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The knights had no right to be this welcoming. Not only to a stranger, but such a dangerous one too. Was Varka really as mighty as the legends said, that the benefits of having a fun maiden outweighed the risks of inviting a spy into your territory? It was hard to believe, seeing as he downed ale faster than the knights managed to open fresh kegs, slurred the words of a bawdy song, most unbecoming of a knight, and constantly massacred the colleagues feet in a wild dance. The song was clearly borrowed from the pirates, maybe the Crux, so it made sense he missed the meaning of some words. But the energy it gave the crew was all the same.
It was a sight well worth missing a night of intel gathering. You wish you could trade many more nights spent in the bushes, observing unmoving targets for the hearty indulgence presented before you. But one can only suppose the rarity makes the drink all the sweeter.
And sweet it was. Dandelion wine was a myth before, any bartender would tell you point blank that import makes it lose much of its edge. And this was the real deal. And these knights that were widely spoken of for their virtue and spirit were sparing any amount you asked, not one questioning if your presence was warranted at a moment of vulnerability like this.
It once again came back to Varka. You helped him on the field, moved some old overgrowth without need to tear it apart, revealing whatever forgotten grave the Grandmaster was looking for. For you, helping a stranger in a moment of mind numbing boredom. For him, apparently it was an enough of a favour to treat you like VIP cargo for the next few miles. You never suggested needing escort, much less active help fighting the Hunt, but he immediately went for the kind of barter one cannot refuse. So you indulged the knight with a heavenly built and a mouth that runs at twice the speed of his brain.
No, that's a disservice. He clearly is a veteran leader figure. The organization of the group left nothing to be desired, the camp was still well guarded and trust among brothers-in-arms was clearly the result of some fruitful years together. But still he never asked you what a lady would be doing alone among the northern Nod-Krai's mist. You swore to have seen that glint of suspicion in his eyes when you two crossed the vale that was a known Fatui route without seeing a soul. Did he ever connect the dots? Were you allowed into the camp because he did?
The thought slipped you when he pulled you into the well stomped field-turned-dance floor. No invitation, no words, just a smile that was all teeth and a hand that could crush your throat pulling you into the group. Forgetting the fate of your drink, you allowed yourself to fall into a mix of awkwardly following the rhythm and trying to dodge drunk knights in a fashion that won't look too trained. At first you were given free reign of your movement, Varka let go as quickly as he pulled you in, already off to invite in another knight that was supporting the metaphorical wall for too long. He was the glue of the party even if he was never quite in the centre. His friendly subordinates welcomed you like on their own. Taking a random mans hand, he quickly went to lead you in a dance. Letting go, you both went your own ways. A short, but absurdly well built girl fell into your arms, and without a word, you two were waltzing around the bonfire like there's no tomorrow. A quick bow goodbye, and you go to take a breather somewhere because dancing with these people is a test of stamina you never quite prepared for.
But as you barely manage to rest your hand on a nearby bark, the gravity suddenly disobeys you as your feet are no longer on the ground. You turn off your instinct to knock about just in time to notice the familiar fur on the Grandmasters arm, having whipped you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"AND WHAT DO WE GIVE OUR HUMBLE GUESTS?" Your captor yells above your head to his group.
"ALE!!" The two of you paraded like that in the middle of the group. Propped up like you were, it was easy to look down on the other knights. A fun perspective
"AND OUR ENEMIES?"
"HELL!!"
You wondered briefly who the enemies of the Knights of Favonius might be so far from home, before remembering your position. Varka hugged your legs tightly, securely, but you could hardly savour the feeling for long in your state. You didn't worry too much about falling, the bigger risk was…
"Sir, I love what you're doing but I don't think either of wants to clean half-digested cider off of your back." You pulled him by the hair to get his attention. For being right on his arm, he wasn't quite interested in your presence there as he crossed the camp. But now having his ear in your teeth's range, he was quick to notice.
"Oh, shit. Uh, sorry, sorry I got ahead of myself." This time with all the gentleness a drunk man can muster, he put you down to safety. You were on the other end of the camp now, right next to one of the communal tents. "Are you alright?"
"I am, just catching my breath, before it gets stolen again in more dancing."
"Are you sure it's fine? I don't want to force myself in any-" He looks like a kicked puppy with all the apologies, you can't listen to it. Cutting in, the cider guides your entire palm over his mouth, gently shushing him.
"Grandmaster, this is the most fun night I've had in a good while. If you were too much, I'd stomp your toes or kicked your junk." You pull the hand back, missing the sensation of the stubble underneath. The outline of his lips still feels fresh though.
"I suggest you start with something tamer to be honest." His breath sounds a tad bit laboured for the relatively calm moment you're having. "You know, a 'Stop', or a 'Let go!'. You look like you should know your manners."
You huff an empty laugh. "You should know how men are. The message doesn't always get across."
His brows tighten at that. "Hey listen, you're a guest here, and it'd be a terrible leader if I couldn't guarantee your safety. I can vouch for everyone here, but if something were to happen anyway… Your safety is my responsibility. Say the words and I deal with it. Deal?" He extends a hand the way men do when they greet. You take it, trying to match his seriousness, no matter how endearing the whole thing feels. Even among your growing suspicion of how you were ever allowed to be part of this evening, even if but for a moment, you feel how Varka is earnest to his core. You can't think of anything to say, so you just nod instead. The wind picks up the slightest bit, washing the serious air away.
Varka sits down on a makeshift bench by the tents, leaving very inviting space beside him. You oblige, because only an idiot would refuse such glorious company. He leans back a little and stretches, like he's just realized that your brief escape was warranted and a dance like that deserves a moment of respite afterwards. Here up close you can finally take a moment to take him in, in his full glory. Even without the armour there's still some heavy leather on him, buckles and belts and that incredibly pleasant fur. But he's clearly forgetting himself in the pleasure of stretching sore muscles, because suddenly the strain on his button up is crying for mercy, and the sleeves leave nothing to the imagination. He goes on like this for a good minute, eyes close, probably thinking he's giving you your time and space, not knowing the ogling he's a victim of.
A pretty sigh leaves him before he decides he's bored of the silence.
"The whole thing about getting you into the dancing, it's just a habit of mine to get everyone I can in on the celebration. Some of the boys took their sweet time integrating into the group, and I can't have any strays on the expedition this long, socially or otherwise. So whenever I can, I want the new faces to feel included at all times. Fundaments of morale. And by virtue of being the fresh face, I kept my eye on you that extra bit."
"And I am grateful, Sir Varka. Your knights are indeed very fun."
"Oh, quit the titling." He barked a laugh. "Am I that intimidating to the little lady?"
At that you short circuited. You never thought of yourself as little, matching a man in both height and strength any day. But next to Varka? You had nothing on him. It did something to your insides.
And now having set the boundaries and all, when he sees how red you get from just those words, he catches on quick. A boisterous smile turns a much more smug tone.
"What it is? Cat got your tongue?"
"More like a wolf…" You straighten up, trying your best not to melt on the spot. Your mind is already in a dangerous place and you try your best to focus and make sure your body actually gets there too.
"How does quartering work around here, Grandmaster? It's late, I don't wish to impose, but I think it would be more efficient than having me escorted to Nasha Town at this hour."
A beat passes before the pieces fall into place in his head, but he gets there and smiles wider. "We generally don't camp with the intent of having space to spare, but I think I can provide for a lady in need."
Varka's tent hardly stands out from the others. It's on the edge of camp, maybe a tad bigger than the rest, but looking inside, you see a decently sized table filled with various papers, something that's probably not a standard in a quarter around here. Paperwork and supplies take a good half of the inside space, leaving the other to a bunk bed and personal touches. One of those being a blade. Smaller than the claymores he's carried so far, for an emergency. And that's just the weapon in sight.
Varka joins behind you, places your pack by the table, before turning on his heel.
"There's some spare shirts in the chest if you need, I'll be making round in the morning to wake everyone up. Not at first light though, so don't worry about it. Goodnight!"
You're so late to grab a hold of him that your hand ends up alone peeking out of the tent flaps, holding onto his fur coat almost like a tail. So he didn't take the hint after all. You tug twice, signalling him inside, and with some hesitation he's back here with you.
"Is there anything else you-" Your mouth crashes into his so fast you almost push him over. Saved by the desk, you're both off balance and dizzy. But the kiss never deepens, as he pulls you off and pushes you back a little. Before he can speak you raise your voice.
"You did not bring me to your conveniently private tent, conveniently up and away from the rest, and still think I don't want this do you?"
"I mean, I gathered you're not much for being imposed on, and what better space to give for a night than my own? I'll switch someone for a night watch, it's not a big deal." He looked so innocently stressed, it was hard to believe it was a fabled Knight of Boreas, mulling over the implications of sharing a bed with a woman. You wanted him so bad, it was just impossible not to.
You took a long, deep breath. You don't feel any more sober. Well, here goes nothing.
"Varka, I am tired of undressing you in my head all night just because I've run out of ideas of what your head and forearms can do to me."
He barks a laugh at that. The booze is certainly still kicking him good too because in no way was it that funny, and for a moment your heart sinks thinking he finds you absurd.
"Good to know I'm not the only one with imagination then." And you melt as he finally finally gets it. He steps up with that same confidence he's been showing around all night so far and kisses you proper, long and with an affection of a long time lover. It feels bizarre how much he pours into a first kiss, like he's trying to apologize for taking his sweet time before.
Lip to lip you waltz back to the table, those hands you've missed propping you on there, putting you at the perfect height to continue. It's all too easy to swipe your tongue along his teeth, a little disappointing to find his canines don't match the wolf motifs but he makes up for it by exploring your mouth with impeccable diligence. Some of your imagination is also sated when he finds it in him to run those hands along your body. Even if your corset, pants and blouse leave little opening, he squeezes it all equally, trying to map out what it's in store for later.
In your own need for exploration, you hands drag beneath his half open shirt, immediately welcome by widespread scar tissue, intricate shapes and rough hairs, all just oozing with warmth. You want that skin all for yourself. Wandering his neck, your other hand finds his pulse and delight in its speed. Putting some pressure on it, you feel it even better, and are rewarded with a needy little sound against your mouth.
"Going for my vitals already?" His chest rises and falls beneath your hand. You can feel the strings of muscle move under your fingertips. Its exhilarating. You squeeze it so hard you're a bit embarrassed.
"Isn't that what were doing to each other?" You manage a sentence before snatching his mouth again. You want to eat him from the inside out. You're pretty sure drool is running down your chin by now but it's hard to say whose it is so you don't feel too bad about it. And if his continued ministrations along your thighs, snatched waist, and tits, even still covered, are anything to go by, he's just as desperate.
You let the moment drag on, leaning further down the table, letting yourself be near-pinned down. All the easier to feel how much a beast he is. And as the clothes between you start feeling more and more oppressive, almost like he read your mind, he pushes up, and gently tugs at one of your belt loops.
"Do you need those bad?" His face is completely flushed, even in the low light of a tent. His very blond stubble makes a fun contrast.
"Never needed them less." And without further ado, he goes to unlace your boots, and then your trousers. He's precise in it, but also clearly hurried, if the brief sight at his ever-tightening pants is any indicator.
They all end up tossed out of your sight, leaving your legs bare save for a pair of panties. Nothing special, you're of the practical type. You reach to help him get those off too, but he pulls your hand away.
"All in due time. Unless you need to be somewhere."
You bite back a pout. If he's easy to discourage, better let him set the pace. "I'm right where I want to be." You reassure instead.
He brings one of your bare legs up to rest against his torso. You sit at the edge of the desk, and he pushes against you like this. The stretch in your splits feels nice, even great, when paired with a bulge against your panties. If they weren't soaked yet, they would be ready to soil his pants soon. Shit, you think, whatever he's hiding is … well , at the very least proportional to all the rest of him.
He nuzzles your calf from this angle, squeezes as the muscles tense involuntarily, bringing little pecks along it, getting a good feel of your Achilles and the rest.
"You a runner?" He mumbles.
"Something like that. This is what you focus on?"
"If you can drool over my muscles, can't I do the same?" He throws a cocky grin, So he's perceptive after all. Sneaky bastard. "I could feel they're strong when I carried you. Really hot. Was hard not to get my hopes up." He bites on the flexed muscle. You giggle at image of being marked there of all places.
But it's getting you impatient. A woman can be needy too right? You roll your hips where they meet, trying to get him back on track before he decides to marvel at parts of you even further south.
He growls, frustrated but ultimately agreeing that the main objective is elsewhere. He pushes further into you, his bulge more prominent by the second, quickly upgrading from impressive to ominous in size.
"You're a real handful, you know sweetheart?" He punctuates by squeezing your ass hard enough to leave it red. "Do you think you can handle it?"
In your own wine-drunk gaze, he feels like a good challenge if nothing else. You bring your free leg around him and pull him yet closer to show match his cockiness. "I'm a big girl. I can handle myself."
He bumps your forehead with his own, laughing like a little boy. Varka may an experienced knight, but he carries a kind of youthful spirit that makes him feel that much younger and more free. He places one soft kiss against you, like a good luck charm, before scooping you up completely and bringing you to the bed.
It's rougher than it looks. Animal pelts stacked on top of one-another, but still making it easy to feel the hard dirt. While imperfect, it fits Varka perfectly in your opinion. And if all goes well, you think briefly when catching breath between being kiss-drunk, you'll have him as your pillow for the night.
"Unfair disadvantage." You gasp at you prop yourself up.
"What?" He musters, before you rip his furs away, adding them to the stack below you. Only now do you notice a corset of his own. You latch onto his buttons, working them apart. With a grin, he goes to unclasp the more intricate parts of his outfit. The belts alone create a decent stack on the ground.
With the upper part off, your breath is taken by the sight. Everything about Grandmaster Varka is thick and gorgeously sun-kissed, scarred and hairy and the corset releases a slight beer gut and nothing is there to stop the desperate mewl coming from you. Every thought you ever had is fuelling the pool between your legs. You lack the skin surface to get the feel out everything he's offering in a way he deserves. You're hopeless. You quietly thank Fate for sending you to tail this man.
"Shit. You can't look at me like that. I won't last." He's breathing heavy and with his entire torso and this sight alone deserves to usurp Barbatos' place of worship. Not sure wat to do, but still wanting it all, you go to hug him awkwardly, eyes closed and groping everything that he just revealed. Soft, sticky and salty from the sweat, hot in ways that escape the definitions.
You're mouthing wet kisses along his neck in between empty praise, it's all a trance. Little bites create an upward trail of marks, you consider going for blood but the rhythm is good so you drop the idea. Your hands are kneading his chest like dough, unbothered by whatever your nails may leave behind. You couldn't hurt him if you tried, not with that musculature. You reach his earlobe and mark out the shape with your tongue, finishing it with a rough bite on top.
At that, he moans, in a pitch and volume that has you pull away, bug-eyed with shock. He's been so quiet at you ministrations you completely forgot yourself. Pride swells in your belly, further fuelling the fire.
"You- you kiss me like I'm the woman here." He huffs a laugh, scratching whatever you left across hiss neck.
"Is there a problem?" You say quietly, genuinely.
"Nah, it's not that. I just rarely get surprises like this anymore." With that, he looks at you, all intense, before taking one of your wandering hands and placing a feather light kiss on the knuckle. "May I take the reigns now?"
The cogs in your head are at a standstill, so you simply nod with a polite smile. At that he smiles a toothy grin, before pushing you down on the pelt, knocking some air out of you. He dives right along, ready shower love on your tummy, making his way south. He's softer than you were, much more patient. The kisses are delicate purposeful, meant to keep you needy and patient and piss you off. You look down, only to see Varka in a trance of his own, both teasing and showing unexpected care.
Seeing his trapezius from this angle makes it hard to decide what to hold onto. You settle on running a hand through his hair. Humming in approval, he arrives at the ever destined area, planting a loving kiss on the cloth. It's been wet for a while now.
"You flatter me." The voice is low and reverberates through you. He nuzzles your inner thigh, the stubble sending electricity through you. As you revel in the feeling, he twists it up with a rough bite. Finally a worthy mark. You moan because that's the minimum gratitude you can show at the moment.
There's a tug on you panties. You look down to see Varka grinning with your cloth between his teeth. He keeps staring right at you, every second of pulling them down. They're now forever lost in his back pocket.
He pulls your hips up to him with ease that has your shivering. Wrapping your legs around his neck feels like the most natural thing in the world. "Anything against a hungry man?" His breath against your privates is hot and humid and you want nothing more. He takes the sight in, face delighted and licking his lips, patiently waiting for the question to reach your fuzzy brain.
"Oh, by all means.~" You coo, arching your back further into his face. Throwing hesitance out the window, he dives right in.
And hungry he must've been, because he eats like a man possessed. Lapping up everything you give with a broad tongue, and finishing each stroke with a kiss or a suck at the top. You're in heaven. He could eat your guts and you'd thank him. And with every sound you make, every twitch he forces out of you, he speeds up. A knights damned stamina. There's no talk about rough or soft, he's aiming for thorough and nothing less.
You're getting there faster than expected. Is that how men feel when they come barely a few seconds in? You try and tug at his hair, but Varka only groans against you and sucks harder. Only by sheer force of will do you stop yourself from coming undone right then and there.
"Varka." You mouth, hoping he will stop while you can still breathe.
"Is something wrong?" He looks up, puppy eyed and glistening around his mouth. Debauchery.
"No, it's… it's great. I just…" Words hardly cooperate. He should be proud. "It feels wrong to just take. Do you not want a turn?"
"Nah, don't worry about me. I was planning on getting you to the finish line first, then maybe worrying about myself. You go back to enjoying yourself. I could've sworn you were close." Sarcasm isn't the only thing dripping down his tongue. He really looks like a pup, licking himself clean like he is right now.
Your head gets the clarity necessary to pull yourself upright and force Varka onto his back. He doesn't fight, only looks with a good dose of curiosity and eagerness.
"Grandmaster, I demand an even experience." You say like it's about a duel. He obliges, resting back with hands under his head, looking all too relaxed and smug.
"By all means then.~" Flexing his arms like that reveals muscles you didn't know existed. So before you get too distracted, you turn around on him, straddling his chest while facing away. The your wet core is bound to leave a stain on his chest.
A small tug from behind, makes you realize he's undone the knot of your corset. "Don't mind me." He whispers.
Sitting like that, relaxed and unhurried, you palm him through the tightly laces trousers. Yep, still ominous, and now twitching at your touch. You continue the delicate probing, trying to mimic the mocking speed with which he started on you. It makes it all the easier to surprise him with each irregular sharper tug. His breath is still audible in the small space, as are the slight hitches in it.
As you start unlacing the pants, he stops idling behind you and starts massaging your legs. He's certainly fond of them by now. On of his palms travels to your core again, fingers testing the waters. You're pleasantly slick by now, and he doesn't hesitate to slip two fingers.
"Don't go getting distracted now sweetheart." Varka is nothing if not smug. In turn, with one smooth motion, you pull him out and run your hand along the shaft firmly. His drip is not nearly enough, and you can sense the mild discomfort from the dryness. Ha. Deserved.
But you're nothing if not merciful. You lean back reaching your other and tracing fingers along his mouth. Booze has you lack some grace in the act, but he saves you by taking your fingers into his mouth and playing with them like he did your tongue before. He's making a show and being proud again, obviously. You pull away fiercely, leaving a string of saliva connecting you.
With that, you both return to your occupying tasks. Now smoothly, you work him even more upright. Thick and veiny, pink like the rest of him from all the shared attention. A challenge to be taken still, but Varka's the kind of sunshine man who washes away even this sort of fears.
Meanwhile he's still busy with your pussy, taking the liberty of stretching you before you think of needing that. His fingers are as smart as his mouth, deliberately pushing your walls and testing what angles tick, crossing back and forth and keeping a tempo that's making you lose your pace with his member. Its only fair you try and one up him by wetting your finger with your own saliva, before flicking his dick's head.
He pulls the fingers out at once, before grabbing your ass firmly.
"I think we're ready." He has the roughness in his voice suggesting the games are over. You smile.
"Certainly."
You turn around on him once more, centreing yourself, more so mentally than physically. A night with a man like Varka is already in the top ten nights of your life, an it's still not over. You lower yourself on top of him, barely hovering over his face, letting your hot breath envelop him.
"Thank you." You whisper, unbuttoning your blouse all the while. Both bare, you feel as free as a bird. You kiss him with all the affection you can muster for a man you've met not a day ago. Deep and long, wanting to give back all the patience he's shared before. You can feel Varka smile against your mouth. It's a safe bet that he shares the sentiment.
After a minute or so, you go back to line him up to your entrance. You suck air through your teeth in a desperate attempt to gather courage.
"No need to force yourself hun."
"Yes, yes, you have a huge scary dick, will you stop being so smug about it?" You lower yourself just so, barely taking the tip. He dares to giggle at you.
"Well pardon me for being considerate." He grabs your thighs and pushes you down, halfway or less, but the shock knock the air out of you. Prep did it's job, but it's still a lot.
"Asshole."
"I get the sense you wanted this to happen."
Perceptive asshole.
But he lets you continue on your own. You start going up and down, taking a little more in each time. After the bickering, you decide to close your eyes and focus on the sensetions to guide you. He's nothing if not distracting. Varka must think you've exchanges enough jabs too, because he starts being deliciously encouraging.
"Atta girl. You're doing great."
"Just like that. Hope you feel as good as I."
And before you know it, you can go all the way down. He fits of so perfectly, reaching the best spot while hardly trying. The moment of a painful burn goes away in seconds, making way for a delicious fullness. You bite your lip before you say something that would do to his head too fast.
Making point to show off your legs, you try squeezing around his waist with every stronger thrust. His hands are everywhere they can reach, making sure no amount of pleasure gets you too distracted to continue. Sweet nothings fall from his lips with ease, and you allow gasps and mewls to escape in turn.
He thrusts with more and more eagerness each time, chasing the high that's just up ahead. You like that he takes his pleasure into his own hands, knowing you can't be far behind after his tongue's hard work. You meet each other halfway, and you start being dizzy from all the stimuli. You kinda wish there was more booze at hand, because whatever feeling that would allow would surely send you straight into Celestia.
You wrap around him automatically when he decides it's time to flip you on your back. The grind finale is here and all that wonderful girth inside you is pushing all the way in at a terrifying pace. You'd want to savour the view but your eyes are too unfocused and lidded to make out anything but the warm splash of colour above. Everything feels so good, the orgasm is more of an afterthought. He doesn't stop throughout, and only when you slowly come to, does he make one last, terribly long groan and release deep inside. You vaguely note sweat dripping on your chest from him, and lazily circle his drenched pecks with your fingers. You worry for a moment he might drop on top of you from here, but only his head dangles down to rest on your sternum. With grace of a bear, he flops beside you, before pulling you close to his chest. Dreams really do come true huh.
"Mmmm…" A long, satisfied murmur escapes him, and frankly there's little more you can add.
Time passes as you both quietly lay down, catching breath and letting the sweat between you evaporate. It's a bit of a gross arrangement in the long run but some luxuries have to wait until morning because there is no force in Teyvat that could get you on your feet at the moment. He runs his hands along your abdomen, hips and legs, tracing scars and finding his own peace in absentmindedly taking in your quirks and textures. Nice to know you're inspiring like that.
"So, sweetheart…" Varka drums his fingers along your back, holding you close. He's whispering. "Would you share who sent you?"
Everything in you tenses at once. He can't see your expression with how you lay down, but he doesn't need to. He laughs with little joy this time.
"No worries, I won't hurt ya now. Worst you can earn is an early eviction. I'm betting Fatui."
You take some breath to even your voice. You'd rather not end up fighting naked in a northern forest.
"Capitano only assigned me to make sure your cargo gets to the next stop. Everything else was… adult having fun after hours. Or did you think inviting me first would be gaining some upper hand?"
"Capitano huh? Then I assume killing me wasn't on the agenda?"
"Pff." You can't help but burst out laughing. "You have excellent records from what I have seen. You're safe. Honestly, it was more about making sure some stray rat from Sandrone's office wouldn't come bother you, than anything. But…" You snatch the knife he keeps by the pelts and dangle it softly in your hand. "…If you insist."
He laughs with faux nervousness. "Oh, I'd like to see you try." He further squeezes your leg, this time not stopping until it goes into bruising territory. He could probably snap your femur if he wanted. You hiss through your teeth a little, trusting that he'll stop before it warrants actual self defence.
"Showoff." You groan and he stops.
"If you want to spar, we can have a quickie in the morning."
You grin like an imp, and push your ass into him, making your point.
"Or just the quickie, if you'd prefer."
"Okay but seriously, what gave me away?"
"Your Vision." Varka deadpans. You didn't know a guy like him could deadpan.
"What about it?"
"It's a fake."
"How fake a Delusion is, compared to a Vision, is more of a philosophical question, don't you think?"
"If you know what a fake Vision looks like, a Delusion will fall into the same category, regardless if it does the job or not."
"Good to know Knights of Favonius are knowledgeable in making counterfeits." You throw him a cunning smile.
"Shuddap." He shoves you playfully. "If I'm to guess, your buds have known that already."
"Whatever you say Grandmaster. If they ask I'll just say someone else spilled the beans."
You prop up a little, and with a bit of aiming, you throw the hand knife so that is stick into one of the beams holding up the tent. Varka whistles in approval. You like how generous he is with showing his affection, even if it's a little over the top. Diving back into the pelts, you slot yourself in between his chest and arm. He's very pillowy when relaxed.
"So, how would you rate the evening? Up to your standard?" You ask, running you finger over his forearm, little more than a feather touch.
"A beautiful lady coming straight into my bed? Where I'm from every bard has written a dozen poems about the luck I had today."
"Don't tell me you're the pent up kind. You have a whole expedition of beautiful men and women to pick from. Or is the Grandmaster's heart just that hard to stir?" It's a little hard not to mock him, it's just that unbelievable.
"Oh, That's a big no-no. I won't police any relationships until it causes serious problems, but you will not catch me dallying with my subordinates. There's freedom and fun, and then there's power structures and discipline. Wouldn't want someone calling the chain of command broken because I couldn't keep it in my pants."
You snort at that.
"Many have tried, trust me, but it's not worth it. Buuut, I'm not opposed to outside influence."
"Not afraid of assassins in your bed?"
"I think myself a good judge of character, and so far have only ever been proven correct. If I die by hands of a lover, I was unworthy of representing Boreas to begin with."
"I suppose that's fair."
Some more words are mumbled between the two of you, silently agreeing that talking is too much work for the night. Varka talks of Mondstadt with longing, even if it's written all over him that he's downplaying how much he misses home. You feel some envy for his sense of belonging. And at some point of him humming a tune he recalls being very popular at his favourite tavern, sleep takes you.
You think you might be dead when in the morning the first thing you notice is your own shortness of breath. Focusing you mind in the dim light of the tent, you slowly come to realize that at some point a far too large part of Varka has come to rest on top of your ribcage. Light snores are right at your ear. Well, the snore itself is light anyway, but amplified by his usual rumbling voice and general proximity, you're now fully awake. Starting with a polite nudge barely gets him to inhale sharply and push himself further onto you. The skin-to-skin is even more sticky in the morning and all but the air is running out rapidly. With some effort (and general knowledge of handling a body) you push Varka off with a thump as he hits the ground.
It knocks him awake so rapidly he jumps and you can see an attempt and quick abortion of some self defence maneuver.
"Ugh, and I was praying to Barbatos last night that I wouldn't wake up like there's a knife to my throat." His morning voice would be enough to get you going again, if he wasn't using it to complain about you.
"I-I mean… there isn't."
"I know, thank you very much, but you didn't need to knock me conscious! I think I earned better than that."
"Oh I'm sorry. I think I deserve better than being crushed to death in my sleep."
"Huh? Crushed to… Wait I was on top of you?"
"In all your glory." You flip on your stomach and rock your legs in the air playfully.
"Okay then, you win, sorry. Shit, I didn't think I toss much in my sleep anymore."
"That's what you get for relying on gods.~"
"Pfft, not religious much?"
"Hmm, you could say that."
"Then I'll keep Barbatos out of my bed today. Wanna go for a rinse in the lake? We might pass someone on the way, but I know a private enough spot in the water."
He still comes up new blessings to offer.
The water is terribly cold this far north, but with small pours instead of submerging fully, you make it work.As promised, there was no need for shame around, and you were provided with cloth and soap anyway.
"By the way, do you need anything now?" Varka, of course, is a sight so behold, sitting comfortably waist deep. He could probably warm up the entire lake just by swimming in it.
"Like what?"
"You know, any aftercare? Would hate to one day open some letter asking for alimony after tonight. I know someone, if you need."
"Oh, I'll take care of it. Being a mother is the last thing on my mind now. "
"No maternity leave in the Fatui?"
"Hm… Never looked into it." You huff at the ridiculous small talk. "But I appreciate he offer. Truly. And what about you? Not ready to be a dad?" You chime playfully.
"Oh, I've played dad plenty."
"Wait, seriously? You have kids?" It's a weird nausea when you can't decide if he's more hot for being a dad or a cheating bastard.
"You know how it is. Not my blood, but certainly my pride and joy. Two of them. Gotta have something to come back to in Mondstadt."
You huff in relief.
"The expedition will me moving my soon, by the way. Where are you headed?"
"To the Bureau, reports to fill, boring stuff. You?"
"Further north, we're planning to camp just under Ashveil Peak."
"Hmm, then it's slim chance we'll to see each other again. I'm likely going straight to Snezhnaya next."
"Planning to visit Mondstadt sweetheart?"
"Are you? From what I read they haven't seen much of you in years."
"I'll come back when I'll come back. If you end up in Mondstadt before me, tell the Knights I say hi."
"Right, I'll keep that in mind. Then I take it you won't be a stranger if I catch you in town?"
"I'm a Knight. I wouldn't dare."
"It's a deal then."