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Steam filled the air of the bathhouse, keeping it at the perfect level of warmth to put someone to sleep. It smelled of herbal salts they used to treat the water, making every inch of the place feel comfortable and clean.
Jester’s comfort was only heightened by the position in which her head leaned against Fjord’s shoulder. His body rose and fell beneath her check with every breath, a subtle but powerful reminder that he was alive and well. She scooted to be closer to him, splashing the water they were submerged in ever-so-slightly. His contented sigh made her smile.
Throughout their adventures, they had earned so much that luxuries like this could be commonplace for them. She didn’t regret facing the dangers that she did, but she could admit that it had forever left a peace of her weary and disillusioned. Things like this—simple comforts—were the balm to the years of constant danger. How many times had she dreamed after days on the road to be able to waste several hours sitting in warm, steamy water, letting her troubles slowly soak away?
Fjord moved beside her, causing her to sit up and open her eyes. “Wanna sit in my lap?” he asked.
“Oh, sure,” she replied. Fjord picked her up with the strength gained over the course of his adventures and set her between his legs. His arms wrapped around her torso, gently holding her in place. His thighs were more comfortable than any seat cushion, and his chest was better than any backrest. Her head leaned back, resting at about his collarbone. The half-orc’s head settled in between her horns, and both of their eyes drifted closed in cozy bliss.
Yes, this was worth all the adventures in the world.