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[ her gaze lingers just a bit, where his chest would be, where his thighs would be, distracted as she shuts the door behind herself to follow him ]

I'm sorry - um, I was just really excited, so I forgot we were still in the doorway...

It's okay, but I didn't want anyone else to see it besides you, so. . .

[ going for his roommmmmm ]

... Um, does that mean that you wore it for me?

. . . I did.

[

softly. possibly the softest smallest voice he has heard from her ]

Oh . . . Um -

Thank you . . .

[

cute . . . ]

Then - let's get going, already.

[ stepping into his room, now - there's a faint, sweet sort of smell, owing to the diffuser on his nightstand; the bed is unmade, as though he'd left it just then to get the door, and there's a cardboard box that peeks out from underneath the bed. besides all that, his room looks like normal. ]

Oh - it smells different...?

[ as her gaze drifts towards the diffuser, then the box - she's curious, certainly, but ultimately decides to leave it for the time being, sitting herself down at the edge of the bed. ]

Um - if you're wearing that, then we're going to have sex, aren't we? Are you okay with doing it here...?

[ closing the door ]

. . . Is there another place I'd do it besides in my own room?

There's a hotel now, isn't there...? Um -

If you're more comfortable here, then I am too! I'll do my best to be quiet...

[ setting her bag down and reaching around to unlace her skirt, slowly ]

. . . What is the bag for?

[ like you know this is a sex date so like ]

Um -

I just brought it without thinking... Is it okay if I spend the night...?

Ah - mm, that would be great. I'll have you to myself, then.

[ her hands

go still behind her back ]

- What?

[ no offense to it, just mild bewilderment. what is going on ]

[ oh that's not a positive response ]

Just for the night? Oh - did you want to have Avenger or Whisky-san here, too? I think my room isn't big enough for the four of us, but. . . !

No, it - um -

[ wew ]

- If you're okay with just me... if that's really okay, then I'll do my best. I was just - well, hearing you say something like that - wanting me to yourself . . . I was just a little surprised . . .

But if you want Whisky or Doodle to be here too, then I think that's okay too! Either way would be really fun, wouldn't it...?

[ oh.

good. i'm bullying now ]

Either way, it would be fun -

[ finally, stepping closer, letting the blanket drop to the floor as he closes the distance to put a knee on the bed ]

- but this is good enough for me.

I -

[ still a bit quiet - it's rasped out almost as if she's in pain, breathless, beside herself; to have him so close, after so long, focused on her alone - it's nothing that has ever really sat at the fore of her mind beyond the need to improve herself, nothing that she's hoped for all that fervently, but being here anyway feels almost as if her heart's been squeezed.

she doesn't even steal a glance at his chest or legs as he nears her, so taken with the feeling as she is, gaze focused entirely on his face, hands still. ]

- I love you . . .

Edited 2019-11-07 09:12 (UTC)

[ it was such a cool sexy reveal and yet her dick is too full of her heart . . .

with a smile, warm in tone and expression and with some pink to his face, ]

I love you, too.

[ there will always be other chances to shock your wife with how cool and sexy you are, especially when she is an idiot who thinks everything you do is cool and sexy

eventually she manages, slowly, to finish unlacing her skirt; she pulls her blouse loose from where it had been tucked in and begins to unbutton it, fumbling blind. even if it's just to see what she's doing, she doesn't want to look away from him.

more firmly this time as she begins to regain her bearings, with an almost syrupy smile, ]

Lucifel - I love you.

[ with a smile too, no less happily but certainly sharper than her own smile - it's not much more different but there's an excited light in his eyes that characterizes the smile just a little differently; his hands move to assist her then, in unbuttoning her blouse, in pushing her gently onto the bed ]

I love you too, Aradia.

I -

[ this close he can make out, faintly among the scent of the diffuser, the smell of her usual perfume. her fingers twitch just briefly beneath the contact, going still as if to linger in the warmth of the moment, the pleasure of holding hands (somewhat) as she lays herself back on the bed, lids heavy as if gazing at something bright -

indeed, the heat of his expression might as well be the sun as far as she's concerned. the redness in her face seeps well past those borders beneath it, to her ears, her collarbone,

and beneath the blouse, more apparent as the fabric slackens without the support and pressure of the buttons or skirt, more still as they make to open it together, is nothing but bare skin, scar from her death in the house still stark against the pallor of her breasts, nipples already hardening beneath the open air ]

I said it . . .

[ even though she's been saying it this whole time, in her voice there is a distinct - elation, relief to its breathlessness, to have found a way to earnestly express it like she used to, without concern for the ghost's influence. even if, the way that they are now, it would be so easy t

no. excise the thought. as with molded bread, keep it, but cut it away, turn it to something else -

but she goes stiff in that brief moment, expression darkening - just for a time, and then it's gone. ]

You did.

[ still with a smile gracing his lips even as his gaze drops to her injury; and then, he tips his head down, letting his fingers - thinner, no less calloused - trail to her collarbone and shoulders, to help pull the blouse off of herself, at the same time that he kisses her - with purpose, to distract her ]

[ with the blouse more or less off, open and low on her shoulders, she reaches to let her arms rest over his shoulders - it's slight, but there's a desperation to the way she clings, fervent in her embrace - it needs to be an embrace, it needs to be this sort of embrace, this is the way that she loves him and her hands are to be left out of it, at least at this position,

but the kiss pulls her from those worries successfully and she relaxes as her mouth opens to return it, firmly -

beneath him her thighs rub together idle, in anticipation ]

[ he can feel the urge to press his own thighs together in sympathy, the fuzzy heat that spreads from his face to his chest and shoulders and settles in his belly, leaching to his pelvis, and he tilts his head to better fit their lips together, firmly but slowly shifting to plant a knee between her legs and find balance so he can let his fingers work down from her shoulders to her collarbone, slow in that movement too though it seems less out of consideration and more out of leisurely enjoyment of feeling her flesh underneath him, as though he were savoring every centimeter of her ]

[ she sighs sweetly against his lips, fingers twitching behind his back as her hips roll themselves into the firmness of his knee. with what feels like little more than bare skin beneath her underskirt, the heat and moisture pooling at her core is readily apparent where she's connected them.

when was the last time he touched her like this? she's never felt mishandled in his care or in whisky's or anyone else's - if she'd know what that felt like is another question entirely, but neither here nor there. but his touch here, today - in comparison to any other day, in comparison to the last time they were together, its weight and feel and pressure feel altogether different in a way she can't fully conceptualize, less and less so with the haze encroaching on her mind, fingers and lips and tongue and knee so present, so warm, she can only imagine - with decidedly little concern, no matter the degree of burns it'd be a trifle if only he would touch her forever - they'll mark her.

perhaps it's because it's been so long. but mulling it over further, hanging on that idle thought - is that why it's different? has he been studying, practicing - with whisky back, it makes sense he'd want to work hard - and this experience, here, is the fruit of his efforts? it would make sense.

but it isn't right. for him to be the one plying her with attention and affection when it should be the other way around, it isn't appropriate. she wants - if she could - to see him flustered in that way that he gets, crying out the way she imagines that he does with whisky or doodle, to feel him slacken beneath her - her mouth, her fingers - content, at peace. and so she kisses him firmer still - not forceful but passionate, tongue sweeping just briefly across the roof of his mouth to tickle at his palate as she explores, contemplating how to best make it more enjoyable for him, to please him ]

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