[She hardly deserves to blush after all this but does nevertheless--can't keep her smile from spreading either, too genuinely pleased and eager to come off as completely smarmy. Can't keep from leaning in for another kiss either, though it's mostly soft and chaste, her hand light on his hip for balance]
Pretty sure you got that backwards. And here I was, thinking you weren't even interested in that kinda stuff...
[Her pupils are wide as saucers; voice low and a little hoarse. She lets her hand drift lower down his chin, the flat of her thumb playing over the fullness of his lower lip]
...Now I'm almost considering not letting you outta here.
[She reaches out to tweak his nipple, firm through the sequinned top]
Fuck, you should see yourself. You should hear yourself...
[Her gaze drags up his body with naked want, though her lashes flutter at how easy her thumb presses into the plush of his lip. Her face is hot with awed desire, breath heavy by the time she pulls away]
...Put on the gloves and the heels. Then I think you owe me dinner.
[He's decidedly shaky, getting the gloves on - more than a little wobbly in the heels, once they're on his feet. But he manages, with some difficulty - straightens up when he's finished, flushed to the ears]
[If she'd been going for flippant it does not come off that way at all, her tone more pleased and impressed. She can't resist fluffing his petticoats a last time, nor smoothing down the front of the skirt, to make sure it falls properly, of course.]
...C'mon.
[And she takes his arm, finally opening the door to the dressing room]
[Shrugs airily, even as she takes advantage of his unsteadiness to walk close enough that he can feel the shift of her muscles and the tattoo of her heartbeat]
[Leaning into her a little more than he probably needs to, for help with the heels. His face is bright red, and the blush shows no signs of subsiding. Possibly he is mincing his steps a little,]
[Does nothing to stop him, aiming for disaffected but in truth sending glances over at him, as if she could stare right through the layers of clothing. Her voice is a self-satisfied purr]
If you're feeling unlucky, I'm happy to listen to your concerns.
Makes your legs look crazy long, though. Maybe you just need more practice going out like this.
[Her tone is very appreciative, mincing steps included]
[Either way, it doesn't take long to make it upstairs to the various restaurant floors, and her hand shifts to rest at the small of his back as they continue up the escalators]
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...Being distracting. Thought you were hungry.
[She pinches the fullness of his hip, hard]
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Ah... yeah. Let's -
...yeah.
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Fuck, Cross... How're you always so damned lewd?
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Pretty sure like... 95% of that's your fault.
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[Her pupils are wide as saucers; voice low and a little hoarse. She lets her hand drift lower down his chin, the flat of her thumb playing over the fullness of his lower lip]
...Now I'm almost considering not letting you outta here.
[She reaches out to tweak his nipple, firm through the sequinned top]
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[The sound that leaves him isn't quite a whimper, but it isn't far off]
O... oh yeah?
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[Her gaze drags up his body with naked want, though her lashes flutter at how easy her thumb presses into the plush of his lip. Her face is hot with awed desire, breath heavy by the time she pulls away]
...Put on the gloves and the heels. Then I think you owe me dinner.
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Yeah. I... yeah. Lemme just -
[He's decidedly shaky, getting the gloves on - more than a little wobbly in the heels, once they're on his feet. But he manages, with some difficulty - straightens up when he's finished, flushed to the ears]
...think that's everything.
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[If she'd been going for flippant it does not come off that way at all, her tone more pleased and impressed. She can't resist fluffing his petticoats a last time, nor smoothing down the front of the skirt, to make sure it falls properly, of course.]
...C'mon.
[And she takes his arm, finally opening the door to the dressing room]
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[It's a lot and not enough both at once, and he bites down on his lip, hard - ducks his head and forgets to breathe, for a couple of seconds]
[When she finally takes his arm and leads him toward the door, he's a little unsteady due to more than just the heels]
...jesus, dude. You're gonna kill me, you know that?
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Lucky for you, heroes never die.
Not before lunch, anyways.
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[Leaning into her a little more than he probably needs to, for help with the heels. His face is bright red, and the blush shows no signs of subsiding. Possibly he is mincing his steps a little,]
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If you're feeling unlucky, I'm happy to listen to your concerns.
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...'cept these heels, maybe, these things are rough.
[The heels decidedly do not explain the step mincing,]
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[Her tone is very appreciative, mincing steps included]
[Either way, it doesn't take long to make it upstairs to the various restaurant floors, and her hand shifts to rest at the small of his back as they continue up the escalators]
Got a preference?
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Uh - anything's cool?
Whatever's - close, I guess.
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You mean you don't wanna go 'cross town? The bikes're right downstairs.
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Wh - n-naw, this'll be fine, we don't gotta go outta the way or nothing.
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I-I'm just saying, like - I dunno if this is the right kinda stuff for a bike.
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So what's it the right "stuff" for?
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