[ by his books, anything she does would probably constitute as right to him. granted, he's always been relatively broad-minded, not that how adventurous he was or wasn't played a large role in this. in his mind, she was perfect and could do no wrong. well, that could be a bit exaggerated, but it's undeniable that she was a proficient in riling him up.
the touch, whether on accident or on purpose doesn't really matter. he feels it and involuntarily he tenses slightly. it's hard to hold back how good it feels just to be touched, though it's clear that this act is meant to be more teasing than it is meant to provide him any real relief. a fact that he tries not to feel too resentful about, especially considering her next words. ] Is... that all? [ he says softly, mostly too himself,
before just barely catching himself. he clears his throat. his voice clear, not really shying away at the prospect of asking to have her. ] Please... [ not trying to sound desperate, but he definitely is and how stunted his own words sounded likely exhibited that. ]
Please take it off. [ as if to punctuate his next point, he looks down at her hand. ] I'm honestly dying, Lottie.
AUYGEF it is NEVER a weird time and also dont cry... just accept my tag :mine69:
[ He says it mostly to himself, but Lottie is more than close enough to hear it. She doesn't tease him over it, though β she's confident she's had her own equally stupefied, equally elated, moments when he's riling her up, pressing every button he's come to lovingly know. Her lips do spread wider, her pearly whites on display as he visibly, cutely, works through the pros and cons. She likes how hard he's trying to be put together. She really likes it.
(Wow, so this is what it feels like when the shoe is on the other foot? Lottie could do this all day. She's killing it!) ]
'Kay. [ She sees his lashes lower, knows where his eyes are, and she presses firmer. Cups him as she hums a pretty tune, brows pinching because she can't help but imagine how he'd feel inside her as she rubs along his length. ] Since you asked nicely.
[ If it were just the 'please', she might've held on for a bit longer.. But it's his admission of how he's dying that really spurs her to lean back, arch her back as she peels off her shirt. As per Lottie fashion, it is a whole show, orchestrated by everything she knows he already adores β shimmery skin, her delicate waist that dips down into shapely hips. And her bra, one of her favorites that accentuates her tits just right (he's definitely seen this one, before, can surmise she is wearing the matching panties beneath her shorts). Her eyes are trained on his face when her gaze isn't obscured by cloth, eager and breathless in her own way when she sits beside him. ]
Like 'em? [ Yes, she is wholeheartedly seeking her own approval and praise, here (and is, hm, also framing her tits with her own hands, lifting them up from beneath the cup of her bra). Lottie absolutely wants to hear him say she looks nice, sitting here with her panties damp and her cleavage on full display. She pats at his thigh, her telling him to scoot on up and get comfy, maybe take himself out if he desires. ] I picked this one out special tonight.
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i feel like this is the weirdest time to tag this back, but... cries
the touch, whether on accident or on purpose doesn't really matter. he feels it and involuntarily he tenses slightly. it's hard to hold back how good it feels just to be touched, though it's clear that this act is meant to be more teasing than it is meant to provide him any real relief. a fact that he tries not to feel too resentful about, especially considering her next words. ] Is... that all? [ he says softly, mostly too himself,
before just barely catching himself. he clears his throat. his voice clear, not really shying away at the prospect of asking to have her. ] Please... [ not trying to sound desperate, but he definitely is and how stunted his own words sounded likely exhibited that. ]
Please take it off. [ as if to punctuate his next point, he looks down at her hand. ] I'm honestly dying, Lottie.
AUYGEF it is NEVER a weird time and also dont cry... just accept my tag :mine69:
(Wow, so this is what it feels like when the shoe is on the other foot? Lottie could do this all day. She's killing it!) ]
'Kay. [ She sees his lashes lower, knows where his eyes are, and she presses firmer. Cups him as she hums a pretty tune, brows pinching because she can't help but imagine how he'd feel inside her as she rubs along his length. ] Since you asked nicely.
[ If it were just the 'please', she might've held on for a bit longer.. But it's his admission of how he's dying that really spurs her to lean back, arch her back as she peels off her shirt. As per Lottie fashion, it is a whole show, orchestrated by everything she knows he already adores β shimmery skin, her delicate waist that dips down into shapely hips. And her bra, one of her favorites that accentuates her tits just right (he's definitely seen this one, before, can surmise she is wearing the matching panties beneath her shorts). Her eyes are trained on his face when her gaze isn't obscured by cloth, eager and breathless in her own way when she sits beside him. ]
Like 'em? [ Yes, she is wholeheartedly seeking her own approval and praise, here (and is, hm, also framing her tits with her own hands, lifting them up from beneath the cup of her bra). Lottie absolutely wants to hear him say she looks nice, sitting here with her panties damp and her cleavage on full display. She pats at his thigh, her telling him to scoot on up and get comfy, maybe take himself out if he desires. ] I picked this one out special tonight.