originallutece | (no subject)

[Oh. Well, and though her ears go red again, she isn't displeased, not at all.]

So . . . offer.

[ It's pretty endearing how she gets embarrassed from the straight forward talk. Not what he would've expected. ]

Let's change venues and I'll happily lick your pussy. Fair? You can even sit on my face, if you'd like.

How generous.

[She stands, scoffing softly, and leads the way to her bedroom. She walks slowly enough, her hips swaying, perfectly confident he'll follow in her wake. It's a neat room, red with gold highlights, books stacked to one side and a notebook with illustrations opened on the desk. Rosalind turns, sits on the edge-- and then, pointedly, beckons.]

On the bed.

[ And she has every reason to be confident that he'll follow, as that's exactly what he does, a polite step behind. If he appreciates the sway of her hips, he doesn't make mention of it.

(Though he certainly does).

Once they get into her room, he glances around, a quick intake of his surroundings. A habit he could never shake; he barely notices he does it anymore. His focus snaps to her immediately though, a grin overtaking his features, something on the edge of rakish. ]

As the madame wishes. [ On his way, he's going to toe his shoes off, leaving them at the edge of the bed. Cheekily, he sits close to the side, gesturing expansively– he's on the bed, after all. ]

[She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she shifts back, resting her back against the headboard. Her fingers go to her shirt, tugging at the buttons there, letting it fall open, revealing her lace bra. Her skirt is next, shimmied out of easily, dropping to the floor.]

Do you need me to tell you how to do everything?

Well my dear, you did simply say to get on the bed.

[ Of course he has to take that literally to annoy her.

In the same breath, he's gladly stripping. Belt and trousers first, letting them drop over the side of the bed. Next he's unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. He takes a moment to sweep his gaze over her, noting the lace on her bra with a satisfied hum.

One finger traces over the strap before he settles the expanse of his palm on her shoulder. Then he's ducking his head, kissing under her jaw and down the gentle line of her neck. ]

[Her eyes slide slowly over his body, her gaze going darker as she takes him in. She wants badly to touch him; instead, she bites lightly at one finger, the motion ostensibly demure but in truth leering.

She inhales slowly, her head tipping back, eyes closing lazily. It's not the start she's used to here, rough and fast and frantic, but it's all the more intense for it. She's already eager, a shiver running down her spine, her nipples peaked against the thin fabric of her bra.

Her fingers card through his hair, and she leans back a little, intent on lying back on the bed.]

[ Well, he certainly isn't going to deter her from looking all she wants.

Nor does he shake off her own start—the fingers in his hair are welcome, wanted. A different touch than what he's used to.

(More delicate fingers, longer nails).

When she leans back, he chases the movement, planting kisses to her collarbone and between her breasts. His free hand sweeps down her side and then back up, skimming along the underside of her bra. ]

[She likes this. She really does. It's sensual, leaving her arching up, pushing into into his skimming touches, and god knows it's been a while since she's felt any sensuality. But there's a reason for that, and it's this: she's impatient at the best of times, and she instantly wants more than she has.

Her fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him pointedly to one side. Move, she wants his mouth on her properly, even if there's a layer of fabric between them.]

[ She pulls and there's a delightful little sting that lingers for a moment. Of course, he understands the motion, the message behind it—she's impatient. Bossy, even. Something he'd taken note of in the first five minutes he met her.

Thankfully, he has quite a bit of experience in dealing with such types. Reaching up, he gently disentangles her fingers, kissing the palm and then the inside of her wrist. He pulls both arms over her head, pinning her wrists with just enough weight and a grin lighting up his face. ]

Ah, ah. All in due time. [ Sure, he wants to get to the more exciting parts just as much. But he's going to enjoy the lead up first. He goes right back to the slow motions from before, lips pressing along the line of her bra, stubble scratching against the sensitive skin. ]

[She's been here long enough that she doesn't immediately snarl about this, automatically going on the sharp defensive. Instead: she exhales harshly, a pleased flush crossing her cheeks. Her expression is still firm, though; she's hardly giving in just yet.]

You can't tell me you aren't impatient. I can feel your impatience.

[But she isn't entirely opposed, not yet. Her head tips, her chest pushing up against his mouth.]

Don't take too long.

[ Oh, has he hit on something? There's a flush high in her cheeks, the only indication of something other than annoyance. ]

I do like a good payoff, though.

[ It's why he's willing to wait. Why his patience extends through most avenues of his life. Conning is an art, sometimes months in the making, but the joy of pulling it all off is what he enjoys. He gets a similar thrill from pushing himself to the end of his patience. Greed is best when indulged after a wait.

So he keeps taking his time, alternating between softer kisses, nips, teeth lightly scratching. He sucks a few marks, skin turning a bright pink-red on her neck and chest. Finally, he ventures to mouthing at her nipples through her bra, fabric going damp from the attention. Adjusting his position, he skates his other hand between her legs, thumb and forefinger tracing the crux of her thigh. ]

[She squirms time and again-- not so much that she breaks free, but just enough to register her impatience. But though he doesn't do what she wants, he at least tends to her, and each brush of his lips and nip of his teeth leaves her feeling more and more worked up. His mouth feels sinfully hot, even though the fabric; she jerks up again and again as his tongue slides over her.

She's worked up enough that she groans in relief when his hand skims down; her legs spread, and--]

For crissake, Eames.

[She hisses it out, her head tipping back as she slumps against the mattress.]

Touch me.

[ She's so annoyed that he can't help but laugh a bit, the sound soft where it gets pressed against her chest. It is gratifying though, to know she's worked up this much.

This time he obliges her, moving his hand the scant few inches to rub her pussy through her underwear. The heat and dampness sends a thrill right down his spine. He spends a few moments teasing her through the fabric, fingers sweeping up and down in alternating pressure.

Then he stops, letting her wrists go to pull her panties down and off. He lifts her hips, hands spanning her ass, and he glances up from between her legs. ]

Let me know if this gets too much, mm?

[ He means the stubble, mostly. Because then he's leaning in, sliding the flat of his tongue right across her cunt. ]

[She's sorry that he releases her wrists, but perhaps she'll get that later. For now, she laughs softly as he warns her, though that's accompanied by a thrill as his fingers dig into her ass. Hoisting herself up on her elbows, she watches him eagerly.]

I think I can handle you.

[Lazily said, and not a moment too soon-- because then he's on her, and oh, god, that feels good. Her legs spread wider, thighs burning a little from the strain. His tongue is hot, pointed, dragging over her; she rocks her hips up, her next exhale harsh.]

That's good . . .

[She pushes her fingers through his hair. She won't yank just yet, but it's coming soon.]

[ He's very certain she can handle most anything, quite frankly. Some people just have that vibe.

Which means he isn't so delicate, diving right into something more intense from the word "go". He laps at her insistently, adding pressure until she's responding positively with each swipe. There's no time wasted, either, since he pushes his tongue into her pussy, fucking her like that with enthusiasm (and years of practice).

His hands slide up to her hips, loosely holding her in place but otherwise letting her rock into it. ]

Fuck--

[She swears quietly, her head snapping back as his tongue fucks deep into her with no warning-- which is great, it's fantastic, but oh, she wasn't expecting that after the way he'd gone so slowly before. Her hips rock up, half-heartedly squirming just to feel him tighten his grip on her-- but even teasing isn't interesting right now, nothing is, save the way he's forcing his tongue so deep into her.]

Good-- that's good--

[Breathless praise, as she pulls at his hair, yanking him down, and grinding her hips up at the same time. It's not about domination, not really; it's a movement made purely for her own pleasure, with no thought for him and how he might find it.]

Harder--