For Theon

[outta_texas]

If Tyra felt guilty, taking a guy back to their...to her bed to fuck, she shoved it down, shoved it way down and kept smiling. She was sweating a little under the blanket, her hair curling where it touched her neck

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[stolen_ironborn]

Theon took one cursory glance around and found his smirk stretching even wider. The hut had a man's presence, clothes strewn all over and a look that wasn't all Tyra. She'd loved a man or many of them, perhaps all at once, he would never know.

But he didn't particularly care either beyond the smug satisfaction that he was going to bed someone else's woman. "Here we are," he agreed, coming up behind her and peeling the blanket down her back with measured deliberation. Theon's thumbs ran down smooth, warm skin as it were revealed, lips dropping to graze the curve of her shoulder; gods, but she was alive and it was long since he'd touched the living. "Are you expecting him come morning?" he thought to ask just in case he need keep his bow or dagger near.

[outta_texas]

"Him?" says Tyra, indistinctly, her attention fixed on the sensation of his hands on her back, the blanket slipping down her back, although she kept it up at the front. Didn't want to go giving it all away at once.

"Oh, fuck. Tim? Fuck no. He's gone right now."

And he isn't fucking coming back.

[stolen_ironborn]

Ah, now that spoke volumes. Theon tugged the blanket lower and, upon spotting the sun inked into the small of her back, made a low thrum of surprise in his throat.

"You are marked," he swept her hair aside and murmured along the nape of her neck, though, he inwardly thought of the Volantene and their habit of tattooing their slaves and whores. And a woman as comely as Tyra, if not of royal blood, would have certainly found herself a possession of a whore house. "You prize the sun, Tyra?"

[outta_texas]

"I sort of just liked the design," says Tyra. She lifts her hand, flashing the inside of her left wrist. "This is for my dad. He used to call me Angel, but he died."

She smiles brightly, not wanting sympathy from him for that. The blanket was almost at the cleft of her ass, but Tyra's never had a problem with being naked or nearly naked.

"You like it?"