[ oh, she'd like that a lot. she may not be able to completely lean on phainon in a more emotional way yet, but the more he coos into her ear, the more tempting it is to just... let him take care of everything from now on. she's seen his hands, you know. just thinking about his big and capable hands massage her back has her humming contentedly. ]
Yeah... I'd really like that.
[ a little too much, actually. ]
You could go a little lower, actually. I'm a little sensitive down there though, so... be careful.
[ It might help that he sounds like he would genuinely like to take care of it all. It aligns with his actions, performed with a consistency that brooks no suspicion of insincerity. In fury kept in check for the sake of bystanders, in the pursuit of other’s safety over his own, even in the modest purchase of supplies before setting out into a dungeon. He’s dependable. It’s tempting to trust it, which for some is a green flag. For others, though…
Phainon enjoys making people happy. It’s only a problem when he thinks he knows better and decides himself what others need.
She invites him, and he has to exhale through his nose to fend off a flattered chuckle. If he was there… gods. Sharing a bath, working the tension from her shoulders, only for her to reply like that—
He might have pondered if the resort is making a pervert out of him for the direction his thoughts take, but… no, that’s all him, unfortunately. He narrowly avoids clearing his throat. ]
That sounds suspiciously like a little more than an invitation, Ishmael.
[ He pushes a hand through his pale hair, feeling a little warmer. Well… that’s the point, so… ]
How much lower are we talking? So I know where to be gentle.
[ she can tell, you know. even through the phone and only his voice as reference, she knows that he's been holding back on her. it's that chivalric code that he seems to carry with him since the first time they'd met, both on the network and that time they'd worked together to take down the accursed anglerfish. he's a hero, so of course he has to protect the weak. perhaps even now, he still thinks that she can't handle him at his worst. or... semi-worst, seeing as he probably doesn't have a bad bone in his body.
well, let's fix that, shall we? there's a hint of a smile in her voice now as her eyes flutter open and she turns on her bed, resting her chin on a nearby pillow. ]
My lower back has been killing me for ages now. You could try undoing the knot there. I know you can with those hands of yours.
[ ishmael stop thinking about his hands challenge ]
But you know... I might not mind it if you slip up and touch me further down than intended. So long as you're being honest with me. [ and he does seem like the type... ]
In a way, the whole premise - he, the man expected to spin a fantasy that titillates until she, the client looking for a little escape, finds satisfaction - is permission. Her words, turning implicit to explicit, a key to unlock what he'd keep stuffed away. Allowed to misbehave, that makes an awkward obligation into something more like... fun.
Closing his eyes, he speaks as though he's right there with her, with her skin warm and soft from the bath, that slender muscle giving beneath his hands, perhaps almost sitting against his thigh, if they sat close enough. His often overactive imagination supplies a small tub where there's no choice but for them to touch, and instead of feeling a little apologetic for crowding her in such a confined space, it's... a little exciting.
...Maybe he can convince her to bathe with him someday- Hey! Keep on mission! ]
This is easier if you're lying down, [ he says slowly into the handset, like he's speaking into her ear, ] Come, lean back against me, that I might press out the tension. You're tight right where the bones of your hips curve into the base of your back, aren't you?
If I'm to do this right, my thumbs will have to press lower, sinking into the rounds of your seat.
[ With a soft chuckle, he asks, ] May I be a little uncouth?
[ that earns him a pleased hum from her - clearly she's enjoying this little fantasy they've weaved so far. it's chaste and simple so far, including the parts where he'd rub her off.
but at the same time, that's not enough. did he just say "uncouth"? he's never beating the quixotic allegations at this rate. she pauses here to build some tension before whispering right back: ]
Phainon. You've got no reason to hold back on me. You can be as uncouth [ what a funny word ] as you like. In fact... I'd like it much better if you're being frank with me.
[ these chivalric types definitely need to be whipped into shape... ]
Your thumbs could go much, much lower than that, you know?
Haha, [ is a little different from the bright, carefree laugh that usually shakes his shoulders, throatier. ] I was about to ask-
[ And no, he doesn't pause there just to draw out the suspense, but because he's rallying himself - telling himself he's allowed to be inappropriate, she's given him permission. He's not being weird if he's been invited. ]
If you like your ass played with, [ And maybe she is, but she's implied that might not be exactly what she's looking for, so, ] But it sounds to me like you'd rather be dripping over my fingers. Why don't you turn around. You can place your knee on the edge of the bath, just past my shoulder, and let me kiss between your thighs.
[ This is what happens when someone suggests restraint is no longer needed (and he rather likes that someone). ]
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no subject
Yeah... I'd really like that.
[ a little too much, actually. ]
You could go a little lower, actually. I'm a little sensitive down there though, so... be careful.
[ or not. up to him how he'd interpret this. ]
no subject
Phainon enjoys making people happy. It’s only a problem when he thinks he knows better and decides himself what others need.
She invites him, and he has to exhale through his nose to fend off a flattered chuckle. If he was there… gods. Sharing a bath, working the tension from her shoulders, only for her to reply like that—
He might have pondered if the resort is making a pervert out of him for the direction his thoughts take, but… no, that’s all him, unfortunately. He narrowly avoids clearing his throat. ]
That sounds suspiciously like a little more than an invitation, Ishmael.
[ He pushes a hand through his pale hair, feeling a little warmer. Well… that’s the point, so… ]
How much lower are we talking? So I know where to be gentle.
no subject
well, let's fix that, shall we? there's a hint of a smile in her voice now as her eyes flutter open and she turns on her bed, resting her chin on a nearby pillow. ]
My lower back has been killing me for ages now. You could try undoing the knot there. I know you can with those hands of yours.
[ ishmael stop thinking about his hands challenge ]
But you know... I might not mind it if you slip up and touch me further down than intended. So long as you're being honest with me. [ and he does seem like the type... ]
no subject
In a way, the whole premise - he, the man expected to spin a fantasy that titillates until she, the client looking for a little escape, finds satisfaction - is permission. Her words, turning implicit to explicit, a key to unlock what he'd keep stuffed away. Allowed to misbehave, that makes an awkward obligation into something more like... fun.
Closing his eyes, he speaks as though he's right there with her, with her skin warm and soft from the bath, that slender muscle giving beneath his hands, perhaps almost sitting against his thigh, if they sat close enough. His often overactive imagination supplies a small tub where there's no choice but for them to touch, and instead of feeling a little apologetic for crowding her in such a confined space, it's... a little exciting.
...Maybe he can convince her to bathe with him someday- Hey! Keep on mission! ]
This is easier if you're lying down, [ he says slowly into the handset, like he's speaking into her ear, ] Come, lean back against me, that I might press out the tension. You're tight right where the bones of your hips curve into the base of your back, aren't you?
If I'm to do this right, my thumbs will have to press lower, sinking into the rounds of your seat.
[ With a soft chuckle, he asks, ] May I be a little uncouth?
no subject
but at the same time, that's not enough. did he just say "uncouth"? he's never beating the quixotic allegations at this rate. she pauses here to build some tension before whispering right back: ]
Phainon. You've got no reason to hold back on me. You can be as uncouth [ what a funny word ] as you like. In fact... I'd like it much better if you're being frank with me.
[ these chivalric types definitely need to be whipped into shape... ]
Your thumbs could go much, much lower than that, you know?
no subject
[ And no, he doesn't pause there just to draw out the suspense, but because he's rallying himself - telling himself he's allowed to be inappropriate, she's given him permission. He's not being weird if he's been invited. ]
If you like your ass played with, [ And maybe she is, but she's implied that might not be exactly what she's looking for, so, ] But it sounds to me like you'd rather be dripping over my fingers. Why don't you turn around. You can place your knee on the edge of the bath, just past my shoulder, and let me kiss between your thighs.
[ This is what happens when someone suggests restraint is no longer needed (and he rather likes that someone). ]