continuations

[unbr8kable]

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[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.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He whimpers, softly, when she takes her foot back, hips chasing the heat and the pressure of her - starts to reach under the table, needing to replace the contact with something]

[He doesn't get all the way there before he remembers where they are - flushes deeply - puts both of his hands back on the table, with effort]

R-right. Lemme, uh - lemme finish eating.

[He picks up another of the chicken tenders and starts to make good on that promise]

[unbr8kable]

[She shifts in place then attempts to do the same, delicious cold lunch surely the only reason she licks at her lips. Her eyes don't move from the reluctant appearance of his hands on the table...at least no further than the flush of his cheeks and the bob of his adam's apple.

Still watching him, she takes a slow, dainty bite of potato]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He works his way through the chicken tender - shifts, and swallows, and shifts again, reaching for another]

[The hand that's not busy feeding him is still holding onto the edge of the table, as though it needs the reminder not to wander off somewhere else,]

[unbr8kable]

[Does it, now. Her eyes are luminous as she attempts to calmly take another bite of food]

...You want to, don't you? Even here in front of everybody...

[She looks pointedly at the grip of his fingers, gaze heated]

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His flush goes deeper; he chews, and swallows - licks at his lips, mouth unaccountably dry]

[With effort, he manages to release the table from his death grip, pressing his palm flat to the tabletop instead]

I-I'm, uh.

Let's just say I did an okay job of warming up.

[unbr8kable]

Seems like it...

[Takes another bite]

How would you wanna take care of it, if nobody was here?

[crossmyheartandhope]

[His ears are red; the flush is creeping down to his chest]

H-how - ?

Like...?

[unbr8kable]

Like, you wanna jerk yourself off? Or use your hand someplace else? You want me to do something, too? Or...?

[She shifts, uncrossing and recrossing her legs]

[crossmyheartandhope]

Like...

[His voice is very soft; his cheeks are very, very dark]

Like, I'd jerk myself off. And you... you could do stuff, too.

[unbr8kable]

[Leans forward a little, voice low and intent]

...What kinda stuff? Stuff to you? Or...?

[crossmyheartandhope]

I guess... stuff to me. Or - or stuff to you, too.

Both, maybe.

[He seems to remember that he's meant to be eating - perhaps that they're going to be here until he's done eating - and reaches for another chicken tender with an unsteady hand]

[unbr8kable]

[Her cheeks go a little darker, and her eyes flick down for a moment, lashes low]

Both how?

...And you can talk and eat together. Don't mind seeing you with your mouth full.

[crossmyheartandhope]

[He flushes darker still, at that implication - takes another bite of chicken tender, slower this time, as though aware that she's watching him do it]

Both, like... you know.

[He shifts again in the chair,]

Touching me and touching you, too.