Logs:Foolish
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| RL Date: 15 November, 2013 |
| Who: H'vier, Tayte |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr |
| Type: Log |
| What: On the heels of Tayte's personal reflections, H'vier tracks Tayte down somewhere she can't subtly avoid him. |
| Where: Vintner Workroom, High Reaches Weyr |
| When: Day 7, Month 4, Turn 33 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: K'del/Mentions, Madilla/Mentions, Telavi/Mentions, Yvalia/Mentions |
| OOC Notes: Adult themes, nudity. Backdated. |
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| Vintner Workroom, High Reaches Weyr This large cavern has been set aside as a workroom for the weyr's vintners, complete with all the equipment necessary to brew, ferment, distill and concoct. Long workbenches line one wall, with the rest of the space set aside for the larger equipment: large vats, grape presses, and so on. There's a storage above and below the benches, as well as a cellar built into the floor below, cool and quiet.
However H'vier has found the vintner this evening, no doubt some effort has been put into finding her in any particular place at any particular time, his booted footsteps, casual and unhurried, bring him closer to where Tayte is sitting here by herself. "I'm starting to feel like you don't want me around, gorgeous," he muses, his familiar voice low and touched with slightly forced humor. There's a question there that he doesn't actually ask. What's the deal? As H'vier draws near, Tayte shifts on the backless bench, pulling one leg up and over until she's straddling it, her hands falling to the wood between her legs, knuckles rapping lightly and idly on the surface. She cants her head as he draws near, watching him. Her expression is unreadable and she waits for him to speak first. When he does, her features don't betray anything, "Well, you've been busy." Clearly, since he hasn't sought her out before now; or at least, that's probably the logic, even if the comment and motivations behind it likely don't come from a place of logic. And never mind that time where she could've stayed to speak with him and instead left without even a meaningful look. "Have I?" he asks her like she'd actually know better than he would. H'vier makes a show of crossing his arms and looking very thoughtful, trying to think back to how very busy he's been, no doubt. Except he's not really coming up with anything. "Are you sure you don't mean that you've been busy? I think that sounds more familiar." The bronzerider moves to sit on the bench a short distance away from her, his back to the table so he can rest an arm there. "Why are you avoiding me, Tayte?" This game could've gone on for a time before they made any headway in the real conversation; really. Only, Havi asks so directly, and Tayte has never been one to hold back an answer to such a question. She might, for just a moment, look a touch disappointed before she shifts to fold her arms across her own chest, but not in a pose of thoughtfulness, rather one of vexation. "You slept with my friend. I only have about three here, and you slept with one of them." Maybe if Solith had been some other green, and not Telavi's, the vintner wouldn't be out of sorts; certainly, she hasn't seemed so when Reisoth's caught others. H'vier is nothing if not direct. It's one of his many charms! It takes him a moment after she's answered but then the bastard laughs. It's funny. To him, anyway. Or maybe it's just one of those circumstance where he has to laugh to keep from being angry. "That's why you've been avoiding me for sevens?" Never mind that he could have cornered her at some point before now. "Even for you that seems foolish." He can laugh; Tayte will cover the angry. She's pushing up onto her feet and slipping free of the bench, in one fluid motion. To do so and keep her balance, though, she has to let her arms drop to her sides, even if her hands are now balled in fists. And? Her cheeks are red. "Well, what can I say? I'm a foolish girl with a foolish heart and foolish desires." That's about the most she can snap at him before she's looking like she's about to make a dramatic exit. The way that H'vier rises onto his feet in her wake and reaches out to try catching her by the arm is almost reflexive. He doesn't want her to leave just yet. "Dammit, woman. Being pissed off at me over a flight is ridiculous. It's not like I went looking to fuck one of your friends. And it's not like we did anything after the fact." Granted, probably not for lack of trying. This is H'vier, after all. "I didn't even know who he was chasing. I didn't care who he was chasing. It was a green." As though this makes a difference. Caught, Tayte stills just as she'd pivoted to go. She turns right back, glaring up at the big bronzerider. "But it's not like you wouldn't, given the chance." This is H'vier, after all. "It's not like you give a damn about how many skirts other than mine you're getting into, dragon or no dragon, and I--" She chokes on whatever she was about to say and suddenly there are tears slipping free of her blue and rapidly blinking eyes, down over her pinkened cheeks. For lack of some more intelligent option, she tugs at the arm caught in his grasp. He doesn't respond to that accusation. Even if he might have, he doesn't really get a chance. Tayte's tears keep him from saying anything he might have been thinking. Stupid tears. His hand around her arm even goes slightly slack, letting her slip loose when she tugs at his grasp. He doesn't even try to regain it right away, though he does step toward her. "Tayte, don't run. Please." His voice is sincere with some emotion, especially compared to how he'd sounded only moments ago. She might've run, only it seems to surprise her that her arm does come free. And before she can recover from that, he's stepping toward her and saying that. Tayte bites her lip, but doesn't move, not even to brush the tears away. Brushing them away would mean acknowledging they exist in the first place. At least she's not sobbing. This is a silent escape of tears. Her chest probably feels tight and it's probably a struggle to draw non-ragged breath, but those things don't show on the outside. "I haven't been sleeping with anyone else," She manages, softly, after a moment of trying to gather herself. "It hasn't felt right." Stupid feelz. She doesn't have to wipe them away. When she doesn't run, H'vier lifts a hand, wiping away the tears from one cheek with his thumb before his hand is sliding down to her shoulder. It tightens there slightly, emphasizing the way he looks at her more than anything. It's an odd mixture of affection and uncertainty, neither of which come particularly naturally to him. "What does feel right?" he wonders. She lets him wipe the tears away, though when his hand slides down to her shoulder, her face turns, eyes searching the ceiling opposite where his hand is, as yet more tears take the place of those he just ridded her of. "I don't know." When Tayte looks back to him a moment later, her expression is vulnerable, one that's a combination of hurt and longing. "I would say being with you, only every time I try, it just goes wrong." And she hurts. But that is too much to admit out loud, even if it's obvious from her look and her tears. "I'm sorry," rumbles the bronzerider, shifting closer to try pulling her against him as he's wrapping his arms around her. "I don't know how to make things... right." As opposed to wrong. "I wish I did. I want you to be happy, baby. You deserve to be happy." But considering it's taken him sevens to pin her down, let's not get our hopes up that he'll figure anything out anytime soon. "I'm not going to tell him he can't chase, though. That's not fair to him. And he wouldn't listen to me, anyway." Initially, Tayte was willing to be drawn in, her cheek finding his chest to rest against as a shuddery breath slipped out of her and her teeth found her lip again, trying to stave off those tears. He says the right things; he's so good at that. You know, until he doesn't. Then she's pulling away from him, or trying to, probably in vain if he's of a mind to keep her in his arms. "It's not about the stupid flight. It's about you. About you always wanting to sleep with everyone else with tits. I'm not stupid. I know you're not just with me anymore," Even if there was a time when she believed he was. "So why can't I just be as fancy free and enjoy meaningless rolls on the reeds the way you do?" Could it be that Tayte's growing up? Horror of horrors. Say it ain't so! Nope. H'vier doesn't want to let go of her just yet. "Relax. We're talking, dammit." Firm about that. "If it's not about the stupid flight, why haven't I seen you since it happened? You can't get mad at me for fucking other women when you won't even talk to me, Tayte." Or something. It's logic that probably makes sense in his head. "Maybe it's because you're a woman. I don't know. But you're the only one that I love. And no matter who I sleep with, you're still the only one that means anything to me." Shouldn't that count for something? Relax? She doesn't. Or at least, not really. Tayte's form is still tensed against him, and she still leans against his arms instead of into his chest, but at least she's not wiggling around trying to get free, for the moment. "Because it made me realize just how stupid I've been being. Holding out for you." She doesn't deign to respond to what she can and can't get mad about; clearly, she disagrees because she's mad. "So it doesn't matter to you who takes me for a roll? Who might knock me up? Because," She slips a hand free so she can poke at his chest with a finger, "-you seem to think I shouldn't care who you sleep with or who you might knock up next." That might've been too far, because it brings back too much, and now there's sobbing, but at least now, too, she's leaning against him, burying her face in his shirt. "Of course it matters to me," H'vier is saying before his voice trails off and she's sobbing against him. He doesn't say anything else right away, more concerned with holding her. And probably at least slightly worried that he'll say something to make it even worse. Why are crying women so intimidating! The bronzerider kisses Tayte's head, waiting for her to relax in some fashion before he speaks again. "If I could say it would just be you, would you even want that anymore?" The tears dissolve after a time into hiccups. They're awkward and cause her to involuntarily jolt gently against him. Tayte tries holding her breath just in time for H'vier to pose the question. The air she was holding comes out of her in a rush as she looks up at him, startled. "Could you say it and have it be more than just words?" Could she trust it would be after everything? "I miss the way it feels with you when I'm not with you. Not even with anyone else, Tayte. Just being away from you. I can only pretend that it doesn't affect me for so long." Approximately a few sevens, to be precise. "I feel like you're all I've been thinking about lately. It's distracting." H'vier is looking at her while he speaks. If he's lying, he's being especially amazing at it. But it's more likely that he's being honest. "I can't promise that Reisoth won't catch anyone else. But I can promise it will only be you otherwise. If you'll give me another chance." "Can you promise you won't just go another round with whoever the lucky rider is once the flight itself is over?" Having been in Weyrs for a few turns now, and as a bartender, no less, Tayte's hardly ignorant to the things that some riders, and particularly those like H'vier, don't even flinch over. "That still counts." Just in case he thought otherwise. Her look is meaningful, but clearly she's giving the idea of giving him another chance some serious thought. H'vier doesn't hesitate in his answer. He's clearly given this possible conversation some thought previous to right now. "I give my word that I won't be with anyone but you outside of specifically winning a flight." He looks at her. Because that makes him more sincere. "I promise, Tayte. Nobody but you." She stares at him when he looks at her. Can she trust him? Does she? Those questions are written plainly enough on her face. Only, Tayte is a foolish girl. So, of course, after long consideration. "Okay." A deep breath, "We can try it again." The finger that's stayed at his chest but gone limp straightens again and she pokes one more time, expression turning hard, though perhaps more adorably than one hoping to be taken seriously would hope, "Don't fuck it up this time," is the demand that comes with the poke. She can only manage the serious look for so long though, because then she's smiling in spite of herself. H'vier couldn't answer those silent questions even if he knew what they were. Of course anything he would say would probably be self-serving. When she answers, though, the bronzerider looks relieved and happy. "Thank you, gorgeous. I won't fuck it up. I won't, I promise." He's smiling, too, and then he's leaning in for a soggy-faced kiss as he wraps his arms a little more possessively around her. The kiss is returned, but probably too briefly for what he's wanting, because she pulls away, "Question three." Tayte says without warning, tilting her chin up and craning her neck back so she can see his face, "Am I the only one you call that?" 'Gorgeous'. Damn these questions. That's what H'vier's face is saying quite plainly when she announces and then asks. He frowns for a moment, probably expecting her not to like the answer he's about to give. "No. Truthfully, it's automatic most of the time. Do you want to be the only one I call that? You are the most gorgeous woman I know." Tayte frowns. She doesn't like it, no. But rather than try to pull away and storm off, he's apparently getting a reprieve for the moment because, "No. I want you to come up with something that's just for me and use that instead." The frown fades into neutrality, "I'm special, you know that, right?" "Something that's just for you," H'vier repeats thoughtfully, eyeing Tayte like it might help him come up with something on the spot. "Of course I know you're special. That's why I want you and not anyone else." He narrows his eyes pensively, then asks, "How about 'love'? Or were you looking for something more original than that?" Tayte's nose wrinkles, the freckles folding together, "Can you really see you swaggering up to me in Snowasis and saying, 'Hey love,' for the whole world to hear?" "I don't know. I think I like the whole world knowing that you're mine." H'vier grins, knowing well enough that she doesn't really like being claimed like that. "I supposed swaggering up to you in the Snowasis and saying something like, 'Hey, dragonrider,' would be so much better. Right?" She pinches whatever bit of him she's closest to. Probably some bit of his chest. It's not a serious gesture, of course, just one of playful response, even if Tayte's verbal answer is matter-of-fact, "That would just be silly. I'm not a dragonrider and never will be. There was no egg for me either of the times I Stood." And that's okay. She's not bothered by it in the way some might be. "You're a dragonrider every time we're together," H'vier counters with a grin that's entirely too amused for the otherwise seriousness of the evening. "Fine, fine. I'll think of something. But I can't promise anything I come up with will be any better than 'love' as far as anyone else is concerned." Tayte... Rolls. Her. Eyes. "Really?" Didn't she once bust out laughing at him over this very thing once upon a time. She starts to pull away from him, although there's a certain quality to it this time that conveys as further playfulness and not a genuine want to be free of his arms. "If you want to go, you're going to have to do better than that," rumbles H'vier as he tips his head toward hers to tighten his arms around her just noticeably. He has no real intention of letting her go just yet. This is where he likes her. "Or maybe I should just drag you off to my weyr. If you're out this late, you must be free to play." "If by that you mean Yvalia's accounted for elsewhere by adult supervision, that's true." Tayte starts, but alas, that's not all, she tilts her head to one side, trying to look around his arm toward the table where her work is still waiting for her. "But I do have paperwork I have to finish. Maybe you didn't notice while you were busy being busy," Or was that her being busy? Apparently, she's sticking to the original story in any case, "But I've gotten a temporary promotion to co-WeyrVintner. It comes with more paperwork." "Ouch," says H'vier, feigning physical pain. "Turned down for paperwork. Surely it's not something you can't finish tomorrow. It's only fitting that there be some sort of celebration of your promotion, since I haven't had a chance to congratulate you. Preferably private." He's not going to argue the semantics of who was the busy one at this point. She's here in his arms. That's a win. "Oh, please." Tayte snorts at the feint. "It's not like you haven't turned me down-" Or rather, not been around when she's wanted to get laid because, well, he's Havi so actively turning Tayte down probably doesn't happen, "-to attend to your mysterious out-of-Weyr business that despite apparently loving me, you've never seen fit to speak about to me, even in the vaguest terms." Her hands slip around his waist now, just in case her words make him think of escaping. "Either you don't trust me, or you think I'm too delicate to handle whatever it is." Because, clearly, those are the only two options. One or the other. No third, fourth, eighth, or twelfth options for why he hasn't talked to her about any of it. Those words do earn a certain amount of tension that Tayte will no doubt feel with she slips her hands around him. H'vier doesn't actually try to escape, though. He does look like he might be trying to come up with a quick excuse, however. "Of course I trust you, Tayte. And everyone knows you're no delicate little flower. There's just nothing to know." Obviously. "Liar." The word comes without hesitation and is simply put. "It's a whole part of your life and I know nothing about it. There's something to know, or you wouldn't bother so carefully omitting it." Tayte is stupid about many things. Unfortunately for H'vier, this is not one of them. "What's the big deal? Do you kill people for hire? Or rob from the Lady Holders and blame it on the drudges too simple to know better? What's so terrible about what you do with your time that I can't know?" She's gazing up at him pointedly now. Apparently celebrating has to wait because she's got questions. "It's nothing you need to be concerned about, Tayte." When H'vier speaks now, his voice is firm and authoritative. It's the voice that makes people who aren't Tayte take him seriously most of the time. "I should go. Let you finish your paperwork, hmm?" He doesn't actually leave just yet because he's not willing enough to push her away. "No, you're right. We need to celebrate." Tayte presses her hips against him and offers up one of her more alluring smiles. Trap! Clearly. Not one of her most subtle. "You know, I have wondered about if doing some dragonriding in here wouldn't take me back to my days of being a very naughty apprentice back at the Hall." Beat. "I mean, it wouldn't be the same, of course, because I'd never touched breasts that weren't mine before, and she hadn't either..." This is the kind of every guy's fantasy that might just distract him from the obvious trap, right? Or maybe it is if only because of the very particular way her alto has turned sultry and her lips make sure to round the sounds in a way that makes her mouth interesting. H'vier is highly susceptible to these sorts of traps to begin with. The fact that it's Tayte doing the trapping really just makes him kind of stupid. His arms around her slide down slightly, one hand finding its way to her rear to pull her closer and firmly against him. "That sounds like a story I'd really like to hear," he murmurs in a low rumble that suggests he's already filling in details himself. "Yeah?" She murmurs, batting her lashes up at him, smile curled seductively onto her lips. "Well, I'd be glad to to tell you all about it... just as soon as you've told me a little something about your business affairs." Gotcha! Well. Okay, it wasn't Tayte's most subtle delivery, but there is the distracting way her fingers are slipping under his belt and tracing the skin she finds there with just the tips. "Lazy," says H'vier, almost disappointed, drawling out that vowel with feigned accusation. "You're barely even trying, sweetcheeks." Maybe he's trying out a new term of endearment while he's at it. "You'd have to do a lot better than that if there were anything for me to tell you." His dismissing her attempt at weaseling information out of him doesn't mean he's not interested in what she's offering, however. His hands stay where they are and he tilts his head to kiss her jaw. "Alright," Tayte concedes with a roll of her eyes. It was lazy. Maybe she was hoping he was easy tonight. And so, too, is this: "Well, I've been without sex for months. So a few more days or even weeks won't hurt me." Is she bluffing? "So when you're ready to get a little more intimate with me, you can take me back to your place and get a little more intimate with me." Apparently, she's not giving up the goods without some kind of good faith gesture or better. She lets a sigh slip from her, "It's a shame, because I was so looking forward to..." And despite the fact that they're alone, she presses up onto her tiptoes to murmur just which of his fantasies she was looking to fulfill into his ear, "Tonight." She finishes as she goes flat-footed again. Whatever she says makes H'vier's hands flex against her. He's showing remarkable restraint, though. For him, anyway. "Tayte. Beautiful." He sounds like he knows he's going to say something that she's not going to like. "Right here and now is not the time nor place for this discussion." This is clearly not what he wants to be saying, though, because, let's face it, he wants to get laid and her murmured fantasy stuff isn't really helping. "Would my room be better? For the discussion." Not for the other things he's interested in. Tayte asks it innocently enough. "It's not far, and it is private. I promise no one is listening there." She shifts her hips against him, her fingers sliding to hook into his waistband before she looks up at him with a pretty bat of lashes. That's not really a suggestion that H'vier was looking for. But there are other things that can happen in Tayte's room, things that her fingers in his waistband make sure he doesn't forget. There's a small nod of agreement, but the fact that he's thinking about her naked rather than the stuff she wants to know is pretty obvious in his expression. Tayte slips out of his arms then, since the decision's been made and she moves to close the ledgers and put them onto a shelf where she'll no doubt have to reclaim them in the morning. Probably too early. Ew. Then she's slipping her hand into H'vier's and tugging him to the door. It's not long before they're through her door a few twisting tunnels away. "Now. For every detail you tell me about what I don't know about your business ventures, I take off an article of clothing. Understood?" She's bossy tonight, but maybe the temporary promotion or the fact that she was just doing that work is still flavoring her attitude as she moves away from H'vier toward the fire to feed it. "I could just take off enough to have my way with you," he points out like this is an option she should definitely keep in mind. H'vier has muscles and he's not afraid to use them! Even if she's not in a hurry to get out of her clothes, the bronzerider will start to help himself out of his shirt. "Do we really have to do this tonight, Tayte? These aren't things you need to know. It'd probably be safer for you if you didn't." One last chance? "You could, but after you've worked so hard to get back in my good graces, are you sure you don't want to take advantage of the night of bliss I'm promising in exchange for a little candor?" Tayte replies as she crouches to add wood to the fire. "Yes, we really have to. If you want to get laid by a willing woman." Since he's pointed out the other way as an option. "You said you trust me. So out with it. The sooner you talk, the sooner we can lose the clothes." H'vier growls, more to himself than at Tayte. Though she's clearly the source of his current frustration. He glances at the door, perhaps actually thinking about just leaving, but then he moves to sit heavily while she tends the fire, staring at her rear end. "I do trust you. I want to trust you. But if we get all fucked up again, I don't need you knowing shit you can use against me." Which whatever he's reluctant to say apparently is. "You heard about things in Ista, didn't you?" "You have my word." Tayte's answer is solemn and given as she crosses to settle beside him. "Besides, I probably have things I could've used against you by now and the worst I've done is lose you a fuck or two." She reaches out to seek his hand with both of hers. "I heard some things, but why don't you start like I didn't?" In case the information got confused somewhere along the grapevine. This suggestion doesn't seem to be his favorite of the evening, either. The fact that he's trying to decide how to say anything without really telling her anything is pretty obvious. But he doesn't seem to be having much luck. H'vier closes his hand around one of hers. "This is serious." He looks at her, expression harder, then turns his head to gaze at the fire instead. "There are rings in Ista, everywhere really, but I'm involved in business based mostly out of Ista and the areas around it. That business is the main reason I was transferred here, too much competition. I never wanted to be here. I'd rather be home." After however many turns, he still considers Ista his home. He pauses, though, looking at Tayte. He's waiting for her to take something off. "What kind of rings?" She asks it though she's starting on the buttons of the sweater. It's probably lucky for Tayte that she dressed in layers tonight. As for the rings, being a bartender for three turns, she's probably heard of them, but there are different kinds of rings. Fight rings, crime rings, circus rings? Well, maybe not the latter. And if he doesn't answer? She stops at the third button. Unspecific information doesn't get him skin. H'vier's eyes are focused pretty attentively on where Tayte is starting to undo buttons. "Differents kinds. Gambling, fighting, whores, pirating, smuggling." So, in general, criminalish activity. Though he makes it sound rather casual. "C'mon. Take it off," he says, apparently unwilling to say more until it's gone. That's a lot more specific than just 'rings'. "So that's why you like whores so much." Because clearly it's not for their charms... Or so Tayte probably hopes. The rest of the buttons come undone and she slips her arms out of the sweater. The blouse beneath isn't see-through, much to H'vier's disappointment, no doubt. But she does give him a freebie by kicking off her shoes and then leaning down to place them neatly under one of the tables beside the loveseat. "And what is your role in this business?" She wants to know next, her fingers going to where her blouse tucks into her pants, prepared to give up the next set of goods if he answers. "I like whores because they'll spread their legs without asking questions," grumbles H'vier. It's clearly more of a frustration with the questions than with Tayte herself. If he was okay with some random whore, he wouldn't be here right now. "It depends. I have a... wing," for lack of a better term, "of men I trust that work under me. Usually, it's transporting goods to people that will sell them for us. Sometimes it's more complicated." His pause is obvious, waiting. "Are you saying you'd prefer to go find a whore instead?" A single blonde brow dares H'vier to say the stupid answer given how newly exclusive they are. Again. Tayte considers for a moment if she feels that was specific enough, or maybe she's just processing the information itself, but either way she does tug the blouse free and peel it up and off. "So you're a manager?" She clarifies reaching for one strap of her bra, fingers hooking but not doing anything with it. "Don't be a fool, woman. Would I be sitting here putting up with this if I was interested in finding a whore?" Women! H'vier eyes her with something like frustration. But it fades as the blouse is removed and his focus is redirected to soon-to-be-bared breasts. "More or less. The Weyrs and the Holds organize somewhat differently. We have more freedom, I think. But we have to play nice with each other to be successful." That earns a bra strap. Just one. "How did you get started with it?" The way she reaches around her back now implies that a good answer to this question will yield fruitful reward. "Take it off," says H'vier. "Then I'll tell you." The bronzerider is still staring at her breasts, granted, one arm resting along the back of the loveseat. There's clearly absolutely no chance that he'll be distracted once he can actually see them. "You won't be able to tell me if I take it off." Tayte's reply is firm. She knows him too well for that. "Surely you think more highly of me than that," he complains, finally forcing his gaze elsewhere. That fire sure is interesting. "I was a big kid." I know, it's hard to imagine! "A rider asked me if I wanted to make some money one day and I tagged along to help move shit off of a ship. All kind of went from there. I eventually joined his wing when I impressed. He sponsered me through most of my prize fighting." Extra nostalgic information, even! Tayte gives him a dubious look for the complaint. Surely, she doesn't. "Who says it's about you? Everyone knows my breasts are hypnotic and any man is rendered an idiot by their sheer naked presence." The tone is dry, but there's humor around her eyes and in the smile that's come. This theory is put to the test now, because he did give a good answer, one with details, so with a deft maneuver at her back and then a shrug forward the bra slides away. At the same time she rises from the loveseat, standing out of arm's reach. They're not done. "And is it dangerous? The work you do?" Her hands have settled at the laces that keep her trousers closed. "I think I might have to object to you using the public baths from now on," says H'vier. But, true to form, his gaze gravitates back to Tayte's now bare breasts. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees but, for now, he doesn't stand or try to grab at her, he just watches. "Sometimes," is his simple, distracted answer. There's a roll of Tayte's eyes for his objection. "Then get a weyr with a private bath." Because apparently otherwise, he's out of luck. She tugs one side of the bow on the laces and it comes apart. But that's where she stops. "How? For example." There's a frown when she stops. She keeps doing that. H'vier has been so patient! "Things get tense sometimes. Some people don't like us taking their stuff. Some people need their faces beaten in on occasion. Fortunately it's poor form to murder dragonriders. Dragons going missing tends to draw attention." He pauses, just for a moment, then asks, "Can we fuck now?" It's a simple system of reward going on here. When he answers, with detail, he gets skin. Tayte's fingers drum at the laces, expression thoughtful. And then more thoughtful. And then more. And at some point maybe he'll figure out that now she's toying with him and it would be appropriate to get up. He watches her for a time because, well, breasts. But soon enough his patience and obedience fades and he's on his feet to close the distance between them. No doubt he will indulge in touching the skin he's only been able to look at for so long. He'll even promptly forget about all the frustration of being honest with her if she lets him kiss her and herd her toward the bed. |
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