charmoffensive | fade rift. inbox.

[ She lets go of a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and relaxes against him, setting her head back down in the crook of his neck and closing her eyes. ]

Afternoon.

[ Athessa shifts slightly, just so she isn't exacerbating any unpleasant limb tingles. Only nice tingles in this bed. ]

I didn't kick you in my sleep, did I?

I'll count my bruises later.

[ That would be a 'no', to judge from his tone.

He resettles into the tangle they'd already been in, only with minor adjustments for comfort. Still close, still sleepy. His hand roams to her hair, stroking through it, drawing it back and behind the narrow point of her ear. ]

How's your head?

Hm? Oh, fine.

[ She idly brushes her fingers over his collarbone, speaking against his pulse. ]

I didnt actually do any drinking. How's yours?

Admirable. The not drinking, I mean.

[ His head, however-- ]

Attached. [ But he's already awake enough to thread humour through his tone, so it can't be that bad. He certainly was very present the previous night. ] Or, the joke: 'no complaints yet'.

[ Her laugh is a soft, breathy sound against his neck. He was definitely present. (And still is, if the brush of skin against naked skin is anything to go by.) ]

We'll have to be sure that it stays that way, [ Attached. ] And keep pushing yet a little further away.

Mmmhm.

[ What are they talking about? Nonsense, he suspects, but is distracted by the feel of her laughter. It's been a while, since he's woken up like this with a girl. Most things tend to end well before. ]

I hope you haven't anywhere you must urgently be.

Nowhere but here.

[ If she's forgetting any prior obligations, surely she'll be forgiven. She tilts her head to brush her lips against his pulse in not-quite a kiss. ]

It's been a long time since anyone's shared my bed like this.

Really?

[ He knows how it is for himself, how it must be most of the time. But what's her excuse? ]

Mm. [ Yes, really. ] Out the door and on their way soon as they're dressed.

I don't believe you.

[ Declarative. He rises up a little in bed, finally, moving so as to hold himself over her, bed frame creaking. ]

I might believe you throw people out, but on their own volition?

[ For some reason, with him above her, the both of them nude and his insistence that leaving her bed is not an easy prospect, she flushes. Coy may be well within her repertoire of wiles, but in this moment it isn't a trick, or a mask, or an affectation.

It's flattering. ]

Are you callin' me a liar? [ Teasing, grinning, biting her lip. For the moment — and who can say how long the moment will last — she keeps her hands to herself. ]

And a cheat,

[ he says, lowering his head to kiss her cheek, ]

and a scoundrel,

[ and then again, low on her throat. ]

[ She laughs and drapes her arms over his shoulders, tipping her head back to bare more of her throat to him. ]

A thorough-going villain, sounds like,

[ she lightly scores his back with her nails, and her leg brushes against his. ]

at the mercy of the brave hero.

So she'd have him believe.

[ Low enough now to kiss the top of her breast, a warmer and wetter kiss before he lifts his head. There's a ripple of pleasure evoked from the snag of her nails along his spine, and he skims his hand down her side, almost tickle-light. ]

Before she reveals her dastardly scheme.

[ Bastard, making her think of a scheme to continue this charming banter when he's kissing her like this and touching her like that. ]

Using herself as bait to lure him into a trap,

[ She trails her fingers up over his shoulders, slipping them into his hair. A playful tug, right at the base of his horns. ]

and bend him to her will. But little does she know—

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slaps that nsfw tag in place;

nsfw;