(no subject)

[gallowseyes]

Sometimes he marvels at it, this life that he's made. He still hasn't found gainful employment -- he has no marketable skills to speak of, at least none that he's sunk so low as to charge for -- but the allowance from the city is enough to live on, his rooms comfortable, and he makes do.

He more than makes do.

Tonight, for example, finds him sprawled on a couch reading, Elora mirroring him. Absently, he reaches out with his free hand and runs his palm the length of the long muscle of her thigh, squeezing lightly.

This is so often how it starts.

Comments

[prophecized]

When she first met George, Elora thought that he reminded her of Airk. As time has passed and they've gotten to know each other, though, in more ways than one, she's instead found herself in a dynamic refreshingly simple compared to the one she left behind. He's a friend, first and foremost — still familiar in a way, his world not the same as hers but closer than many she's heard about here. Sometimes that friendship involves things like this, companionably reading in one of their apartments. Other times, things take a decidedly more intimate turn, as she thinks they might be starting to when his traces its way up her thigh.

She can't say she minds in the slightest.

"Flirt," she says, though there's no bite in the accusation, her mouth settling into a smirk. "Are you trying to start something, George?"

[gallowseyes]

"That depends," says George, his eyes still fixed on the page of his book, though he'd stopped paying attention to the actual words minutes ago. He keeps up the slow, deliberate movement of his hand on her thigh, intensely aware of the heat of her through her clothes. "On what my lady finds herself in the mood for."

[prophecized]

"This isn't exactly a page-turner, if that's what you're asking," Elora says, well aware that that isn't really what he means and not bothering to try to hide the fact of that. What she's said is true enough. The book is interesting, a collection of recipes that she hopes to get some ideas from, but nothing that requires her immediate attention. If he can tease, though, then she sees no reason not to do the same. "But, hey, if your book is, don't feel like you need to stop reading on my account."

[gallowseyes]

"I'm insulted," says George, his eyes still on the page in front of him, even as his hand moves higher, as he spreads his little finger to graze one nail against the seam between her legs. "That you don't think me capable of concentrating on more than one thing at once."

[prophecized]

Elora draws in a slow, audible breath as his hand slides up between her legs, not bothering to try to hide it. Given how many times she's wound up here with him before, she wouldn't do him that disservice, and anyway, an inhale is nothing compared to some of the sounds he's coaxed from her in the past. This isn't really anything yet, still just light and teasing, and she's in no hurry.

"Oh, I never said you couldn't," she points out, her voice both pleased and amused. "Just wanted to make sure that wasn't more interesting than this."

[gallowseyes]

"Oh, I very much doubt it could be," says George, keeping up that teasing touch for a moment or two before he moves his hand again, two fingers teasing now, pressing more firmly.

"You could put your book down and put your hands over your head, though," he says. "If you wanted to please."

[prophecized]

It doesn't take Elora more than a couple of moments to decide that, yes, she very much does want that. Maybe it's the way George always reminds her of home that accounts for it. Whatever the reason, with her breath catching at the firmer press of his fingers, she sets her book on the floor and lifts her hands over her head, the obedient kitchen girl she once thought she would be nothing more than. This time, the difference is that she's choosing it for herself.

"Like this?" she asks, her legs falling the slightest bit more open as she looks up at him. "I do so want to please."

[gallowseyes]

Grinning, George discards the book, letting it drop to the floor as he gives Elora his full attention. "Just like that," he says, fingers still rubbing against her, fascinated by the fact that he can feel the heat of her cunt through her clothes.

"You keep your hands there until I tell you otherwise," he says, shifting position so that he can lean over her and press a kiss to the side of her neck and lower, down over the swell of one breast, still over her clothes.