"Gale my love, one room over still counts as nearby." She rolls her eyes with affection and starts pushing him out of the kitchen. "And if you keep finding new ways to make me wait to get that not-yet-confirmed-to-be-a-ring then I will throw you over the balcony."
That succeeds in making him laugh a little, easing his concern about kitchen fires. "Ah, but what good would it do you? I'm a strong swimmer, so I'd only come back."
It's fine. If there's a fire, he can come running to make sure it's put out quickly.
So he turns, gives her one more kiss, and vacates the room as asked. He doesn't make as much progress on his poem as he'd like, pausing occasionally to wonder whether he smells smoke or too much spice or whether he's imagining it.
Harley accidentally adds the salt twice, then doubles up the rest of the seasoning for the sake of ratios. Gale has talked about ratios before, so she knows that's the right thing to do at least in some contexts. Maybe this is one of those times. The chicken doesn't burn, but it does end up overcooked and dry.
Overall, disappointing but not offensive. One of her top efforts so far.
Once dinner is ready, she comes to find him. She slips her arms around his shoulders and bends to kiss the back of his neck.
Harley pulls his chair back so there's room for her to move between him and the desk. She settles on his lap, her fingers moving to stroke his nape as she moves in for another kiss.
She sighs happily and her lips brush softly along his jaw when they part. Inspiration.
"Hey," she noses at the tender skin under his ear. "Cast detect thoughts."
His hands move to hold her hips, and he smiles up at her with his puppy
eyed expression.
"Are you sure?" He asks reflexively, eyebrows furrowing. Of course she's
sure, she's the one who'd asked him to do it, but he always wants her to
have that chance to refuse him.
"If you say so, then so be it." He lifts his hands to cast the spell with
quick, precise little movements.
She kisses that smile, making herself soft and sweet in a way that doesn't come naturally. Or at least it hadn't for a very long time, until Gale.
It's not a request she makes often, but sometimes her thoughts and feelings are too big to fit into words. This is the compromise that stops her from walking away to escape that feeling.
Her thoughts aren't formed in words so much as swirling tides of emotions. They threaten to drown her sometimes, but what she feels now -- and what he feels as he detects her thoughts -- is the sweet golden warmth of love. She loves him fiercely, deeply, unquestionably. There is nothing she wouldn't do to keep him, and she has a bone deep certainty that they will make a future together.
And also, that she really really really wants to choke on his cock. But mostly the first thing!
That honeyed warmth is equal parts sweet and ferocious, rushing over him
until he's submerged in the depths of her love. It's wonderful and
overwhelming to feel such affection that asks nothing from him in return,
not power or knowledge or accomplishment, only that he keep on living
despite she odds. His tear ducts and sinuses prickle with the effort not to
cry, and—
Oh! The surprise breaks the spell, and she feels it like he stumbled
out of the room that is her mind. He blushes deeply, and it takes a couple
of false starts before he manages proper words. "I love you too, even if
you do tease me far more than I deserve." His hands land on her legs again,
except he's sliding them under her, scooping her up in his arms as he
sweeps out of the study. "If I can't satisfy one appetite, I suppose I'll
settle for another.'
He beams at her, and thought he says nothing, that is answer enough. Hey
particular brand of teasing still sometimes manages to catch him off guard,
but he still adores it and her.
"You are a perpetual inspiration, my lovely muse," he answers. Once they're
in the kitchen, he lowers her back to the ground. He doesn't wait for her
offer before he starts sniffing around the prepared food.
"Ye-?" She's in his space before he can properly verbalize whatever he was going to say, but he doesn't care. She seems to be the one person entirely capable of shutting him up for any significant amount of time. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her in close, forgetting hunger for anything other than her.
It's several minutes before she decides they've had enough kisses to get her through dinner, so she takes one more minute just to be extra sure. When she finally steps away, it's with a dreamy smile and a sigh.
"You and the gods will just have to agree to disagree about that one," he
replies. One god in particular, though he hasn't ever heard any of the
others singing his praises, so the point still stands. "But your opinion is
far more important than theirs could ever be. You are my entire world."
Harley sighs again and makes a very unconvincing show of being annoyed.
"My goodness, Gale! How am I ever supposed to stop kissing you when you keep being extremely kissable?" She slides her arms around his shoulders and slots her mouth over his again, savoring his lips instead of dinner.
"If that's the rub, then I fear we might just have to go hungry indefinitely," he agrees, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in close for more kisses. They both know that reheating dinner isn't going to dry that chicken out any more than it already is. He reaches down to grab her thighs and lift them to wrap her legs around his waist.
"All I like, hm?" She raises a challenging brow. Well, if he says so! She presses her hand to the front of his trousers and strokes him through the fabric.
He makes a strangled noise of surprise, stiffening in his limbs and in... other places. "Should have anticipated that one honestly," he breathes, focusing on not enjoying himself too much. "Careful..."
With her legs still around him and her hand trapped between their hips, there's not really enough range of motion to do more than tease.
"I'll stop if you want me to," she promises between kisses against his throat. She laps at his pulse. "But what I want is to get on my knees. Just a little. Just a taste."
He knows exactly how much she wants it. He was just inside her head.
Gale closes his eyes, focused equally on the pleasure and on not enjoying
that pleasure too much. "I thought you said wanted to do that after
receiving the contents of the box, so you might die without regrets," he
says, breath fluttery.
He comes around behind her to tuck her chair in for her, ever the
gentleman, except he leans down so that his mouth is so close that it
brushes the shell of her ear.
"After dinner and after the box... Well, maybe we can both die without
regrets, hm?"
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It's fine. If there's a fire, he can come running to make sure it's put out quickly.
So he turns, gives her one more kiss, and vacates the room as asked. He doesn't make as much progress on his poem as he'd like, pausing occasionally to wonder whether he smells smoke or too much spice or whether he's imagining it.
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Overall, disappointing but not offensive. One of her top efforts so far.
Once dinner is ready, she comes to find him. She slips her arms around his shoulders and bends to kiss the back of his neck.
"You look stuck. Need some inspiration?"
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"From my muse? Always."
He twists in his chair and tips his head upwards like a sunflower chasing the sun, then gives her a kiss.
"Dinner smells delicious," he remarks when they separate, and it's true! Nothing smells burned or strange, which makes pride swell in his chest.
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She sighs happily and her lips brush softly along his jaw when they part. Inspiration.
"Hey," she noses at the tender skin under his ear. "Cast detect thoughts."
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His hands move to hold her hips, and he smiles up at her with his puppy eyed expression.
"Are you sure?" He asks reflexively, eyebrows furrowing. Of course she's sure, she's the one who'd asked him to do it, but he always wants her to have that chance to refuse him.
"If you say so, then so be it." He lifts his hands to cast the spell with quick, precise little movements.
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It's not a request she makes often, but sometimes her thoughts and feelings are too big to fit into words. This is the compromise that stops her from walking away to escape that feeling.
Her thoughts aren't formed in words so much as swirling tides of emotions. They threaten to drown her sometimes, but what she feels now -- and what he feels as he detects her thoughts -- is the sweet golden warmth of love. She loves him fiercely, deeply, unquestionably. There is nothing she wouldn't do to keep him, and she has a bone deep certainty that they will make a future together.
And also, that she really really really wants to choke on his cock. But mostly the first thing!
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That honeyed warmth is equal parts sweet and ferocious, rushing over him until he's submerged in the depths of her love. It's wonderful and overwhelming to feel such affection that asks nothing from him in return, not power or knowledge or accomplishment, only that he keep on living despite she odds. His tear ducts and sinuses prickle with the effort not to cry, and—
Oh! The surprise breaks the spell, and she feels it like he stumbled out of the room that is her mind. He blushes deeply, and it takes a couple of false starts before he manages proper words. "I love you too, even if you do tease me far more than I deserve." His hands land on her legs again, except he's sliding them under her, scooping her up in his arms as he sweeps out of the study. "If I can't satisfy one appetite, I suppose I'll settle for another.'
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"I think I tease you just as much as you like!"
For example. Her fingers play through his hair and she gives him a coy smile.
"I hope you found something inspiring in that, Gale my love."
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He beams at her, and thought he says nothing, that is answer enough. Hey particular brand of teasing still sometimes manages to catch him off guard, but he still adores it and her.
"You are a perpetual inspiration, my lovely muse," he answers. Once they're in the kitchen, he lowers her back to the ground. He doesn't wait for her offer before he starts sniffing around the prepared food.
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"Wait-" She grabs his waist and crowds him against the table to kiss him again. Let dinner get cold.
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"Gods, you're perfect."
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"You and the gods will just have to agree to disagree about that one," he replies. One god in particular, though he hasn't ever heard any of the others singing his praises, so the point still stands. "But your opinion is far more important than theirs could ever be. You are my entire world."
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Harley sighs again and makes a very unconvincing show of being annoyed.
"My goodness, Gale! How am I ever supposed to stop kissing you when you keep being extremely kissable?" She slides her arms around his shoulders and slots her mouth over his again, savoring his lips instead of dinner.
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"Don't talk about rubbing when you won't let me do it. That's mean."
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"You can do all the rubbing you like, and I will happily observe," he replies with a wicked little grin. Dinner may as well not exist, at this point.
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What's dinner? Never heard of her.
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"I'll stop if you want me to," she promises between kisses against his throat. She laps at his pulse. "But what I want is to get on my knees. Just a little. Just a taste."
He knows exactly how much she wants it. He was just inside her head.
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Gale closes his eyes, focused equally on the pleasure and on not enjoying that pleasure too much. "I thought you said wanted to do that after receiving the contents of the box, so you might die without regrets," he says, breath fluttery.
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Cockblocked by her own past self. If only she could go back in time and throttle the bitch. She frowns against his skin and huffs out her irritation.
Slowly, reluctantly, she unwraps herself from around him and takes a proper sit at the table. She's pouting. The full sulk.
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He comes around behind her to tuck her chair in for her, ever the gentleman, except he leans down so that his mouth is so close that it brushes the shell of her ear.
"After dinner and after the box... Well, maybe we can both die without regrets, hm?"
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"I don't care how innocent you act. You are every bit as bad as I am."
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