knightofmercury (
knightofmercury) wrote2011-01-28 04:48 pm
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Frederick and Tiwa (Outside a Bar-shaped place)
Frederick is out in the forest tonight, lying in a clearing by the lake, looking up at the stars. He traces patterns of constellations in the air with one hand, his other arm placed casually under his head and his legs crossed above him. He hums softly as he does so, a wayward tune that seems to vascillate between songs he's only vaguely familiar with, and nonsensical melodies he's made up on the spot.
The calm, dark water of the lake nearby reflects the glittering specks of light in the clear night sky, creating the illusion of space both above and below.
The calm, dark water of the lake nearby reflects the glittering specks of light in the clear night sky, creating the illusion of space both above and below.
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He kisses the edge of her ear before murmuring into it, "I certainly wouldn't mind if you kept doing that, m'dear." He reaches up momentarily to loosen his collar a bit, then goes back to teasing the bottom of her shirt.
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She really doesn't want to move from being so close to him but they are outside.
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He smiles down at her. "Where would you like to go?"
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"Not far but someplace where I won't have to worry about rocks."
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But he laughs again and starts to get up, however reluctantly, then offers a hand to help her do the same. "I'm sure our friend Bar could spare us a room, if we ask nicely."
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"I know she can."
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Once she's up, he offers her his arm.
"Shall we?"
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She leans to kiss him on the cheek as they head to the Bar.
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It's a lovely, starlit stroll back to the main Bar-- more than once, Frederick gazes up at the stars, only to be distracted again by her smile and the feeling of her arm in his.
Once inside, he leads the way up to Bar. "Would you like to ask, or should I?" he says, turning to Tiwa. He assumes the appearance of the room will vary slightly, depending on which one of them asks. And the setting is often important in these matters.
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She's curious to see what Bar will provide for him and this is just comfortable with a lovely fluttery feelings to everything.
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Once upstairs, they find a rather large room waiting for them, bathed in purples and delicate silvers, and very Victorian in décor. There's a large picture window on the far wall, framed with velvet curtains, with a seat underneath. The rest is rather usual—two chairs, a small table, desk, nightstand, and bed. The bed is large, with gauzy fabric hanging down from a high canopy.
"Well, this is lovely," Frederick can't help but say. "A bit more modern than my room at Dawnbright." Which, by his tone, clearly suits his taste.
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"I like this, its like you. Shiny and soft with hidden things."
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He rather enjoys watching her flit about the room, but eventually he walks over to her to catch her in his arms, holding her from behind.
"'Shiny,' however, is a much better description of yourself, as I said before." He bends to plant a soft kiss on her neck.
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"I'm a bird, that's just how it works."
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He reaches up to stroke her hair again, enjoying the silkiness of it more now that he's no longer wearing gloves. "I do hope my nightingale is content to stay and sing her song for me tonight, as long as I let her fly free again tomorrow."
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His hands feel wonderful and she smiles, turning her head to kiss him.
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It's a nice feeling, he thinks, being able to feel her body underneath her clothes. Corsets are all very nice, but they are a bit stiff and awkward when you're trying to hold a woman.
He leans down to kiss her neck again, as close to her shoulder as her collar will allow.
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Her clothing is light since she's from a place where it rarely gets really cold and she presses herself close to him and sighs at the kiss.
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She manages to say though its rather breathless, his kisses melt her.
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He plants a few kisses on her cheek, letting go of her to unbutton and remove his waistcoat quickly, with practiced hands. He drops it near the discarded necktie and brings his arms around her again, tugging slightly at the bottom of her shirt. He leaves the buttons on his own shirt to her, underneath which she'll find a clean, sleeveless undershirt.
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Her fingers move quickly on the buttons before slipping her shirt off. Today her bra is rather simple, cotton with a faint pattern of flowers on it.
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Meanwhile, he's rather fascinated by the simplicity of her own undergarments. It's incredibly flattering, he thinks, not to mention convenient. Or, at least, he imagines it will be-- he's undone far more complicated things before.
He pulls his own shirt off quickly behind his back, then wraps his arms tightly around her to give her an almost desperate kiss, revelling in the feeling of her bare skin against his arms.
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