"Er... yes, okay, I suppose I should tell you that if you're trying to reach me I'm not here, and if you're trying to reach me because you want to do something involving pointy bits of metal or otherwise painful objects, I'm never going to be here. So sorry."
She should have suspected when his first replies made no sense, she should have known when he hesitated in getting booty, but now there is no amount of mental gymnastics that can assume "the Luggage" is autocorrect for something.
The kind, responsible thing would be to correct this mistake immediately and apologize profusely and they can all have a good laugh about it later. But ... but mama horny. So. Guess this is happening now.]
[he's a thrumming, messy mix of excited and terrified but all right. All right, this is happening. This is going to be enjoyable. This absolutely will not be a huge, horrendous failure or mean he's no longer a wizard. Right.
He should bring multiple bottles of wine, probably.]
[Harley immediately has second thoughts, and is well into her sixth thoughts by the time he actually arrives. She gets fully dressed again, then fully undressed, before simply trying to make herself decent by throwing a short robe over the original outfit that wasn't even for him but here they are whoops. It's not trying very hard, but. An attempt was made.
She starts on a bottle of wine while she waits, partly out of nerves and partly so he doesn't see the total mess she makes opening the damn thing because she still hasn't bought a damn wine opening thingamajig.
She opens the door, bottle still in hand, when she hears him walk up. Or at least, she hopes it's him this time. Wasn't that a nice treat for the neighbors.]
Hi. You really-- Come on ["my face" damn it, Harley, stop this] um. Come in.
[no neighbors to peek in on her this time - only a skinny, nervous wreck of a wizard in what he hopes is appropriate romantic attire for this world. The robe obviously wasn't going to cut it, not when she started with... well, whatever you called the little see-through strips of cloth she'd been wearing when she texted him. So he's in a bow tie and a start-patterned button-up shirt, paired with black pants because April once mentioned to him that black goes with everything. He sincerely hopes that wasn't one of the times she thought it would be funny to lie to him.
He cracks a smile when she cracks the door, and would you look at that - they've both got wine with them. Oh, and... robes are apparently not the date night fashion faux pas he thought they would be. Damn.
The Luggage gets one last reproachful (and beseeching) look from Rincewind before he leaves it on her porch to step inside the apartment.]
You look - lovely. Comfortable, too. Always important. Um. - I brought wine. Quite obviously. Shall we start with yours or mine?
[maybe they should both just upend the bottles over their mouths until they're emptied.]
[He brought wine. He wore a bow tie to a bootycall. Every time she tries to talk herself out of this stupid crush, he gets more adorable without even trying. It isn't fair. How can someone be so ... this? God, she's doomed.
She closes the door behind him and leans against it as she takes a swig from the bottle. There's still wine on her lips when she kisses him.]
All those warring, anxious little voices find themselves smothered into silence, muted beneath the warm press of Harley's embrace and a kiss which leaves his lips stained. Rincewind finds his arms around her immediately, toes curling against the worn soles of his shoes as sparks shoot across his brain. Madness - this is madness. Given half a second's though he could list a hundred reasons this is a terrible idea.
So he resolves not to give himself a half-second's thought.
Drawing Harley nearly up off the ground and into his arms as he kisses down her neck seems a good way to start. Rincewind fumbles only once, one-handed, to yank his hat back into place when it slips.]
[Harley has to push down her first impulse to bite, to kiss like it's a fight. It's been a long time since she wanted gentle. She worries she won't remember how. But then she's in his arms and his lips are on her neck and she giggles, because his beard tickles just a little but mostly because she's happy.
There are so many ways this will go bad, but as long as she doesn't think about any of that they can still have a good time. Still, she can't push Jeff out of her mind and the sudden realization that Rincewind smells exactly like Jeff's shampoo almost makes her drop the wine. She catches it with only a few drops staining the carpet, but a generous glug goes right down the back of Rincewind's neck.]
[for a moment Rincewind's brain is blissfully, beautifully silent. No worrying about whether he's so rusty at this that she'll hear him creaking, no pulsing heart-palpitations over whether each kiss dotted over Harley's skin signs away his right to call himself a wizard - it's all gone quiet. Except for her giggling, which surprises a smile to Rincewind's face and a flush to his skin once he realizes she's not laughing at him. She's enjoying this, and he's a part of it, so he can't be completely terrible, can he? There's a thought to put a spark of confidence back in -
The wizard jumps, bony knees knocking into Harley with a muffled, and yet still high-pitched yip at the sudden, fruity dousing. He breaks away, awkwardly spinning in a semi-circle to try and fan the soaked fabric from his skin.]
N-no! No, it's - well, it's just wine, right, and it's already red, so -
[his awkward dance does little to actually fix the issue, still wine-splashed from his neck to the small of his back. Rincewind fights a grimace and finally submits to peeling the robe off entirely.]
[Harley sidesteps out of reach when he breaks away, and keeps a wary eye on any signs of a temper about to blow. She doesn't know what wizards do, exactly, but a pissed off one is probably a little not great.
So she's a confused when her apology isn't chased by a smack on the head and he's more uncomfortable than upset. He must be one of those slow burn types. Luckily, she's pretty sure he'd forget what he was mad about as soon as he got to see a bare boob.]
Yeah, um, bathroom's at end of the hall on the left.
[She drops her own robe to the floor and toes it over the spill. There. All cleaned up.]
Take your time, and I'll put the wine in something... less spillable.
[of course, Harley's disrobing has something of a distracting effect. It's amazing how little some spilled wine can matter when a man's faced with a sight like that. Rincewind swallows, aware that he's staring and equally aware that he's not going to be able to stop.]
If... you have to. [he finally says, not moving. There's a bit of fumbling at his shirt, like he's picking off invisible lint. Playing near the buttons. Suggesting that he may well be perfectly willing to unfasten and unzip and join her in what appears to be a somewhat chilly state. Could be less chilly if they're both doing it. Together.
Which you don't, really. On my account, I mean. [he crosses a little closer, awkward but willing, his heart banging out a discordant rock ballad against his ribs.] We could, um. Just forget about it. Go back to kissing.
[Harley smiles in a way that's meant to be reassuring, but still has an edge of predatory. She takes one fidgeting hand and draws him closer still.]
I like kissing.
[She brushes her lips over his knuckles before guiding his hand to rest on her waist.]
And touching.
[Since he seemed to be having some trouble finding his buttons, she'll just go ahead and take over. Her fingers are much more sure in the task, but she goes slowly and watches him from underneath her lashes for signs it's too much too fast.]
What do you like? Tell me how you want this to go.
[it's usually about this time Rincewind would hear from some small, annoying voice. His conscience and libido certainly liked to duke it out every so often. But there's not so much as a peep from either when his hand curls around the soft dip of Harley's waist. Her skin's so warm it makes his mouth go dry. It occurs to him, distantly, that he's probably not hearing any little voices because Harley's managed to completely break his brain.
Out of cheese error, as HEX might say. Redo from start.]
I like - [his voice is entirely too high and squeaky, wide-eyed as he watches Harley undo his shirt. Rincewind clears his throat to try again.] - I like. You. This. Er. Potatoes? No, hold on. I mean - you, doing this. And the little dip at the top of your lips. And - and that way you're looking at me. And. Um. I'm going to touch you now, is that all right?
[his other hand slides around and to the small of her back, dipping down and over a round curve which makes him think briefly but vividly of a fluffy mound of buttered potatoes.]
I've done this before, [he blurts suddenly, but firmly. Difficult to say who he's trying to reassure, but at least he doesn't follow it up with the truthful, 'Nearly twenty years ago'.
In fact, in order to prevent such embarrassments, perhaps he'd better just kiss her again. Right. Yes. He ducks his head to do just that.]
[Harley presses against him, leaning into the kiss but also, embarrassingly, because her knees have gone a little weak. She can't believe she's weak in the knees for a man who wears more sequins than she does and may have done this before but not recently by any means. But it's not as if she keeps high standards anyway, and if it's bad they can keep practicing. She pulls away with a slow drag of teeth over his bottom lip.]
I like you too. And doing this, with you.
[She finishes with the buttons on his shirt and slips her hands over bare skin. A palm pressed over the hard flutter of his heartbeat.]
But this, right now-- This is just sex, okay? If you want it to... To like, be more or mean something, then we should. Probably stop? Are you okay with that?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[unless he has a heart or panic attack on the way, a distinct possibility.]
I'll make sure the Luggage stays outside. [maybe he can bribe it into behaving with some new laundry and a bag of crisps.]
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Fuck.
She should have suspected when his first replies made no sense, she should have known when he hesitated in getting booty, but now there is no amount of mental gymnastics that can assume "the Luggage" is autocorrect for something.
The kind, responsible thing would be to correct this mistake immediately and apologize profusely and they can all have a good laugh about it later. But ... but mama horny. So. Guess this is happening now.]
k
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He should bring multiple bottles of wine, probably.]
Be right over.
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She starts on a bottle of wine while she waits, partly out of nerves and partly so he doesn't see the total mess she makes opening the damn thing because she still hasn't bought a damn wine opening thingamajig.
She opens the door, bottle still in hand, when she hears him walk up. Or at least, she hopes it's him this time. Wasn't that a nice treat for the neighbors.]
Hi. You really-- Come on ["my face" damn it, Harley, stop this] um. Come in.
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He cracks a smile when she cracks the door, and would you look at that - they've both got wine with them. Oh, and... robes are apparently not the date night fashion faux pas he thought they would be. Damn.
The Luggage gets one last reproachful (and beseeching) look from Rincewind before he leaves it on her porch to step inside the apartment.]
You look - lovely. Comfortable, too. Always important. Um. - I brought wine. Quite obviously. Shall we start with yours or mine?
[maybe they should both just upend the bottles over their mouths until they're emptied.]
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She closes the door behind him and leans against it as she takes a swig from the bottle. There's still wine on her lips when she kisses him.]
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All those warring, anxious little voices find themselves smothered into silence, muted beneath the warm press of Harley's embrace and a kiss which leaves his lips stained. Rincewind finds his arms around her immediately, toes curling against the worn soles of his shoes as sparks shoot across his brain. Madness - this is madness. Given half a second's though he could list a hundred reasons this is a terrible idea.
So he resolves not to give himself a half-second's thought.
Drawing Harley nearly up off the ground and into his arms as he kisses down her neck seems a good way to start. Rincewind fumbles only once, one-handed, to yank his hat back into place when it slips.]
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There are so many ways this will go bad, but as long as she doesn't think about any of that they can still have a good time. Still, she can't push Jeff out of her mind and the sudden realization that Rincewind smells exactly like Jeff's shampoo almost makes her drop the wine. She catches it with only a few drops staining the carpet, but a generous glug goes right down the back of Rincewind's neck.]
Shit. Oh, shit, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
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The wizard jumps, bony knees knocking into Harley with a muffled, and yet still high-pitched yip at the sudden, fruity dousing. He breaks away, awkwardly spinning in a semi-circle to try and fan the soaked fabric from his skin.]
N-no! No, it's - well, it's just wine, right, and it's already red, so -
[his awkward dance does little to actually fix the issue, still wine-splashed from his neck to the small of his back. Rincewind fights a grimace and finally submits to peeling the robe off entirely.]
Just a little sticky now. Have you got a towel?
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So she's a confused when her apology isn't chased by a smack on the head and he's more uncomfortable than upset. He must be one of those slow burn types. Luckily, she's pretty sure he'd forget what he was mad about as soon as he got to see a bare boob.]
Yeah, um, bathroom's at end of the hall on the left.
[She drops her own robe to the floor and toes it over the spill. There. All cleaned up.]
Take your time, and I'll put the wine in something... less spillable.
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If... you have to. [he finally says, not moving. There's a bit of fumbling at his shirt, like he's picking off invisible lint. Playing near the buttons. Suggesting that he may well be perfectly willing to unfasten and unzip and join her in what appears to be a somewhat chilly state. Could be less chilly if they're both doing it. Together.
Which you don't, really. On my account, I mean. [he crosses a little closer, awkward but willing, his heart banging out a discordant rock ballad against his ribs.] We could, um. Just forget about it. Go back to kissing.
[he quite liked that part.]
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I like kissing.
[She brushes her lips over his knuckles before guiding his hand to rest on her waist.]
And touching.
[Since he seemed to be having some trouble finding his buttons, she'll just go ahead and take over. Her fingers are much more sure in the task, but she goes slowly and watches him from underneath her lashes for signs it's too much too fast.]
What do you like? Tell me how you want this to go.
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Out of cheese error, as HEX might say. Redo from start.]
I like - [his voice is entirely too high and squeaky, wide-eyed as he watches Harley undo his shirt. Rincewind clears his throat to try again.] - I like. You. This. Er. Potatoes? No, hold on. I mean - you, doing this. And the little dip at the top of your lips. And - and that way you're looking at me. And. Um. I'm going to touch you now, is that all right?
[his other hand slides around and to the small of her back, dipping down and over a round curve which makes him think briefly but vividly of a fluffy mound of buttered potatoes.]
I've done this before, [he blurts suddenly, but firmly. Difficult to say who he's trying to reassure, but at least he doesn't follow it up with the truthful, 'Nearly twenty years ago'.
In fact, in order to prevent such embarrassments, perhaps he'd better just kiss her again. Right. Yes. He ducks his head to do just that.]
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I like you too. And doing this, with you.
[She finishes with the buttons on his shirt and slips her hands over bare skin. A palm pressed over the hard flutter of his heartbeat.]
But this, right now-- This is just sex, okay? If you want it to... To like, be more or mean something, then we should. Probably stop? Are you okay with that?
[Please don't want to stop.]