"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."
[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?
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no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]