dreampost: even more after dark edition (II)

[wotanon]

[ ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING!

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

[crossmyheartandhope]

I don't -

I mean -

[He's stumbling over the words; his face is bright red. He hides it in his hands.]

I thought you were gonna pick something out...?

[unbr8kable]

I figured you'd want some control over how you ended up.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He makes a small sound, into his hands.]

It's more embarrassing if I gotta pick it.

[And he maybe sort of kind of wants it in her color, but he is not going to admit that part,]

[unbr8kable]

Then, no rules, whatever I come up with?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He manages to peek out from his hands, sees that faces, and flushes even darker.]

...y-yeah. Sure.

But, like. The gymnastics ain't gonna be great in super high heels? So like. Keep that in mind.

[unbr8kable]

You'll just have to take it slow. It's not like there's a whole floor routine or nothing, this ain't the Olympics.

[Looks him up and down, assessing, then smiles]

I guess...wait here, then, get yourself ready.

[crossmyheartandhope]

U-uh.

...sure. Okay.

[He's not sure what getting himself ready entails aside from trying to keep his heart from going a thousand miles an hour (in this dream, he still has one, and it's working overtime), so he'll just... try to do that.]

[unbr8kable]

Practice your moves!

[But she is already off to where you can get outfits picked out, looking for some good(?) options]

[crossmyheartandhope]

Dude! I don't got moves for pole dancing!

[But... yes. She is already off, and he is left to fret, getting gradually more flustered the longer she takes. It is awfully easy for his mind to wander to what she might be picking out, when he has nothing to do but wait.]

[unbr8kable]

[It takes a while.]

[Partially because she likes watching him squirm, partially because she does want it to be good, and what even counts as good in these cases. Partially because she gets a little distracted.

But eventually, she returns, with a large white bag and a (hopefully by now) faint flush.]

Alright, you asked for it, so let's see it on.

[crossmyheartandhope]

You take long enough? I been picturing worst case scenarios for like five years already.

[But he goes for the bag - opens it up and peers inside.]

[unbr8kable]

Hey, if you were in a hurry, you shoulda picked. You can't rush art.

[There are a number of things.

A spangly tuxedo jacket, top hat, and mary jane shoes, black sequins with a modest three-inch kitten heel.

Then, undergarments--gold lamé suspenders, a waist binding that straddles the line between cummerbund and corset (rising no higher than the ribcage but with gold piping and lacing down the front and back), fishnet tights and skimpy boy shorts with a dark purple sheen.

At the bottom of the bag are some extraneous items, such as scarves, cuffs, spangles with sticky backs, whatever assortment of things seemed dance-worthy. Tucked away is also a dark tyrian-colored collar, a metal half-heart attached.

She watches carefully as he looks through the bag, expression rather unnaturally casual.]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His face is doing something, certainly. Going much, much darker red, for one, the flush spreading until it tinges his ears.]

[His expression is difficult to parse - not straight embarrassment, but something else mingled in, besides. It's something she's probably only seen once or twice before, on one particular night and then more fleetingly after that, in bits ad glimpses when he thinks that she's not looking.]

[He swallows, with difficulty. His mouth is suddenly very dry.]

Not pulling any punches, huh?

[unbr8kable]

[Continues, not unbothered, but doing her darnedest to appear to be. She watches his flush, and the bob of his adam's apple, and unconsciously licks her lips before smirking again]

If we're here for a show, figured I'd give you something to show off. But nobody's forcing you to wear nothing. Or I guess--you could just take it off.

[crossmyheartandhope]

You forget to grab a shirt or something?

[His fingers linger over the collar; he looks as though he means to pick it up, but seems to notice how closely she's watching, and doesn't, instead.]

[unbr8kable]

You backseat driving my fashion choices?

[She doesn't turn away, challenging, but something more breathless in her tone. Her cheeks are definitely duskier than usual, though not much compared to his flush]

I mean, if you don't think you can pull it off...

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He swallows again, harder this time.]

Can't back out now, right?

[He takes a steadying breath and reaches into the bag - hesitates, and lifts the not!corset.]

...how do you even put this thing on?

[unbr8kable]

You're--uh. Changing right here?

[She doesn't like the way her voice goes high at the end, but can't exactly stop it]

I--dunno, use the hooks?

[crossmyheartandhope]

Oh. Uh.

I can - I can go change somewhere else. I just wanted to figure out - y'know. How it worked, first.

[unbr8kable]

I mean--I mean. It's--clothes, right? So just--step into it, or, pull it over your head. Or...something.

[Wisely decides not to argue over where he changes since that will likely backfire]

[crossmyheartandhope]

O-okay. Uh.

I'll just... go figure this out?

And be back in a couple minutes.

[unbr8kable]

Okay.

I'll, wait here. For the show.

[Hooks her thumbs in her pockets, attempting to get her momentum back]

[crossmyheartandhope]

Right. Uh.

...right.

[He ducks his head - kind of holds the bag to his chest, and takes off to go look for someplace to change.]

[unbr8kable]

[Takes a chair and drags it up to the stage, as you do. Sits down and props her legs up, casually, since she is, casual,]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[It takes him a while - maybe five minutes to change, and then maybe five minutes after that, balking in front of the mirror, to talk himself up to it - but he grabs a cape from one of her outfits that he's borrowed and throws it on top to cover up some, then heads back out.]

[The corset's still in his hands, and he's decidedly red in the face.]