continuations

[unbr8kable]

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[unbr8kable]

Thought you wouldn't.

[She takes her drink, playing with the straw]

Now then... What ways do we have to heat you up?

[She stretches out her toes]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His eyes track downward, toward the drink and the straw and her fingers on it]

[He makes a soft sound, when she stretches out her toes - shivers, and shifts, petticoats rustling as he moves]

Ain't... ain't you the one who said body heat's the best way?

Science says, right?

[unbr8kable]

Think I've heard something like that. Where d'you think we're gonna find any...heat?

[She slides her heel fully onto the seat of the chair, settling a bit more squarely between his thighs]

[crossmyheartandhope]

I... I dunno.

[He shifts again - bites at his lip and scoots forward, just slightly]

Could, like... try some things out, see if it helps.

[unbr8kable]

[Hums again, stirring her drink; the ice clinking against the glass]

Sounds like a plan. You always been good at creative solutions.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[The flush goes violently dark, at that. His gaze flickers up toward her face, and then away again; his pupils are very wide, and very dark]

Am I, uh. Am I the one who's supposed to be coming up with a solution, then?

[unbr8kable]

[Shrugs, easy, and sits back in her chair. Her glasses catch the light, obscuring her eyes, but it's fairly obvious there's nothing else she'd rather watch]

You're the one who's cold.

Or are you saying you don't think you can make it work?

[crossmyheartandhope]

I...

[He hesitates - licks at his lips]

I, uh. Could probly figure something out?

[unbr8kable]

Go on. Let's see what you think up.

[She nudges the ball of her foot into the meat of his upper thigh, just firmly enough to be present]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He sucks in a sharp breath, at the nudge of her foot - nods, careful]

[Then he scoots forward a little further in the chair, until her foot is more firmly between his legs - shudders hard, and bites down on his lip]

[unbr8kable]

[She hums, flexing her foot just enough to feel the weight of him--the heat of him through the leather straps. Her gaze stays heavy on the shake of his shoulders and the red of his lip and the desperate relief in the crease of his brow, intense and a little eager]

Any luck?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[A small sound escapes him at the flex of her foot, and he judders forward into it - catches himself, and forces himself to be still again]

[He's holding onto the edge of the table, now, as though to ground himself, fries and chicken tenders well and truly forgotten]

Yeah.

[His voice breaks; he swallows]

I think, uh. I think I got an idea.

[unbr8kable]

[Her smile unfolds slowly, her eyes lingering on the bob of his adam's apple, and she flexes again, just shy of actually pressing into him]

Okay, spill it. I'm interested in seeing what you came up with.

[crossmyheartandhope]

O-okay.

I - okay.

[He swallows again - shifts, cheeks terribly dark, to press more firmly into her foot]

[His breath stutters in his throat, and he darts a glance to her face, and then away again, then then back]

[unbr8kable]

[She watches him intently, face flushed]

Go on. Knock the chill off.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He nods, shaky - shifts again, and again after that, decidedly restless]

[It's hard to get a rhythm given that he's seated - hard to get any kind of satisfying friction through he latticework of leather. Even so, the unsteady little shivers and shifts he's managing soon have him gasping for breath open-mouthed - biting down on his lip to try and rein in the reaction]

[unbr8kable]

That good?

[She doesn't do anything to help him, just watches, fingers tracing up and down the tip of her straw]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He flushes dark, at that - ducks his head, flustered at being called out]

I mean... y-yeah.

Heating up - p-pretty good.

[His eyes are a little dazed - a little distracted by the motion of her fingers on the straw. His hips keep working, a restless, unsteady not-quite-rhythm]

[unbr8kable]

Good to hear. Wouldn't want you chilling out too much...not when we've got so much left to do.

[crossmyheartandhope]

P-pretty sure chill's like - the last thing you gotta worry about.

[His hips shift forward at a different angle, this time; his breath catches, as the weight of her foot and the shape of the leather combine in just the right way, putting pressure on just the right spot. His barely-there rhythm falters and fails, giving way to a simple, restless sort of rubbing]

Do... do we got a lot left to do?

[unbr8kable]

[She sits back in her seat, weight pressing in against him just a little more heavily]

I can think of at least two things.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He shudders, hard; his eyes drift shut, and his hold tight to the edge of the table, and he bites down on his lip at the added pressure]

[It takes him a beat or two, to remember that he was supposed to be answering]

O... oh yeah?

[unbr8kable]

[Hums agreement, watching him intently]

I mean, you tell me. There ain't nothing you want? Not even finishing those chicken tenders?

[crossmyheartandhope]

I... I mean. There's stuff I wouldn't say no to.

[Another long pause, while his hips make restless little circles]

Wh-what, uh. What were the two things you were thinking?

[unbr8kable]

[Her eyes flick from his face to his throat to the grip of his hands on the table, and she presses the ball of her foot firmly against the leather of the cage for a held beat. Then she takes her foot back, folding her legs at the knee]

...Finish eating and we'll get there.