The effect of the thrown corset on his steel plate was beyond pathetic. It fell meekly to the ground after its negligable contact, leaving a slight look of amusement on Aldred's stoic features. He remained as silent as a ghost, eyes fixed on the object of his desire as he began the task of stripping himself of his plate. It was a complex process, taking many men minutes of fumbling, yet those who spent as much time in and out of it as Aldred did could navigate it in a fraction of the time. Gauntlets off first, to let his nimble fingers quickly and easily address the bounty of straps and clips which fastened the hefty tempered-steel plates to his body in such a way that he could move almost as if he was wearing nothing at all. Joining his helmet, more pieces of plate clattered to the floor - first, his pauldrons and breastplate, to allow his shoulders more freedom for the rest of the task. Then, the myriad of complicatedly arranged plates on his arms - couters and vambraces, revambraces and the steel fabric of his mail gussets, all discarded on the ground in a heap of shining steel. Later, he would inevitably retrieve them all and see to their expert maintenance. For now, he had more pressing matters to attend to. Or rather, a single matter, pressing obtusely against crotch of the quilted chausses worn beneath the plating on his legs. Soon enough, it was all gone. Not once did his eyes look anywhere other than hungrily into those of his prize.<br/><br/>The buckle of his belt gave way to his tearing fingers, the leather band loosening and slipping from around his waist. He caught it by the scabbard that was attached to it - the scabbard that held the weapon which had slain not a small number of men on this very day, and ultimately doomed the husband of the woman he now intended to fuck. To rape. He gently set the weapon down against the door. Then too was his arming doublet gone, eagerly torn over his shoulders and head only to be discarded, pooling over a collection of miscellaneous armour components in a fabric heap. This revealed to her his muscular torso and arms - he looked exactly as a man should after spending countless hours in each day clanking around in a suit of metal. His impressive musculature rippled and flexed pleasingly with his movements, his slightly pale skin glistening with a sheen of moisture. While no blood could seep through the steel plate or thick padding a knight wore into battle, his present hygiene was still entirely subject to the things his body did to itself during combat. He was sweaty, his bodily aspect even further enhanced by the blood flow intense physical activity had brought to his limbs. At heart, he was a warrior. Not a man who fussed over himself. He had plentiful black hair where it was expected, though like the hair on his head, it was soft and curly instead of stiff and wiry.<br/><br/>Once he was stripped down to only his trousers, he began to advance on the woman before him. Slow, implacable, his bare feet softly falling upon the stone floor with a stealthiness that was entirely unerring for a man of his formidable height and powerful build.