[It's a good play, and it gets her precisely what she's after; when Aerith slips free of his hold, he doesn't fight to keep her, but the suddenness of her departure drags a noise that's almost a growl free of his throat in its place. The feeling of loss is acute — she'd been warm and pliable and close and good, and now she's halfway across the room and there's really nothing stopping him from chasing her, save for the fact that he suspects that's exactly what she wants. It's a neat little trap she manufactures, all told: if he stays put, then it gives the appearance of doing as she'd told, but if he ignores it and goes after her, then he's playing into her hands.
The burn of irritation pairs deliciously with a sense of odd, approving interest. He doesn't like being played, but somehow he can appreciate that she's decided to try it at all.
Besides, there's one benefit to her getting up. She sheds that ridiculous skirt, which on the balance is a marked improvement. Her legs are as pretty as the rest of her, and she'd bade him wait but she never said anything about whether he was prohibited from looking or not.]
I'm supposed to solve your problems too? Shouldn't you — hh, be begging me, then?
[The hitch in his breath is subtle, but less so than he'd like. He'd written the toys off as pranks and novelties, when he'd been sifting through them before. He hadn't particularly thought —
Well. That's reason enough as any to make a surreptitious grab for the scotch and have another drink, while he still can.
By the time she comes back, he's shifted a little, mostly just from wanting to move his legs a bit while there's still an opportunity before she theoretically comes back to perch over them again; he's moved himself up into a more kneeling position that has him sitting back on his heels, upright enough that it's easier to move a bit when she approaches, and which renders his own arousal not quite so juttingly obvious.
She's wet. He did that.
Fuck.]
I see. So that's it, unless you tell me.
[One hand comes up to grasp her by the outside of her thigh, keeping her stationary and tethered; the other runs up the inside of her opposite leg, up and up and up until he finds the apex and its dampness, and runs two fingers along it.
He's only allowed to take them off? Well, she didn't say how long he had to accomplish it, or how efficient he had to be in going about it.]
no subject
The burn of irritation pairs deliciously with a sense of odd, approving interest. He doesn't like being played, but somehow he can appreciate that she's decided to try it at all.
Besides, there's one benefit to her getting up. She sheds that ridiculous skirt, which on the balance is a marked improvement. Her legs are as pretty as the rest of her, and she'd bade him wait but she never said anything about whether he was prohibited from looking or not.]
I'm supposed to solve your problems too? Shouldn't you — hh, be begging me, then?
[The hitch in his breath is subtle, but less so than he'd like. He'd written the toys off as pranks and novelties, when he'd been sifting through them before. He hadn't particularly thought —
Well. That's reason enough as any to make a surreptitious grab for the scotch and have another drink, while he still can.
By the time she comes back, he's shifted a little, mostly just from wanting to move his legs a bit while there's still an opportunity before she theoretically comes back to perch over them again; he's moved himself up into a more kneeling position that has him sitting back on his heels, upright enough that it's easier to move a bit when she approaches, and which renders his own arousal not quite so juttingly obvious.
She's wet. He did that.
Fuck.]
I see. So that's it, unless you tell me.
[One hand comes up to grasp her by the outside of her thigh, keeping her stationary and tethered; the other runs up the inside of her opposite leg, up and up and up until he finds the apex and its dampness, and runs two fingers along it.
He's only allowed to take them off? Well, she didn't say how long he had to accomplish it, or how efficient he had to be in going about it.]