[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}
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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?