[He flushes darker, at the comment about the bump in the ruffles - darker still, when she mentions being stuck to the seat - makes his way to his feet, as well, decidedly less steady]
You think, uh. You think I oughtta wipe it down...?
[He groans, softly, at the path her hand takes; underneath the petticoats, he has indeed been heating up, and the spots between the leather straps are decidedly damp as well. He presses into her touch, quite unable to help the way his hips rock forward - aware, too, of the way she's pressed up against his back, the warm line of her through the flimsy dress]
[Perhaps he can feel the speeding of her heart as she allows more of her weight against him--lets her hand drift around the petticoats to drift over that damp leather]
[He sucks in a soft breath, at that - lets it out in a quiet curse, hips shimmying to try and get more pressure from her wandering hand]
[It takes him a beat, to scrape together a reply:]
Y-yeah. I probly better...
[But he makes no move to fall to his knees yet - can't, maybe, too lost in the feel of what little of her touch he can feel through the crisscrossing leather straps]
[She doesn't give him any more pressure, but doesn't pull away. Perhaps it's the mindless rock of his hips or the nudge of him under her fingers, even through the cage, but her breathing is heavy when she nips at the shell of his ear]
I mean. Staying like this, you're prolly gonna make an even bigger mess. That what you're into, here in front of everybody...?
[Lets out a whine of her own, though whether it's at his refusal or at how physically obvious it was for him to say no is hard to tell. Her breaths come labored as well, and the hand under his skirts makes it no farther than the ridge of his hipbone, stroking over that instead as she makes an effort to not bend him over the booth]
[It takes him a long couple of beats to respond, thoroughly distracted by where her hand ended up, and by the intense awareness of how close it is to where he really wants it]
It's -
[He takes a shaking breath in - licks at his lips]
Just not, like - n-not the middle of the restaurant...?
[She noses against the nape of his neck, breath warm and voice rumbly]
Where else should I expect to have a snack...?
[The hand wrapped around his belly shifts as well, running up and down his torso, not so tight that he couldn't break away if he wanted to, but securely enough that it's obvious how reluctant she is to do the sort of moving she ought to do--distracted despite somewhere in there knowing that she's supposed to be the one in charge of making the better decisions here]
Observation lounge...? Furniture floor? The back of the restaurant...?
Thought walking might be a little tough for you. But if you'd rather...
[She keeps him curled in close, however, not waiting to hang around. Since she has been doing arm day, but should still be realistic. In the meantime they leaves the restaurant and seems to be heading for the bathrooms??]
[Also sorry-not sorry for having to walk around bareassed for a while,]
[She makes it through the hallways of the restaurant floor fairly easily, arms only beginning to shake as they run into what's labeled as the family rest room, the door tall and made of modern, grey-toned wood. She slides it open and enters.
Rather than just an accessible toilet or a tiny cell with a changing table, this is more a room for rest--a floor to ceiling plate glass window commands the far wall, club chairs and a generously sized leather couch positioned to take advantage of the view. It's here that she deposits him, looking hungrily down at the splay of his limbs]
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I mean. You're good enough at it. But if you ain't really your jam, that's up to you...
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[Another shift - a twitch, at the prod]
It's kinda my jam.
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[Prods him again, a little higher]
...You ready to get outta here?
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Yeah. I, uh - real ready.
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[Maybe, maybe not; either way she licks her lips and pushes to her feet]
C'mon, if you ain't stuck to the seat by now.
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You think, uh. You think I oughtta wipe it down...?
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[Flushes herself, biting at her lip]
...Could bend over and take a look.
[Comes up closer behind him to do the same,]
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[There is indeed a damp spot, a smear of clear fluid,]
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You really were heating up, weren't you...
[Her voice is a little impressed, honestly, and she can't keep from resting her hand high on his hip--drifting up under the petticoats, to see]
What're we gonna do about a mess like that...?
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Guess - guess I better clean it up.
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Mmm... Guess you better get on your knees.
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[It takes him a beat, to scrape together a reply:]
Y-yeah. I probly better...
[But he makes no move to fall to his knees yet - can't, maybe, too lost in the feel of what little of her touch he can feel through the crisscrossing leather straps]
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I mean. Staying like this, you're prolly gonna make an even bigger mess. That what you're into, here in front of everybody...?
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J-jesus. Xia...
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I ain't too good at waiting... 'Specially with you looking like that.
But I bet you wouldn't take that long now, would you?
[This time she does press her hand into the leather, giving friction and then some]
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N-not long at all. I'm - that's real -
[She can feel him trembling, pressed together like this - feel the way his breathing has picked up as he pants for breath]
We shouldn't. We're -
N-not here.
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[Her voice at least is steady...relatively]
...Fine. Where? Preferably close...
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It's -
[He takes a shaking breath in - licks at his lips]
Just not, like - n-not the middle of the restaurant...?
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Where else should I expect to have a snack...?
[The hand wrapped around his belly shifts as well, running up and down his torso, not so tight that he couldn't break away if he wanted to, but securely enough that it's obvious how reluctant she is to do the sort of moving she ought to do--distracted despite somewhere in there knowing that she's supposed to be the one in charge of making the better decisions here]
Observation lounge...? Furniture floor? The back of the restaurant...?
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A-anywhere. I ain't - I ain't picky.
Please -
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[She trembles along with him at the desperation in his voice--the wobble as he pleads for something she is more than ready to give.
Redfaced, she pulls away only enough to sweep him into a wobbly princess carry, a hand gripping high on his thigh]
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[There's a muffled gasp, as she literally sweeps him off his feet, and he goes redder still when he realizes, burying his face against her neck]
[He shifts in her arms - squirms a little, unable not to notice that hand on his thigh]
G-guess you been doing arm day, huh?
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[She keeps him curled in close, however, not waiting to hang around. Since she has been doing arm day, but should still be realistic. In the meantime they leaves the restaurant and seems to be heading for the bathrooms??]
[Also sorry-not sorry for having to walk around bareassed for a while,]
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[He keeps curled in against her neck, holding tight; she can feel the warmth of the blush, when he realizes exactly how bare-assed he is]
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Rather than just an accessible toilet or a tiny cell with a changing table, this is more a room for rest--a floor to ceiling plate glass window commands the far wall, club chairs and a generously sized leather couch positioned to take advantage of the view. It's here that she deposits him, looking hungrily down at the splay of his limbs]
This better?
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