( he's well aware that there had been a purpose to this: that he had been wanting to get into the women's lounge for a reason, that the great chocolate fountain in there is just waiting for him, calling out his name. but he's also well aware of the heat that's throbbing between his legs, half-hard and wanting, as gladiolus' thigh rubs against him again, and his own sinks between gladiolus' in kind; it's a hard choice, trying to choose between fooling around and getting in his daily dose of sweets, and straightening back up again so that he can look at him, properly, he pretends to consider--his lips purse, twisting, eyes sharp and bright across the other's features. it's really not a hard choice, but does gladiolus know the weight that it leaves, to choose him over his vices?

with a slow, smooth smile, his hands lift, but it's just so that he can put pressure against gladiolus' shoulders, pushing him down onto his back on the mattress. then, dainty, he hefts up his skirt between his fingers, pinching the material up so that it won't get in his way as he climbs in on his knees to straddle gladiolus at the waist, first, sitting himself down just above the heady rise at the front of his pants. )

Just a little lip service.

( he says, his eyes bright with mischief--and he's up on his knees again, gently walking himself up the bed until his legs are straddling gladiolus' head between them, seated neatly on his upper chest. there, pointedly, he puffs the skirt out, fanning it over gladiolus' head until he can't see him at all; he'll let him come to his own conclusion about what's supposed to happen, here, with his stocking-clad thighs tight around gladiolus' ears, and the complete lack of underwear baring his arousal. )

Unless you're not interested~?

( loftily, from beyond the skirt dome he's created over gladiolus' face. )

Then we can get you dressed and go into the lounge, you know.