[ All that teasing may have backfired, because he didn't really want to stop doing what they already started. ]
I propose more kissing and-- all the other weird stuff.
[ Since this is a negotiation, he's gotta start high so she meets him somewhere halfway. Did he really have to propose with something that sounds hardcore, though?? One could think he's talking about handcuffs and leather masks. ]
One of Pyrrha's hands raise, cupping his face. Her fingers lay just below his ear. There isn't any real reason for it, other than she wants to. The need to maintain contact is almost desperate in her, once again assuming that all she has left in the world is down to what can be held in her own two hands.
So, here's Pyrrha, smiling up at him in adoration. Weird stuff might be a little arbitrary, but she's willing to barter. There's no way she wants the moment between them to end. ]
Here's my counter-offer. We can start off with kissing.
[ She illustrates by letting her lips graze briefly over his! ]
Then, we can simply see how things go... perhaps with a little less weirdness.
[ He might be thinking of handcuffs and masks, but Pyrrha is dreading the possibility that he'll ask her to do some infantile roleplay scenario where she's the mother and he's -- you know what, no.
[ With the brief graze and what Pyrrha agrees to, Jaune already starts feeling hot enough that it manifests in the form of a lightbulb bursting nearby. It's a good thing he's not wearing a lot of clothes to begin with, so it's easier to manage.
With a smile, he nods and leans in, whispering for Pyrrha's ears only, even if there's nobody around to hear it anyway. ]
M-Maybe I should... check your bed anyway..... just in case it is broken...
[ He's so close that Pyrrha finds herself lightly weak-kneed for the second time today, her heart rising in pitch when he makes that particular suggestion.
The floorboards creak again, and it's an interesting little prelude to the house's foundation being just so addled.
Pyrrha whispers back, ]
You are an expert carpenter, after all.
[ If it's amenable, she'll take his hand and start to lead him to her room. It's not far! ]
[ Whoa! She's quick to take the lead here, moving this faster than Jaune anticipated. He's not necessarily protesting, but it does make his heart race, because he's someone who likes to stop and think of the next strategy if given a chance.
Clearly this isn't one of those times.
Wide-eyed with panic and even more excitement, he whispers louder as they approach the room. ]
I can also get the lawnmower going on my first try. ... Sometimes second.
[ wait, what???!? that's not even sexy, what is this, he doesn't have time to think, ahhhhh ]
[ Fortunately, she seems rather charmed regardless! Pyrrha turns just as they reach the closed door, leaning against it. She's trying not to laugh, but her lips twitch with the suppression. ]
[ She'll open the door, then! As usual, Nora's side is a bit of a well-loved disaster, whereas Pyrrha's is immaculately tidy. Glancing over at her made bed, Pyrrha feels her heart racing, a thrum that she's sure he can feel in her pulse as their hands remain linked.
Odd. She hadn't thought she would be nervous. She probably should have prepared for that. ]
Well, here it is! My... room.
[ He's been here before. Obviously.
Pyrrha turns her expression toward him. There's no reason she can't share this with him, the way her eagerness mixes with ignorance to leave her wanting, but uncertain how to proceed. She doesn't want to disappoint him. ]
Can you remind me of the, um - terms of our agreement?
[ if he could actually take charge now, that would be great ]
[ Yeah... Jaune figures it's time to grow out of being the lovable idiot. They both know why they're here and he can't keep masking his fear with jokes, or overcompensate by trying to be cool. They're here now, against all odds... there's nothing to be scared of anymore. At least not right now.
With a smile and all his muddy mess, Jaune takes a few slow steps towards the bed, leading Pyrrha along while their hands are linked. Halfway through he stops, only to pace themselves, as he turns to look at her. ]
I think it was something like...
[ Now it's his turn to graze his lips against hers! As he does so, he guides her hand and presses it against his exposed chest. She can probably feel something loud there, despite the calm front. ]
[ His efforts are singularly effective. Feeling his heart fervent under her splayed fingers sets her own heart to quicken in turn, so much that when she swallows, there's a quickness to it. Their lips had touched; hers had parted for his.
These little moments, leading up to something bigger -- she knows she ought to savour each and every one, but part of her wants so desperately to set patience aside and drown herself in him. ]
You're right. That was it.
[ Her hand remains on his chest as she initiates another kiss, heartfelt and open, a tentative gauge of how much he will allow. With her lips fitted against his, her tongue begs entrance.
[ Once her tongue breaks his defenses, it's all hands on deck - or in this case, reaching for Pyrrha's back, right underneath her shirt. It's a familiar setting, they've been here before, way back when they got drunk. Strangely, he doesn't feel any more sober now.
However, what happens now is that it creates this awkward poor timing in which they both fumble with each other's clothes. He can't remove her shirt when she's trying to solve the puzzle that are his belts! Nevermind that their faces are still practically glued to each other. Momentarily, Jaune abandons the idea with a smile as his own tongue makes itself known.
He's not helping with the belt at all, though. :) ]
Mm -- [ Yeah, it isn't easy! She's eventually able to pry apart the buckle on his belt, tugging the two leather ends apart and partly out of his jeans. Not all the way, however. Correctly or otherwise, Pyrrha believes they have time, and a darkened, empty house; she sees no reason to rush.
Well, in theory. There's still the heat flushing through her, an emotion left unhitched and given too much material form in this strange world. Every kiss felt like it could be her undoing, far past the welcome delirium of love and closeness and Jaune, into something else, something so strong it frightens her a little, although not enough to stop. Her heart is beating mercilessly, its little trembles becoming quakes that almost leave her nauseous, except that sensation is overwritten by something gloriously swooping, like staring over the edge of a cliff. His arms encircle her, and Pyrrha's grateful for that too, for something strong to support her, for the sphere where she can feel safe and loved, wanted.
So, perhaps she's not exactly rushing, but she is eager. Even with simple kissing, Pyrrha barely feels like one person anymore. There's a frantic edge to her exploration of his mouth, tongue gently probing as if it had never done so before.
Her hand does eventually drop from his chest - (bye, rockhard pecs) - and there's the faint hiss of leather sliding through cloth as his belt is pulled from the loops. It's dropped unceremoniously and then she's assisting his own effort, arms rising above her head.
In a moment, she'll notice his sash, her tribute, and that won't be something she'll be able to remove without his explicit permission, but (fortunately) we're not there yet. ]
[ Her arms go up, and so does her shirt! For a brief fraction of a second, the fabric of her clothing broke Jaune's eye contact with her. For one tiny, arguably insignificant moment, Jaune could no longer see her - Pyrrha was gone (again), and then she was back (again!!). It hits Jaune in such an unexpected way that he has to pause as her shirt lands next to his belt. Every thought, feeling and emotion he has ever experienced thanks to (and for) Pyrrha starts to come back to him in this one condensed moment.
His eyes remain locked with hers, as if he had seen her come back to life again for the first time. She may catch him on the verge of welling up, but he quickly finds himself back in the moment - here, now, where it matters. ]
Pyrrha...
[ Before he could say anything more, his tongue plunges back between her lips, tasting her again as both their tongues twine around each other. His hands drive into her lush red hair, grabbing a handful as he starts taking a few steps backwards, towing her along.
The room begins to vibrate a little. A vase falls.
He tries to lead her towards the bed as they continue this kiss, but he feels his pants begin to slip and abandons Pyrrha's hair with one hand to catch the jeans from sliding down (only because he didn't want to trip over them......).
A hanged painting starts to melt off its canvas, and then the canvas falls, too.
Something's happening. ]
this tag took so long to write that the form submission borked
[ Her shirt falls, becoming little more than a forgotten puddle of fabric on the floor, but Pyrrha can barely get her thoughts together long enough to consider the next step. Jaune is here, seizing her mouth with his fervency, drawing a startled - (but not displeased) - little sound from the pit of her throat. That small noise escalates into a mewl, not protesting, when his hands wrench through her hair, compromising the integrity of her ponytail and pulling at the roots. These are all sensations that stop just at the saccharine edge of painful; his force is abrupt, intense, perhaps just a little excessive, but Pyrrha responds in kind, her nails scoring down his back as she presses closer, deeper, kissing him like she fights. If she could crawl down his throat, she would.
She thinks, something is wrong.
She's right, because the few tea candles she has on her dresser suddenly flicker to life, wicks alighting with flames that briefly threaten to scorch the ceiling, that make her feel like she's holding her face up to a furnace. They settle in size after a beat, but that doesn't change the gravity of the situation.
She thinks, I should stop.
There, she doesn't quite know if she's right. She doesn't want to stop. Little things are escaping her purview, things that would previously have been important. For instance, with her shirt off, he would have been able to see the scar left by Cinder's arrow, the fatal wound she has no cause to boast of, the reason she now hides her neckline. On a typical day, she's too conscious of that scar, to the point of imagining the tissue constrict and itch whenever she feels threatened, or afraid. That's just one example. Her usual sense of restraint is another, her content toward taking things slow, her responsibility, her sense of planning and opportunity -- Pyrrha feels so little like herself, or a different version of herself. She knows that what she's feeling is real, and overwhelming, and can only be sated to livable levels by giving herself to him.
So, if something's happening, well - fine. Let it happen around them. She set him and her love for him aside once, she has no wish to do it again. Inexplicable (but unquestioned) urgency fills her once more, higher, more pressing. Naked sentiment squeezes her heart so tightly, it feels difficult to breathe, or it would, if he wasn't filling her with his breath.
The room hasn't quite stopped trembling, either. The mirrors and windows have all fogged up, moisture from some arbitrary heat running down their glassy surfaces in rivulets. Fortunately, the effects seem to stop at the closed door, not that Pyrrha is thinking too hard about that.
His name breaks from her lips like a gasp, ] Jaune—
[ She can't get much out aside from that. Their shared awkward shuffles around the room does eventually get them to the bed, balancing sacrificed as they fall in a heap. Pyrrha quickly clambers to straddle him, wrapping her legs around his waist as her lips find the spot just below his ear. ]
[ This time, he can barely say her name before breath escapes him. This is too much, and yet at the same time, it's not nearly enough. A hunger surges inside Jaune, and he wants more - he demands more, which is typically uncharacteristic of him, but they seem to have thrown any sense out the window the moment they sullied the bed with all that mud on them. It's probably a good thing that Pyrrha has him pinned down, getting a grip on him in this slippery state could be a bit of a challenge.
Pyrrha's newly exposed skin is clean and dry, however, at least until Jaune wraps both arms around her back and presses her down against his unwashed self. He needs to feel her body against his, her scarred chest (that he had already known about!) against his own. The need for touch overwhelms him. It feels like they're melting together.
...or maybe something's just happening to the bed? It's as if they're sinking, though Jaune's attention seems to be more focused on undoing Pyrrha's bra (he won't make it!). ]
[ She's pulled down on top of him as she covers his face in kisses, slow and sensual but with an underlying desperation, feeling his mud-damp fingers slip up her spine and work with the clasp of her bra. It does come undone, but before she can lift her arms to slide the the straps off her shoulders...
A few bolts pop loose off the bed, dropping to the floor. This is followed by the mattress caving in, buckling under their weight and bending to touch the floor as the boards supporting the box spring underneath give way.
Finally, each side of the bed bursts off, the headboard slamming against the wall with enough force to damage it.
However, with the mattress still underneath them, just... on the floor now, Pyrrha can't quite find this enough of a reason to stop, still trying to fumble her way out of her bra.
Someone else may disagree, though. That was quite a loud disruption! ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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You got yourself a deal, Nikos.
[ He steps back and flips the coin in the air, letting it fall on the ground because it's hopeless if he tries to catch it mid-air. ]
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Why?
No reason!
The coin hits the floor and she leans over to look at it. ]
It's tails!
[ .... and then, realizing that they never fully clarified the parameters of a tails flip, she grows a little uncertain, looking almost bashful. ]
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[ HEH ]
I did say "tails, we don't kiss"...
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She'll play along, though. ]
Yeah, you did. I suppose this is it, in that case.
[ Pyrrha holds out a hand for a, surprise, goodbye handshake! ]
It was lovely knowing you, Partner.
[ :) ]
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[ KABEDON!!!!!!
don't you leave partner ]
That coin toss didn't count! I suspect foul-play.
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Would you like to re-negotiate the terms of our agreement?
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[ All that teasing may have backfired, because he didn't really want to stop doing what they already started. ]
I propose more kissing and-- all the other weird stuff.
[ Since this is a negotiation, he's gotta start high so she meets him somewhere halfway. Did he really have to propose with something that sounds hardcore, though?? One could think he's talking about handcuffs and leather masks. ]
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One of Pyrrha's hands raise, cupping his face. Her fingers lay just below his ear. There isn't any real reason for it, other than she wants to. The need to maintain contact is almost desperate in her, once again assuming that all she has left in the world is down to what can be held in her own two hands.
So, here's Pyrrha, smiling up at him in adoration. Weird stuff might be a little arbitrary, but she's willing to barter. There's no way she wants the moment between them to end. ]
Here's my counter-offer. We can start off with kissing.
[ She illustrates by letting her lips graze briefly over his! ]
Then, we can simply see how things go... perhaps with a little less weirdness.
[ He might be thinking of handcuffs and masks, but Pyrrha is dreading the possibility that he'll ask her to do some infantile roleplay scenario where she's the mother and he's -- you know what, no.
She is not giving that another thought. ]
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With a smile, he nods and leans in, whispering for Pyrrha's ears only, even if there's nobody around to hear it anyway. ]
M-Maybe I should... check your bed anyway..... just in case it is broken...
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The floorboards creak again, and it's an interesting little prelude to the house's foundation being just so addled.
Pyrrha whispers back, ]
You are an expert carpenter, after all.
[ If it's amenable, she'll take his hand and start to lead him to her room. It's not far! ]
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Clearly this isn't one of those times.
Wide-eyed with panic and even more excitement, he whispers louder as they approach the room. ]
I can also get the lawnmower going on my first try. ... Sometimes second.
[ wait, what???!? that's not even sexy, what is this, he doesn't have time to think, ahhhhh ]
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Are you... comparing me to a lawnmower?
[ wait
what
SHE TAKES IT BACK
that was the worst thing to say, help ]
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[ That's the only noise he can make initially, because what the hell is going on here, help ]
[ okay jaune you got this ]
You-- [swallows] --you're a much more... well-oiled machine, than... hahahaha!
[ ??????????????????? ]
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WHAT THE HELL
IS HAPPENING
You know what. She's putting a stop to this. She'll save you, most wonderful and attractive partner-slash-probable boyfriend. ]
Jaune. Would you like to come in?
[ ... ]
To my room?
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I'm sorry about the lawnmower thing.
[ HE SHOULD HAVE JUST SAID SHE'S BEAUTIFUL BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT HE MEANT ]
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Odd. She hadn't thought she would be nervous. She probably should have prepared for that. ]
Well, here it is! My... room.
[ He's been here before. Obviously.
Pyrrha turns her expression toward him. There's no reason she can't share this with him, the way her eagerness mixes with ignorance to leave her wanting, but uncertain how to proceed. She doesn't want to disappoint him. ]
Can you remind me of the, um - terms of our agreement?
[ if he could actually take charge now, that would be great ]
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With a smile and all his muddy mess, Jaune takes a few slow steps towards the bed, leading Pyrrha along while their hands are linked. Halfway through he stops, only to pace themselves, as he turns to look at her. ]
I think it was something like...
[ Now it's his turn to graze his lips against hers! As he does so, he guides her hand and presses it against his exposed chest. She can probably feel something loud there, despite the calm front. ]
--this?
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These little moments, leading up to something bigger -- she knows she ought to savour each and every one, but part of her wants so desperately to set patience aside and drown herself in him. ]
You're right. That was it.
[ Her hand remains on his chest as she initiates another kiss, heartfelt and open, a tentative gauge of how much he will allow. With her lips fitted against his, her tongue begs entrance.
Her other hand is fumbling with his belt.
Poorly. ]
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However, what happens now is that it creates this awkward poor timing in which they both fumble with each other's clothes. He can't remove her shirt when she's trying to solve the puzzle that are his belts! Nevermind that their faces are still practically glued to each other. Momentarily, Jaune abandons the idea with a smile as his own tongue makes itself known.
He's not helping with the belt at all, though. :) ]
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Well, in theory. There's still the heat flushing through her, an emotion left unhitched and given too much material form in this strange world. Every kiss felt like it could be her undoing, far past the welcome delirium of love and closeness and Jaune, into something else, something so strong it frightens her a little, although not enough to stop. Her heart is beating mercilessly, its little trembles becoming quakes that almost leave her nauseous, except that sensation is overwritten by something gloriously swooping, like staring over the edge of a cliff. His arms encircle her, and Pyrrha's grateful for that too, for something strong to support her, for the sphere where she can feel safe and loved, wanted.
So, perhaps she's not exactly rushing, but she is eager. Even with simple kissing, Pyrrha barely feels like one person anymore. There's a frantic edge to her exploration of his mouth, tongue gently probing as if it had never done so before.
Her hand does eventually drop from his chest - (bye, rockhard pecs) - and there's the faint hiss of leather sliding through cloth as his belt is pulled from the loops. It's dropped unceremoniously and then she's assisting his own effort, arms rising above her head.
In a moment, she'll notice his sash, her tribute, and that won't be something she'll be able to remove without his explicit permission, but (fortunately) we're not there yet. ]
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His eyes remain locked with hers, as if he had seen her come back to life again for the first time. She may catch him on the verge of welling up, but he quickly finds himself back in the moment - here, now, where it matters. ]
Pyrrha...
[ Before he could say anything more, his tongue plunges back between her lips, tasting her again as both their tongues twine around each other. His hands drive into her lush red hair, grabbing a handful as he starts taking a few steps backwards, towing her along.
The room begins to vibrate a little. A vase falls.
He tries to lead her towards the bed as they continue this kiss, but he feels his pants begin to slip and abandons Pyrrha's hair with one hand to catch the jeans from sliding down (only because he didn't want to trip over them......).
A hanged painting starts to melt off its canvas, and then the canvas falls, too.
Something's happening. ]
this tag took so long to write that the form submission borked
She thinks, something is wrong.
She's right, because the few tea candles she has on her dresser suddenly flicker to life, wicks alighting with flames that briefly threaten to scorch the ceiling, that make her feel like she's holding her face up to a furnace. They settle in size after a beat, but that doesn't change the gravity of the situation.
She thinks, I should stop.
There, she doesn't quite know if she's right. She doesn't want to stop. Little things are escaping her purview, things that would previously have been important. For instance, with her shirt off, he would have been able to see the scar left by Cinder's arrow, the fatal wound she has no cause to boast of, the reason she now hides her neckline. On a typical day, she's too conscious of that scar, to the point of imagining the tissue constrict and itch whenever she feels threatened, or afraid. That's just one example. Her usual sense of restraint is another, her content toward taking things slow, her responsibility, her sense of planning and opportunity -- Pyrrha feels so little like herself, or a different version of herself. She knows that what she's feeling is real, and overwhelming, and can only be sated to livable levels by giving herself to him.
So, if something's happening, well - fine. Let it happen around them. She set him and her love for him aside once, she has no wish to do it again. Inexplicable (but unquestioned) urgency fills her once more, higher, more pressing. Naked sentiment squeezes her heart so tightly, it feels difficult to breathe, or it would, if he wasn't filling her with his breath.
The room hasn't quite stopped trembling, either. The mirrors and windows have all fogged up, moisture from some arbitrary heat running down their glassy surfaces in rivulets. Fortunately, the effects seem to stop at the closed door, not that Pyrrha is thinking too hard about that.
His name breaks from her lips like a gasp, ] Jaune—
[ She can't get much out aside from that. Their shared awkward shuffles around the room does eventually get them to the bed, balancing sacrificed as they fall in a heap. Pyrrha quickly clambers to straddle him, wrapping her legs around his waist as her lips find the spot just below his ear. ]
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[ This time, he can barely say her name before breath escapes him. This is too much, and yet at the same time, it's not nearly enough. A hunger surges inside Jaune, and he wants more - he demands more, which is typically uncharacteristic of him, but they seem to have thrown any sense out the window the moment they sullied the bed with all that mud on them. It's probably a good thing that Pyrrha has him pinned down, getting a grip on him in this slippery state could be a bit of a challenge.
Pyrrha's newly exposed skin is clean and dry, however, at least until Jaune wraps both arms around her back and presses her down against his unwashed self. He needs to feel her body against his, her scarred chest (that he had already known about!) against his own. The need for touch overwhelms him. It feels like they're melting together.
...or maybe something's just happening to the bed? It's as if they're sinking, though Jaune's attention seems to be more focused on undoing Pyrrha's bra (he won't make it!). ]
no subject
A few bolts pop loose off the bed, dropping to the floor. This is followed by the mattress caving in, buckling under their weight and bending to touch the floor as the boards supporting the box spring underneath give way.
Finally, each side of the bed bursts off, the headboard slamming against the wall with enough force to damage it.
However, with the mattress still underneath them, just... on the floor now, Pyrrha can't quite find this enough of a reason to stop, still trying to fumble her way out of her bra.
Someone else may disagree, though. That was quite a loud disruption! ]
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Coming-- I, uh, someone's coming!
[ Jaune can definitely hear footsteps and immediately sits up, trying to fumble the bra back together, not letting it come off. HELP ]
--Pyrrha!!
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