Oz wouldn't have minded continuing on just as they were, but he could appreciate her desire for comfort. She wanted to be seduced, after all; being bent over the edge of the chaise as though he simply couldn't help himself wouldn't have fit the picture they were painting. I'll have to send her a poem after this, he thought somewhere in the back of his mind. She knew he had been raised by poets and she appreciated beauty; she would expect nothing less.
"Allow me." He moved her to her feet and took a second to appreciate how her dress slid off her hips before he followed. He retrieved his wand from his pocket (thank Merlin for expanding pockets; without them he wouldn't have been half so flexible just now while keeping his wand close at hand) and cast a series of short incantations on the chaise. It grew longer and wider, nearly the dimensions of a bed, and the solitary pillow that had been resting against the recline created copies of itself. This ought to do for comfort — plenty of space to get into mischief.
Oz turned his attention back to her with a smile (and if the smile contained a trace of aren't I clever? at least it was only a trace). He tossed his wand down towards where he'd discarded his shirt and shoes, then reached for one of her hands. He lifted her hand to entice her to twirl the way ladies would while waltzing, then caught her and lifted her up against his chest in a bridal carry.
He kissed her. His chest thrummed. Of course a part of it was lust, but he had had casual affairs before and knew that feeling well; there was something else here, too. Spinning her around the room and catching her this way hadn't only been performative. He was having fun. He hadn't lied or embellished earlier: she had captivated and enchanted him. He didn't even dread the idea of picking out a few lines of poetry to send her later — in fact, some might have been drifting through his head already. Breathe a word or two of fire. Smile, as if those words should burn me.
Ozymandias broke off the kiss and laid her down on the chaise. "Comfortable?" he asked slyly. He once more knelt at her feet, this time running his hands up both her legs. He relished the feeling of the tights; he intended to remove them in short order.
"Allow me." He moved her to her feet and took a second to appreciate how her dress slid off her hips before he followed. He retrieved his wand from his pocket (thank Merlin for expanding pockets; without them he wouldn't have been half so flexible just now while keeping his wand close at hand) and cast a series of short incantations on the chaise. It grew longer and wider, nearly the dimensions of a bed, and the solitary pillow that had been resting against the recline created copies of itself. This ought to do for comfort — plenty of space to get into mischief.
Oz turned his attention back to her with a smile (and if the smile contained a trace of aren't I clever? at least it was only a trace). He tossed his wand down towards where he'd discarded his shirt and shoes, then reached for one of her hands. He lifted her hand to entice her to twirl the way ladies would while waltzing, then caught her and lifted her up against his chest in a bridal carry.
He kissed her. His chest thrummed. Of course a part of it was lust, but he had had casual affairs before and knew that feeling well; there was something else here, too. Spinning her around the room and catching her this way hadn't only been performative. He was having fun. He hadn't lied or embellished earlier: she had captivated and enchanted him. He didn't even dread the idea of picking out a few lines of poetry to send her later — in fact, some might have been drifting through his head already. Breathe a word or two of fire. Smile, as if those words should burn me.
Ozymandias broke off the kiss and laid her down on the chaise. "Comfortable?" he asked slyly. He once more knelt at her feet, this time running his hands up both her legs. He relished the feeling of the tights; he intended to remove them in short order.
MJ is the light of my life <3