Look at you.
[It's a good position, in a number of ways. One is that there's no need to fuss with a great lot of bending and leaning; they're easily within reach of each other, and can slide around as they please with the mattress to support them, freeing up limbs for exploring that otherwise would've been necessary for simple support. It means she can get her hands in his hair more easily, and encourage him with all the attention to his hair and the back of his head that he likes best.
There's something almost picturesque about it, the way they're positioned, the manner in which he's clasped to her breast. He's shown her Renaissance paintings before, and she half thinks that they must look like one, or would at least give a reimagining of one a run for its money.]
You make my name sound wonderful when you say it like that.
[A sighed Sypha. Poetic, almost.]
[It's a good position, in a number of ways. One is that there's no need to fuss with a great lot of bending and leaning; they're easily within reach of each other, and can slide around as they please with the mattress to support them, freeing up limbs for exploring that otherwise would've been necessary for simple support. It means she can get her hands in his hair more easily, and encourage him with all the attention to his hair and the back of his head that he likes best.
There's something almost picturesque about it, the way they're positioned, the manner in which he's clasped to her breast. He's shown her Renaissance paintings before, and she half thinks that they must look like one, or would at least give a reimagining of one a run for its money.]
You make my name sound wonderful when you say it like that.
[A sighed Sypha. Poetic, almost.]
I think you should.
[She has to stifle a giggle when the caress of his breath washes over her skin and tickles, but for the most part she manages to keep a lid on her mirth and maintains a sense of cool composure.]
Do you know how I feel right now? Very seductive. Like some sort of exotic courtesan, entertaining a patron of my cabaret.
[It's silly, intentionally so. It's also just a little bit scandalous, and she likes that too.]
Look at you. Too taken with me to even bother to take off much more than your shoes.
[She has to stifle a giggle when the caress of his breath washes over her skin and tickles, but for the most part she manages to keep a lid on her mirth and maintains a sense of cool composure.]
Do you know how I feel right now? Very seductive. Like some sort of exotic courtesan, entertaining a patron of my cabaret.
[It's silly, intentionally so. It's also just a little bit scandalous, and she likes that too.]
Look at you. Too taken with me to even bother to take off much more than your shoes.
Shush. If it were someone else saying it about me, then I would agree, and probably slap them. But for me to say it about myself is different. Nonsense or not, I am allowed to feel as I please, and describe it however I want.
[She moves one hand from his hair, though, sliding it down to catch his chin instead, and tilt his face up.]
Now come here. If you want us to be equals, then you have some clothing to lose.
[She moves one hand from his hair, though, sliding it down to catch his chin instead, and tilt his face up.]
Now come here. If you want us to be equals, then you have some clothing to lose.
I do.
[She hums pleasantly as his lips touch her wrist, pausing in her deliberation of where to begin with him to close her eyes and simply enjoy the feeling.]
You are wrinkling your pants, and this evening when we wake up you are going to be absolutely crabby about it.
[A finger comes up to lightly touch his mouth, a movement similar to hushing him but not quite, and when her fingertip touches against his lip it's cooler than it ought to be — the barest suggestion of ice.]
But for now I will try to make you forget all about such things entirely.
[She hums pleasantly as his lips touch her wrist, pausing in her deliberation of where to begin with him to close her eyes and simply enjoy the feeling.]
You are wrinkling your pants, and this evening when we wake up you are going to be absolutely crabby about it.
[A finger comes up to lightly touch his mouth, a movement similar to hushing him but not quite, and when her fingertip touches against his lip it's cooler than it ought to be — the barest suggestion of ice.]
But for now I will try to make you forget all about such things entirely.
Mmm.
[It's a little gawky, to try to scoot down the mattress a few inches on her side to better take hold of his shirt, but soon her slender fingers are working the buttons free one by one, and when she gets them open she pushes her hands inside the loose folds to stroke over his chest, pushing the fabric back almost carelessly.
His scar is still there, of course. It always will be. And though she avoids touching it with the sweep of her fingertips, she carefully leans into him and brings her lips to touch against it, up near where it approaches his collarbones.]
You are beautiful.
[She moves down a little further, this time laying her kiss over the scar where it cuts across his pecs, in the narrow valley between them.]
[It's a little gawky, to try to scoot down the mattress a few inches on her side to better take hold of his shirt, but soon her slender fingers are working the buttons free one by one, and when she gets them open she pushes her hands inside the loose folds to stroke over his chest, pushing the fabric back almost carelessly.
His scar is still there, of course. It always will be. And though she avoids touching it with the sweep of her fingertips, she carefully leans into him and brings her lips to touch against it, up near where it approaches his collarbones.]
You are beautiful.
[She moves down a little further, this time laying her kiss over the scar where it cuts across his pecs, in the narrow valley between them.]
You'll have to sit up, to take the shirt off entirely.
[Not that she's making it easy for him to want to, with the way she's following the ridge of his scar with her kisses, letting it take her back up toward the juncture of his neck and shoulder. It's only after she's moved away from it that she stops being so careful, letting her teeth come out to nip and indent his skin here and there while she bites him.]
Only then will we work on the trousers.
[Not that she's making it easy for him to want to, with the way she's following the ridge of his scar with her kisses, letting it take her back up toward the juncture of his neck and shoulder. It's only after she's moved away from it that she stops being so careful, letting her teeth come out to nip and indent his skin here and there while she bites him.]
Only then will we work on the trousers.
Mine as well. But yours first, or you'll start looking at me and forget.
[She lets her laugh rumble against his skin before allowing him to readjust; she keeps contact with him even while his top half is occupied by sliding her foot over to nudge his calf with her toes, rubbing them lightly against it just for the sake of touching him in some way.]
You know you would.
[She lets her laugh rumble against his skin before allowing him to readjust; she keeps contact with him even while his top half is occupied by sliding her foot over to nudge his calf with her toes, rubbing them lightly against it just for the sake of touching him in some way.]
You know you would.
Under me, I think.
[She slides her foot down the length of his calf, over his ankle; her toes come to rest lightly atop his own foot, an echo of how they'd danced at the party when her feet were atop his.]
And under the covers. You need to relax.
[She slides her foot down the length of his calf, over his ankle; her toes come to rest lightly atop his own foot, an echo of how they'd danced at the party when her feet were atop his.]
And under the covers. You need to relax.
Making me do work.
[She steals a kiss, however, before shuffling up and hopping over his legs until she's standing at the bedside rather than lying on the mattress, watching him with more than a little amusement considering their relative state of undress and the fact that all of the windows are open enough to be streaming in sunlight.]
But I suppose, just for a moment.
[She steals a kiss, however, before shuffling up and hopping over his legs until she's standing at the bedside rather than lying on the mattress, watching him with more than a little amusement considering their relative state of undress and the fact that all of the windows are open enough to be streaming in sunlight.]
But I suppose, just for a moment.
I will expect a dozen kisses, to make it up to me.
[Her face lights up with a smile of genuine exhausted pleasure, however, at the sight of his outstretched arms, and within moments she's put herself snugly inside them, curling in on him and breathing a contented little sigh of her own.]
Or hold me like this, forever. That will also do.
[Her face lights up with a smile of genuine exhausted pleasure, however, at the sight of his outstretched arms, and within moments she's put herself snugly inside them, curling in on him and breathing a contented little sigh of her own.]
Or hold me like this, forever. That will also do.
Much better.
[Beneath the covers, she runs her hand lightly down his side, following the lean lines of his torso to the curve of his hip and lingering there while she gauges his demeanor with quiet thoughtfulness. When they'd met, it was because he'd needed someone to take care of him; now, long afterward, some of that initial dynamic still remains. It's not a question of whether he's exhausted; she already knows he is. The question is how desperate is he to get to sleep, or is he more hungry for passion, and willing to push sleepiness aside awhile to satisfy that craving.
One good test, she's found, is to touch him a little, and see whether he pushes back into it, or accepts it more passively. So, as she lifts her face for more kisses, she traces idle circles against his hip, occasionally allowing her hand to slide a little lower to rest atop his thigh.]
That's better for you, too, isn't it?
[Beneath the covers, she runs her hand lightly down his side, following the lean lines of his torso to the curve of his hip and lingering there while she gauges his demeanor with quiet thoughtfulness. When they'd met, it was because he'd needed someone to take care of him; now, long afterward, some of that initial dynamic still remains. It's not a question of whether he's exhausted; she already knows he is. The question is how desperate is he to get to sleep, or is he more hungry for passion, and willing to push sleepiness aside awhile to satisfy that craving.
One good test, she's found, is to touch him a little, and see whether he pushes back into it, or accepts it more passively. So, as she lifts her face for more kisses, she traces idle circles against his hip, occasionally allowing her hand to slide a little lower to rest atop his thigh.]
That's better for you, too, isn't it?
Safe and close.
[She catches his mouth in a kiss, more fleeting than the others, but no less satisfying for it.]
And right where you want me.
[She rolls her shoulders back a little, arching beneath the touch of his fingertips on her spine.]
[She catches his mouth in a kiss, more fleeting than the others, but no less satisfying for it.]
And right where you want me.
[She rolls her shoulders back a little, arching beneath the touch of his fingertips on her spine.]

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