The wood-panel floor of the treehouse is carefully nestled between the twin trunks of a tree, about ten feet off the ground. A panel in the center of the floor opens to allow a rope to drop down and give access to those welcome.
The house itself is fair-sized and sturdily built, mainly of pine panels. One wall is largely open, covered in metal wire mosquito-screen with two large, thick blankets nailed and tacked as drapes and insulation for the cooler times. This makeshift window faces west, toward the lake, and a section has been carefully cut and taped up to allow access to a wooden windowbox attached outside.
Nearly half the floor -- right up to the trapdoor -- is taken up by the bed, a mattress filled with straw, topped with a thin but soft featherbed, all capped by a large nest of blankets, quilts, and pillows. The other side of the room appears to be mainly the kitchen, such as it is -- a small 'pantry' box of food, a few pans and dishes, and a clay pot redolent of woodsmoke and coal. In the corner away from the window on that side is a very simple wooden box with a lid, and atop that is a cobalt blue wine bottle acting as a vase for random wild blooms. Three rows of shelves line the wall above the cooking area, the vast majority of the space on them covered with carefully arranged shiny baubles of various kinds.
Did someone call for 'tall, dark, and handsome'? Well, dark's fairly well covered, at least. Jet-black hair hangs loose to just past his waist, a few stray strands about the face occasionally drifting into his almost equally dark eyes, the irises of which are a brown deep enough that one needs to look closely to find the pupil. Nut-brown skin that sets off the white of his teeth and eyes -- it could just barely be mistaken for a very deep tan, if one really tried. Tall is a miss; he's still several inches off six feet, and he probably won't ever get there. Handsome... well, not a classic beauty, to be sure, but well-proportioned, with a stunning, frequent grin and deeply expressive features. Slim, but in perfectly good shape.
He's clad in... well, black leather pants -- somewhat faded, well broken in, but nicely cut and really =quite= nicely fitted -- and nothing else at all; no shirt, no coat, no boots, showing off the nicely developed lines of his torso. His feet are bare but for a few shiny little toerings and a pair of belled anklets, there's a seemingly random collection of bracelets all on one wrist, and several piercings line the upper section of each ear -- little silver hoops. His hair hangs free today, moved by every breeze to twine around his torso and fly out in the wind; there are two or three very slim, careless braids in it, with vines woven in, and he seems to have acquired a circlet of wildflowers and more vinery that sits upon his head like an ephemeral crown.
He's a big guy -- that's the first impression this man gives. Standing at an even six feet, his build is certainly sturdy, with broad shoulders and beefy arms. There isn't a scrap of fat on him either, and the calloused hands look like they've seen their share of hard work. The second impression he gives is one of youth. His clean-shaven face has a boyish cast, slightly round but with a strong jaw and squarish chin. It's a strange mix of lingering adolescence and budding maturity. His eyes are pale blue, clear and bright, expressive in a way that hints at soulfulness, though he often looks somewhat preoccupied. A tousled crop of blond hair frames his face, windblown and sun-bleached in an array of shades that could only come from nature: the color of honey and wheat sheaves streaked with gold.
His clothing isn't fancy, but he keeps it in good repair, with careful patches covering the places where it's gone threadbare. The black breeches of a dense cotton weave are tight enough to show off the musculature of his legs though loose enough to remain modest. The linen shirt he wears is clean but dingy with age, left unlaced at the collar, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A leather thong around his neck seems weighted down by some kind of pendant, a glimpse of which can be seen through the loose lacing of his shirt. It seems to be made of polished wood, but its shape is indistinct.
Martin sleeps through the better part of the morning, long after a certain scantily clad beauty has gone her way. He's managed to tangle himself up in the nest, limbs splayed, bare chest rising and falling with his even, relaxed breathing. Hard-bodied, warm. Poor Ren, resigned to suffer such a fate.
Poor Ren, indeed. He woke early, despite little sleep, and saw his other lovely guest off properly, with tea and leftover food and... everything. Soreness and sleepiness be damned! Or perhaps not entirely, since he's spent the majority of the intervening time curled up around Martin, dozing blissfully. The covers seem to have ended up in various not-particularly-useful places, so one hopes a certain roommate doesn't decide to wander home.
Fortunately, the treehouse remains unapproached at this hour. Martin has slept through the parting of the lovely, and it's a good job he doesn't snore. He sleeps like the dead though, and it's awhile before he stirs, stretching hugely before settling down with an arm tugging Ren to his chest as he mumbles something incoherent against the kin's hair.
Serendipity grins slowly, the movement and mumble enough to jar him gently out of his semi-sleep. He cuddles in closer to Martin -- it's barely possible -- and twines his leg around the trader's. "...mmm?" he inquires drowsily.
Martin wraps both arms around Ren, turning over onto his back and drawing his prize onto his chest. Sometimes it's nice to be the big strong one. "Morning," he murmurs against Ren's hair, cuddling him with a will.
Sometimes it's nice not to, also. Ren certainly doesn't seem to be complaining. He stretches against Martin's body, arms sliding up to wrap loosely about the blond's neck, and wriggles up to steal a kiss. "...mornin', han'some," he murmurs in return, grinning broadly, if sleepily. "...have a nice night?" It's a little teasing, yeah.
Martin smiles muzzily, his hair tousled all over, blue eyes bleary but his expression satisfied. "Mmm, you'll lead me along the path to perdition, Ren Jones." His hands slide along Ren's back and hips, reveling in the feel of skin on skin.
Serendipity kisses Martin again, then lower along the edge of his jaw, his neck and throat, his collarbone, his shoulders... "Mm, y'think?" he inquires idly, slightly muffled as he goes. "Sorry 'bout that. 'least you'll have fun gettin' there..." Bite. He's a nice warm, firm, wriggly handful, just at the moment.
Martin sighs softly, curling his fingers through Ren's hair to draw him up for a lingering kiss. "I'll be repenting til judgment day," he complains, managing not to sound terribly put out. "It's a good thing the Lord forgives."
Serendipity kisses back most enthusiastically, but hesitates at the complaint. He stays right in kiss range, but tilts his head a little, brow furrowing. "...d'you really repent me?"
Martin considers this, studying Ren's features carefully, and his expression grows serious. "No," he says quietly. "I don't repent being with you, holding you." He kisses along Ren's jaw lightly. "Loving you. I repent my own lack of self control, sometimes."
Serendipity's eyelids slip most of the way closed, and he tilts his head again, this time to make it easier for Martin to kiss. "...I don't," he murmurs in reply. "Mosta the time you're so controlled. The rare times you're not so much... it's hot." His hands close on the blond's shoulders and massage gently, almost like a cat kneading a lap.
Martin groans quietly, a pleased sound at the massaging. "I'm supposed to be seeking spiritual enlightenment," he chides mildly. "Pleasures of the flesh get in the way." He kisses again, pouting a touch. "Distracting."
Serendipity keeps rubbing; one hand stops after a little and slides down over Martin's chest, fingertips exploring around, over, and between the muscles, drifting down along the side of his torso toward his waist. "Maybe," Ren suggests, half opening his eyes and stretching his neck to murmur warmly against Martin's ear, "some of that spiritual enlightenment's hidin' =in= pleasures of the flesh. Mmm?"
Martin rumbles, a deep growl in his chest, and he gives Ren a quick squeeze before resuming the casual exploration of his flesh. "That's not what the book says," he complains. "Besides, the body is just a vessel for the soul. It doesn't really mean anything."
Serendipity shivers, just a tiny tremor down his spine, at the rumble, and grins wickedly, breath coming just a bit faster. "Maybe th' book just doesn't wanna give away all its secrets too easy," he suggests, quirking a brow. "Maybe it's import'nt t' pay attention t' the container it says your God decided t' put the soul-thing in, too."
Martin clucks his tongue and says, "I've learned to be skeptical of a man who preaches something to his own benefit." In case Ren doesn't understand which benefit he's referring to, Martin gives his backside a meaningful squeeze, or at least a lascivious one. "Besides, denial of earthly pleasures is an integral part of several human religions as a means to enlightenment."
Serendipity hmphs. "'s not only MY own benefit," he replies, shifting his hips meaningfully (by the same definition) to create a little friction to illustrate his =own= point. As it were. "Anyway, if you weren't s'posta enjoy earthly pleasures, why would they be pleasures in th' first place? An' why would you be on earth? Hmmm?"
Martin laughs softly and gives Ren another squeeze, then untangles his hand from the kin's hair to touch a fingertip lightly to the end of his nose. Beep! "Have you ever eaten so much candy you made yourself sick? The candy tastes good, but too much isn't good for you."
Serendipity wrinkles his nose and actually giggles at the beeping. "...Maybe, when I was little, I guess," he grants, "...but that doesn't mean I stopped eatin' candy. Or even eatin' a lotta candy, if I wanted to. Just learned when t' put the rest away for later." He considers Martin a moment, and then crosses his arms on the larger man's chest, resting his chin on them to regard his face. "So how much is too much? Are we s'posta cut it down to once a day? Once a week? ...how many people d'you think you slept with b'fore you took your break? 'zat too many, or just 'cause it was makin' you unhappy, or...?"
Martin points out gently, "That's what I'm trying to figure out, Serendipity." He makes good furniture. Strong and broad, solid but comfortable. "Before you, I went a few years without. Then there was the situation with you friend, the vampire." He sighs softly, looking a little disturbed, but it passes quickly. "It was overwhelming. Frightening. Maybe that first night I took comfort in you because you were warm and alive. You reminded me that I am too." He strokes Ren's hair, studying him absently. "Now, it's the joy you bring me. Last night, with that girl... it may have been too much. I don't know. I'll have to think about it, pray about it."
Serendipity seems very comfortable on that furniture. The reply makes him thoughtful for a moment. "Safi said somethin' like that once. That I make joy. 's still onea the nicest things anyone ever said 'bout me. 'm glad I c'n do that for you..." He trails off. "...like you a lot. Y'know. An' Rahne's nice. So's Tristan, though I get you guys have a... chemistry thing..." He pauses, then goes on. "Got a question."
Martin smiles warmly, his expression going all melty, puppyish. He leans up to steal a kiss, then relaxes with a content sigh. "She's a very nice girl. And he's... a troubled creature I'm not sure what to make of, but I'm trying to keep an open heart and mind." Then, "Ask away."
Serendipity returns the kiss, gentle and lingering, before he asks. "Rae says, we, bein' the kumi, which's me an' her an' maybe Tristan, 'cause we're not sure if he's in or not yet, oughta get a house. The on th' ground kind with a numbera rooms. 'f you wanted, you could maybe think 'bout makin' part of it your Haven basea operations, I think..." As questions go, it doesn't technically qualify, but all the same.
Martin considers this, lazily untangling Ren's hair with his fingers. "Hmm, maybe," he replies. "I wouldn't want to be a pest, but it would be nice to, you know, have a place to come to." His lips twitch a bit at a smile as he adds, "I keep hearing all this sleeping on the ground isn't good for a man."
Serendipity's hair still has residual flower petals in it. And leaves. And a couple twigs. The treehouse wasn't the =first= stop of the night, after all. Ren rests his cheek against Martin's chest, just below the shoulder, and smiles faintly. "'s true. Bet your back's all fulla knots =again=," he remarks, and wraps an arm around Martin's waist again. "...tell you a secret."
Martin arches his back a little to facilitate this wrapping of arms. For some reason he doesn't seem to mind -at all- the shameless cuddling going on here. "I've been told I'm given to self-neglect," he laments dryly. After bestowing another kiss, he murmurs, "Mmn, alright."
Serendipity stays silent a moment or two, then admits, "...I hate sleepin' alone. I mean, it's not like I can't or won't do it or anythin', I just, yeah."
Martin gives Ren a squeeze yet again, then brushes away a few stray flowers and shifts a little so that he can take the kin into his arms. There is nuzzling, another kiss. Then, "I have an idea."
Serendipity cuddles and nuzzles much more agreeably and appreciatively than the large portion of local society that =hasn't= slept with him yet would probably expect, and presses a randomly little set of kisses to bits of the blond's skin that come within reach. "Yeah?"
Martin is, himself, a cuddle-machine. Then again, he does kind of have that teddybear thing going for him. "When I'm here in Haven, or when we're out on the road together, why don't we make it so you're not sleeping alone?"
Serendipity is quiet for a couple moments again, and then grins crookedly. "Think I'd like that. Still make me feel... y'know, safe. 'mong other things." There's a lasciviousness on the last bit there that gives a good idea what kind of other things those might be. He goes a little more serious and adds tentatively, "...only, sometimes I might hafta do things like make sure Rae's okay. Or I might, y'know, end up other places overnight sometimes..."
Martin says soothingly, "Then I'll find a place to be." He smiles crookedly as he adds, "I've managed just fine before now, I imagine I can continue to do the same. It's just that if you'd rather not sleep alone." He shrugs, all innocence. "You know where to find me."
Serendipity shifts again, enough to lean up and give Martin a very long, slow, and tender kiss. "...You're sure y'don't mind?" he asks, then, quiet and a tiny bit anxious. Once bitten... well, depends by whom, really. But still.
Martin brushes along the line of Ren's cheek with the pad of his thumb, calloused from years of hands-on labor. "I'm positive," he replies solemnly. "I could not promise you every night to be there, to hold you, to make sure you're not alone. My life as it is won't let me. It would be selfish and cruel of me to therefore expect you to be beholden to me in any way."
Serendipity nuzzles a little. "But you don't mind if I try an' make sure you enjoy th' nights I am there?" he asks, less tentative and more teasing, now. "I mean, you're so =old= 'n all, I might wear your poor ancient bones out."
Martin laughs, a rich and low sound that resonates in his broad chest. One large hand splays across the small of Ren's back, warm and secure. "God grant me strength," he implores to the ceiling of the treehouse. "I consider every night you are in my arms a gift."
"How 'bout the mornings, afternoons, an' evenings?" Ren asks, and snuggles in again, although possibly with more... intent. One of his hands has started idly traversing Martin's abdomen again. "'cause I gotta say, they're damn nice arms..."
Martin's eyes brighten a touch, and he shifts a little so that the idly traversing hand might do so unimpeded. "More and more gifts heaped upon a man already blessed with great fortune," he decides gravely, then leans in to kiss Ren, lingering. Done with words for now, it would seem.