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Namari hadn't thought much of Falin on their first meeting. Just another tallman. A little dopey. Fairly useful. She wasn't planning to get acquainted but as the only two women, they often end up together. It would be weird to wash up in total silence so they get to talking. Turns out Falin is pretty interesting. She never asks pushy questions either unlike so many other tallmen Namari has met.
She likes it when Falin tells stories from her childhood. The funny misadventures with Laios and the tinge of not quite belonging. Namari understands feeling like an outsider.
Some people, well most if she's being honest, consider Namari brisk if not downright rude. Falin just says she likes how direct Namari is. Somehow Namari has a tallman friend now. One and a half if she counts Laios too who really isn't half bad.
After coming back up from the dungeon, there really is nothing better than visiting the bathhouse and washing off the blood and grime. Sometimes Namari goes alone, sometimes she goes with Falin. Today they're together, and the only two people in the bathhouse. They take their time and splash around in the tub that for once isn't cramped. The old wrinkled bath attendant with the permanent scowl must be deaf or she would surely would have come to scold them.
Later, they sit on low wooden stools, drying off. The air is steamy, and Namari feels almost dizzy. Falin shakes her hair like a dog. Droplets fly everywhere, hitting Namari.
"Sorry," Falin says. Her face is flushed. She breathes out, satisfied.
Namari laughs. As if she couldn't handle a little water.
"You have beautiful hair. It's so red and thick, not like my dull horse's hair," Falin says, sounding regretful.
Namari turns to look at her. Her shaggy hair is swept away from her face for once, laying wet and almost flat. When it dries it, it will be soft and fluffy again. Like feathers.
"I've never thought your hair was dull," Namari says.
Falin laughs. Namari can see how the movement travels through her. Falin's whole body is red from the heat. That large soft body which looks so clumsy but moves deceptively graceful. Her long strong legs, wide and muscly thighs not unlike Namari's. Really when they're sitting down like this, Falin almost looks like a very very very tall dwarf.
"You're beautiful," Namari says.
Falin smiles and looks at Namari. It makes Namari understand that Falin is happy not just from the sweet words but because it was Namari who said them. Falin has to know that Namari's blush doesn't come from the well-heated room. Namari has no problem with heat, something she often brags of. Curse her stupid stupid mouth. She bites her lip. Falin reaches out a hand, tracing her thumb over it. Then she's cupping the back of Namari's head and drawing her close. She brings them together in a long breathless kiss.
Namari wants the kiss to never end. Namari wants more. Needs more, needs her closer, needs Falin desperately. She pulls her onto her lap and loves the feeling of Falin's arms as they wrap around her, squeezing tight. She can't believe her luck as her hands are allowed to roam down Falin's back. Falin's soft moans encourage her. Her fingers dance softly across her hips then dig into the meat of her ass.
If only Namari could move just a little and get some friction between her legs. She can feel the little sparks of pleasure that could explode into a roaring fire but instead they fizzle out weakly, it's almost painful. Namari can't remember the last time she felt this needy, fuck she wants to touch herself. But she can't bear to let go of Falin. She feels like she could die if Falin pulled back now. She rocks futively, tracing Falin's clavicle with her tongue. Then the stool breaks under their combined weight, and they tumble to the floor in a sticky pile.
Falin laughs and laughs and tangles their legs together. Lying like this, Namari feels the height difference again as her face is smushed against Falin's chest. She catches a nipple between her teeth and feels Falin's shiver travel through her whole body.
Namari's head is swimming, and she can't decide what she needs more, to finally get some relief or to get her fingers on Falin's sex. She wants to touch the tender burning skin, to tease her open, to hear her cry out in ecstacy, to show Falin just how much this means to her even if she can't put it into words. Luckily, God granted Namari two hands.
Since that day, Falin and Namari always go to the bathhouse together. They go for walks in the forest too, where Falin identifies the birds by their song, and they spread out a blanket in a nice sunny meadow. Sometimes they drink together, and afterward Falin follows Namari up to the small room she's renting instead of walking all the way back to the room she shares with her brother.
They never do anything in the dungeon. Business and pleasure doesn't mix. Namari hates workplace romances. It's the party killer. And she isn't in love with Falin. She's just enjoying the company of a friend, relieving a little stress. Besides, a tallman and a dwarf? It would never work. Namari likes what she has with Falin right now. She likes it a lot.
It all changes when Marcille arrives. Namari doesn't like her right from the start. Such a typical elf know-it-all. She's completely clueless when it comes to dungeons, and her response to anything that makes her feel threatened is trying to explode it. She chatters constantly, clinging onto Falin's arm. She's really getting on Namari's nerves.
Worst of all, Falin likes Marcille. Really really likes her. She's always looking at Marcille with the sort of devotion Namari thought she reserved only for her brother. Marcille and Falin have the sort of closeness of two people who have spent years with each other. A shared language. Falin doesn't have to tell the story when she's with Marcille, just mention the starting detail and they both dissolve into lauhgter at the memory.
Marcille has a beautiful laugh and a way of being funny when you never expect it. Namari fumes everytime she lets out an involuntary snort. At least it makes Falin happy. She loves to see her two friends getting along. She had confided in Namari when Marcille first arrived that she was worried about how her friend would integrate into the party.
So Marcille joins them in the forest and in the tavern and everywhere else they might go, always chattering and touching and asking far too many questions. Falin might have no problem with it, but Marcille is far too touchy-feely for Namari's comfort, and now that she has decided her and Namari are friends, it has become a daily battle to avoid Marcille's clinginess.
In the bathhouse though, Marcille becomes a real prude, keeping her towel tightly wrapped until they enter the water, even though she barely even have any tits to hide away. She cautiously keeps her distance, flinching and blushing when they get close. Her face is always red, and she never seems to look any one of them in their eyes even as she chatters happily away about the new soap she purchased, and how nice it is to feel clean again, and how much she loves a hot bath, she could just stay down here forever.
Something about Marcille's prudishness just makes Namari want to provoke her. She used to walk with the towel around her hips but now she slings it over her shoulder instead and proudly puts her nakedness on display. Marcille gives no reaction. Not even a disapproving glance. She sits primly on her little stool and rubs scented oils into her hair.
"Scrub my back, will you?" Namari asks Falin.
Falin picks up a washcloth and gestures for Namari to sit in front of her. The cloth is pleasantly rough against her back, she can practically feel all the dead skin being scraped off, leaving her fresh and pink. Falin puts her weight into it, it's almost like a massage. Namari groans, her eyes fluttering shut.
She hears a sharp hiss. First she thinks it's Falin, then she catches a glance at Marcille's face out of the corner of her eye. Her ears are glowing red, her hands clenched around the flask of hair oil, a grip so tight it might shatter. Namari feels hot.
"You can go harder," Namari says. Her voice sounds strange. Breathless.
Falin pushes against Namari's back and laughs. She clearly isn't feeling any of the heat pulsing through Namari, isn't noticing how Marcille is burning up with rage.
That's one thing Marcille and Falin don't share. For all their physical intimacy, Namari is sure they've never fucked or even come close to indulging in pleasure together. Marcille's eyes would probably pop out if she saw the side of Falin that Namari can bring out. The Falin who loves nothing better than staying between Namari's legs for hours on end, the Falin who moans so sweetly, the Falin who loves to bite down hard and taste Namari's blood. How would Marcille react if she saw Falin in all her glory? Would even such a sight be enough to awaken Marcille? Likely not, Namari thinks.
It's not like Marcille will ever see it. Namari and Falin are very careful not to let anything on, even when it's just the three of them. There are no lingering touches or meaningful looks. It suits Namari fine. She's a private person.
Sometimes Namari wonders how Marcille would react if she ever found out about them. She can never figure out what she thinks is most likely, outrage, disinterest, jealousy, protectiveness, hurt. All she knows is that Marcille would keep their secret. Falin knows it too. Still Marcille stays in the dark.
Namari and Falin's private meetings grow briefer. Short stolen minutes, just enough time to get a hand under Falin's shirt and taste the tartness from the blackberries staining her lips purple. Then the knock at the door and Marcille's cheerful voice and Falin's soft mumbled I'm sorry and a final touch of her lips against Namari's. Her kisses are never sweeter than when she's apologizing.