dreampost: even more after dark edition

[wotanon]

[ shit's going to be sexy in here.

please list what you're open or not open to somewhere in your toplevel pls and thank ]

Comments

[unbr8kable]

Yeah. I mean--yeah.

['Disaffected' is still pretty far from anything she can manage, but she makes a go at it anyway, tries not to feel so accomplished--but he does look best with color in his cheeks, she decides.

So she leans in again, presses a light kiss to the corner of his mouth...then takes a full step back, hands clasped behind her back]

...You wanna get undressed and lie face down?

[crossmyheartandhope]

Yeah. Uh. Yeah, lemme -

[He hesitates - lifts the hem of his dress, revealing more of the sleek fabric of the slip underneath.]

[It takes him longer than it ought to, to get it off. He's self-conscious, and flushed, and trying hard not to be too eager. He's also never taken off this kind of dress before. He gets it stuck, coming up over his shoulders; the slip rides up high on his thigh, while he's struggling with it.]

[But evenually he squirms out of it - gives the dress, now inside-out, a sloppy half-fold and sets it aside.]

[When he's done, he glances at her face and then away again.]

So, uh. You're the massage expert. You want more than that off, or...?

[unbr8kable]

[She watches as he struggles, notes how the muscles of his shoulders and chest work and just how high his hem rises and...because she is watching so closely she has time to school her face before he's free of the fabric but...doesn't, lets him see her staring back with curious interest. Takes a moment at his question to consider before responding]

...Up to you. If that's how you feel comfortable, it'll work fine.

[And she gestures over at the bench--an oversized velvet Chesterfield sofa that, while oddly large for a changing room, should suit this purpose without issue]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His cheeks go dark at the blatant interest, and he ducks his head a little - glances over at the sofa.]

Uh. Sure. Lemme - lemme get ready.

[He makes his way over, self-conscious - settles himself on the sofa. When he's lying flat, he shifts a little, and then shifts again, the gentle press from lying face down on the padded cushions certainly a whole lot more intense, given how wound up he is.]

[When he speaks again, his voice is a little strained:]

...kay. I'm good.

[unbr8kable]

[Follows him to the couch--hesitates for a breath before perching beside him at the edge of the seat, the cushion moving a bit towards her weight. She keeps her knees angled towards each other to make up for the scandalously short skirt, despite him being face down, and splays her right hand at the small of his back, just keeps it there a few beats. Eventually she adds the other as well, smooths up from the middle of his back to his shoulders and back, light and quick over the satin]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He shivers, at the touch - draws a sharp breath in, when she sets the first hand on him. He does his best not to squirm, though he isn't entirely successful.]

[The feel of her fingers, warm through the smooth, thin fabric, make him glad he angled his face in toward the back of the couch when he lay down, because he's sure he's bright red. The burn across his cheeks is unbearable, and the feel of her hands on him is unbearable in an entirely different way.]

[He shifts again, a little, despite himself - bites down on his lower lip, and tries to keep still.]

[unbr8kable]

[This is how it goes, right? Warm hands up from the curve of his sacrum, over his shoulder blades and past the neckline of the fabric to cool skin instead, her hands smoothing over his shoulders, and back; venturing down his arms, then up where his head meets his neck--gentle against any tension.

At first she just kind of slides around aimlessly, just enjoying the feel of the fabric and the gentle warmth below, how solid he is under her. After a while, she feels around for any muscles that seem like they could use the release of tension, and attempts to concentrate there instead]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[If it's supposed to go any way but like this, he certainly doesn't know any better - just closes his eyes, and enjoys the gentle touches tracing along his back, and his arms, and his neck.]

[When she finally starts to go deeper, she discovers that there are in fact areas that could use some work, and they're all along the same side: the tension from overcompensating for the weight of the fake leg.]

[unbr8kable]

[She doesn't much know what she's doing but gives it a go nevertheless, adding more pressure but not too much, in case the muscles are tender to the touch. Sweeps up and down with long strokes, as if the knots could be whittled down and pushed out of place, somehow, if she had enough time or just tried hard enough. Peeks up towards what of his face she can see to make sure it's not too much]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His eyes are closed, the lashes a soft, pale swoop against his skin, and his cheeks still have a flush of color to them. It's spread all across the cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, intermingled with the freckles spattered there. His lips are kiss-bruised, slightly parted; his hair is rumpled from having had her hands in it.]

[If the look on his face is any indication, she's doing something right.]

[unbr8kable]

[...Ah

She takes a long, shaky breath to just look, something warm swelling tight in her chest. Her expression goes unfocused, drifts somewhere towards self-consciously, furiously accomplished. Perhaps he can feel how her breath goes that much more shallow, or the speed of her pulse.

But--maybe not, maybe hopefully not. She catches herself, redfaced, and starts her hands moving again, swirling knuckles to dig into the line of tense muscle. The biggest effort goes into not watching his face now, even if it's an image she's sure she's committed to memory]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[If the change in his own breathing is any indication, he noticed; it shifts when hers goes shallower, and she can almost certainly feel the way it's picked up. His back rises and falls under her hands in the new rhythm, and the flush across his cheeks grows wider, out to tinge his ears.]

[He shifts again against the sofa - bites down on his lip, and risks cracking open an eye to peer up at her face.]

[unbr8kable]

[Her cheeks are ruddy, her gaze carefully trained on the incredibly interesting nailheads in the sofa cushions. Her brows are furrowed, as if concentrating on her work very hard.

As if feeling his eye on her, her face heats a little more. She digs a little harder into the tight muscle, definitely not a distraction]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Maybe it's because he's not expecting it; maybe because it's because he's so busy watching her face that he forgets he's supposed to not be making an idiot of himself. But whatever the reason, when she digs in a little harder, this time, he can't quite stop the soft sound he makes, part surprise and part appreciation, at the back of his throat.]

[unbr8kable]

[Ah,]

[Her hands shudder to a stop for a long beat. Of course the next one she does the same thing, but just a touch longer--more decisively, just to see]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He's expecting it a little more, this time - manages to muffle himself into a sound that's softer, barely there at all. It's more of a stutter of breath. But the tells are there, if she's looking for them; his fingers twitch in toward the palm, and he's biting down on his lip.]

[unbr8kable]

[One more time, because she's never been great at leaving well-enough alone, and because she kind of is looking for tells, just because. But after that her smoothing touch drifts elsewhere over his back, seeking out other places that seem like they might appreciate some attention]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[There are plenty of tense muscles for her to work through, if she has a mind to do it - but he seems to enjoy the petting on it own, even without the deeper touch. If she's looking for tells, she might be able to pick up on how purposefully still he gets, when she reaches certain places: the base of his neck, and the side, along his ribs, and the lower back, down near the hip.]

[She can probably hear the changes in his breathing, if she's paying close enough attention: little pauses in the too-fast rhythm, before he smooths them over and tries to cover them up.]

[unbr8kable]

[She notices them, eventually...it's harder not to pay attention to him like this, touching him so intimately. For now, she doesn't avoid the little jags in his breathing, but keeps her touches there light and moving, just in case.

As much as the expressions he makes when she messes with him are in the top three things she likes about him, she doesn't actually want to dig in someplace that might be painful or bad-sensitive. (Hopefully, she hasn't already.)

[crossmyheartandhope]

[She isn't. She really, really isn't.]

[And the longer it goes on, the more obvious it becomes. When she touches the spots that make him go carefully still, he starts out as determined, the only give the changes in his breathing. But when she comes back to them, she can probably feel the little shiver that works his way through him, the subtle shift in his positioning that lands just this side of squirming.]

[unbr8kable]

[It’s a while before she’s certain there is any change, and a while longer before she has any idea what to do with that knowledge. But then she remembers what in theory is a great way to learn things]

Uh, hey... Do you...

[Hesitates, starts over with much more bravado]

Any feedback? Requests? Wanna make sure you get your time’s worth, “Master”~

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His face goes dark again at the reminder; he turns his head in a little more, toward the cushions on the back of the couch.]

You're, uh. You're doing good.

[unbr8kable]

Yeah, 'course. But I could be doing better.

[She repositions herself, lightly touches the inside of his calf]

What do you want me to do?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[This time, there's no mistaking the hitch in his breathing.]

That's... that's cool, too. If... if you wanna, like -

Legs're cool, too.

[unbr8kable]

Okay...

[And takes a breath in and out. Shifts again, so that she can get a better view of it nestled against the join of the couch cushions, one shockingly pale, freckled band between the sheen of the chemise and the shimmer of the hose, all of him bright against the evergreen velvet of the sofa.

She reaches for his real leg, strokes the outside from hip to ankle, solid enough to feel the shift of the muscle underneath. Then over the ankle to the inside, up to the garter of his thigh-high, the nylon silky smooth]

...Like this?