continuations

[unbr8kable]

from other threads

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[crossmyheartandhope]

[He gasps, softly, at the fluff of the petticoats - cants into the firmer touch of her hand, leaning in as she applies pressure]

[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?

[unbr8kable]

[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]

Lucky for you, heroes never die.

Not before lunch, anyways.

[crossmyheartandhope]

Lucky me, huh?

[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,]

[unbr8kable]

[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.

[crossmyheartandhope]

N-naw. Doing a-okay on my end.

...'cept these heels, maybe, these things are rough.

[The heels decidedly do not explain the step mincing,]

[unbr8kable]

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]

Got a preference?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He flushes darker, at the suggestion that he practice going out like this more often - ducks his head a little]

Uh - anything's cool?

Whatever's - close, I guess.

[unbr8kable]

[Perhaps she just means shoe practice! Either way]

You mean you don't wanna go 'cross town? The bikes're right downstairs.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His eyes go wide, at that, cheeks flushing even darker]

Wh - n-naw, this'll be fine, we don't gotta go outta the way or nothing.

[unbr8kable]

You're complaining about walking. Why not let me ride you in style?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[By the way he sputters, his mind went directly to the gutter,]

I-I'm just saying, like - I dunno if this is the right kinda stuff for a bike.

[unbr8kable]

[By her smirk, that was at least partially the intent, and her hand travels a bit lower still]

So what's it the right "stuff" for?

[crossmyheartandhope]

I - I dunno.

Lunch you said, r-right?

[His breath goes a little unsteady, at the wandering path of her hand]

[unbr8kable]

Mmm.

[She doesn't go farther, but doesn't pull her hand away either]

...The soba place has little private rooms. The western food place doesn't. What you got a taste for?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He goes even darker red, at that - can't seem to quite meet her eyes]

Either sounds - good.

M'just... real hungry.

[unbr8kable]

...I bet you are.

[However she starts them towards the yoshoku place, done up with fake bricks and fake wood, like any real(?) american(?) family restaurant would have]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Leaning in against her as they walk; he's getting better on the heels, though the mincing has, if anything, gotten worse]

Y-yeah, well, whose fault is that.

[unbr8kable]

Don't ask me. Ain't never seen you turn down many meals.

[She seats them at a table against the window; takes the seat with a view of the exit as usual. The chairs are metal with open backs; plenty of space even for the stiff skirt, though it might be a little chilly]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He looks like he means to reply - opens his mouth to, in fact - but whatever he'd meant to say cuts off abruptly when he sits himself down and realizes exactly how little the skirt covers]

[He flushes even darker - shifts, and then shifts again - glances arond to make sure the restaurant is in fact empty,]

[unbr8kable]

[Definitely keeping an eye on his reaction]

You good?

[crossmyheartandhope]

I'm good.

Just - feeling it, some.

[He reaches down, surreptitiously, to smooth down the front of his skirt,]

[unbr8kable]

[Watches that, too]

I mean. That's kinda the point, right? ...Or is it? Tell me, what's the big sell?

[crossmyheartandhope]

I mean... I mean, yeah.

S'kinda - yeah. Feeling it's, like - good.

[Catches himself, and flushes deeper, and puts his hands on the table,]

[unbr8kable]

[Smiles at that--crosses her legs at the knee, her foot tapping gently against his leg]

So what about something where the point's not-feeling it? Like, ah. Something more restrictive?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[Shivers, a little, at that tap against his leg]

Th-that, uh. That might be good, too.