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
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). ]