[ He senses some of it, her resolve, and he's-- honored by it, really. And that's a new feeling by him. Maya seems to be the center of a lot of his new experiences. ]
Hey, we should probably make the most of this break, right? Anything you wanted to do?
[ Damn, as bad as he is at this, it's hard to ignore that feeling coming from her direction -- even harder to filter it out when he's feeling exactly the same way.
The next breath he takes is an unsteady one. ]
You're lucky I like you so much that I'm lettin' you get away with this. 'Cause seriously? This is dastardly. Borderline evil.
[ desire is one of those tricky things, constantly feeding off of one another. It's going to become difficult to tell who's feeling what after a while, because it's already rolling through her like thunder. ]
What's evil is the fact that we're not back at the inn yet.
[ She wouldn't expect anything less at this point. Already wanting him like she does, she outright moans into the kiss, fingers instantly tangling in his hair ]
[ Holy fuck, he's never heard her make that sound before, and it sends a seriously pleasant chill up his spine, makes him moan in turn. And with the way they're bouncing want and need back and forth like they are? Peter's really, really, really ready to go. He needs this, like, five days ago.
He starts maneuvering them to the bed, reluctant to break contact for any length of time -- though he still has to pull apart to pull off his bow and quiver, and, seriously, it's paranoid of him to have brought it in the first place, but old habits die hard. ]
[ While he's doing that, she backs up to the edge of the bed, sitting and leaning back, using her to support her. She's already breathing hard, drunk off the sheer, animal need flowing between them.
Usually she appreciates that his paranoia means that he's prepared, but right now it's seriously inconvenient. ]
[ He strips himself of his coat while he's at it, leaves it strewn somewhere on the floor (because what is the floor if not one giant shelf?) and joins her on the bed.
Their time apart couldn't have lasted more than thirty seconds at most, but with the way he kisses her, one might assume it was months since they'd seen each other last. He doesn't think he's ever felt so goddamn wound up, and fuck, he needs her so fucking badly it makes him ache. ]
[ She can feel his need pounding through her as strongly as her own, the way she kisses him back is hungry and desperate. Her hands go for his shirt and--- sorry Peter, you're going to need a new shirt. Demonic strength and all. ]
Ah well, he can't particularly bring himself to care about it at the moment, because that was a pretty handy way to deal with the problem of disrobing without breaking their kiss. So good thinking, Maya. It's also a damn good thing he's not particularly self-conscious about his harry potter scars, the thin red lines that spread cross his chest.
(He actually thinks they look pretty impressive. Almost pretty, even. He's kept that opinion to himself.)
His own hands move to the sleeves of her dress, pushing them down her shoulders -- he's a little rougher than he means to be, motivated by his impatience and desire swirling together. ]
Getting her undressed is taking far too long, by his reckoning (his reckoning, of course, being that it should have taken negative fifteen seconds), and he makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat. He doesn't really want to rip the thing, though.
Because some of us, Maya, are respectful of clothing and the vital role it plays in one's place in society. ]
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Hey, we should probably make the most of this break, right? Anything you wanted to do?
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Well. I mean, we could just wander around for a while, then, while we've got the luxury of really big walls and soldiers guarding the main entrance.
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Well, we could always skip the sight-seeing and, well... [ And he trails off, taking a hesitant step closer. ]
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Um. He flounders suddenly, trying to find words that don't make him sound ridiculous. ]
I mean, um. We could-- just spend some time together, privately?
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Whether or not we have our clothes on doesn't matter. [ Was she trolling him earlier?
Yeah. Yeah she was. ]
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Wait-- what?
[ -- his brain catches up with what she just said.
Someone, and we won't name names, is doing his best impression of a fish gasping for air out of water.
It takes him a while, but he finally finds words. And those words are these: ]
Oh, I hate you.
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No you don't. I can tell.
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[ And she tugs him a little closer. In the still lake that is Maya's emotions, there's a sudden ripple of desire ] Mm, okay now I'm cheating.
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The next breath he takes is an unsteady one. ]
You're lucky I like you so much that I'm lettin' you get away with this. 'Cause seriously? This is dastardly. Borderline evil.
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What's evil is the fact that we're not back at the inn yet.
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Don't have to ask me twice.
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(He fails, of course. Even without her getting emotional feedback from him, she's always been remarkably good at reading him like a book.)
The second the door closes behind her, guess who's going straight in for a kiss? ]
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He starts maneuvering them to the bed, reluctant to break contact for any length of time -- though he still has to pull apart to pull off his bow and quiver, and, seriously, it's paranoid of him to have brought it in the first place, but old habits die hard. ]
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Usually she appreciates that his paranoia means that he's prepared, but right now it's seriously inconvenient. ]
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Their time apart couldn't have lasted more than thirty seconds at most, but with the way he kisses her, one might assume it was months since they'd seen each other last. He doesn't think he's ever felt so goddamn wound up, and fuck, he needs her so fucking badly it makes him ache. ]
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Ah well, he can't particularly bring himself to care about it at the moment, because that was a pretty handy way to deal with the problem of disrobing without breaking their kiss. So good thinking, Maya. It's also a damn good thing he's not particularly self-conscious about his
harry potterscars, the thin red lines that spread cross his chest.(He actually thinks they look pretty impressive. Almost pretty, even. He's kept that opinion to himself.)
His own hands move to the sleeves of her dress, pushing them down her shoulders -- he's a little rougher than he means to be, motivated by his impatience and desire swirling together. ]
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But right now she's too distracted by the feel of his skin, warm to the touch as she rakes her hands down his back.
And if he's rough with her, she doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she's eager to get undressed herself, and moves to help him unlace her dress ]
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Getting her undressed is taking far too long, by his reckoning (his reckoning, of course, being that it should have taken negative fifteen seconds), and he makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat. He doesn't really want to rip the thing, though.
Because some of us, Maya, are respectful of clothing and the vital role it plays in one's place in society. ]
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