[No, she's very confident in her own appearance, though it's not something she has any particular pride in. Rosalind raises an eyebrow when he draws back, not certain if he's changed his mind, but-- oh. no. No, he hasn't. He's giving her the option to plunge on ahead, and it just reaffirms what she'd thought before: sweet.
She isn't, but he is, and that's nice. Rosalind hooks two fingers beneath his chin, tipping his head up just a little. Her smile is still there, sharp but not unfriendly. After a moment, her grip shifts, her fingers wrapping lightly around his chin so she can brush her thumb lightly against his bottom lip.]
But you are that. If I hear word of this outside this cove, Eggsy, I'll be quite disappointed.
[ There's no mistaking the soft glide of her fingers on his chin and the brush of her thumb against his mouth — Rosalind must have an interest in scandal. He feels his pulse quicken under his skin. It's not that it's been a while since he's kissed a girl, exactly, with Dutch catching him shortly after his arrival on Thesa Station. What he hasn't had since before Kingsman training is this: tension ratcheting and coy insinuations, circling each other until someone finally gives. And not with a girl from his neighborhood or a boy on a night out, no, but a woman secure in her skin, who wouldn't look twice at Eggsy, if they ever had any reason to meet in London.
He parts his lips invitingly and leans forward once more. He may be sweet to the core, but he's very attracted to her, too, eyes glittering with interest over being able to touch her — and the idea of having to keep his mouth shut because she asked, though he doesn't dwell on that line of thought. ]
[ His voice drops to a low murmur. ] Well, I'd hate to disappoint you.
[ With that, he brings a hand to the nape of her neck, toying with the hair there, and presses his mouth to hers, firm, chaste, testing. ]
[Strictly speaking, it's only been a few weeks since she's been kissed herself, but still Rosalind leans into it just as eagerly as if it's been ages. His mouth is hard and he kisses with confidence, and god, but she's hungry for it. Her hand settles lightly on his shoulder, but that doesn't last.
Because, see, Robert is, of course, the ideal man. No one could or will ever match Robert, not in Rosalind's mind. But Eggsy is very attractive, and very wet, and very shirtless, and how is she meant to resist that? So no, her hand doesn't stay on his shoulder. She drags it over his torso like she's got a right to it; like they've done this often enough that she knows she's allowed. Down the lines of his body, over his torso, her fingers firm and ever-moving.
(What is she doing? She'll wonder at this later. She'll be horrified at this later, frankly, but not for any reason to do with Eggsy himself. Madam Lutece can't ever go around kissing anyone, not ever, and especially not some strange boy ten years younger than her. She'll burn with embarrassment and choke with the horror of what might have happened, but oh, that's for later).
For now, she opens her mouth to it, her tongue slipping forward, because what's the point of being older and more experienced if you don't do anything with it?]
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originallutece) wrote2017-09-22 05:41 pm
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[No, she's very confident in her own appearance, though it's not something she has any particular pride in. Rosalind raises an eyebrow when he draws back, not certain if he's changed his mind, but-- oh. no. No, he hasn't. He's giving her the option to plunge on ahead, and it just reaffirms what she'd thought before: sweet.
She isn't, but he is, and that's nice. Rosalind hooks two fingers beneath his chin, tipping his head up just a little. Her smile is still there, sharp but not unfriendly. After a moment, her grip shifts, her fingers wrapping lightly around his chin so she can brush her thumb lightly against his bottom lip.]
But you are that. If I hear word of this outside this cove, Eggsy, I'll be quite disappointed.
no subject
He parts his lips invitingly and leans forward once more. He may be sweet to the core, but he's very attracted to her, too, eyes glittering with interest over being able to touch her — and the idea of having to keep his mouth shut because she asked, though he doesn't dwell on that line of thought. ]
[ His voice drops to a low murmur. ] Well, I'd hate to disappoint you.
[ With that, he brings a hand to the nape of her neck, toying with the hair there, and presses his mouth to hers, firm, chaste, testing. ]
no subject
Because, see, Robert is, of course, the ideal man. No one could or will ever match Robert, not in Rosalind's mind. But Eggsy is very attractive, and very wet, and very shirtless, and how is she meant to resist that? So no, her hand doesn't stay on his shoulder. She drags it over his torso like she's got a right to it; like they've done this often enough that she knows she's allowed. Down the lines of his body, over his torso, her fingers firm and ever-moving.
(What is she doing? She'll wonder at this later. She'll be horrified at this later, frankly, but not for any reason to do with Eggsy himself. Madam Lutece can't ever go around kissing anyone, not ever, and especially not some strange boy ten years younger than her. She'll burn with embarrassment and choke with the horror of what might have happened, but oh, that's for later).
For now, she opens her mouth to it, her tongue slipping forward, because what's the point of being older and more experienced if you don't do anything with it?]