Don Juan mumbled his agreement about the pins, though he doubted her husband was the sort who even knew how many hairpins were required for a hairstyle like hers, much less to sort to notice if one or two were missing. He probably only arrived to her bedroom when she was already in her nightgown, and when the lights were already off. Had he ever seen her in the moonlight?

He watched her take her hair down with the same appreciation he would watch someone strip off their clothing; this was an intimate gesture, even if it wasn't one that took them a step closer to sex. When she was finished he lifted a hand to gently pull a section of it forward to frame her face and fall over her shoulder, then did the same thing to the over side.

"Your eyes look brighter," he remarked. "They're lovely."

Then he went back to kissing her, in a way that was intense but unhurried — kissing for its own sake. After a moment he moved one hand to her waist, then up her bodice towards her breast. It was a slow gesture — teasing, tantalizing, one might have said... but also exploratory, tentative, waiting for a signal from her that this was what she wanted, or that it was too much.

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Sera felt a strange satisfaction when Dempsey complimented her eyes, because she knew her eyes were lovely, they were one of her favorite features. No one ever complimented them anymore, and certainly not her husband.

His hands ran up her body and Sera shivered, pleased with the contact — she nodded against his mouth. Henry touched her breasts when he visited her bedroom, but for what seemed to be his own satisfaction rather than for mutual pleasure. That seemed a waste to Sera — she remembered liking it, the one time Fitzroy Prewett had touched her there.

She didn't want to think about the past, though — she wanted to ground herself in the present, and in Dempsey. Sera set her wine glass down on the desk and, freed, tangled her fingers in his hair — she slid the hand that had been gripping his forearm to Dempsey's chest.

  

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Every sign she gave him said yes, said more; he would take the night at her pace but he was starting to doubt her resolve not to sleep with him yet. He leaned in to her palm on his chest, forcing her to press hard enough to feel his heartbeat quickening through his shirt. He caressed her breast more firmly, trying to find the right placement and movement and pressure to make her melt into him. The clothes made it difficult; all his attempts here were blunted, and he wasn't sure how much was actually getting through to her. She was clearly enjoying kissing him, and she'd tangled her fingers in his hair, but her body said more and he wanted to give her more. He had almost resolved to break off kissing her and ask if he could undo the laces on her dress, at least, despite his resolve to leave the pacing of the evening all up to her — but just as he was contemplating it, there was a noise in the hallway. Someone's laughter, too loud, probably drunk on either wine or the indulgence of staying up late at a country party, then a conversation following on. Two voices, loud enough to be intrusive but indistinct eniough that the words themselves were lost.

Don Juan stopped kissing her. He wasn't worried about the voices in the hallway — they were already moving away from the door, and clearly not out looking for anyone in particular — but expected it might have startled her, and that she would need some reassurances. He caught her eyes and offered her a playful smirk. He mouthed the word quiet. Then he reached up to catch the hand she'd had on his chest, brought it silently to his mouth, and slowly sucked on one of her fingers.

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   Seraphina Bythesea

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She'd managed to forget everything outside this room, forget Henry, and focus on the feeling of his heartbeat under his hand and the clothing-dulled feeling of his hands on her. She was kicking around, in the back of her mind, going further than she had initially intended — and then she heard the voices in the hallway.

Dempsey sucking on her finger was, Sera thought, the most erotic thing she'd ever experienced. Heat rose in her. She smirked back at him. "I should go," Sera managed. She let go of his hair to gather up her hairpins.

  

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He thought he'd managed to convince her. She held his gaze while he sucked her finger; she returned his smirk. He thought they'd roll right into something more interesting, as soon as the voices in the hall fully faded. Instead, she announced that she was leaving. Don Juan frowned faintly. His expression was closer to puzzled than disappointed. "Alright," he agreed. Nothing he could do but accept it; he wouldn't have forced her to stay, wouldn't have coerced her, and he had too much pride to beg. Maybe he'd get her next time, then — maybe even tomorrow, but probably not, if she'd been spooked so easily.

He disentangled himself from her as she moved away, and picked up his wine again. "I believe the wager included drinking the wine," he pointed out wryly. "But I'll allow it."

He stooped to pick up two of her hairpins that had fallen from the desk and held them out to her. He wanted to be seen as gentlemanly; gracious even in rejection.

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MJ made this <3

Sera was prepped for disappointment, or irritation, but Dempsey showed her neither. Instead, he was offering her more hairpins. She took them, and bunched her fist around them and the others in her hand. She leaned up to press one more kiss, warm, to his mouth.

She was disappointed in herself.

She also knew that she could not find the confidence to stay here with him now that they'd heard other voices.

"I'll see you again," Sera said, something like a promise.

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