[ She pretends not to notice how quickly hones in, how his eyes barely budge from her. He cares about her, but they're only friends. Or some warped version of friends. He made that very clear.
Her fingers lace together in front of her. She tilts her head downward. Both signs of her shy nature. She spares a glance to him, mulling the question over.
She draws a blank. ]
Perhaps ... you could show me somewhere I have not been?
[The inescapable pull toward her never feels stronger than when he's desperately trying to ignore it. He doesn't feel close enough to her, but he's far enough away to get a proper look at her.]
Yeah, we can do that.
[He suspects-- or hopes-- that she hasn't done much exploring. Nowhere is safe in Duplicity, but the pockets of The Down that are far too dangerous for her.
He seems to have a thought and waits to walk in step with her.]
You look very nice. [He says, while not looking at her.]
[ She side-glances at him, biting her lip. Whenever he appreciates her, a thrill goes through her. This moment is no different.
A short silence follows. Then: ]
Thank you.
[ 'I took a shower today' is probably not what he wants to hear. Or maybe it is. She's not entirely sure. She opts to simply take the compliment. Doesn't say the same ... but he does look nice, like he dressed a little more for her sake.
His arms are always very distracting.
They walk in sync. At one point, she has to drift closer to him to sidestep a stranger that does not care to go around them.
For the most part, they walk in a silence that would be called comfortable, if not for the antsy undercurrent. She is quiet for a reason, mentally practicing what she wants to say. ]
[Cable's fingers twitch with the urge to interlock with hers, or touch her at the very least. The distance between them feels like more than a finger or an arm away.
He idly starts to lead them to the Red Wall Bridge. Not for the significance so much as the nice views. Distracting views. But there's a bit of ground to cover before they get there and the silence isn't very comfortable.
Eventually he can't resist and he hooks a finger around hers. An extremely small gesture, just to see if she's receptive to it.]
[ Lost in thought, Fran starts at a sudden touch. Big eyes peer up at him. For a split second, she gives serious thought to pulling away.
She doesn't.
She allows him this small win -- and herself.
They walk in silence still, but something has been altered. Some sprig of good will grown.
As the crowds become more dense, she crowds closer to his side, until they're brushing together, her hands turning clammy under his. Unused to the looks being sent her way. Most of them seem to be deterred by his presence. ]
[Cable doesn't meet her eyes, but he feels her looking at him. He squeezes her fingers gently and he's quietly pleased when she accepts it. Suddenly, the silence feels companionable again.
As they approach more crowded areas, he notices the shift in her demeanour. She's uncollared and attracts attention. He does too, but for entirely different reasons-- ones he can probably use to her benefit.
His fingers slide out of hers, ghosting up her back until his hand can rest on the back of her neck. His hand is large and her neck is slender, so it makes for a nice fit. He rubs his thumb up and down, reassuring.]
We're not going anywhere unsafe.
[But he understands her worry, so he doesn't diminish it. He certainly seems to straighten his shoulders a little, letting his eye glow, it makes people give them a wider berth.
When they approach the bridge, he doesn't lead them onto it yet. There's little tolerance for loitering, but there are private places for private discussions. He leads her to an alcove, gesturing for her to take a seat on the bench if she likes.]
[ He'll feel her uncoil, tension unknotting and ebbing away from her shoulders. A renewed sense of safety, protection, as he steers her to an obscured sitting area. Judging by the way people move, nobody wants to get near them.
Like she's been claimed already.
She does sit, the nerves of earlier gaining an inch back. Her fingers drop his.
She's never been very good at navigating these waters. Finding a partner. They can be treacherous, in the Ton. In many ways, it seems far more complicated here than back home. She knew what was expected of her as a wife -- she'd been raised for that.
But, her contract with Jamie had been simple, easy. Like breathing. Everything had been clear. And she was a Dominant. Now, she's not so sure.
Without her necklace to fiddle with, she's returned to stemming with her fingers. She presses her mouth together, trying to remember all the matters she wanted to touch.
But first -- she lifts her eyes, a glimmer of hope. ]
[He sits in a calculated position, close but far enough away that he can still look at her. Even if whenever he looks at her he feels like he's stealing something from her. He certainly enjoys every look he gets.
He watches her fingers, contemplating reaching for her but wanting to give her space. The question surprises him, but he trains his expression.]
I haven't been looking. I was waiting to hear from you.
[ A fleeting surprise melts into relief, a half-smile that feels private. Only for him. Her fingers rest in her lap, confidence building up. ]
I think ... [ Pause. Self-corrects. ] During our prior conversation, you had quite compelling arguments. As to why I should accept your proposition. And I have been thinking, and ... Well, I wanted to know.
[ Now, she looks more fully at him. There's hesitation there. ]
[Briefly, Cable looks confused and feels like this might be a test. For a moment all he can think of for an answer is "everything" and that's not satisfactory to him, let alone her.
He reaches out again, hooking his fingers around hers. If she's looking for reassurance, he hopes the gesture gives it to her.
When he begins to list his reasons, he sounds pragmatic and considered.]
Your company, which I enjoy. I don't mind sharing space with you, which I can't say of everyone. It's my privilege to take care of you and I enjoy it. Very much.
[He shifts a little closer, like he wants to touch his head against hers but he's unsure.]
That you trust me enough to ask at all isn't something I take for granted.
[Her demeanour suggests she's happy, since she's closing the distance between them. His heart thrums in his chest. For something so innocent and gentle, she's terribly dangerous for him.
But here he is, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes.]
You deserve to be taken care of. [Properly. By someone who knows how to see to her.
And it's this line of thinking that reminds him of the other needs they have. The necessity of it, here.]
I still accept your stipulations. If you feel the same about them.
[ Her breath audibly shifts when he closes the remaining space. The heat of his own falls over her.
The stirrings of arousal pluck at her gut. Between his declaration, and the smell of him so near. Masculine. Warm. Her arms itch to wind around him, plant herself in his lap.
Her eyes flutter shut. If he made a move now, she knows she's weak enough her resolve would crumble. She'd beg for it. ]
[The feeling is mutual, though he's not sure if he's feeding off her as much as he's getting himself excited. He is beginning to accept he'll always be in her thrall and should be happy she's merciful about it.
Though he's a little confused, so he hesitates before regretfully pulling back enough to look at her.]
You asked me if I'd sign you on even if.. intimacy was off the table. [He really had to search for that word.]
And I would. I'd only assert that if you're at risk of being unable to make quota, you need to let me know before it's a problem.
[A beat. Feels like long enough for a breeze to carry a tumbleweed through his brain.]
[ Pathetically, she chases him when he moves back, before stopping. Making herself move back an inch to remove some of the risk she'll throw herself at him. ]
Oh. [ She mumbles, jolting back and blinking down at her hands. Their hands. He hasn't let go.
That had been one of the things she had been prepared to talk about. Before they sat down. Before she wanted to crawl into his lap and ask him to fuck her within an inch of her life.
She blinks, drawing back her hand so she can think. Her expression is a grimace. It's not, clearly, something she wants.
But it feels like a line they need to draw in the sand.
Unable to stop herself, she reaches to brush his cheek with her knuckles. Dusting over his lips. Eyes full of longing, and suffering. ]
I want you. All the time. [ There. All honesty. No pretenses. ]
I know you have many ... many lovers. I expect you will never need me in that respect. And I believe it best we abstain.
[Simultaneously, Cable wonders if bringing it up was a grievous error or an expression of his integrity. He doesn't like the way she grimaces and draws her hand back, but he almost melts when she touches his face.
He doesn't bury into her hand the way she does, but he does allow himself to turn into it. Just a little. His expression softens with relief when she admits she still wants him, then intensifies at the thought of it.
It drops when she continues, because he looks embarrassed that she's making observations about his sex life.]
As I said, it's your choice to make. You can make as many stipulations as you want. [And it's so great. And he definitely agrees.]
You don't.. think less of me for it, do you? The lovers?
[ The expression makes her draws her hand back, dropping it in her lap again.
Frowns, at the question. She doesn't think less of him, but it hurts her deeply to know she is just one of many. There's nothing to be done about that, and she's embarrassed to admit it. So she doesn't.
She'll just have to let it pass. ]
Well. It is only natural here. [ She laughs, dryly, and scrunches her nose up. ] You should not concern yourself with the opinion of someone from a society such as mine. In my world, we would never be lovers. There, I shall have the one only.
[ She realizes she's prattling and winces. ]
No. I do not think less of you. Truly. I envy you.
I'm not concerning myself with your society's opinion, just yours. [He points out, poking her gently in the midsection with his now free hand. What she says makes sense to him, though it's a reminder of why they can't be together. Not the way either of them want.]
I don't think there's much about it to envy. Just the way of things, here. [Which he doesn't realise is the mindset she finds enviable, probably.]
I've never been with you because I needed to-- I wanted to. [A pause.]
I always want to. [He echoes her, meaningful.] But I understand.
[ She pulls a face when he pokes her, probably more playful than she's been with him since their relationship fractured.
Then he catches her off guard. Her lips part, momentarily disarmed. She knows how much she craves him, but it's difficult to think he may have an equivalent desire for her. And it hurts, too, to think he might. Easier to believe he doesn't. Easier to deny herself.
It turns out she is quite good at it.
She swallows and nods. Acceptance. A moment passes in silence before she moves forward, all at once. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, and if he allows it, she'll tuck herself under his chin.
She relents. Softly. Purely, for all this world's customs are not. ]
[Of all the things he's expecting, it's not a hug and not one as tender as this. He hesitates, briefly, before relenting and winding his arms around her. He presses his lips to her temple without kissing, shutting his eyes and just letting himself breathe in her smell.
He wants her too. In every sense. And maybe that makes this a terrible idea-- but he would do anything it took to keep her safe. He has the best opportunity to do so if he sees this through.]
You are. [Softly, with a tentative hand on the back of her head.]
I have a stipulation myself, if you'll accept one.
[ With that confirmation, a damning sense of relief. Not simply because she has a Dominant, a massive problem in itself resolved, but because it's him. She's wanted it to be him all along.
For a while, she lets herself be held. She doesn't budge from her place in his arms.
This is her safe place. Her safe person. The one person she's wanted for days and days. Sought in others. ]
[Cable lingers as long as Francesca wants. For the first time in weeks, he doesn't feel deeply lonely and the weight of her on him is a comfort.
It will be difficult, no doubt, to keep his hands off her. He's determined to prove he can. Particularly if it means having company in his home again.
He traces his metal hand on her collarbone, idly curious if she'd break her own pact. Knowing what she thinks of being fucked by him. But he's happy to let that play out. For now, at least.]
I want you to wear your necklace again.
[He keeps his focus on her neck, hand circling the back of it and holding her gently.]
Everyone knows you're mine when you put a collar on. [He looks at her face, meaningfully.] I know you're mine when you put the necklace on.
[ Francesca feels ... safe. She is safe, when she's with Nathan. It's the first real time she's felt so since waking with a line cut across her neck.
The moment is intimate, no sexual undercurrent. Right up to his hand grasping her neck. She automatically goes lax, her glassy eyes reflected in his own. That, combined with the talk of being collared wets her cunt. Never has a collar sounded so appealing.
Instead of agreeing vocally, she simply nods after a length of hesitation. It mean he'll know where she is at all times. Not her favorite idea in the world. Though, she has nothing to hide. She's very transparent.
She does miss it, too. It was her favorite piece of jewelry. And it meant something, between the two of them. Hence the compromise.
Also, it's difficult to think things through when he's holding her like a kitten. ]
May I bring my pianoforte? [ They'll have to talk living arrangements. ]
[Cable tries very hard not to pry into the thoughts and feelings of others, but sometimes an impulse is of particular interest. He feels her thrill intensely, causing his breath to hitch softly against her ear.
Her question is received gratefully, since it's the only thing that stops him from licking the shell of her ear while calling her a naughty girl with naughty thoughts. He will not be broken in less than twenty minutes.
He pulls back instead, looking genuinely amused.]
Of course you can bring your pianoforte. You can bring anything you like. [He can't resist one impulse, a more innocent one. He lifts her, bringing her to sit on his knee.]
And whatever you need, you'll get. All I need you to do is stay home and look pretty.
[He teases, knowing full well she'll do whatever she wants and he'll support it.]
Never say that in front of my sister. [ Her arms have threaded around his neck, playing at the nape of it. She has few objections to being held. Even if she did, she's seen many a submissive forced to sit in their dominant's lap. She has to adjust.
It strikes her he could fuck her here, in front of everyone, and there would be nobody to object. No fines or disciplinary actions. She has to push the thought aside, not matter how pleasant.
She's rarely thought about sex for the past two weeks or so -- now it's increasingly obvious she's had a dry spell. Worse, because she knows how equipped he is for the job.
Her cheek leans on his shoulder. ]
It is not so very much to lug over. I promise. My pianoforte, my wardrobe, the cookbooks... [ The first two are the most important to her. She has far too many clothes already.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Her fingers lace together in front of her. She tilts her head downward. Both signs of her shy nature. She spares a glance to him, mulling the question over.
She draws a blank. ]
Perhaps ... you could show me somewhere I have not been?
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Yeah, we can do that.
[He suspects-- or hopes-- that she hasn't done much exploring. Nowhere is safe in Duplicity, but the pockets of The Down that are far too dangerous for her.
He seems to have a thought and waits to walk in step with her.]
You look very nice. [He says, while not looking at her.]
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A short silence follows. Then: ]
Thank you.
[ 'I took a shower today' is probably not what he wants to hear. Or maybe it is. She's not entirely sure. She opts to simply take the compliment. Doesn't say the same ... but he does look nice, like he dressed a little more for her sake.
His arms are always very distracting.
They walk in sync. At one point, she has to drift closer to him to sidestep a stranger that does not care to go around them.
For the most part, they walk in a silence that would be called comfortable, if not for the antsy undercurrent. She is quiet for a reason, mentally practicing what she wants to say. ]
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He idly starts to lead them to the Red Wall Bridge. Not for the significance so much as the nice views. Distracting views. But there's a bit of ground to cover before they get there and the silence isn't very comfortable.
Eventually he can't resist and he hooks a finger around hers. An extremely small gesture, just to see if she's receptive to it.]
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She doesn't.
She allows him this small win -- and herself.
They walk in silence still, but something has been altered. Some sprig of good will grown.
As the crowds become more dense, she crowds closer to his side, until they're brushing together, her hands turning clammy under his. Unused to the looks being sent her way. Most of them seem to be deterred by his presence. ]
no subject
As they approach more crowded areas, he notices the shift in her demeanour. She's uncollared and attracts attention. He does too, but for entirely different reasons-- ones he can probably use to her benefit.
His fingers slide out of hers, ghosting up her back until his hand can rest on the back of her neck. His hand is large and her neck is slender, so it makes for a nice fit. He rubs his thumb up and down, reassuring.]
We're not going anywhere unsafe.
[But he understands her worry, so he doesn't diminish it. He certainly seems to straighten his shoulders a little, letting his eye glow, it makes people give them a wider berth.
When they approach the bridge, he doesn't lead them onto it yet. There's little tolerance for loitering, but there are private places for private discussions. He leads her to an alcove, gesturing for her to take a seat on the bench if she likes.]
What's on your mind, bunny?
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Like she's been claimed already.
She does sit, the nerves of earlier gaining an inch back. Her fingers drop his.
She's never been very good at navigating these waters. Finding a partner. They can be treacherous, in the Ton. In many ways, it seems far more complicated here than back home. She knew what was expected of her as a wife -- she'd been raised for that.
But, her contract with Jamie had been simple, easy. Like breathing. Everything had been clear. And she was a Dominant. Now, she's not so sure.
Without her necklace to fiddle with, she's returned to stemming with her fingers. She presses her mouth together, trying to remember all the matters she wanted to touch.
But first -- she lifts her eyes, a glimmer of hope. ]
You haven't found a Submissive yet, have you?
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He watches her fingers, contemplating reaching for her but wanting to give her space. The question surprises him, but he trains his expression.]
I haven't been looking. I was waiting to hear from you.
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I think ... [ Pause. Self-corrects. ] During our prior conversation, you had quite compelling arguments. As to why I should accept your proposition. And I have been thinking, and ... Well, I wanted to know.
[ Now, she looks more fully at him. There's hesitation there. ]
What you might gain from a contract with me?
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He reaches out again, hooking his fingers around hers. If she's looking for reassurance, he hopes the gesture gives it to her.
When he begins to list his reasons, he sounds pragmatic and considered.]
Your company, which I enjoy. I don't mind sharing space with you, which I can't say of everyone. It's my privilege to take care of you and I enjoy it. Very much.
[He shifts a little closer, like he wants to touch his head against hers but he's unsure.]
And it would mean a lot to me to have your trust.
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His fingers are warm over hers. She watches them, heart and stomach tumbling in unison.
She wants to ask if he means all of it ... but she knows he never says things unless he means them. Usually.
Francesca scoots closer, intrinsically knowing what he wants and wanting it just as much. Even if it hurts later.
Her thumb strokes a finger, his whole palm encompassing hers. In a soft murmur: ]
It shall take time. [ Trusting him fully again. She peeks at him. ] I should like that. To be taken care of.
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[Her demeanour suggests she's happy, since she's closing the distance between them. His heart thrums in his chest. For something so innocent and gentle, she's terribly dangerous for him.
But here he is, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes.]
You deserve to be taken care of. [Properly. By someone who knows how to see to her.
And it's this line of thinking that reminds him of the other needs they have. The necessity of it, here.]
I still accept your stipulations. If you feel the same about them.
no subject
The stirrings of arousal pluck at her gut. Between his declaration, and the smell of him so near. Masculine. Warm. Her arms itch to wind around him, plant herself in his lap.
Her eyes flutter shut. If he made a move now, she knows she's weak enough her resolve would crumble. She'd beg for it. ]
Stipulations? [ Dumbly. ]
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Though he's a little confused, so he hesitates before regretfully pulling back enough to look at her.]
You asked me if I'd sign you on even if.. intimacy was off the table. [He really had to search for that word.]
And I would. I'd only assert that if you're at risk of being unable to make quota, you need to let me know before it's a problem.
[A beat. Feels like long enough for a breeze to carry a tumbleweed through his brain.]
Unless you've changed your mind.
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Oh. [ She mumbles, jolting back and blinking down at her hands. Their hands. He hasn't let go.
That had been one of the things she had been prepared to talk about. Before they sat down. Before she wanted to crawl into his lap and ask him to fuck her within an inch of her life.
She blinks, drawing back her hand so she can think. Her expression is a grimace. It's not, clearly, something she wants.
But it feels like a line they need to draw in the sand.
Unable to stop herself, she reaches to brush his cheek with her knuckles. Dusting over his lips. Eyes full of longing, and suffering. ]
I want you. All the time. [ There. All honesty. No pretenses. ]
I know you have many ... many lovers. I expect you will never need me in that respect. And I believe it best we abstain.
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He doesn't bury into her hand the way she does, but he does allow himself to turn into it. Just a little. His expression softens with relief when she admits she still wants him, then intensifies at the thought of it.
It drops when she continues, because he looks embarrassed that she's making observations about his sex life.]
As I said, it's your choice to make. You can make as many stipulations as you want. [And it's so great. And he definitely agrees.]
You don't.. think less of me for it, do you? The lovers?
[That word does not sound right coming from him.]
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Frowns, at the question. She doesn't think less of him, but it hurts her deeply to know she is just one of many. There's nothing to be done about that, and she's embarrassed to admit it. So she doesn't.
She'll just have to let it pass. ]
Well. It is only natural here. [ She laughs, dryly, and scrunches her nose up. ] You should not concern yourself with the opinion of someone from a society such as mine. In my world, we would never be lovers. There, I shall have the one only.
[ She realizes she's prattling and winces. ]
No. I do not think less of you. Truly. I envy you.
no subject
I don't think there's much about it to envy. Just the way of things, here. [Which he doesn't realise is the mindset she finds enviable, probably.]
I've never been with you because I needed to-- I wanted to. [A pause.]
I always want to. [He echoes her, meaningful.] But I understand.
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Then he catches her off guard. Her lips part, momentarily disarmed. She knows how much she craves him, but it's difficult to think he may have an equivalent desire for her. And it hurts, too, to think he might. Easier to believe he doesn't. Easier to deny herself.
It turns out she is quite good at it.
She swallows and nods. Acceptance. A moment passes in silence before she moves forward, all at once. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, and if he allows it, she'll tuck herself under his chin.
She relents. Softly. Purely, for all this world's customs are not. ]
I want to be yours.
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He wants her too. In every sense. And maybe that makes this a terrible idea-- but he would do anything it took to keep her safe. He has the best opportunity to do so if he sees this through.]
You are. [Softly, with a tentative hand on the back of her head.]
I have a stipulation myself, if you'll accept one.
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For a while, she lets herself be held. She doesn't budge from her place in his arms.
This is her safe place. Her safe person. The one person she's wanted for days and days. Sought in others. ]
Yes?
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It will be difficult, no doubt, to keep his hands off her. He's determined to prove he can. Particularly if it means having company in his home again.
He traces his metal hand on her collarbone, idly curious if she'd break her own pact. Knowing what she thinks of being fucked by him. But he's happy to let that play out. For now, at least.]
I want you to wear your necklace again.
[He keeps his focus on her neck, hand circling the back of it and holding her gently.]
Everyone knows you're mine when you put a collar on. [He looks at her face, meaningfully.] I know you're mine when you put the necklace on.
no subject
The moment is intimate, no sexual undercurrent. Right up to his hand grasping her neck. She automatically goes lax, her glassy eyes reflected in his own. That, combined with the talk of being collared wets her cunt. Never has a collar sounded so appealing.
Instead of agreeing vocally, she simply nods after a length of hesitation. It mean he'll know where she is at all times. Not her favorite idea in the world. Though, she has nothing to hide. She's very transparent.
She does miss it, too. It was her favorite piece of jewelry. And it meant something, between the two of them. Hence the compromise.
Also, it's difficult to think things through when he's holding her like a kitten. ]
May I bring my pianoforte? [ They'll have to talk living arrangements. ]
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Her question is received gratefully, since it's the only thing that stops him from licking the shell of her ear while calling her a naughty girl with naughty thoughts. He will not be broken in less than twenty minutes.
He pulls back instead, looking genuinely amused.]
Of course you can bring your pianoforte. You can bring anything you like. [He can't resist one impulse, a more innocent one. He lifts her, bringing her to sit on his knee.]
And whatever you need, you'll get. All I need you to do is stay home and look pretty.
[He teases, knowing full well she'll do whatever she wants and he'll support it.]
no subject
It strikes her he could fuck her here, in front of everyone, and there would be nobody to object. No fines or disciplinary actions. She has to push the thought aside, not matter how pleasant.
She's rarely thought about sex for the past two weeks or so -- now it's increasingly obvious she's had a dry spell. Worse, because she knows how equipped he is for the job.
Her cheek leans on his shoulder. ]
It is not so very much to lug over. I promise. My pianoforte, my wardrobe, the cookbooks... [ The first two are the most important to her. She has far too many clothes already.
Her finger traces his collar. ]
Are there any other preconditions?