Nimble fingers, gloved and bloody, worked quickly to re-close the stitches that he'd torn in his show of bravado. The macho male protector who was going to save the day. Truth was, he already had. It had been his insistence upon doing more, that he could do more after they'd reached the relative safety of his quarters... and she'd so patiently patched up flesh that had been sliced and diced. Taken in haste though they were, she'd been careful and made even, sure stitches, but there had been places where tattered skin, torn in battle rather than sliced that was far harder to stitch. And so here she was touching up those stitches. His convincing assurances of healthful vigor had almost been his undoing. If she was going to be honest with herself, it was kind of a turn on. Jhulae had always had a thing for men who were full of themselves in one way or another. Be it over confidence in their own abilities or a just a massive superiority complex, that kind of sublime tenacity seemed to hold her attention. Not to mention the fact that even gravely wounded and pale, Aquill was exceedingly pretty for a man of his size.
The job was made harder by Quill's wandering hands and his refusal to lay back and relax. Previously, he'd been unconscious. Moving him about had not been easy for one of her diminutive stature, by any means. But stitching an unconscious man had proven much easier than stitching an semi alert one. He insisted upon sitting up this time, his eyes taking in her every action as she worked, right down to her smallest, most insignificant gesture. Calloused digits, traced electric thrills lightly over any bit of exposed skin, making her body buck and writhe ever so slightly. Every time she had glanced at his face to check for change in pallor, sheen and expression, he'd been looking her over, much like a thick cut of meat on a starving man's table. She found it most unsettling. Did he not understand how much danger they both were in still? Was his mind wandering with blood loss, she wondered? It stood to reason though. Given the aggressively feral finesse of his fighting style, it was not hard to see that the man was a being of primal desires and drives. Likely there was little time between thought and action. Jhulae herself had a tendency take the job first and ask questions later. And her excessive curiosity often led her into tight, even dangerous situations as it had that very evening.
Almost finished, she'd begun to breath a little easier until his huge paw curled itself along the lower curve of her back, his touch warm and electric and firm. Blue eyes blinked owlishly, glazed and unfocused for a moment as he looked at her. His voice surprisingly strong as he tried to reassure her as to his “inevitable” recovery.
“You said that before... And here we are again.” She laughed, purplish lips curling into a soft smile, his assurances continuing over her admonition. “And you are welcome. You saved my life earlier.... It's the very least I could do.” With one small hand, she patted the cushion beside his thigh, her hand then moving in a wave motion to indicate he recline. “Now... I suggest you lay back and get some rest.”
She'd been about to stand, fingers still gloved and stained red with his blood when he grabbed her. It was not a rough grip but it was insistent. Before she knew it, he'd lifted her tiny frame onto lap, then up a little further, both huge hands gripping her at the waist, to pressing her tight against his broad, uninjured chest as their lips met in a firm lock. First reaction had been to stiffen in preparation to kick off and roll away but, in this situation, she had to reign in instinct. She dared not struggle for fear of reopening his wounds. Instead Bloody hands curled inward and turned away from his body so as not to stain neither her clothes nor his beyond what they already were. There was no turning away, he was too fast...
Full, cupi-bow lips were glued to his, the slightest tingle of electric current dancing between them. The rise and fall of her chest was rapidly increased, her breath quivering with both alarm and excitement.
Making out, even with one so man pretty as the preternatural Archer in such a situation struck her as highly inappropriate. And yet she did nothing to stop him, made no move to pull away from his rapidly trembling physique. The skin of her face flushed, electric, almost wanton attraction dancing in her brain like a lover. For a moment, she could not help but fall into it, to melt against his chest. He was so pretty, and virile, and highly skilled... Powerful... An unseen blush covering ebony cheeks, the excitement of being manhandled thus by such a being making the skin of her chest tightened inexplicably. Fluttering eyes caught site of her bloody hand, wrist against his shoulder to hold sanguine digits aloft brought her out of an electrified fog. Firmly she pulled away, purposefully taking slow deep breaths to try and calm her surprisingly elevated reparation rate.
"None of that... For now." She smiled reassuringly and slowly extricated herself from his strong grip, careful not let his strain. Pulling off her bloody gloves, she tossed them into the garbage before pushing lightly against his shoulder. “Rest... I've got first watch.” And with that, she slipped from his grasp and easily moved through the darkened room to an advantageous spot spot between the window and the door.