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The golden warmth of the sun nearing noon bathed the bed. Laying there, Beatrice fancied herself only half-awake. The warmth dripped down her exposed arms and trickled across her loose shirt. Her eyes refused to stay open, no matter how hard she tried, so she stayed there in that leaden state.
Minutes or perhaps hours passed. She dozed in the sunshine like a cat sated after the hunt. Sounds blurred around her and she thought she’d heard the door scrape open at one point. That noise was only confirmed when a hand cupped her cheek.
She cracked open a single eye.
Josephine was looking down at her with that fond gleam in her eyes. Sometimes, Beatrice still couldn’t believe that Josephine Montilyet would look at her with such adoration. Turning her head to press a kiss to the palm, she smiled lazily up at her lover.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she drawled. Laughter greeted her words. Beatrice arched her back, dragging herself to an almost upright position. The laughter quickly ceased. She looked up to see Josephine lightly biting down on her lower lip. She smirked, remembering that the laces of her shirt were undone. “You could join me if you like?”
Josephine’s hand trailed down from her cheek to rest splayed on her chest. The fingers flexed against her sternum. Beatrice stilled and gazed upwards through her lashes. Josephine paused. Her eyes were resting on her hand’s slow rise and fall that mirrored each breath. That heavy gaze dragged itself upwards until their eyes met once more.
“I believe I would be a fool to refuse such an offer,” Josephine murmured. Ever the soul of politeness – it was a trait that could be disarmingly enticing. Especially when she was touching Beatrice like this.
“Never!” Beatrice declared and reeled her lover down. Somehow, Josephine made the tumble look graceful. Limbs entangled until they were resting, curled around each other. Beatrice flopped gracelessly against Josephine’s chest. Her reward was a set of arms winding around her to hold her. That sleep which had held her previously started to creep back into the edges of her mind. Turning her face, she burrowed her nose into the space just below Josephine’s jawline. “You don’t have anywhere to be?” She asked, words slurring.
“No. A free day for once.” Beatrice hummed at the answer. She breathed in and smelled the faint scent of orange, one of Josephine’s favourite perfumes. She’d have to…she should get her…
-
Josephine breathed in steadily and deeply. In her arms, Beatrice had gone slack and still once more. It was strange to see her lady so at peace. They had been afforded little of it with battles to wage and lands to calm. Privately, she could admit that like had attracted like in that they were both driven to achieve their goals.
Such ambitions left little time for rest.
Beatrice nuzzled into her neck. The odd, sleepy little noise left her mouth every once in a while. Josephine, palm splayed against Beatrice’s back, let her fingers stroke gently. It would not do for her lady to awaken before she had rested properly.
Mere months ago, she knew her past self would have been in a tizzy at such a sight. The Ambassador daring to breach her own personal protocol and mix business with pleasure?
Maker perish the thought.
Yet, here she was. Love was quiet like that. It had not announced itself to her, nor raised its’ banner at her gates. Instead, she had one day looked up to see it seated next to her, laughing at some joke she could not even remember making.
Perhaps it was like water trickling down some mountainside? At first, you’d only see small drops, hints of affection and loyalty. Then it would gather and flow into genuine fondness before becoming a raging river of desire that itself joined a vast ocean she had not thought herself capable of.
Josephine snorted. Better to leave the poetry to Yvette, she mused. Beatrice shifted in her hold and she carefully stilled herself once more. After a moment, her love settled down once more.
How lucky she was to be so trusted. It still struck her as odd to be considered with such naked affection and fondness. She’d had lovers before but none so honestly enamoured with her. She knew Beatrice considered herself to be the lucky one, her love had joked as much on occasion, but still…
Her hand came up to fiddle with Beatrice’s necklace. She traced the ship sailing across waves before flipping the pendant to feel the ivy curling around her fingertips. Turning her head an inch or so, she pressed a light kiss against Beatrice’s hair.
Josephine saw a future of many lazy afternoons like this and smiled.