unaware as to what sort of terms the two were on.

She knew well that he believed she should bed his friend, though Miss Moreau herself was nowhere near inclined to do such a thing. Not to mention the fact that Demetrios himself seemed to be fast asleep; warmly bedded by the simple and sweet embrace of one two many mugs of wine. Though to be fair Balian was unaware of such a thing. Still, his master had paid her own mistress for her services. Did that make him her own master for the night? Did he have the right to tell her what she should be doing? Who she should be bedding?

Whatever the case seemed to be, she was here now, with her hands settled pleasantly upon his midriff, and her soft thighs settled toward either of the young man’s hips. “Micio suits you,” she argues once more, leaning forth, if only a slight to settle the lift of her cheek towards his chest.

Her shoulders lift, then as he speaks once more, “Many don’t want me,” she reasons, once more, her shoulders lift, and her pretty head lolls, dark hair spilling forth in a soft swathe to pool towards the rise and fall of his chest. Her mouth, however, finds that tattered and worn neckline of his tunic, her lips brushing warm and soft upon the bared flesh she found just beyond. The girl breathed him deep then and there, he smelled of wine, men, sweat, and the warm sand below.

“Perhaps you are simply a strange man?” she proposes. It was certainly a possibility, and while Cosette was well aware that she wasn’t necessarily the norm, well… Neither was Balian. He was unlike any man she’d ever tried to bed, at least any whom claimed to favor the soft touch of a woman over that of a man. Miss Moreau was still curious over such a thing, make no mistake, though for the time being, she managed to keep her thoughts to herself, and simply settle the tender and pink swell of her pout upon his bared flesh.

Cosette simply breathes, her breath grating warm and moist upon that sun kissed flesh of his, as those blue eyes of hers fall closed.

[Balian of Tiberium]

"How can you name a man somewhat else when he was given a name already?" He asked her, finding her peculiar and rather strange. He wanted to argue with her once more and correct her, but Balian knew that the act would be rather...well, useless and feeble at most. He wouldn't win, at least not now and not with her so adamant with calling him Micio. The name made him wonder other things though...It made him wonder about his mother and father, whoever they were, and what name they given him; after all, as far as Balian knew, Augustus had been the only one to dub him with a name.

"Demetrios want you," he argued then when she attempted to reason that many didn't want her. He spoke the truth though, at least somewhat. Demetrios had wanted physically, but that's why she was here in the first place. Yet, as for Balian, he didn't...well, mayhap he did. The difference here was just the fact that Balian didn't expose himself for her to read completely. He felt her lips on him and he sighed heavily, shivering faintly.

He didn't move his hand to stop her.

"I am not a strange man!" He hissed, becoming defensive. "You are a strange woman," he argued with her, not understanding why he bothered, but he did, and truth be told, Balian found a semblance of pleasure with simply talking with her. He shivered when she kissed his flesh once more, his hand smoothing up her back and fingers nestling knuckle deep into her tresses. His fingers kneaded at her scalp, sifting through her hair as his freehand stroked over her thigh still.

"You change a man's name, you touch him when he tells you no, and you...you..." He trailed and breathed out heavily, lolling his head to look down onto her face. His chin and mouth brushed against her hair from how close they were, her scent filling his nostrils.

"You are the strange one, Cosette," he said simply.

[Cosette Moreau.]

Cosette would be lying if she said she didn’t want him then and there. There was certainly something about Balian as a man that she found simply irresistible. Perhaps it was the way that he scolded her, or was all too eager to yell at her when she was growing bothersome. Or maybe it was the simple fact that he was physically attractive. She didn’t know what drew her so helplessly to Balian.

Though here she was, with his face brushing close to the lazy curls of her pretty head, and her palms pressing flat toward his chest, and her cheek settled atop the tops of tangled fingers. “He is asleep,” the girl finally reasons, her head lolling once more, and those blue eyes of hers roaming his features, “Perhaps now you may worry of your own wants,” Cosette proposes, sounding almost nonchalant within that moment. Cosette has found that it was easiest to take things slow with the young man, her prior, and more forward attempts had been met with naught but denial and cross looks.

The girl silences herself for a passing moment, her head lolling towards the warm grip of his fingertips settled knuckle deep within her hair. Truth be told, she found pleasure within that simple gesture, with those blue eyes of hers fluttering and lolling warmly.

“Is it so wrong for a woman to want for a man?” perhaps in his mind it was. Cosette’s dark head lolls, forcing his fingers more completely throughout her tresses, before soon enough her mouth was finding purchase upon the warm, and all too rough stubble of his chin. The rough brush of his stubbled jaw upon her own hot pout was a more than welcomed sensation. Miss Moreau even found herself quivering a slight within that moment, her face dipping downwards once more, as her cheek brushes towards the lift of his chest yet again.

“Why…” she murmurs suddenly, mastering herself once more, her once trembling form stilling upon his own, “Why won’t you have me?” Cosette asks of him, and looks all too expectant of him. Was there something wrong with her? Perhaps he simply didn’t find her physically attractive. Her personality was admittedly a slight grating on occasion, or all the time. Though truthfully Cosette never really thought herself to be unbearable.

Though the two seemed to be getting along for the moment.

A hand slides from beneath her cheek then, only for her fingertips to smooth along the curve of his neck, and along his jaw. Her fingertips skip, then, stroking lightly along the hard ridges of his muscled shoulder.