versigny | open post & overflow

open post & overflow

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[ open to random pms if you'd like to plot beforehand! otherwise, feel free to throw something up. (: ]

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[ she doesn't notice anything amiss as she's just focused on working with him to make sure there are no inadvertent casualties - and she most certainly makes it a point not to maintain eye contact in case her thoughts stumble unknowingly into similar territory.

the fig is an unusual choice of delivery that she wouldn't have thought of herself, but she gets why he chose it as she starts chewing and the sweet texture makes for a far more potent enjoyment. her hand instinctively covers her mouth for the first few seconds, although her eyes are curved over her fingers to indicate she's smiling back at him.

he gets a very gentle punch to his arm once she's done swallowing but she's still smiling. ]

Thank you. It was delicious, even if it was a workout for my mouth.

[ their new orders arrive, empty glasses taken away, and she moves to gently clink her cosmo against his drink before picking up a fork. and then freezing for a second when something occurs to her - ]

I just realized I never even asked what kind of drinks you prefer! Have I been getting them correct?

[ he laughs when she lands that velvet punch against his arm, then clinks their drinks together before he sips the Old Fashioned. at he alarm, he raises his brows before shaking his head with a smile at her question.

I mean, I do prefer sugary, fruity drinks, but I drink these stronger ones for you.

[ the look in his is apologetic for a beat, as if he really means what he says, before a smile breaks loose the facade. ]

No, these are perfect. My go-to is a whiskey on the rocks, so you're not far off. Says something that you can even predict my preferences with alcohol.

[ again, he lets her dive into the tartare first. ]

What do you do for work, Margaery? Are you...secretly an FBI profiler or something?

[ she pauses. her look is vaguely horrified, and apologetic in return because Dick's expression looks so real - and then, just before she's about to make them switch drinks, or ask the server for the sugariest, fruitiest drink they have, he smiles at her and she lets out an exasperated laugh that probably gets people's attention from how loudly relieved it is. ]

You can't do that! I really believed you!

[ she should've guessed, she thinks fondly, from all the brothers he's got, that he can be prone to jokes like that. ]

Well, I really just couldn't see you with something fruity, for some reason.

[ when he gives her space, she starts trying to carve out a small piece with all the ingredients; it's far too messy to try and feed Dick with it while they're having an active conversation, but after the fig masterpiece he's given her, her own mouth is ready to handle anything. ]

FBI profiler? [ she raises her eyebrows at him with genuine surprise. in her opinion, nothing really warrants that kind of prestigious guess. then again... ] Close, I guess. I'm actually in marketing and public relations. Celebrities and public figures that need help getting big call me. But, I should be upfront and say that having a wealthy background means I get to be choosy with my clients.

[ the way she exclaims only widens his grin as he shrugs a shoulder to her protest, as if to say that's on you, not me. she's right, it's banter with his brothers that made him this way, both protective and challenging at the same time, all underlined with his warm, soft heart. ]

Huh.

[ it's an intrigued tone, but also a pleased tone that his guess isn't too far off at all. she makes him think about the board of Wayne Enterprises and the strategists they contract, but also of the facade Bruce displays to the outside world: an airheaded playboy because the public relations are simpler that way, because it subscribes to what the world wants to see from him. Dick himself has never managed to quite buy in that marketing and public relations are of importance at all, past the nostalgia of the Flying Graysons poster rolled up in the back of a closet somewhere. he knows that his own life is the opposite of what the world wants from him: orphaned from a terrible tragedy, an heir to a notorious billionaire, a literal poster-boy with a sob story and a potential redemption, yet he remains here. to the disappointment of the public and the board, he stubbornly grounds himself in his badge, even when he sits and flirts endlessly with a kind of grace that eludes him: her.

he doesn't know how much of his story she knows, whether her curiosity has been enough to lead her down a search or two. surely, with all that she commands at her fingertips, she could know all of it. perhaps, a part of him hopes that she simply see him for what he chooses to show her. it's so contradictory, then, that he would find her so alluring. perhaps it's the little glimpses he gets when she reveals her insides, when he gets peeks of her heart beneath all that polish, and finds that it beats to the same tune as his. he questions, then, which one of them have gone down the right path, if there even is such a thing, and whether their involvement together would lead to corruption or salvation. ]

---

[ the exit of the speakeasy leads them out to an intimate back alley, a journey that layers into the mystery of the establishment, one way in, one way out. string lights criss-cross above them, bathing the both of them in a glow that's only amplified by the fact that they're four drinks and hours in. he paid for dinner before she could protest. it was a casual gesture smoothed over with a promise that she could next time, yet with all the talk of next time, he isn't ready for this time to come to a close.

stepping out into the crisp spring air, hands in his pocket with her arm wound around his, he smiles down at her, where she's tucked close to his side like she's been all night. ]

So. This is where we usually say goodnight, right?

[ his hesitancy to do so is obvious in the way his chocolate gaze lingers on her expression, as if assessing whether he should ask or not, if he should share the possibilities in his mind. ]

I could take you home. I'm not gonna drive, but I can keep you company on a ride.

[ he doesn't know how she got here or where she lives. there's a beat, a hint of uncertainty, and he shakes his head at himself with a breath of laughter. ]

Or ... no pressure, alright, but my place isn't far from here. Ten minute walk? There's a rooftop terrace that's pretty quiet this time of night. Just us. And some stars?

[ Margaery's pleasantly buzzed by the time they step out, and yes - even if she's not soused enough to lose her balance, she's found herself to be very comfortable tucked against Dick's side and she's not willing to give it up just yet. him paying hadn't been expected, which makes it a pleasant surprise, as well as the promise of next time.

maybe she's really overthought all of this. maybe it's as simple as meeting up and spending time together and agreeing to do it again, over and over until it becomes more comfortable to be together than to be apart. maybe it really is that easy. she's already thinking about what they could do for their next date, since it's only fair she plans it.

their eyes meet, her expression intent with how she's listening, and softening to beam an encouraging smile at him when he seems to be holding back. her cheeks hurt from how much smiling she's done up until now, but - ]

I was hoping we wouldn't have to say goodnight. [ a confession shyly offered, thanks to the four drinks that are making her feel extra warm and fuzzy and light-headed, on top of his presence. ] So yes. Just us with some stars for company sounds amazing. And a walk too, really.

[ she can feel the jittery energy that comes from being so happy at the start of something so promising. the hand tucked into his inner elbow skates down his forearm so she can thread her fingers through his; it stays there as they walk, and she winds up telling him about what it was like to try and teach her horse to cripwalk after seeing the viral videos on social media, her love-and-hate relationship with marathons, and for some reason, her idea to try and see if she can pull off a recognizable Lola Bunny costume for Halloween. ]

[ her hand in his is enough to make him feel lighter, steadier somehow, even after all those drinks and a night full of a new, unexpected closeness. their walk is easy and punctuated by laughter, by the way she tells stories with her whole face and expressions, a presence that's used to carrying a conversation on so easily. he admires it, so comfortable in the lull of it. by the time they reach his building, he’s already memorized the cadence of her voice, already halfway to knowing the names of all the horses she’s ever loved.

the elevator ride is quiet but not awkward—comfortably close, her shoulder brushing his once, then twice, and he doesn’t step away. his place sits near the top of a mid-rise, sleek and thoughtfully designed. the door clicks open to warm lighting and an open plan. the apartment doesn’t scream billionaire’s kid or Gotham elite; it’s subtle. clean lines, matte finishes, soft grey tones layered with worn wood and old books stacked on shelves that are tidy but clearly used. a few framed photos scatter along the shelves—one of a circus poster, another of himself and two younger boys, arms slung around each other, grinning. it's personal, modern, and surprisingly cozy. ]

Make yourself at home. [ he toes off his boots by the door and glances over at her with a smile that’s half playful, half something else that lingers warm in his eyes. ] You can see the rooftop better from the kitchen—come on.

[ he leads her to the kitchen, and low lights flicker on with the motion, bathing the floor and counters with a wash of warmth. the place smells faintly like cedar and clean linen. he's always found something soothing about the way the city hums quietly through the floor-to-ceiling windows. he’s rolled up the sleeves of his button-down to his forearms as he pulls open a cabinet to pluck out two glasses. ]

I figured we could toast to, I don’t know… your horse’s future dance career. Or the fact that I now know you own sequins for Halloween purposes.

[ he smiles, then he nods toward the stairs that lead to the rooftop. ] That way to the stars, but--can I get you something to drink? Wine? Something smoother? [ a beat as he thinks, turning to look at the kitchen in thought. there's a newness to the way this feels. he's not used to this--to having someone like her in his space. ]

Something warm? Tea?

[ she's not sure what to expect, but Dick's home is more than anything she could've conjured up in her own imagination. he has taste, and not in the way most people in their wealth bracket do (paying top dollar to take credit for someone else's vision and creativity) - she can tell by the way it looks way more cozy and lived-in than a spread on an architectural magazine celebrating minimalism. there's love, too. and pride for his roots.

his invitation is eagerly accepted; once she takes off her shoes and lines them up out of the way, she's drawn to the framed photos, and the books with cracked spines. the titles make her smile to herself. tabloids occasionally nab a more recent picture of Dick and try to spin his life like he's Patrick Bateman, probably because they have nothing better to do and Bruce Wayne's name will always catch people's attention. it makes her happy to know that Dick trusts her with the truth. ]

You have a beautiful place. [ she says in awe, as she follows him into the kitchen. the large windows create a perfect ambiance and she's willing to suspect that it's true no matter what time of day it is or what kind of weather there is. but her eyes find him again soon enough, gaze lingering just a second too long on his exposed forearms to be anything other than appreciation.

if she takes a second too long to answer, it's just because she's considering her options! and also tucking her hair behind her ear as she gauges how warm she is. ]

Wine sounds like fun, but I should be responsible and say water.

[ four drinks and Dick Grayson's presence already has her feeling like a lightweight. it's best not to push past boundaries too fast on their first date, especially if she plans to stay up with him and fully appreciate the moment. her smile is suppressed from forming fully, which is a definite clue that she's about to flirt, but her expression lands somewhere on hopeful. ]

You'll be able to keep me warm, right?

[ he thinks she knows how to be polite when she steps into a person’s home, she does the thing where she lines her shoes up neatly beside his and compliments the space, but the curiosity in her eyes when she wanders toward his bookshelves seems too real to be routine. there’s no rehearsed tone when she speaks, just wonder, like she actually means that she finds what she sees beautiful, like she’s seeing him when she looks over the parts of his home that most represents him, like she sees him, not just the apartment.

and then that smile turns to him, the one she tucks behind a teasing press of lips, and it makes him aware of things that didn’t even cross his mind a moment ago, like the slow, absentminded way he’s been tugging his cuffs up his arms. it wasn’t much of anything, but it has her attention, and it makes him think too vividly about her helping him unroll them instead, about her hands on him in that same, deliberate way.

without the music or the soft din of the street around them, he notices how quiet the apartment is. how close they are. how much warmer it feels in here with her presence stretching across the space like she belongs here. there’s just something to her that’s so magnetic, the way she occupies and takes up space so graciously when she’s in one. her blue eyes catch the low light like sea glass, something bright and rare.

her suggestion for water is a fair one, and, honestly, smart considering he’d like her to stay for a while, not just for this time. he already has the fridge open to pull out a glass bottle, but then she smiles and asks a question that makes his motion pause, the corner of his mouth tipping up with a soft, indulgent tone humming in his chest.

the bottle of water (italian, spring source) is set on the counter with no rush. his luxury peeks out in details only recognizable to those who knows them. ]

Hmm.

[ he rounds the island to where she stands and gently picks up both her hands to pull her close, to drape her arms around his shoulders. his gaze settles steadily on her, warm and weighted the same way his touch feels looping around her waist and landing at the small of her back. she’s slim in his embrace, dainty and soft and so feminine. ]

That part’s easy. I like having you close.

[ Dick continually surprises her. and it's one of the many things about him she's finding she unexpectedly really likes. the solution Margaery's applied to much of her life has been control, but with him, she's re-discovering why she should let it go; whatever she might assume will be his reaction, he gives her so much more.

she's not smiling, not quite, when he takes her hands and pulls her closer. her expression is more of that awe, but with the natural addition of bashful hope when intimacy comes so easily, steadying her feelings even as butterflies skim their wings against her heartbeat with excitement. they haven't even kissed yet, but the look in his eyes gives her the same sort of feeling - rich emotions threading the courage for her to admit she knows exactly what she wants.

and he's so warm, so solid. even taller now that she's got her shoes off, which makes her lean into him all the more as her hands delicately link around the back of his neck. when Margaery finally smiles again, it's a full one - less crooked with her teeth showing. she's been told it makes her look much younger - which is why she rarely smiles so fully - but at a time like this, it feels right. ]

I like having you close too, especially just like this. And... I'd like a kiss, if that's okay.

[ which could so effortlessly escalate with the tension they're both carrying with each other, but she's made up her mind and she can only hope that he's be on the same page with her. ]

Normally, I would try get everything that I can out of this one experience, with the expectation that it'll end sooner or later. But I already know that I want to see you again, which is why I'm going to behave tonight. I want to fully enjoy my time with you, and just see where things go without trying to rush what should come next.

[ her eyes dip temporarily as she tries to figure out if she's expressing everything she wants to. it's been so long since she's had to. oh, right - ]

That is... if you feel the same way.

(( ooc: i can transition us to the rooftop next tag!! ))

[ once again, her boldness surprises him, in a way that makes his smile taper thoughtfully, in a way that disarms him from how transparent it feels for her to say something like that. so vulnerable for their first time spending moments like this together.

it's so refreshing. everything about her feels so right, like what he's been looking for, like what he needs.

belatedly, something inside him realizes how insane these thoughts are. he barely knows her, yet in this moment, he doesn't ever want to leave her. like he said before, there's no way he could ever deny her anything. it's crazy, yet for once, it doesn't make him want to bolt before he can fuck it up because with her words, he recognizes something inside her that's so much like him. the expectation that it'll end sooner or later. his smile softens and Christ, the way she's looking at him, that smile so radiant he almost wants to squint against it. he doesn't know how he's waited this long to kiss her. ]

Yeah. I do.

[ he does feel the same way. he wants to be here with her, too. here, not in the future predicting an unavoidable end, time-travelling away from the moment. the words are breathed out close to her lips as he tips their foreheads together then kisses her. gentle, slow, reverent, his eyes falling shut as he pulls her just that much closer and he feels the warm, soft shape of her body press against the length of his.

thankfully, she's already drawn the line, and he can admire her for how much more self-control she has than him as he tries to hold himself away from how easily he could let that feeling heat him up. when he pulls away, his lips linger against hers and reflect her words, that promise that there will be more. ]

Thank you. For saying that. That's the sweetest thing anyone has said to me in a while.

[ because for all the unknowns in this world, he's someone who thrives on finding out certainties, whether it's in his own life or in a case, and to have her be so clear with her intentions feels good. he opens his eyes with a smile, lifts a hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, brushing against her cheek with a sweep of his thumb. ]

I'm not going anywhere, Margaery. So take your time. We have plenty.

[ as far as Margaery knows, there's no word that captures the nearly-magical feeling of hope mixed with knowledge that things will unfold exactly the way she wants them to. the closest she can think of is serendipity, but even then, it doesn't quite capture the way it feels when he's so close, treating her so respectfully with so much soft affection - the sort of way that she's always wanted to be treated.

and that's even before he kisses her.

the moment their lips meet, she distantly wonders if she's always been a hidden romantic all along. that has to explain the sweet flutter of happiness that immediately shoots through every cell in her body. oh, she thinks, dazed and pliant as she smiles with her eyes still closed, savoring the lingering warmth and the languid way he stays close after it ends. maybe this is what Snow White felt when the Prince kissed her and effectively brought her back to life.

she sneaks another chaste kiss before opening her eyes and leaning into his hand. ]

You're welcome. Thank you for making me feel safe enough to be honest with you.

[ she could thank him for more, such as letting her feel comfortable enough to be herself and not what most people expect. or knowing better than to believe the gossip magazines that love to run outrageous rumor mills about her life, and letting himself discover who she is on his own. but there are stars to gaze at, and she really, really can't wait to keep talking to him.

so instead, she drops a kiss to palm of his hand and gives him an exaggerated wink. ]

Just a warning that if you do stick around, your threshold for sweet will get much higher.

[ he lingers in the warmth of their kiss, his smile deepening into a quiet laugh when she winks at him so exaggeratedly, so cheeky in the cutest way. it makes him want to gather her up and squeeze her. there’s something about her, that confidence the way she faces him like he’s a surprise but still a certainly that makes him feel like maybe for once, he doesn’t need to brace for whatever impact might come. maybe, despite this being their very first night together, this could be something steady. ]

Oh. [ the word is breathed conspiratorially. ] But I already have a huge sweet tooth.

[ the confession is low and amused, because he knows it’s not exactly something most people expect of him. he’s built on discipline and routines, but it makes sense, that weakness for sweet cereal and hot chocolate. he tries to eat healthy, works hard to stay in shape, but he’s never been able to resist a good sugar fix the same way he’s never been able to resist the pull of adrenaline. it makes the soft glint in his eyes all the more real.

he brushes a final kiss to her temple before stepping away just long enough to grab the water and glasses then places them in her hands. with a quick dip to the coat closet, he reappears with a plush blanket draped over one arm. ]

Alright, let’s go before the sun comes up.

[ it’s not really that late, but every moment feels like it could stretch into eternity with her and he wouldn’t mind. he leads her through the quiet apartment to the rooftop access that takes them up to a private terrace. low lounge furniture spreads across the oiled wood decking, a wide umbrella is folded down for the night—he clearly spends a lot of time here for how clean it is. their socked feet feel natural out here, above the hum of the city below.

and above them, despite how rare it is in the city, the stars are unusually bright, spilling across the dark sky like someone took a blade and sliced open the sky. not to mention her, luminous in the low light and he can’t decide if he wants to look at her soft lines and warm beauty, or if the stars above. he’s completely, utterly gone for her, and he has a feeling she already knows. ]

I picked this place for the terrace.

[ to watch over his city and protect it, and remind himself to look at things from a different vantage point every once in a while. it can be so easy to be absorbed into the nitty gritty on street level and lose sight of the bigger picture. he lets her set the water onto the table, pours them both a glass before he eases onto the couch, reaching for her without hesitation. ]

Here. Sit with me.

[ gently, he draws her into his lap as they fold into the sectional lounger, draping the plush alpaca blanket around them to cut away the chilly bite of the night. his legs stretch out casually onto the coffee table, his arms loop loose around her waist like they’re meant to be there. somehow, she keeps him right here and he finds himself drowning again when he meets her gaze. ]

Comfortable?

[ the trouble with having a public presence is that a lot of people have built her up to be a certain way in their minds, and when they realize there's more to her - such as a real desire for affection and intimacy, or the restless energy that has her moving constantly - they inevitably lose interest.

maybe it's the earnest baby cow eyes, but there's something about Dick that feels like raw vulnerability too, something that most guys tend to try and cover up with performative masculinity. joke's on them though, since this is what masculinity should feel like: safety, security, equal footing when it comes to a partnership.

so maybe they're just being playful, but it pleases her to no end that he won't just be able to handle her sweetness, but enjoy it. a theory that's further confirmed when they make it out onto the thoughtfully structured terrace; as busy and disciplined as he seems, he's also capable of giving himself the proper environment to slow down and relax. ]

This is incredible. [ she says softly, so as not to break the peace; they're high up enough that the city noises are somewhat muted, lending an air of tranquility that goes perfectly with the view of the stars. ] Up here, it's almost like another place entirely.

[ is it possible to have a first date that can't ever be topped? Margaery's almost inclined to think so, especially when she gets the chance to cuddle up to Dick under a plush blanket, so incredibly comfortable that it takes her a second to answer his question. against the backdrop of the luminous night sky, and the dim glow of the moon that bathes him in silvery light, he looks almost ethereal. ]

Yeah. [ a shy edge returns to her smile as she tucks her face briefly against his neck, a playful attempt to hide. ] Comfortable, and really happy. I could do this with you for every date going forward and I'd love it this much every time.

[ when she resurfaces, her smile is still there. ] How often do you come out here?

[ thing is, he would be so indulgent if given the chance, not for himself, but for others. he spoils the people he loves, and when she tucks herself against him, melting into the warmth of him, he finds himself wanting to give her everything.

if she wanted to do this on every date from now on, they would. whatever she wanted, he’d make it happen, even if it meant plucking stars from the sky, he’d try. if it earned her smiling at him like that, telling him how happy she is, it'd be worth it.

he presses a kiss to her temple, laughing softly at her playfulness. for a moment, he shuts his eyes, simply reveling in the soft sweep of her breath against his neck. ]

Hm?

[ how often? ]

Every night, if I can. I find it slows me down. Brings me back to the moment.

[ it keeps him grounded and reminds him to breathe. that he's here. their conversation mirrors it now with the way their words space gently, voices dip low and intimate. he lifts a hand to brush along her cheek and cradle the warm curve of her jaw. ]

Like...you do. [ he murmurs, tilting in close enough that his smile brushes against hers and turns into a soft press of their lips once, then again. ] That’s how I can tell that something matters. When it makes everything else quiet.

[ she's often wondered how much of his story - and Bruce's - is embellished. most of the public knowledge probably is, aside from the fact that he's an adopted son, because the media truly can't resist when they're presented with a one-in-a-billion story. Margaery's never thought to ask Dick about any of it, because she believes the personal details will follow naturally, just as he'll learn about her family if she ever does bring him around to their celebrations.

some things are better experienced, not just learned, and the very best people tend to be one of them.

her eyes flutter, syrupy slow, as his hand cups her jaw, and when he leans in close, she's tilting her face up to meet him, pleased that they're both smiling. and he gives her what very few others have given her before - a genuine compliment that's more than just reflections of her face or lineage or status. a compliment about her, as she is. ]

I know exactly what you mean.

[ it should feel almost cringe, with how she's just reiterating everything he's saying, but it's the truth and they could both use more of it. ]

I never used to get it when they said the right person should make you feel at peace, not all up in flustered feelings and nervous excitement, but I think I'm starting to get it now.

[ peace, as in safe enough to feel vulnerable and let someone take her home after the first date just so they can cuddle and exist in their own world for a night. her hand finds his arm under the blankets, and her thumb gently caresses over the bare skin of his forearm. ]

We don't need to be anything but ourselves with each other. I think that's what it is.

I'd really like that. I wanna get to know you, Margaery. The real you.

[ that's what she's telling him, he thinks, that he's more than what the media decides to paint him as that day, not simply an extension of Bruce and the Wayne industries, but he's him. and he can be that with her.

her thumb draws an invisible doodle on his arm and sends a tiny shiver through his body, and he can easily see how he could get hooked to her. her words, her kiss, her touch, the way the warm press of her body sends so much yearning through him it should be laughable. except it's not, because very few people have touched this part of him, the damning tendency to connect physicality with emotions because everything he does with his body is an expression of his deepest desires: to fight, to protect, to keep safe, to love. a version of him in the past had thought he could separate the two, but he's since learned enough about himself to come to terms with it.

so it doesn't surprise him that he presses into another kiss and lets that all pour out, what he can't say to her because it's too early, because they just met, and he'd be stupid to tell her he's falling for her hard. yet he can't help the way his fingers slide into her hair as his hand finds the nape of her neck, his eyes sliding shut to fit their mouths closer together.

his tongue traces out the seam of her soft lips, slow and intentional. he wants so bad to taste her, to sink into this sweet molasses that's wrapping all around them like the warmth of the blanket. ]

[ Margaery's historically balked at this part - letting someone get to know the real her - because it's not just access, or vulnerability. it's also giving them implicit permission to touch her identity, and have direct influence in all the ways she thinks and feels. but then again, she's probably past that point. Dick is already there, coaxing the softest part of her even before their lips are meeting again, her heart loud but slow in her eardrums as she closes her eyes and surrenders to him.

this kiss travels deep, almost like a hot drink on a cold day, except it reverberates through her entire body, releasing her from everything else but the feeling of his fingers against her hair, the softness of his lips and the intentional way they move against hers, earning a quiet moan of satisfaction that could almost pass for a sigh. her hand moves too, snaking up to cup his jaw first, before moving up to curl around his neck, just where it meets his shoulder.

she's so, so warm.

distantly, she realizes that she's never been kissed like this before; kissed for the sake of it and nothing else. no expectations for more, no showboating, or manipulation. Dick Grayson kisses her like he'd be happy to do only this for the rest of his life, learning her through the way her mouth parts and her tongue presses against his, confident and still ever so playful even as she rises to the occasion to meet his intention and enjoys herself in the moment.

her eyes stay closed even when the kiss comes to a natural end for air, Margaery chasing his mouth to follow up with one, two, three more chaste kisses before she opens her eyes and smiles, crooked and pleased. ]

The first thing you should know about the real me is that you're welcome to kiss me like that anytime you want.

[ Dick shouldn't be surprised that they connect without missing a beat, the same way they the rest of the night. it's so easy, and the chemistry feels like they might as well have done this before. she moves like she reads his mind, meeting every tip of his head, every slick slide of tongue, curling her own with something like a promise beneath the tip of it in a way that speeds up his heartbeat and strings heat through his body. the little sound in the back of her throat only further descends his mind away from rational thought.

he has to work to remind himself that there's no need to rush here, except he wants nothing more but to linger and chase after those sweet kisses, yearning for more. she's giving him way too much credit if she thinks he wants just this, that he'd be happy with it for the rest of his life.

how could he not want more, when her eyes are so warm, her smile so pleased when he opens his eyes and sees her there? his gaze drops to her mouth, taking in the way it looks like this, kiss-reddened and glossy, their delicate shape curled with so much quirk punctuated by that adorable little dimple.

he breathes a quiet laugh. ]

Yeah? Can I kiss you like... [ he trails off playfully, his voice taking on a husky edge to rise just above the hum of traffic beneath them. he leans in closer, and gently kisses her again before drawing her lower lip between his to nip along the plushness he finds there, tugging it just slightly. ] this?

[ he murmurs the syllable against her mouth before licking apologetically after the sharpness of his teeth. ]

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wow what a flirt

i love how U say this to ME as dick pulls the smoothest move of all time wow!!

pfft, hes just stepping up to the challenge😏

this is why they're such a good match 🙂‍↔️ also ty!!

np--and sorry for the essay :,)

never apologize for all this TREASURE 🥹

💙

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forever later.. sorry, hectic days :((

no need to apologize!!! :(( I HOPE YOU'RE HANGING IN THERE OK

so i saw a photo of a bb cow and now here i am...