Her eyes couldn’t help but closely follow the way he picked one of the dishrags he used to clean the counter, scrubbed it over his palm and tossed it in the to-wash bin.
She realized, then, that he was waiting for her to answer him. She shook her head, “Sorry, what?”
He gave a little confused chuckle, putting his hands on his hips as he looked at her. “Everything alright? I asked if you were ready for the festival.”
“Oh. Um. Yes. I am. Sorry, my stomach growled and I was thinking about what food they might have tonight,” she lied quickly. She’d rather gather her thoughts for now and figure out how to apologize later. If she even could gather them, it seemed all the blood in her body had ventured away from her head.
Stepping out into the wintery night cooled her body some, but as Erryc locked the tavern door and took her hand in his, the heat low in her stomach quickly rekindled. They followed the other villagers to the festival, Erryc pulled Fawn into the thick of the crowded street. Everyone was walking towards the festival in the heart of the village, talking about what prizes they might win at the games, the prayers they would utter as they lit candles. All she could think was if she held the same hand that had just gripped his cock.
The lust-addled part of her brain suggested putting one of his fingers in her mouth to see if there was some residual taste, the normal part wondered why she didn't just let go and hold onto his sleeve instead.
She barely wanted to let go to cross the old bridge over the creek outside the tavern, but the local carpenters had warned everyone to cross only one person at a time over it, at least untilthe new bridge could be installed, when the ground was thawed enough to dig the new supports into place.
She felt herself in a daze as he led her to the village square, lit with bonfires and lanterns strung over intersecting paths, ribbons and snowflakes blowing in the wind. There were stalls filled with little games and others full of hot steaming food and drink, all busy.
There was a traveling troupe of halfling actors that had set up a puppet show out of the back of one of their caravans. Most of them were strangers to her, but she still recognized plenty of faces from the tavern.
A blond woman who came up only to Fawn’s middle stood in line for the hot spiced ale, a look of wonder on her face as she hefted a hewn wooden tankard as big as her head.
“It comes in pints?” she asked, peering down as if to confirm it was full.
“I come in pints,” an older, grizzled orc nearby joked under his breath with leer, and the halfling elbowed him. Fawn knew him loosely, a bounty hunter who often stopped in the tavern with a crass joke as he plucked another job off the village board.
Fawn normally rolled her eyes, but her mind was still preoccupied with everything that had happened in that back storeroom in the tavern.Pints.Gods. A ripple of heat drew through her nethers, sending a pulse of pleasures as if to remind her that her body was ready and waiting. Surely not.
“What do you think of that one?” Erryc asked, leaning down over her shoulder to murmur in her ear. Every hair on her cheek and the back of her neck stood on end. He gestured to one of the games, a stall where people threw rings at various empty bottles, landing over the bottlenecks for a prize.
“S-sure,” she nodded, immediately biting her mouth closed again. Her tongue felt more of a mind to lick and explore than speak coherent words.
Fawn was too aware of his presence beside her, even as he leaned over the counter to hand the stall attendant a coin for the game.
She played the game badly, tossing the rings even as most of her mind was on other things.
What had fired his blood so thoroughly that he couldn’t wait until after the festival to relieve himself of his lust? She swallowed that question back. Then again, if she were alone in this moment, she might have ducked into any alleyway, any dark corner to touch the little needy bud of nerves insistent on making itself known each time she brushed against Erryc.
“Here,” he said, handing her one of the steaming drinks. “Cheers.”
The moment the cup was in her hands she tossed a mouthful back, hoping the drink would temper her nerves. She never felt this uptight and nervous around him.
The alcohol spread through her throat, her stomach, burning all in its path. Tears pricked her eyes as she choked down against the sensation, knocking most of the drink back in a single gulp.
Erryc raised his eyebrows at her, looking mildly concerned. “Everything alright there?”
“You said cheers, did you not?” she replied a little hoarsely.
“It seemed like you might have misheard me for ‘chug’,” he sighed, shaking his head. He still smiled gently around his tusks for her, holding her gaze with his warm brown eyes.
“You’re all rosy cheeked already,” he murmured, so quietly it was more like a thought than something he meant to say aloud. The heat of his gaze flickered across Fawn’s cheeks, catching like sparks over tinder, spreading down her neck and under her collar.
He brushed the back of one of his large, rough knuckles over the soft part of her cheek. The cool back of his hand against thetoasty warmth radiating off her face suddenly became the only thing in the world.
“It, uh, it runs in my family,” she mumbled, staring up at him, wondering if she was drifting closer to his face, or if it still was just the wine. “My sister’s kids have it too, last I saw them.”
“I see,” he nodded, dark brown eyes remaining on her.
The intensity of holding his stare became too much, and she glanced to the side of him. “Look! They’re frying things over there.”
As soon as she pointed them out, she was heading over towards the food cart.
