Chapter Text
The apartment door closed behind her with a gentle thud. Cayde pulled Amos’ robes off her shoulders and carefully hung it on a rack, next to his own cloak. Her eyes swept the apartment; it was larger than hers, for sure, but Cayde’s possessions were far and few between. There were a couple old hunter cloaks hung decoratively on the wall, it was obvious these cloaks were too tattered to be worn again. Other than that, he had the bare essentials; table, chairs, a datapad here and there, and a soft looking couch set up in front of a screen—probably to watch crucible matches. Sitting on an end table near the window was a picture, an old one, of some guardians Amos recognized.
“Quite a place you have here,” Amos said. She put her boots by the door and eagerly flopped onto the couch. It was softer than it looked, and she sank into it with a soft sigh.
“Kinda wish they gave me something smaller, I like to hide my things,” Cayde crossed his arms and examined his room, also noticing how bare the walls and floors were. It was smothering.
Amos lazily rolled her head to the picture, studying it a little closer. “I recognize some of these people,” she said, “Osiris, who doesn’t recognize him, Saint-14, I saw him in the future of Mercury. Ooooh, Ikora is there…” she listed all of the people in the picture as Cayde nodded his head, listening to her stories about each one. She reached the man all the way on the right before she found someone she did not know. “I don’t know who this is,” she pointed to the figure. He had a big grin on his face and a beard tickling his chin. He was a hunter, wearing a similar cloak to Cayde’s very own.
Cayde leaned in close and pretended to look at the picture. “That,” he reached around her with both arms and gently took the picture, “is Andal Brask. The hunter vanguard before me.”
Amos could her the soft whirr of his voice box. A light blush dusted her cheeks at his closeness, but at the same time, she felt guilty. She knew what happened to him; the last thing she wanted was to bring up sore memories.
“I don’t mean to pry. I know you two were close,” she leaned back into him; he had his arms resting on the back of the couch, one arm on each side of her.
“Hah, its fine, all in the past now,” his voice was calm and soothing in her ear. She could get lost in it so easily if he wasn’t always making jokes. “Besides,” he sat the picture down and walked over to a tray sitting on the dining table. On it were a couple bottles of whiskey and glasses. “If I remember correctly, you were the one with took down that son of a bitch Taniks. Never repaid you for that, did I?” He poured a glass for each of them, and handed one to Amos.
“I owe you.”
Amos took the glass and eagerly took a sip. “Cayde,” she muttered, “I took him down because it was what I needed to do. You don’t owe me anything.” Amos didn’t like to brag about her accomplishments. She was well known around the tower as it was; she has slain many powerful adversaries. Her true motive was to protect—that’s why she did any of it. She took down Taniks the Scarred because of the threat he posed to the awoken and guardians in the reef. She wasn’t even aware of his reputation until after she killed him.
Amos finished her drink and handed the glass to Cayde, who only just took a sip of his own. He chuckled and filled it up again.
“For Andal,” she said. Cayde nodded and clinked his glass to hers, downing the whole thing in one go; Amos followed suit.
“Well now, is it that kind of night?” Cayde took the glass from her and filled it once more, examining the flushness on her cheeks.
She took the glass and had another sip, “it’s whatever kind of night you want it to be.” Cayde cocked an eyebrow and took another good look at her; her top was a tight fitting tank, showing her each and every curve in the dim apartment lighting. She stretched out her arms, making her shirt ride up her waist and showing of a faint scar amongst the glowing blue flesh. He put his glass down on the table and stripped his armor. His knife belt and chest piece fell to the floor, leaving him in his loose fitting pants.
Amos smirked as she watched him take of his armor. She’s only seen one exo without clothing before, her close friend Devil-9, who was a hunter in her fireteam. Her frame was small and agile, so she had a rather simple design. But Cayde, he was meant to be looked at. The metal on his torso was shaped with care, some pieces painted the same color as his face. In between each blue piece there was a silver one to break up the monotony of the design. As she gawked at Cayde’s body she couldn’t help but compare his lovely curves to that of her trusty Hawkmoon, her favorite hand cannon before the Red War.
Cayde leaned against the doorframe leading to his bedroom, almost laughing as she gawked at him.
“Ever see an exo before?”
“Yes,” she got up from the couch and silently moved over to him. She placed a hand on his breastplate, tracing the serial number with her fingers. “But none as exquisite as you.”
Cayde coughed and covered his mouth with his hand. “That’s a new one,” he said. There was a hint of nervousness in his tone, Amos has never seen him like this before. She was excited to learn more about him. Her hands playfully pushed him into the bedroom.
Cayde grabbed a remote from the nightstand and turned on some music. It was soothing and sensual; not exactly what Amos expected his music taste to be. “Alright,” he said, “tonight, you’re getting the Cayde-6 treatment.”
“Oh?” she chuckled, “and what does that entail?”
“You’ll find out. Lay down for me,” he gestured to the bed. Amos placed her head on the pillow and fell in love with the soft covers. She couldn’t remember the last time she laid on something so comfortable, if ever. She was in such bliss she almost missed what Cayde said to her. “Atta girl. On your belly for me, beautiful.”
She eagerly flipped over and felt him straddle her hips. “Mind if I…” his hands traveled up her back and under her shirt, playing with the strap of her bra. “Not at all,” she smiled. She threw the bra to the floor, yearning for his hands to be on her again.
He leaned in close to her ear, purposefully keeping his hands off her. “So eager,” he whispered.
“Tease,” she whispered back.
“Hm,” he chuckled. “You won’t be able to resist staying the night after this,” he grabbed the lotion from inside the nightstand and spread some on his hands. “Relax for me, Darling.”
Amos closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He began with her shoulders, slowly working the lotion into her skin. The solar fire emitting from his hands melted away the tension in her muscles, and he slowly worked out each knot without missing a beat. Amos felt as if all of the pent up stress, anger, and resentment she has held in for so long was finally being released from her body. Cayde worked slowly, stopping at each knot to take his time touching her. Each new spot brought a wanton sigh to her lips.
“Feel good?” he muttered.
“You have no idea,” she mumbled back. Her eyes remained closed and her breathing became even, deep breaths as she slipped into bliss.
Cayde continued his work downward, working his solar light into her aching muscles. He traced each scar with his finger, wondering the cause of each one. While his hands wandered, he knew what would come next. Gently, he got up from the bed and peeked at her face. She was fast asleep; her arms wrapped around the pillow her head was laying on. He chuckled and covered her with a blanket. The rest of his night consisted of quietly watching crucible reruns in the other room.