stormandwind | INBOX: lastvoyages

[He makes a noise that's half hum, half purr. One of his hands slides slowly and appreciatively over her hip and side.]

You are a genius.

For offering to make you ice cream or for the kissing? I don't think we've reached the limits of my creativity in either case.

For the ice cream. For the kissing: you are a queen.

[His own kisses trail down her cheek and jaw, lingering where her chin softens, and then moving down her neck to her chest. Once her clothes are in the way, he nuzzles her through them.]

I don't like that endearment. Choose another, please.

[But she's distracted from that critique by what he does afterward. Her breath hitches. Tris wraps one arm tightly around him and tangles her other hand in his hair.]

Hmm...

[He moves lower: between her breasts and down to her stomach. He makes a pleased noise against it.]

A treasure?

I suppose that will do.

[Tris trails the fingers of one hand along all of his shoulders and back that she can reach. The hand in his hair stays where it is, massaging his scalp.]

I can supply others: a rare treat. A jewel. A quiet storm.

[His own hands run slowly up her thighs.]

This is a much more enjoyable way to spend the night than the last time I was here.

[Tris squirms slightly, legs shifting into his touch.]

Though I appreciated everything you did that week.

Agree. I enjoy caring for you, but I do not like to see you hurt.

[He lets his head drop to her lap, pressing his lips to her thighs through her skirts.]

Would you...allow me to see you sometime, disrobed?

[She's quiet for a few seconds as years of self-consciousness and refusal to use communal baths, even with other women, war with how sincere Francesco is. Tris runs her fingers through his hair, steeling herself to give the answer she wants to rather than shying away from it.]

Yes. We could do that tonight, if you want.

I've been wondering, is sex something you're interested in? At some point. [Not tonight, in other words. A general question.]

[He tips his chin up; looks her in the eye.]

I want. And yes, I have...interest. With you.

[An almost shy smile spreads across her face lightning-quick. Uncharacteristic, but then, this isn't a situation she's used to being in.]

If I'm getting out of my clothes, I want you out of yours. Come here.

[Tris holds out her arms, because she also wants to kiss him first.]

[He slithers closer to her.]

You know, you have technically seen me without clothing already.

[But he is smirking.]

It isn't quite the same without your perception filter active. After all, anyone on this ship who bothers to look at their communicators saw you without clothing months ago.

[Dry remarks out of the way, Tris goes ahead and gives him a thorough kiss before sitting up and sliding off of the bed. She doesn't feel like wrestling with skirts while she's lying on them.]

No. Not quite the same.

[He sits up eagerly, eyes fixed on her.]

[It would be easier if he weren't watching quite so intently. Tris neatly sets aside her dress after taking it off, and the petticoat too, stalling for just a couple seconds.

She sits down on the edge of the bed before pulling off the short shift she had on underneath. It saves her from looking at Francesco immediately, but she will turn to face him unprompted if he doesn't reach for her right away. Being vulnerable has never come easily.]

[No, Francesco would not miss a moment of this; an inch of new, as yet seen Tris. He looks more enthralled by the moment. His eyes trace over her feet, then her calves, then thighs. They go up over her stomach. They linger on her chest. They come to rest on her face as she turns to him.]

You are so very perfect.

[Tris freezes at the compliment, another second of uncertainty, and then wraps an arm tightly around his waist. She kisses him more fiercely than usual.]

That isn't something I've heard before.

[Her free hand slides along Francesco's chest to start helping him out of his clothes.]

[Once she's drawn her lips back he says:]

I can say it again. Many times. I will not run dry.

[His own clothes are easier to remove than they look, although his doublet does have many buttons. It is also padded in the front, as was the style, and he's thinner once it's off; still not entirely grown into himself. His shoulders are broad, but his chest is narrow.]

[She grins, a valiant attempt at the usual sharp expression.]

But I might start to scold you if you say it too often. I know you meant it. That's enough.

[Once he's out of his doublet, Tris skims her hands up over Francesco's stomach and chest, his shoulders.]

[He flexes under her fingers: preens a little.]

Your scolding would not stop me.

[He stands and steps out of his boots, then hose. Then he sits beside her again; strokes her cheek.]

You are persistent. I would hope to slow you down a little, though. There's only so much praise I can stand.

[She's aware that he has no such problem; it's probably for the best that she's a little more sparing. Not so sparing as to be anything other than appreciative right now, though. Tris watches with the corner of her mouth quirked into a smile.

When he sits back down, she tilts her head into that touch on her cheek, then turns to kiss his hand. Her arm slides around his waist.]

I will pause, of course, frequently and at length to kiss you.

[This is a promise he fulfills by pressing his lips to her forehead. He has little if any shame in his nude human form, despite the fact that he has spent very little time in it. He has not examined it in a mirror even though he now has that ability. Her's is much more intriguing. Softer to the touch. Curves and mountains.]

That isn't what I meant, but I can't protest you kissing me.

[Tris lets her gaze slide down over Francesco again, a grin flickering across her face. She could also kiss him instead. She leans in to press her lips to his shoulder, then his neck, before gently biting his earlobe.]

You're a nice sight too.

[He makes a soft noise of surprise, before his eyes slip closed and he melts into her.]

And taste, it would seem. But do go on.

INBOX: lastvoyages

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