(no subject)

[maskormods]

WHO: Everyone!
WHERE: Jeopardy -> Heropa
WHEN: Nov. 19
WHAT: A resolution and a swear-in
WARNINGS: Please label threads

Somewhere, in a place that is and is not Jeopardy, time has passed. To some, it may have felt like mere hours; to others, days. For time doesn't truly touch this place. Only fate exists here, for imPorts to change or allow to proceed as it will.

Somewhere, the sisters look into the hearts of those with the power to decide the fate of this entire world and know their choice. A blinding light grows, forcing even the strongest to close their eyes, and as they do so, a vision of what could have happened appears in their minds. A world wreathed in flames, fire and screams echoing ceaselessly as they depart; a peaceful world, healed and whole and well—and a certainty that another world has paid a heavy price.

And then there's the sensation of three powerful forces leaving, two taking an unwilling third with them to wherever they are going. This world will be left as it is now, and its future will be whatever the people here make of it.

MEANWHILE, IN HEROPA

One week into the mysterious storm that has enveloped much of Jeopardy, citizens across the nation are losing hope. The government continues to monitor the situation at a safe distance, but cannot enter the affected part of the city, though one SEAL team did make an attempt, only to become lost in the wind for hours before emerging without ever making it through. While the storm hasn't grown, neither has it shown any sign of changing.

The heroes who bravely charged into the storm have not officially been given up for lost, but with no news coming from Jeopardy, few believe they will emerge unscathed. To honor their sacrifice (?) and offer sorrowful natives a means of coping, a candlelight vigil kicks off outside Heropa City Hall at 4:30 PM EST.



Speeches are given. Commemorative t-shirts are sold. It is at this point that a large portal of light opens up in front of the building and deposits all imPorts who entered the storm, as well as a confused but unharmed Layla and Sally Clapp. A stunned silence falls over the crowd — followed shortly by an eruption of cheers.

Organized chaos quickly reigns over the occasion. Medical personnel are quickly called in to aid any imPorts who might need it, and government officials quickly descend, one thing on their mind: what the heck happened, heroes?! ImPorts are asked to state, for the record, exactly what they experienced — which leaves a lot of room open for the more creative among them. Just what each imPorts is willing to confess to or lie about is up to them, but there are other imPorts at hand to refute or support all statements.

While imPorts are technically free to go, all are encouraged to enter the building for a debriefing with government officials. Those who care to share their story begin to paint a picture of what happened, and a flurry of transportation begins to move between City Hall and the local porter outpost, as Jeopardy will certainly require some aid now that it is fully accessible. Reports begin to filter back that while there have been some casualties and collateral damage to the city, it is far less of a disaster than the government anticipated during the storm, no doubt due to imPorts' efforts. Additionally, news from other porter cities begins to arrive; with the dissipation of the Jeopardy storm, all dimensional anomalies elsewhere have ceased.

Following the briefings, ImPorts may go home and get some rest, although they may have trouble shaking off the crowds — which are largely ecstatic that the people who apparently saved the world are in front of them.



While imPorts were occupied with the post-disaster debriefings, locals have used the time to launch an impromptu celebration of their defense of this world. Local restaurants, breweries and nanas have hustled their finest wares over, and free food and drink are flowing for the homecoming heroes. A local party & events organizing company has strung up some lights and tents in the park across the street from City Hall, lending a festive atmosphere to the area. T-shirts being sold to honor the assumed-fallen heroes have been 'edited' with permanent marker, going from 'FALLED HEROES' (there was an error in the print run, given the notice of less than a week) to 'RISEN HEROES' and are, regretfully, being given away for free.

For those who stay, an impromptu party breaks out, and the occasion quickly becomes the latest swear-in, albeit with a more casual emphasis on the actual swearing-in than usual; a card table is set up with the usual seals and documents, but it's a bit haphazard.

Along with tasty libations, local musicians start jamming on acoustic guitars in the park's gazebo, setting up some cheerful background music—or maybe you're not too tired to dance? A local physical therapy school has rolled in multiple portable massage tables, with free sessions for sore heroes!

The locals who haven't dispersed yet are also around, likely to seek autographs from the world savers, while podcasters, BlueTubers and regular nosy nellies might lean in with a recording device, asking for the real story of what happened. For imPorts who become too intoxicated or exhausted to porter home, many locals are offering couches to crash on — although the pillows they use may later show up on ePay.

Comments

[golisolation]

What?

[When she grabs his arm, and successfully pulls it down, he just looks confused. But then it sinks in what she said, and that confused expression gives way to a lascivious grin.]

Yeah? Do ya now...?

[He starts to move his hand towards her, but then stops. Almost like he's hit a wall. That grin fading for a second as his expression shifts to something a little conflicted and concentrated. Lucina can basically see the gears in his head turning as he then stuffs his hands into his pockets. Maybe groping Lucina in public isn't a good idea, and he has at last the smallest morsel of sense to keep himself in check

Even drunk.]

[fauxmarth]

[in that beat where he's clearly got the hamster-wheel turning, Lucina is braced with her breath held. is she going to have to throw him? clap a hand over his mouth? drag him to the Porter posthaste? is--

ah...

no. he's...heeled himself! thank gods. she lets out her breath, still red as a tomato and none-too pleased about it!

flustered, she picks up her pace, rubbing at her cheeks as if to scrub the look of her face.]

L-let's just get out of here, okay? Without yelling to the world about it!

[golisolation]

YEA—[WAIT]—uh, yeah.

[Man he feels a little awkward, but probably not as awkward as Lucina right now. It's not like he's trying to be a pain in the ass, but drunk people do drunk people things...

So, with a scowl that's more self aimed than anything, he follows behind her. Feeling an odd bit like he's in trouble? A strange feeling for the Skull leader to be sure, but he doesn't say anything about. Just keeps his hands in his pockets, and focuses on keeping up with her, and not tripping over himself and eating the concrete.]

[fauxmarth]

[honestly... drunkenness can be so troublesome! she has half a mind to scold him for it, but...gods. that's so much work and effort. even with a meal behind her and a bit more energy, she's exhausted with conflict! now that Guzma mentioned getting clean again...that's really what's coming to the forefront of her mind. hot water...]



Oh, good-- it's still warm in here.

[she lets out a breath of relief as she enters the dark house, quickly sidestepping so her drunk boy can stomp on in to warm his poor, tropical bones. Heropa was comfortable enough to walk in during the evening, but porting back up to Maurtia Falls? the temperature change was quite the slap in the face.]

Come on, then. [she keeps a hand on his arm while he's kicking shoes off.] Go on and wash off. You'll feel a lot better right away.

[golisolation]

[The only fortunate part of his drunkness is that the artificial warmth it gives fools him into thinking he's not as cold as he is. He's still cold, but he'd probably be complaining a whole lot more, especially considering he wasn't exactly wearing his winter coat to goddamn Jeopardy!!

So, when he does step into her place, his arms and face are particularly red, his body a bit rigid from trying to keep itself pulled tight against itself. Honestly, it's when the warmth hits him that he realizes just how cold he actually is, and as if on cue, he starts to shiver.]

Fuuuuck, it's cold out there...

[Once inside proper, he starts to rub his arms after kicking his shoes off at the door. He does look over his shoulder at her—at least the trek home helped to sober him up a little, and what artificial warmth remained was more from the buzz, than being truly piss drunk anymore.]

Y'sure? I'm sure you're freezin' too.

[She's just...less of a baby about it.]

[fauxmarth]

I can wait my turn. It'd bother me more if you had to wait on me.

[after turning on one of the lamps in the living room, she walks back to him and gives him a gentle tug on the arm, nodding over toward the bedroom.]

Besides, you're the guest. You get first dibs.

[golisolation]

[That earns her an odd look. He's the "guest", huh? Technically it's true, but...he's not exactly familiar with such treatment or consideration, at least other than maybe mocking that sort of mentality often found in the upper classes of society—the stuffy sort that are friendly because of social standards than anything genuine.

With a huff of amused disbelief and a shrug, he starts his way towards the bathroom.]

If you say so. Though—[he stops right before leaving the living room, his hand resting on corner of the doorway into the hall from the livingroom as he stops for a second. Maybe if he was as piss drunk as before, he'd offer she join him, but even with inhibitions lowered as they are, he's not...braindead.

After all, she was already pretty pissed with him earlier, wasn't she?]—eh, nevermind... I'll be quick.

[fauxmarth]

[huh...?

she tilts her head, giving his back an inquisitive look that lingers even after the door clicks closed. what...did he mean to say? she wishes she had a better read on him in times like that. or...in general. he still surprises her -- mostly for the better, if she were to keep score, but even so...

well. she can't spend that time just...conjuring up mysterious claims with no basis; that's not only nervewracking, but exhausting to even consider. instead she takes to meandering around the rest of her little living space, seeing to some of the chores she'd left behind on that fateful day. after setting some glasses of water down on the coffee table, she starts to unclip the greaves on her legs. for the first time in so many days, her knees and shins get some air...gods, it feels weird. good, but weird. same feeling she'd had when Archie helped her get out of the gauntlets and pauldrons. shedding a second skin...

straightening up, her fingers trail to her belt. Falchion's belt and scabbard... she feels a weight in her chest as she unbuckles and withdraws it from herself, watching the material dangle limply from the belt length.

even if her father wouldn't hold it against her, giving up that most holy blade...she can't help but hold herself accountable. maybe there was something else she could've given in its stead. but the idea of sacrificing her memories? her precious feelings? even the painful ones...they're all so important. she's already afraid of all the times others port out, how they'd come to forget her. how some had, upon return. Thor. Padme.

it's why she'd been so relieved when Guzma found her again, remembered her.

she'll remember Falchion, too. having it, earning it...losing it. those memories will stay, and she'll fight anyone who tries to wrench them free of her.

for now, though, this belt and the remains of this armor will get carefully placed near the wicker chair Archie made for her. the laundry chair.]

[golisolation]

[The shower does him some good. Peeling his own clothes off is much the same feeling for him—he has no idea how long they were actually in that hell storm, but it did them no favors in hygiene. Not that Guzma's ever been too horribly picky over such things, being homeless and then stuck living in an abandoned and destroyed town, where they struggled to keep the power on, where they struggled to survive..there were just more important things than that.

But even he could appreciate the relaxing and refreshing feel of a hot shower after everything. Especially after the cold trek it took to get back. At least it helps him think a little more clearly, and gives him a little more time to sober up...even if he's not entirely. His buzzed mind doesn't let his thoughts linger too long on one thing or the other, jumping around a bit, but always landing back on Lucina. How grateful he is to be back with her—both of them relatively unharmed beyond scrapes and bruises from those fights.

Both alive.

Once he's finally done, he emerges from the bathroom in...nothing but a towel around his waist. Look, his clothes are a damn mess, and it'd be pointless to put the gore and sweat-slicked clothes back on when he just got clean. His hair is a wet flippy mess, more in his face than not, and what attempts he might have taken to drying it only did so much.]

All yours.

[He says as he gestures towards the bathroom, but he stops in his place as he looks her over, and takes in the sight of her out of her armor. She's really something else in it and out of it, and it's a bit of an incredible transformation. He likes both, definitely, but after both of them having to be so on guard non-stop, it's nice to see her like this.]

[fauxmarth]

Alright, I'll--

[she stops, doing a bit of a double-take as she actually looks at Guzma as opposed to just a passing glance. rather, the state of him. state of undress of him. him. uh--

without her permission, her face and neck go red as a tingle shoots up her spine. it really is a novel thing to her -- not really to be attracted to someone, not really, but...to this degree? and with this state of dress.

undress.

gods.

she shakes her head to snap herself out of it and, clearing her throat, hastens past him and closes the bedroom door behind her, needing a minute to stand there and get a hold of herself. heart hammering out of nowhere! where is this adrenaline coming from? after all that endless strife, shouldn't she just be exhausted instead of...of all hot and bothered?

dammit, she can't even really zone out in that glorious, hot water for too long before her thoughts begin to drift to him, leaving her quite shaken up. yet, alongside that... 'the first day of the rest of our lives,' was it? to find happiness?

and he'd said, even though he had his heart set on someone else where he's from...he wants to stay with her. he could spend the next whole damn month with her! as he'd screamed...out loud...like a crazy person.]

Umh...So I, I took the liberty of collecting your clothes, [she says, reappearing in the doorway, pajama-clad and hesitant.] I've put them in the washing machine with the others. That way you don't have to...

[walk around my living quarters in just a towel!!!]

Put on that filth later.

[golisolation]

[Guzma barely gets to react before all that happens and then the door clicks behind her. He's left standing there, staring a little dumbly at the bedroom door. It doesn't take long for him to realize why she reacted like that--it's obvious, anyway. Maybe he just didn't expect her to react quite like that.

A good fluff to the ego, anyway. While she's showering and suffering over her thoughts, he's made himself comfortable on her couch. There's no modesty for him, not with how he still kinda...manspreads with that towel on, but at least he's drank one of the glasses of water by the time she returns.

He had...kinda just left his clothes in a sloppy and smelly pile, huh? Oops...but he guesses that works. While he's never been one shy about showing any skin, he can imagine why she might not be so casual about it.

Doesn't stop him from smirking and shrugging.]

Eh, I imagine you're gonna see it all eventually, anyway.

[That implication is very purposeful.]

But thanks. Feel any better?

[fauxmarth]

I-- [oh.

well.

he's--

he didn't have to put it so bluntly, did he?! as if he was directly remarking on her unseemly thoughts like that... he really has no sense of propriety, does he?!

with a soft huff:] Yes. Yes, much better...

[she draws a bit closer to the couch, rubbing at the back of her neck in a self-conscious, uncertain fashion that really doesn't sit with her well. she doesn't like coming off so out of her element, but...when she is out of her element, what can be done? she's a dreadful actress! and if it were so bad that she's...herself, why would he bother putting up with her for so long? and make...promises the way he does?

gods, this is frustrating.]

Y-you know. I... [...] I know we've been through...a lot in such...a short span of time. But. That just...makes me think that... [she brings a hand to her face, fairly certain she must be steaming at the ears.] I mean...!

[HUFF!!! SHE HATES BEING THIS DUMB.]

Forget it! Are you tired? I won't keep you!

[golisolation]

[He's silent as he watches her...have a war with herself or something, slightly tilting his head as she goes on and then...that. He's curious, what exactly she's getting at, and he wonders idly if his gutterbound theories are even remotely right.

With how flustered she is, he'd assume yes, but maybe that's just his state of undress. Casually, he runs a hand through his damp and messy hair, smoothing it back out of his face (useless, considering the moment he removes his hand, it flops back into his face) as he eyes her.]

I ain't tired, so go on. I'm sure we've both been through worse than whatever it is you're tryin' to say to me.

[fauxmarth]

R...right...

[gods dammit. of course this isn't like the world is at stake, but even so! her heart hurts as she trips all over this. she's the sort of person to follow her instincts, but...where's the instinct for this?!

rather than take her free pass out to retreat, Lucina remains rooted in place. she peeks out between her fingers to glance his way sidelong, her stomach a knotted mess.]

Everything that's...already come and gone...

[her fingers curl into a fist, withdrawing from her jaw so she can hug her arms to herself.]

And regardless of what I could and couldn't see ahead of me...you stood up and...took a place beside me. And in the parts where you weren't there...I wanted you there.

So when I do go lay down...I'll want you there.

[what was that about lacking instinct? somehow, even in the bleakest of situations, Lucina's heart finds a way to convey itself with some clarity. there's more flickerings of that when she looks back up and fixes her eyes on him, her expression strained.]

I-I want you there. Guzma.

[golisolation]

[Man, it's almost painful watching her navigate her way through that, but with uncharacteristic patience, he waits it out and lets her get there. As if he could speak up anyway, not with how her progress fills him with a heat that eclipses the lingering warmth of the shower and the booze.

He visibly perks towards the end of that, realizing with a downward pulse, that he had not indeed been wrong with where his mind had wandered, and perhaps it's almost too quickly he stands (nearly losing his towel when doing so).]

Your boy wants to be there, yo!

[He nearly verbally stumbles over himself in responding. At least he's eager? His heart is thumping excitedly in his chest, and he can't help where his mind goes as he stares down at her.]

Like I said, I ain't tired, but I ain't got no issue goin' to bed with ya.

[Obviously in more ways than one...]

[fauxmarth]

[thank gods he can parse enough meaning from her efforts to convey what she can't wholly grasp herself. her mouth twitches in a faint, worried smile, one that gets hidden when her head tilts back down, unable to meet his eye for too long. if she tries, she's sure she'll just combust!

she lets out a shaky breath, her head bobbing a bit of a nod before she can muster the gumption to lift her head back up. she rolls up on her toes, reaching to carefully cup his jaw in her hands to pull him down to her make a better point with a kiss, rather than words.

i may not know where i'm going, the tremor in her lips conveys, but i want to be there with you.]

[golisolation]

[As if it were directed by her very motion, Guzma leans into the kiss to meet her lips. Answering her point with his own, his hands placing themselves on her sides as he meets that kiss with a starved hunger. One that he's kept under control for far too long, one that fuels his hands as they splay against her body, running towards her back as he pulls her in close to his basically bare body, only that towel and her pajamas between them.

Both of which Guzma curses in his mind, but if this is going exactly where he's been lead to believe it is, well...they won't be for long. As if to test the waters, during that kiss in which he's parted his mouth and darted his tongue out against her own lips to deepen it, he allows one of his hands to slide downwardly, and should he not find her discontent or a hand of her own stopping his, he'll be cupping and squeezing that cute ass of hers.

He's wanted to grab it for a while now, but it's one of the many thing he's had to keep under control for her sake. Something he was fine with, obviously, but it didn't change how great it feels to finally be allowed to do it.]

[fauxmarth]

[his hand there sends a lot of tickling chills up her back and through her chest, and it has her inhale sharply against his mouth as she presses up against him, her arms wrapping around his neck to help anchor her close.

letting herself get lost in those lovely, thrilling feelings that he seems to spark by simply being...it's not so terrible, now that the weight of a whole world has been eased off her shoulders.]

Guzma.

[her voice is barely there in her breath as their mouths part. her face flush, eyes half-lidded, enamored, she tries to catch glimpse of his eyes, too.

sure, her heart is hammering, and it's as much thrill as it is nervous energy, but she won't back away now.]

Tonight. Will you lead...? Just. [she smooths a bit of matted hair she'd laced her fingers into.] Don't get too far...ahead of me.

[golisolation]

[At her request, it's like a fire that surges through him, igniting his nerves as it settles hotly in his groin. There's an excited look to his eyes, gladly locking with her own gaze. Not that kissing and touching her wasn't doing it's own part, a fact she could likely feel against her now. He huffs through that grin on his lips, and somehow finds his voice.]

Yeah, I'll lead. Ain't got no problem with that. Hold on—[as he says that, he lowers his second hand, ducking down a little himself to get a better hold on her before he lifts her up by her butt, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist, and to hold on with those arms.

She wanted him to lead? Well, he'll do just that. Once she's properly clinging to him, and his hand placements are more secure, he'll be carrying her right into her bedroom. Kicking the door open with a little too much gusto, before laying her down onto her bed—himself over her. He catches her lips again in a kiss as his hands, no longer needed to support her, then rub the length of her thighs.]

[fauxmarth]

Wh-oh! [she startles before she figures out what he's up to, stifling any nervous laughter by pressing her mouth shut, hanging on and startling again at the kick. h-he didn't need to kick it -- it was already open...! gods!

oh, hell. it's probably karma for what she did to his doors...

she holds her latest breath as she finds herself being settled down, her eyes fluttering closed as he returns to her with that kiss -- something familiar and comfortable at the threshold of all of this.

the press of him atop her is alarming in ways, makes her think of all the counters she'd have at her disposal were this a spar, but...that'd mean wanting him off. no-- there's a warmth he stokes in her is something she'd rather keep, and his hands only seem made to make it grow.

but...what does she do, besides succumb to the slightest of touches? is it stupid to ask? or does she simply...guess? he'd said before there wasn't anything she could do he'd despise, but that sounded more like puffery than actual useful insight.

gods, if there's protocol, he probably doesn't know it, considering him. it's why, even as she's letting out a shuddering, whimpering breath against his mouth, she glides her fingers up his shoulders to his neck, pleased for any of the reaction she can elicit in turn.

it's only fair!

...sort of.]

cw: this is gonna be going to pound town USA population: them

[golisolation]

[That trail of her fingers certainly elicit's a reaction! Beyond the electric-like sensation running through his nerves from where her finger tips run along his neck, he groans into their kiss. He very nearly grinds his hips against her, but her request in the back of his mind stills that right quick. He's gotta pace this, not leave her in the dust. He wants her to enjoy this with him.

Breaking the kiss, he pulls back a moment to scan over her face--how she looks right now. Flustered, below him, wanting... It sets his brain on fire, and it takes about every damn bit of self control to not just whip that towel off of himself, and to rip those pants off of her. He doesn't though, he knows he shouldn't, and knows he wouldn't want that for her anyway, even if the urge is crushingly powerful and entirely too hot in his mind.

He does, however, lean down to kiss her neck, one hand stays firm on her thigh, while his other moves from her to slide up and under her shirt. Feeling and appreciating the definition and groove of muscles under her soft skin. Trailing up over her ribs, till he's cupping her breast. He breathes out a shuddered breath against her skin, that fluttered jolt of excitement making him grind his hips forward against her.

Oops, so much for not doing that. Also, so much for that towel, because with all that movement, it's not exactly staying wrapped around his waist.

Guzma doesn't mind.]

[fauxmarth]

[the sound Guzma makes from her careful, testing gesture, is rather astounding; Lucina's heart thumps loudly as a wave of sweet wanting washes over her at the sound of it. she has no experience in this, and yet she has some power to exert still...thank gods. she really likes that. it's why there's a bit of intensity in her flushed face when he withdraws to look at her -- some of that wanting is for the power to make him quiver as she does.

all but lost when his hand glides up to her breast -- that familiar feeling elicits a soft gasp and a little moan of her own. she swallows against the feeling of his mouth against her neck, enamored by the warmth and pleasing tingle so much attention is being given her all over --

oh.

and, and that--she utters a little surprised sound at the press of his hips and...well. she's not utterly lost. but she may as well be, for how overwhelming that rush of urgent wanting comes on as she feels him roll against her. she squirms against him in the midst of that rush, her fingers digging in maybe a bit too much without realizing as she does so.]

[golisolation]

[Her reactions fuel him, yet leave him wanting more all the same. Damn, he's really hooked isn't he? Trying not to think too hard on it, or how wrapped around her finger he's become, he presses on. Rubbing and squeezing her breast, letting his thumb rub over her nipple as he kisses and sucks on her neck. He's tempted to leave a damn hickey there, juvenile as it may be, but damn if he's not loving this and the thrill it's sending through him.

After another roll of his hips comes with a groan against her skin as he feels her fingers dig in--he doesn't hate it. Nah, if anything, he likes the roughness, the bite of her nails against him. Which says nothing of how good it feels to rub his erection against her too. Naturally, his mind wanders a few steps ahead, about how it'll feel in her, but that'll come (heh) in due time. 

With what scraps of his mind remains, he pulls his mouth away from her neck, and attempts to draw back enough to see her face more clearly. His hand that's remained on her thigh withdraws to help keep him supported as he looms over her, his gaze heavy with that same wanting that he's instilled in her.]

You said you ain't done this before, right?

[It's a pretty point blank way of asking, but he's not one to beat around the bush, even in these scenarios. There's no smugness to his voice, just obvious heat to the inquiry. A check, in a sense, to figure out where he might take this next.]

[fauxmarth]

R...right...

[maybe she ought to feel complimented by him asking? but really, she’s got a lot more to focus on, and even more to get lost in.

when he’d lifted up from her, her eyes fluttered back open, her arms slacking so her hands can slide and settle on his shoulders. now, she has to bite her lip briefly to stifle the heaviness of her breath, as if being too reactionary would be foolish or wrong.

it’s hard, though. when he’d rocked up against her like that...that chill, that rush was remarkable.]

Never, but...but I still...want to...

[golisolation]

Hey, ain't no shame in that.

[Which he means is left unclear, but he means both. He gets it, she was busy with her own world's apocalypse, and whatever else was expected of her being a princess. It's modern times in his world, but even Alola had royalty before--hell, Acerola is descended from the Alolan royal family! Anyway, point is that he gets princess are expected to act a certain kind of way, and shacking it up with random dudes ain't part of that.

If anything, the thought kinda pangs ruefully in his chest. The life she's been handed is a shit one--not unlike him--but he'd acquiesce that maybe she's had it harder. Even if she had a place in her society, probably someone with the most place than almost anyone else...but it's not so simple, and he knows that.]

Well, then I should get you ready, huh?

[He says that with a knowing and sly smirk, giving her tit a playful grope, pinching softly at her nipple right as he withdraws his hand from her shirt. He draws back from her grasp on his shoulders so he can rest on his legs, kneeling between her legs...which gives her kind of a full view of him.

Needless to say, preparing her is the least he can do because he's...he's proportionate, lets just say that. With a lustful gaze, his eyes scan over her--her fluster, how she's disheveled, legs spread... He feels a sh of heat and a noteable throb in his dick, and he has to tense himself to keep himself from just going at it.

Lead, but don't leave her behind. Right. Pacing. He's gotta do this right.]

A'ight, I don't think I will, but if I do somethin' you ain't feelin' just say, yeah?

[That's one part ego, and one part consideration, but he sounds a little smugly confident. He then goes to scoot back off the bed, to kneel on the ground before it instead. His hands going to her thighs again, rubbing on their inner parts, his thumbs pressing in firm circles as he looks up at her, keeping his eyes on her face, watching her expression--and then he hooks his hands on her hips and pulls her down closer to him. Closer to his face, specifically.

Figuring he might as well get her started before he fully exposes her, he leans in and presses his mouth against the crotch of her pants, pressing firm with his tongue through the fabric. Not really caring for the taste of the fabric, but it's a small draw back he can ignore for this. Besides, it serves to rile him further, sending a rush of electric-like heat through him, tingling his nerves and making him throb with need even more.]