Fireside Intimacy
Esilla handled even this sudden mess with impressive skill.
She swiftly gathered the scattered wreckage from the carriage and kindled a bonfire in moments.
-Crackle, crackle.
Red flames drove back the forest's thick darkness, roaring to life.
I sat hugging my knees by the fire, soaking in its warmth. Is this what fire-gazing feels like? Staring blankly at the dancing flames emptied my mind, bringing a strange calm.
The night air in the woods was biting cold, but the fire's glow thawed my chilled body, if only a little.
"Hoo..."
White breath puffed into the air with every exhale.
It was spring by the calendar, but this close to the north, the weather cut like a blade.
Esilla sat across the flames, meticulously tending her sword.
Perched on the ground in full armor, she wiped the blade with a cloth.
-Swish, swish.
Her hands moved with delicate precision over the bloodied steel.
Orange firelight gleamed off her cold plate armor.
Her profile in the flickering glow was coldly beautiful.
Impossible to reconcile with the woman who'd just butchered monsters without mercy—her expression serene as a statue.
But the blood splatters dotting her armor and the vivid red line slashing across her pale cheek bore witness to the battle's ferocity.
Damn, she's something else.
I stared at her, dazed.
Taking down a Twin Head Ogre solo, without so much as a scratch.
She finished and slid the sword back into its sheath.
-Clink.
Esilla tossed the blood-soaked cloth into the flames.
It vanished in a whoosh, reduced to ash.
She looked up, meeting my eyes across the fire.
"Are you cold?"
"Nah, the fire's got me covered."
I shook my head.
Truth be told, it wasn't the cold so much as the grime. The carriage wreck had doused me in dirt, sweat plastered my clothes to my skin, and the metallic tang of blood was turning my stomach.
"More importantly, Esilla."
"Speak."
"You've got a cut... on your face."
I pointed to my own cheek.
A thin, stark red line marred her porcelain skin.
Probably nicked by a flying rock shard when the ogre thrashed around.
Not deep, but beads of blood trickled perilously along her jawline.
"I see."
Esilla rubbed her cheek indifferently with the back of her gloved hand.
The blood didn't budge—instead, it smeared wider, a bolder crimson against her white skin.
"Now it's worse."
"It doesn't matter. Water will wash it off."
She dismissed it casually.
But I couldn't stand seeing it. That ugly streak on her flawless cheek gnawed at me.
"Hold on."
I fumbled in my pockets—no handkerchief. It must've flown off in the chaos when the ogre tore the roof apart.
Screw it.
Tools are overrated.
I stood and stepped toward Esilla.
Rustle.
Her gaze tracked me.
"Lady?"
She furrowed her brow in confusion but didn't pull away.
I reached out without hesitation.
"Stay still."
Carefully, I pressed my thumb to her cheek.
-Swish.
Warm, yielding flesh met my fingertip.
Her feverish body heat surged through, a stark contrast to the icy night air.
Incredibly soft. Nothing like the calluses on her fingers—plush and strangely satisfying.
I gently wiped the blood smeared around the wound.
"Mm..."
A soft sound—moan or sigh?—slipped from her lips.
I avoided the cut itself, but her sensitive skin quivered under my touch.
I pressed on regardless, bearing down a bit harder.
The drying blood clung stubbornly.
Hm.
"This stuff's stubborn."
Now it was personal.
I shifted from my awkward crouch and planted myself right in her face.
Up close, her skin was impeccable—no blemishes.
Long lashes, sharp nose bridge, eyelids fluttering faintly with my touch.
Close enough our breaths mingled.
Amid the fire's crackle, her steady breathing filled my ears.
"Chin up."
Esilla obediently tilted her head.
Firelight rippled across her features.
I cupped her jaw gently with my other fingers, holding it steady.
-Swish, swish.
Skin sliding over skin rang louder in my ears than the popping firewood.
Her lightly damp skin flushed deeper under my rubbing.
Her head trembled ever so slightly with each pass of my fingers.
Closer inspection: the wound was shallower than it looked. Just a faint red line.
My eyes locked on it, but hers roamed—my eyes, my nose, my parted lips as I focused.
Drinking in every detail, like committing my face to memory.
Her gaze burned trails on untouched skin; my cheeks flamed.
I ignored it, lost in the feel of her under my fingertips.
My thumb trailed down her cheek to her jawline.
Prolonged contact—her warmth seeped into me.
My finger, once rubbing her cheek, now slick and warm with her blood and heat.
The red stain from her pale skin had mostly transferred to my thumb.
"Hoo..."
Her hot exhale tickled the sensitive inside of my wrist.
Only then did I snap to— I'd cradled her face far too long, far too intimately.
The air hung thick, charged.
In the hush—fire sounds muted—our heartbeats seemed audible.
I detached my hand from her jaw, casual as I could manage.
"There. Done."
I grinned at her now-clean cheek, satisfied.
The cut remained, but the messy blood was gone.
"Much better."
I waggled my bloodied finger at her, teasing.
"No thanks needed. I did it 'cause I wanted to."
I drew my hand back to flick off the blood.
-Snap.
Then Esilla seized my wrist.
"Huh?"
Vice-like grip. No budging it.
"Esilla?"
She yanked me toward her instead of answering.
Off-balance, I pitched forward—our noses nearly brushing.
Her armor's chill grazed my chest.
She narrowed her eyes, fixating on her blood coating my finger.
Then her gaze dropped to the pulse throbbing on my inner wrist.
She dipped her head, inhaling deeply—nose hovering a whisper from my skin.
"Sniff."
Hot breath ghosted over the tender spot.
A electric shiver raced up my spine; my shoulders hunched.
"Hey, what the hell!"
I recoiled in panic.
She held fast—gripped tighter, brow creased, head lifting.
"As I thought."
Her tone clipped.
"Lady. You stink."
Sudden assault from Esilla.
"W-what?"
"Blood. Sweat. Dirt. All of it."
Still clutching my wrist, she pressed her thumb hard on my pulse, then released.
"Overwhelming. Beasts will track the blood scent mid-journey."
"C-can't be helped! Carriage smashed, I tumbled everywhere!"
My face scorched; I yelped.
Fine, it's true—but throwing it in my face like that? And that look.
I wiped her wound out of kindness, and she's eyeing me like a pitiful stray.
"Lingering like this is unhygienic. Open wounds could infect."
Esilla rose.
Wrist still in her iron grasp.
No sign of release.
"You need a wash."