Bedding [Damiana]

[Charles]

He could recall the sudden heat of a breath upon his cheek. It wasn't a woman's nor belonging to any token of affection. It was a man's. It was his father's own subtly marked with liquor and the feel of his knuckles crushing upon his young flesh stuck out like a staccato beat thumped upon a tight-skinned drum. He could recall the breath of his own leaving his body at the steady rhythm struck out upon him. Then that voice fueled by liquor and rage.

"Just like your mother. You can't take a punch."

Those eyes were upon him; his father's eyes which were his own.

Then the cold darkness of the closet was his gift for weeping.

He trembled and felt fear echo throughout him; clutching him deep and throttling him. It overwhelmed him from the deepest recesses of his mind and as the once young Charles wept, so did he within reality as he awoke with a shuddering breath to find himself within a bed that was not his. It was at once frightening as much as disarming to realize this was not his home.

Where was he?

He could not recall whatsoever, or rather, at least not at first. It took him a moment to realize that this was not his bed. In fact, the feminine bedsheets spoke otherwise as his stubble-covered cheek lifts from beneath him and blue eyes narrow to the sight of such. Apparently he had not fallen asleep properly but fell within a bed entangled to the sheets about his legs. That, and he was naked, with his stomach nestled upon the soft bedding and one arm tucked beneath a pillow that was held close to his head. That, though, wasn't a concern but the sudden sound beside him.

He tips his face to look whilst fingers smooth beneath his eyes to catch any semblance of tears that may have come from his night terror. Then he saw her.

This wasn't his home and suddenly he could recall the night before when he saw her. He had gone to a club and had found a woman. They had danced and what had happened after was only inevitable to say the very least. Did he regret such? No, at least not yet. At least not until he saw the face of the sleeping beauty beside him of darker flesh and plump mouth both. He could only see very little of her now where she lay as he sidled closer to her only to find they were tangled.

There was a sudden stirring a pleasure within him that sought arousal from him. It was for the simple fact of her naked body brushing against his own; the knowledge of how their limbs were tangled and the thought of how she felt the night prior. She felt so warm and as he tucked rough fingertips beneath her chin, he upturns her face somewhat to him albeit gently lest he wake her.

This was the woman that had openly taken him within her home. This was the woman he had found the night before and had danced with. He could recall her dress and the manner of her being. He could recall the smell of her hair and the way she uttered his name. He could recall the way she felt under him as she found her climax and he could recall her own name despite the haze of a mild hangover.

"Damiana," he breathes her name out.

He cants his head then and there, and looks utterly wolfish with the way his gaze flits over her face. His fingertips were gentle upon the underside of her cheek before smoothing upward and along her cheek only to stroke downward and along the front of her throat. She was still asleep and Charles mind worked all the while. Should he leave? Mayhap. Yet, he didn't. Perhaps for the first time within his life Charles wasn't compelled to abandon his one night lover.

He was taken by her for whatever the reason may be. Despite the ache of his body and longing for rest, Charles didn't bother slipping out of bed nor off of his stomach as he shifted closer and knit his brows. His mouth pursed then and there but only with mild question within his eyes. Who was she? Yes, he knew her name, but every face had a story and this story came to twine with his own tragedy that was far from an epic poem.

He couldn't help but touch her then as two fingers walked down at an even stride along her throat and across the dip nearest her collarbone. Then between his touch strokes between the swell of her breasts only for a palm to cup one. She felt warm to the touch here and there; no, everywhere. Then his hand stroked lower albeit reluctantly to smooth fingertips near her navel to tease the flesh.

Never before had Charles wondered whether or not another would fear him. He gone through life perfecting the art his father had beat deep within him for use within the military. He had become his father's son albeit reluctantly. Now, though, he wondered whether or not she'd awaken only to see a man she had never wanted to see again. That she'd cringe and recoil at the scar-riddled modern day warrior and question him whether or not he was ready to leave. Maybe she wouldn't though.

All the while he watches and his head cants like some curious hound and his eyes show with a semblance of innocence that he himself never knew he had. All the age within the world - showing with the peppered gray upon his raven tresses and even with the crow's feet at the edges of his eyes - belied his innocence. Yet, there it showed with an ounce of such as he watched her.

...and he waited.

[Damiana Jones]

Had it all been a dream?

Her mind wondered such as she laid in her bed not during to open her eyes. For she feared if she did, the beautiful story in her mind would proven to be false. If so, she honestly didn't know what she would do. She wouldn't cry; no, that would be too childish on her end. Perhaps she would have fussed at herself for being so taken by her dream. Her dream of him the night before. Yes, Charlie. The man she met in the club. The man she took home with her later on that night. The man she spent the rest of the night enjoying her most carnal of desires. Again, that was if they actually made it that for. That's if she actually took him home with her.

Her body felt the slightest of movements coming from her bed. Or maybe that was her dreams once more. It wouldn't be the first time she's had such a vivid dream such as this. Her mind swore up and down that it was reality she was living in. The petite woman was dancing between the worlds sleep and awakeness. Her head tilted slightly but not by her doing though. This she knew. And she heard her name, causing her eyes to flutter open slightly. At first her sight is blurry at best, but her body couldn't help but to respond to the pleasant but gentle touches her skin was receiving.

Her eyes closed once more while she laid there and just enjoyed the affection she was receiving. Damiana knew this touch rather well to be honest. How could just forget such a touch. Bits and pieces of the night before began to flood her mind. The dancing. The drinking of some sort. The behind the doors activities. Her hand moved about to take a hold of his travelling hand."Mm. Charlie." She murmured quietly, squeezing his hand in her hold just a tad bit. How could she forget such a man? He had truly amazed her upon first meeting with his intoxicating scent and pleasurable accent that tickled her ears every time he spoke a word.

Once more, her brown eyes opened to gaze upon the male in a soft manner. A chuckle came. It was amazing to be able to see him without the nasty club lighting. How wonderful it was to actually see the man she felt the night before. To be a clear face to the man that manage to bring her guard down upon their first meeting. And to be honest, she was surprised to find him still in her bed. No, she wasn't complaining. She was truly amazed. Like most of the shows, even the books she read, it wasn't very common for a woman to wake up with the male that was her one night lover. If anything, she would wake up alone and feeling blue. Not many women were known to brag about one night stands because nothing came from it. They were left feeling used and empty.

But Damiana was left feeling surprised and lucky. Charlie was still here. The question that came to her mind now was...what now. What now? Do they part ways and never hear from each other again? Do they stay like this and pretend the world outside didn't exist? The dark haired beauty shook her head slightly. She didn't want to think about thos aspects just yet. She really just wanted to enjoy the fact they were still in bed, under the warmth of her sheets.

Reaching upward, she cupped his cheek as she stared at him with clearer eyes.A soft smile tugged at her lips as she opened her mouth to say."Hey, Charlie." Her body shifted to sit up just enough for her to press her lips against his. Softly in such a quiet passionate fashion. Her fingers ran themselves through his hair just as the older woman did the night before.

"How did you sleep?"

[Charles]

She greets him with such warm and clear eyes. There's not even a semblance of regret lingering there within her gaze. It's either that, or she truly hid such well enough that he couldn't tell. He would believe the former though and savor the fact that she loved every passing moment of the night before; in fact, he hoped that she did.

He wasn't sure what to expect from then out when she awoke. Part of him had thought to leave. That she wouldn't have minded that. That the course would have been the more intelligent choice to accept and take. Yet, he hadn't. He stood and laid there bare and naked without shame. He watched her and touched her like some curiosity. He savored the sight of her and soon she awoke and touched his hand, and his own gaze flits up to meet her own evenly.

What to say now? Much less, what to do? It was a long moment then as he watched her. That blue eyed gaze of his settling upon hers and his face tipping to and fro. What should he say to her? His eyes roamed over her face and settled upon that mouth of hers. How would she taste still? He wanted to kiss her. It was something he realized then but hadn't dared. Yet...

She spoke to him.

He couldn't help but meet her gaze once more, and as his mouth falls open, he felt her mouth upon his own. It was something nigh unexpected but not unwelcome. His eyes fall shut and his lips linger parted upon her own. He savors her taste and that brief moment of passion; something reminiscent of the night before. He settles his mouth more firmly upon her own until she was drawing away and her fingers stroke through his hair. His eyes linger shut as she questions him.

"Well enough," he confesses; that Scottish timbre ever present. "I slept like a babe," he adds with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. It fades, though, when his eyes open. "I've a bit of a hangover." It's something he reluctantly admits as brows knit. He lifts a hand then to touch her own. It's only to assure her touch lingers upon his cheek as her other hands strokes his hair.

There's no doubt that he loved looking at her. That he loved watching her. It was somewhat childish and practically boyish. It made him look somewhat younger as he leaned closer and lowered his mouth onto her own. He kissed her then and then once more; then again.

It seemed like a long moment then as he kissed her and brushed his nose against her own. It seemed to last nigh an eternity as his fingers stroked through her hair and his body tucked closer. It seemed to last forever as he nestled tight to her form and smothered her only to part their mouths and murmur to her. All the while his eyes warm with merriment.

"I had figured I'd test the waters and see whether or not you'd kick me out when you awoke," he confesses and stifles his smile by gnawing on his lowerlip. His brow bumps against her own and his eyes search her own. "How did you sleep?"

[Damiana Jones]

Beautiful. Simply beautiful.

From his facial features down to his mannerisms, she found him to be beautiful. She found him charming, taken by the fact there was nervousness being conveyed not only in his words but his features. A soft chuckle came from her as she listened to his answer, a soft smile growing on her lips even as he confessed to the fact that he had a hangover. Of course, her mind was quickly racing through her numerous recipes to get rid of a hangover. Memories of college flooded into her mind that instance. They were the only reason she couldn't get mad at the male. Some times people get carried away. "I can fix that." Her hands slid to his cheeks and stayed there, never considering to waiver such touch.

Closing her eyes, Damiana warmly returned the man's kiss as her forehead pressed against his. It was amazing how much doubt she had in her mind that he would still be here when she woke. Really, she wanted to curse herself for...thinking so low of the male. But the doubts, she felt, made the surprise all the more sweeter. Yet the icing on the cake was the fact he had expected her to wake up, demanding he leave her bed at that instance. Why..this confession as well awarded him a laugh. "You really thought I was going to kick you out?" The older woman questioned, pulling her head back in a slight manner to search his eyes.

Dear God...he really did expect such a thing from her. Well, waking up was definitely a surprise for the both of them. Her head shook as she chuckled, scooting in closer to press her body against his. "I slept great. Peaceful," she answered before she herself repeated a previous statement."I slept like a babe." A teasing smirk grew on her lips, finger tips stroking his cheek in a gentle, warm caress.

"I have a confession myself to make."

Her hand slid down to rest against his chest, looking down to examine the strongness she found to exist the night before."I didn't think you'd be here when I woke, Charlie." In all honesty, she hoped that he wasn't offended by her small confession. In all honesty, she hoped he understood what she meant by this. Then he too would understand the rarity of this situation. Not many woke up, waiting to see the face of the person they shared a night of passion with it. No matter how much her mind tried to wrap out it; this usually never happened.


"I..." Damiana began before she laughed, taking a deep breath. Boy, was she nervous now."I'm happy you're still here." The words came out in the softest of whispers. Why? She didn't want it to feel awkward for either of them and she truly wanted him to know that she wanted him to be there right then. No, she didn't regret it. She'd do it again with him in a heartbeat. Before a pin would drop. Shifting on the bed, she looked about for her clock.

There was more things to worry about though. Like putting some clothes on so she could walk around her apartment. She should really call into work to see if she actually had a phone conference to sit through. Her lips found those of Charlie's once more, kissing him softly before crawling out of bed with a quiet laugh. First things first, she had to put some clothes on. It didn't bother her that she was moving around her bedroom naked in front of a male she just met. It didn't cross her mind to be honest. Grabbing a cute pair of lacy boy shorts, she slipped them on before she pulled out her oversized red shirt with Elmo on it.

After dressing herself, her feet guided her back to the bed, this time to the side Charlie had slept. "Come, papi, so I can fix that little hangover of yours..." Damiana purred, combing her fingers through his hair once more before kissing his forehead. With a smile, she stepped away from him and headed toward the door, opening and exiting through it soon after. Of course, she left the door open.

What was her remedy for hangovers? Simple: a nice tall glass of gatorade. Preferably fruit punch flavored.

[Charles]

"Maybe," he begins. "What sort of self-respecting woman keeps a drunk Scotsman in her bed?" He asks of her with merriment clear within his eyes. He's teasing her without a hitch and his mouth spreads with a smile. Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he had expected of her. This, though, was certainly a surprise albeit a pleasant one. Part of him did wonder why she kept him here though.

He's nothing special and certainly not a knight in shining armor. He liked to consider himself charming though. He had to have a semblance of charm to win women over to warm his bed, after all. That had been within his youth though. He had out grown that part of him and had accepted his age and the more settled lifestyle that came with being discharged of the military. That's another story though and seemed to matter little here with her.

"It seems liquor does well by us then," he says to her with a sly smile when she echoes his own statement. She slept like a babe; adorable, truly. The truth was, was that last night had been one of the few nights he slept without a hitch. More often than not he was plagued by terrors. That, though, was a story for another once more. He shrugs off the persistent thoughts and shoves them to the deepest depths of his mind. He watches her all the while as she suddenly speaks of a confession to make. They hardly knew one another. This was certainly no time to come clean of secrets...

...or was it?

He savors the feel of that soft hand upon his chest then; his bare flesh trembling faintly beneath her touch. Those blue eyes search her face all the while. Then she made her confession and pleasant surprise fills his eyes. What should he say? He wasn't sure. Truth be told, he would have left. He admits such to her albeit playfully so. "I thought about it," he muses and looks amused. "Then I saw you and thought I didn't do too bad," he adds and he grins rather toothily. He looks rather young then. It certainly belies his true age for the moment as he shifts closer to her and sighs.

His mouth settles upon hers with parting lips and mingling breath.

She's happy that he's here. It's perhaps one of the stranger things a woman could say to a stranger. She hardly knew him but leaned toward him as if he had been her lover for some time; a companion, even. He's anything but though. Yet, that didn't mean they couldn't. Perhaps with time...ah! He had been overwhelmed with thoughts of such things when she's drawing free of her bed. He lolls his head and his gaze flits over her bare flesh with a low whistle and groan. He rolls over onto his stomach where she once lay and settles warmly within her place.

Her bed smells intoxicatingly of her flesh.

His arms settle beneath one of her pillows; pulling such beneath his chest and tucking his chin against such. He lays there and watches her as she saunters to and fro. He notes every sway of hip and each line of her bare and naked skin. She's an attractive woman, and certainly one he wanted to explore more thoroughly whilst sober. He whistles once more as she begins to pull on boy shorts but makes an audible sound of complaint when she pulls on that shirt.

"That's very sexy," he says playfully and laughs before wrinkling his nose. It wasn't long until she's drawing toward the side of the bed then. Her fingers settling within his hair was a welcome touch; warming him to the core as his eyes fall shut. He leans toward her kiss. How could he deny her? Plus, the thought of being tended properly is an attractive one; especially moreso with an ache thrumming within his head. He shifts within her bed and watches her off.

Where was his clothing?

This wasn't his apartment, and unlike Damiana, he didn't have the benefit to seek clothing from the nearest dresser or closet. He pulls back the sheets of her bedding only to settle bare feet upon the cool floor. All the while his head lolls to and fro to peer about the bedroom. He finds nothing. How unfortunate. He frowns somewhat and brushes fingertips along the hard line of his abdomen. Truth be told, though, he held no shame and was comfortable with his bare flesh. It's why he comes to his feet without shame and steps toward the open door of her bedroom to the hall.

If Charles hadn't remembered the night before, Damiana's apartment gave evidence to all the things that had happened. What Charles did find were articles of his clothing and even her own. They lay together here and there; heaped within corners of the hall and littered leading from one room to the other. He reaches for the wall to steady himself whilst stooping to snatch up a sock that had been discarded on the way to her bedroom. It's his, of course, but helped little. He wrinkles his nose and steps along while simultaneously gathering articles of his clothing. He listens to her all the while.

"What did we miss?"

It's what he asks of her with a playful note. The thoughts flood the forefront of his mind and all he could think of was her bare flesh and the taste of her lips. It's the taste of her breath and the way she feels. It's the way she says his name and that tongue uttering deliciously naughty terms of endearment. He smiles as he seeks her out with an armful of an assortment of clothing. He stands there within the entryway of the kitchen without shame; leaning there and staring after her.

"I don't need to worry about any Mister coming through, do I?" He asks of her suddenly. Who could blame him? She's attractive; beautiful, even. It's a rarity even for Charles. Yet, he didn't seem to be opposed to leaping from her window only to return later on. Although that seemed a silly notion. He did hope there was no other involved. It cleared things up for...him. Him. Strange.

He watches her expectantly.