faderift | I Said What What

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I Said What What

WHO: Samouel Gareth and OPEN
WHAT: Not amused by certain works of "art" and everyday life in Kirkwall
WHEN: Mid-Harvestmere on
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: Whole lot of arse

I. Another Man's Treasure is Another Man's Arse

Sam groaned lightly in distress under his breath, hand purposefully resting over his mouth in thought, as he stared at the newest piece of art that had been hung in the Inquisition's headquarters. It was a "generous" gift to the Inquisition, or that was what the letter he received that morning said, informing him of it's addition - the writing had been very Orlesian and very, clearly, excited.

Even if it wasn't on display in the heavier trafficked part of the room, the gleam from the bronze certainly did its job in drawing the eye and thus negating any attempt in trying to hide it in plain sight; it didn't help that it was positioned just so, so that the light reflected on it during the day, and at night there was a torch to do just as much.

There hanging on the wall was a bronze casting of an imprint of an ass. HIS ass. He doesn't know why such a thing exists, and doesn't know how the artist had managed to even get it. Sam even questions if it is actually his ass - course he's not about to see if there is a fit - but it really doesn't matter because the plaque clearly states his name.

II. Whistle While You Work

The majority of Sam's work consisted of helping patients at the infirmary, the work load seemingly having increased with the weather getting colder. From time to time there would be a serious injury, but for the most part it was mostly someone needing something for a cough or a cut. Being a healer was easy at those times. There were the times though where it wasn't so easy, namely the more recent incidents where the locals were being slightly hostile with the increase of Rifter leadership; and still expecting you to treat their wounds while they did it.

In Sam's other line of work there was less exposure to that sort of thing, mainly because customers weren't allowed to get close to the forge, and partially it seemed like a bad idea to get close to a man hammering hot metal. Despite it being tough physical labor, the mage often favored those moments where he could get away.

III. Stables

Whenever he found time in the week, Sam always made a point in going to the stables to spend time with Conan. While the stable-hands were taking good care of him, the nuggalope still preferred it when Sam came to give him attention. The mage always felt bad that they weren't out riding as much as they were back in Skyhold, but with how the locals were acting lately it was safer to go on those sporadically, in case anyone was trying to figure out a schedule. For compensation Sam always made sure to bring extra treats and long brushing times, which in turn always earned him getting his shirt chewed on by Conan.

IV. Wildcard

Have another idea? Hit me with it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Oh, I saw it the first day it appeared," he moved his hands to wrap around Sam's waist now, leaning his chest against Sam's back. "I was waiting to see how long before you told me about it, and then I saw my opportunity and..." A shrug, because Sam obviously knew what happened after that.

"Of course you did," he mutters. The redness in his cheeks seems to lessen now that he wasn't being openly fondled in public, but the blush is still strong as he pouts and leans on the gate to Conan's stall. "Oh, I was keeping my mouth shut. Let me guess you've been looking at it everyday."

"I've given it a rub or two, for good luck - like a Buddha," He admitted, again lacking any ounce of normal shame one might expect.

He kept hold of Sam, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck - enjoying the heat the flush brought to Samouel's skin. He would be the first to admit he had been more handsy than usual lately - both from the return journey, and from losing Iskandar. He was more likely to disappear than Samouel, but it didn't stop him from over compensating just a little, of using every moment he had to touch him and or feel him.

Just in case. Always just in case.

It hasn't gone unnoticed that Kirk was being more handsy as of late, even getting more bold in his displays in public; discreet when others were watching, and then there were times like this - full out ass grabbing - when there was no one. It was thrilling to a point, but it was clear that some things happening had triggered this.

Course right now Sam isn't contemplating such serious reasons affecting Jim's motivations - it's all about that ass right now.

"...What's a Buddha?"

"He's a religious figure in the East in my world, the heart of Buddhism. He's depicted as a rather portly man, and it's a superstition that rubbing his belly brings good luck," he explained, reaching out his hand towards the nugg, though he kept one on Sam.

"I applied the same concept your likeness. I like to think it worked."

He's thankful for the explanation, but it is so bizarre sounding that Sam cannot help but frown slightly in confusion.

"You think rubbing my butt... brings good luck." After saying that he pauses and stares at Jim. "Please do not spread that superstition around." He's not sure if he can handle that becoming a thing, or even extending to his own butt.

Kirk blinked for a moment before bursting out laughing. He shook his head and bumped Sam with his hip.

"I promise I won't spread such a rumor. And no one saw me rub your metal counterpart," he assured him. "I'm not sure anyone else would accept the explanation, even if I have the most reason to want to touch it in the first place."

Sam tries to pout, but Kirk's laughter is contagious which has him slowly breaking into a smile, which he's trying to fight.

"Thank you. And honestly I think a lot of people would accept such a thing, if only to give reason to touching it. Clearly people are touching it; you said so yourself, and Cyril wanted to as well. It practically asks to be touched." The mages sighs as soon as he says that.

Kirk bit his lip, holding back more laughter and his intial response to that particular phrasing. Honestly, had Sam learned nothing after all this time? He let Sam go, moving to lean against the stall door, facing Sam.

"Goodness, I had no idea how full of yourself you were!" Kirk chortled, eyes glittering. "But I kind of like it."

Now that Kirk is out from behind him he's within reach for Sam to give the man a shove against his arm. "That isn't what I meant and you know it. It's a butt hanging out in the open. Of course people are going to be tempted." Which just also happened to be his butt and displayed his name so everyone knew it.

"And honestly, it's you who is usually full of me." Only a few seconds pass before a smirk starts pulling at his lips, eyeing Jim out of the corner of his eyes.

Kirk took his ribbing, laughing gently. He knew Sam had to be somewhat embarrassed by it. Even Kirk would be blushing if it were him, but he couldn't help but find the whole situation quite funny too. However, he would work to help Sam bring it down as soon as possible as well. It was funny for a little, but there wasn't a need to prolong the display either.

Blue eyes widened at that statement before crinkling as he burst into laughter. "Maybe you've gotten a little more of me in you than you've realized to come up with that line."

To be fair, the humor of it all isn't lost on Sam, just he can't quite find it since it was in fact his ass on display. Perhaps in the future, even the near one, he can laugh about it; it definitely was a story for the books.

Oh, it looks like he had actually managed to surprise Jim for once; good. "You are a terrible influence, I admit." A terrible, terrible influence Kirk, but he doesn't seem to hate that fact. Least not when they're together like this.

"I hear that a lot. I've thought about adding it to my resume, actually," he chuckled, leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to Samouel's lips before pushing away from the stall door. "Perhaps I should make a business card with it, though that might cut into my tutoring fees."

Sam hums lightly at that, chasing the kiss a bit, but relenting when Conan butts his head against his shoulder for some attention. Sighing he grumbles how the nuggalope was just as bad.

"Yes, probably wise not to include that. People want good influences after all."

"Who says I'm not a good influence?" He pouted. "I can be both good and bad at the same time. It's called being a gray sort of influence." He walked past Sam, giving one cheek a sharp pat as he did so before going to his own stall to greet Atlas. The horse in question had stuck his head out, smelling his human companion and hoping for the promise of treats.

The pat isn't hard enough to make him jump, but it is enough to at least make a noise. Sam gives the Rifter a look. "That is probably a very good example as to why you aren't a 'good influence'." He's joking of course, Jim was a good teacher and could be a good influence, but it's hard to argue that he was when he was touching people's butts at the stables.

Only Samouel's bottom, as it was. Otherwise he kept his hands largely to himself in that area. Here he was as like to get them cut off as not if he didn't. He stroked Atlas' face before pressing a handful of oats to his lips. He had been given the animal plenty of pasture time after his month of travel, a special reward for his good behavior, though soon he would need to ride him again else he forgot said manners.

"I tried to be, to the boy I was tutoring on the road. I think I opened his mind, just a little," he murmured. "I hope I did."

Well as long as Kirk wasn't planning on hitting his butt after a horse was eating off of it, he was completely okay with it.

"Exactly what were you teaching him?"

"Mostly math and sciences," he said, his specialties of course. When they had to pause or had the time, Kirk would take the boy out for a bit of self-defense. Not precisely what he had been hired for, but everyone should know how to properly defend themselves, and the boy had seemed to enjoy the rougher lessons.

"We talked, sometimes. About the state of things. I think my ideas are a fair bit more even keeled than his parents', usually."

"Mostly?" He caught that; so you taught him other stuff Jim?

"Where was the kid from?" He's guessing that the family was more of the upperclass to be able to afford a tutor to travel and teach, even for a couple weeks.

"Well, sometimes we talked about other stuff. Life stuff," Kirk said, not meaning to be cryptic about it all, but some nights those conversations had gone well and others not so much. Teens. Difficult at the best of times.

He motioned back towards the town. "Upper class, a merchant's kid or other," he shrugged. "Enough that they can afford to pay, though to be fair I don't think I've very expensive all things considered." He needed money, sure, but he would rather make sure that kids (or adults) got the lessons and knowledge they needed.

"Hm." A merchant's son; it made sense why they would hire Jim to learn math, and he supposed science seemed like something they could get one up on some other families.

"No, I suppose you aren't very expensive," he mulls out loud, turning to give Conan some more attention around his horns; he should find the balm so they didn't get dry. "Just more trouble then you're worth." He glances in Jim's direction out of the corner of his eyes, his smile wide, edging on becoming a smirk.

Oh you cheeky beast. He looked back at him in turn and narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips ever so slightly.

"I am worth every penny, and you're lucky you got grandfathered in, because you couldn't afford me now otherwise," he huffed, tossing his head and ducking in deeper into Atlas' stall to clean him up.

Sam chuckles at the look he had been given; look who was being cheeky now.

Waiting a few seconds, Sam eventually wanders over from Conan's stall to Atlas's, peeking his head around the post. "Exactly what would you be charging me for?"

He came around from Atlas' side, having been bent and examining is feet, giving them a quick brush off.

"Oh, let's see - encouraging of kissing in dangerous and lively places. Debatable strategies in card games and chess. Blushing at inappropriate moments," he trailed off suggestively.

I Said What What

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