continuations

[unbr8kable]

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[crossmyheartandhope]

I-it's, uh.

[He shifts again - fidgets with the hem, like he's not quite sure what to do with his hands, or perhaps like he knows very well what he wants to do with them and is trying hard not to]

I-it's, uh. Pretty fluffy?

[unbr8kable]

You asked for ruffles, you got ruffles.

[Though the ruffles are only part of what she's focused on. The mismatched length of his bare legs are one; the flush of his face and the fidget of his hands are another]

...Mirror's right there. Turn around, show it off.

[crossmyheartandhope]

R-right. Uh.

...right.

[Flushing darker still, he turns toward the mirror - keeps turning, to give her the full 360. His breath catches, at the movement; he bites down on his lip, hard, until he's finished the full, slow circle]

What, uh. What do you think?

[unbr8kable]

[Another hum, directed at his slow movement, or perhaps just the bite of his teeth into his lower lip. Her expression doesn't quite make it to innocent when she finally speaks]

Fluff it out a little, looks like the skirt's hanging funny in a couple places.

[crossmyheartandhope]

O-oh yeah? Can't... can't have that.

[He hesitates, then reaches for the skirt - lifts the petticoats and lets them fluff back down. He can't quite tamp down on the gasp that leaves him when he does - can't quite stop the way his hips shimmy a little]

[He repeats the gesture a second time, and then a third - squirms, and shudders, and does a fourth and then a fifth before he can get himself to stop]

That, like... that help any?

[unbr8kable]

Hmm, I don't know...

[He may suspect that she does in fact know, as she surely has not missed his first gasp. Even if she did, certainly one of the subsequent ones caught her attention, at least judging from the gleam in her eye as he adjusts and readjusts his outfit]

You don't think there's anything off about the silhouette? Why don't you smooth down it and see?

[crossmyheartandhope]

Ah... r-right. Good - good idea.

[He shifts - makes a show of smoothing it down on the sides. Hesitates - shifts again - runs a hand down the front, as well]

[At the motion of his own hand, he shudders hard - gasps again, softly, and rocks forward into it before he can force himself to stillness. He catches sight of himself in the mirror as he does: the flush and the dress and the way he can't quite manage to keep from squirming. His cheeks go darker still, but the humiliation isn't enough to keep him from running a hand over the front of the skirt again, firmer pressure than before, and a third time after that]

[Evidently he is very committed to getting this skirt to lie flat, because he makes as though to keep going, perhaps rubbing more than smoothing at he makes it into passes four and five,]

[unbr8kable]

[She uncrosses and recrosses her legs--shifts--waits until he's fairly far in before piping up]

Find the problem? Or are you too busy getting carried away?

[She looks straight to his hand with a smirk]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His lips are slightly parted; his eyes have gone a little glazed, a little distracted]

[At the smirk and that pointed glance, he flushes violently red - does not in fact manage to take his hand away, despite that]

I - I ain't - I mean -

[Another pass of his hand, and he shifts again, tryig but failing not to press into it]

Think - think I found it.

[unbr8kable]

Seems like it, huh.

[Looks from his hand to his mouth and back, smirk widening]

You remember the first rule?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[A small sound leaves him, at that - perhaps at the words themselves, or perhaps at the slow drag of fabric when his hips shimmy in just that way]

I - jesus. I - y-yeah.

[He shudders, hard - makes to rub at the skirt down again, as though he can't quite stop himself from sneaking in one last attempt]

But you said - you s-said to smooth it down.

[unbr8kable]

Don't seem like anything's down to me...

Think you better c'mere.

[She uncrosses her legs again, leaving her feet flat on the floor--pats her thigh]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Another small sound, this one decidedly more like a whimper]

[It takes a long couple of seconds for him to scrape together the willpower to pull his hand away - another long second after that, before he comes to stand beside her, cheeks burning]

How, uh. How you want me to...?

[unbr8kable]

[Her cheeks are almost as dark, though she looks eager, not embarrased. She pats at her lap again]

Face down, of course.

[crossmyheartandhope]

...'course.

[He shifts again - bites down on his lip]

[Lays himself down across her lap, almost gingerly, and immediately immediately sucks in a sharp breath. He tries to adjust to a better position, but no matter how he squirms there's always the scratch of the petticoats, and the warmth her thighs through the fabric, and the way his own weight applies pressure]

[She was definitely right; nothing's down at all, and he can't help but shift, and shift again, and shift again]

J-jesus. Xia...

[unbr8kable]

Can't you hold still?

[Instead of admonishing her tone seems intrigued, almost in awe at how desperate he seems--at the urgent press of his cock into the meat of her thigh, warm even through the layers of fabric.

Her good hand reaches out to smooth from the crease of his thighs up to the small of his back, pushing the petticoats up to reveal the pale, freckled curve of his ass; continues to map its topography, gentle. If she happens to shift herself at all this, it is surely coincidental, and her voice is a little gravelly when she continues]

So you know why you're here. Are you ready for your punishment?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[When she asks whether he can hold still, he does his best to comply - manages to tamp the squirming down somewhat, even if he can't quite help another little shimmy from side to side, in the way that causes the fabric to drag just so]

[He takes a shaky breath in, when her hand traces the bare curve of his ass - makes another of those soft sounds, and presses forward again, before he can stop himself]

Y-yeah. I - yeah.

[unbr8kable]

[She practically purrs in reply, rubbing luxuriously over the supple flesh and giving a gentle squeeze--hoping for another whimper.

Regardless of if one comes, she follows with a sharp smack, low on the underside of his ass]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[The gentle squeeze does in fact earn a whimper, and a restless sort of squirm besides]

[Then comes the smack, and he jolts, hard, the motion pressing him sharply forward into her thigh. He takes a short, shaky breath in - shifts again, another soft sound caught at the back of his throat]

[unbr8kable]

[Ah,]

[Her legs shift as he moves, and her other hand curls high on his hip, as if to keep him from squirming out of her lap, though leaving him free to squirm any other direction. Then, with a sound coming from the back of her own throat, she strikes him again with the same deliberate pressure, just slightly offset in position, alternating cheeks.

By the third her breathing's gone shallow; she hesitates before resting her hand just below the crease of his thighs, shifting beneath him again]

...Well?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Each strike earns another jolt - another gasp or soft subvocal whimper - and with each, the forward motion presses him firmly against the meaty part of her thigh]

[By the third one, his breathing is ragged, chest heaving as though he's run a race. He's given up on trying to stay still; the shifting is near constant, a restless sort of rocking to encourage the drag of the fabric and the press of her thighs. Truth be told, it's a deliberate enough rubbing that he's all but breaking the first rule again, even if his hands aren't involved]

W-well... well what?

[He sounds breathless - decidedly distracted]

[unbr8kable]

[Possibly too distracted to be looking around, but if he had happened to check the mirror, he might have noticed her eyes trained on him, drinking up every twitch and shiver against her. She rubs up from his thighs to the pink blush staining his skin, generously squeezing before dragging her fingers lower again. At the same time, her other hand trails up from the spill of petticoats at his waist past the low back of the dress and up the knobbles of his spine]

Think you learned your lesson? You ready to get back to work?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He whines at that - shifts against her, biting down hard on his lip. If she's in it for the twitches and shivers, surely the path that her hand takes gives her plenty more to appreciate]

[It's a long couple of beats before he can scrape his thoughts together enough to reply, and when he does his voice is decidedly strained:]

...y-yeah.

If you think that's - good. S'your rules... right?

[unbr8kable]

[A fresh hum as she considers this, shifting a bit beneath him. Her prosthetic ends up near the nape of his neck, scratching gently; her good hand traces down the back of his thigh to the port, crests to the inside and runs back up to where his leg meets his body--ghosts her fingers over his bottom to mirror the movements down and up his other leg, very slow]

...What, you got a complaint?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He can't quite suppress the full-body shiver, at the gentle touches of her fingertips - can't quite tamp down on the sound that leaves him, soft and pleading]

N-not a complaint so much.

[He shifts again at the slow, soft touches - can't help but press back into her, and then forward again, chasing after the not-quite-enough sensation]

J-jesus, Xia. That's -

Oh my god...