It was a good answer. It meant he could ascribe the way each of her expressions was carved in sharp relief into his mind to something extrinsic. The static electricity that tingled over his skin and through his chest when she said his name might have been the lingering impacts of the magic. He could pretend he was only enchanted, not obsessed, and that this explained everything. It removed the element of guilt he had over not having already cut this interaction short. He couldn't be held responsible for the way he felt if what he was feeling was magically induced.

"I've been trying to replicate it," he admitted, taking another drag of the cigarette. When he exhaled some of the tension left his shoulders. "Unsuccessfully, so far." Changing the subject felt appropriate. There was nothing more to discuss about the two of them, or at least nothing that could be said in such a public forum. Talking about something else also relieved some of the emotional pressure of the conversation; he could make a comment here, perhaps, without giving anything away or ceding any ground to her in this invisible power struggle.

He watched her for a second, then glanced at his cigarette. Mentally, he allowed himself the time it would take to smoke it to linger in this moment, making idle conversation. When he finished his cigarette, he would make an excuse to say goodbye. He wouldn't be back at one of her performances for some time, and by then perhaps his attachment to her would have weakened enough that he wasn't tempted to read each time she made eye contact as an unspoken question.

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The following 1 user Likes Ozymandias Dempsey's post:1 user Likes Ozymandias Dempsey's post
   Sophia Lissington

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Their little match started in earnest now, whatever pretense floating between them getting volleyed back and forth. Deeply attuned to everything about this man now, she watched his shoulders sag in slight relief and liked to think she had something to do with it. Maybe, he appreciated the intellectual distraction from their current circumstances.

Fine, she would entertain it, if only for his comfort. But only to a point.

“How interesting,” she nearly purred, pleased to have him looking at her again. Though his gaze wreaked its own inner turmoil for Soph; she needed to quash the urge to do something that might shock and delight him. Her inclination for theatrics made it easy to organically build a crowd around them, but in this instance, she’d like to prolong their ‘private’ moment for as long as she could. Which is why she took the following risk.

“I am unsure of what effect you seek to create… But the basis of this innovation was patented in Russia. Perhaps you may glean a few bits of helpful information from the paperwork, which I am certain we have on hand.” Her smile turned a touch coquettish. “Of course, it would require that you can read Russian… I would be happy to assist with that, if you’d like.” Blue eyes sought out his warm brown ones, with a slight quirk of the eyebrow that suggested what she thought. This could happen now, or later.

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thank you gin for the set<3

Ozymandias' heart leapt into his throat. So much for finishing his cigarette and saying adieu. He'd been foolish to think that this was a safe topic of conversation; foolish to think that any topic of conversation could be considered safe around her, in this environment, with this need nestled in his chest. He glanced down, away from her face, and watched the way her fingers moved slightly across the back of her hand in front of her. If he had been seeking a refuge while he grappled with her offer, he'd chosen poorly; watching her hands was not any less evocative than meeting her eyes.

He dropped his eyes lower still, to where his own hands held the cigarette. A lazy tail of smoke curled up from the end of it. Without thinking he flicked it, dropping a bit of ash from the end. Cheating himself out of whatever time that equated to. He wasn't going to make it to the end of the cigarette, anyway. Not if she was intent on propositioning him. There were only two ways to respond: yes or no. Either would end their current game of cat-and-mouse. If he rejected her here, he assumed the conversation would end. He'd go back to the lobby, to see whether his family was still lingering or whether they'd bored of waiting for him and already departed, for home or for late-night parties. If he said yes...

"I don't want to do anything that would damage your costume," he remarked, dispensing with her pretense and speaking directly to the underlying offer. This was one desperate grab to try and reclaim some of the power in this interaction, in the face of ultimate surrender. "I assume you'd send me the bill for its repair."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

The suggestion surprised as much as it charmed her. Feeling competitive now, Soph schooled her features to not betray the way her heart picked up like a battering ram in her chest. Although, a moment too late she noticed her jaw slacked slightly, and promptly closed her mouth.

Truthfully, she anticipated him to prolong this aloof charade. She was glad that he didn’t, but a small part of her still fretted over it. It was nice to feel their change of pace.

Unthinkingly, she brought her thumbnail to rest on her lower lip as she considered her next move. This escalated faster than expected, and she hadn’t quite thought through a plan. A mistake, clearly – something about their particular combination with each other felt combustible, and this intensification of heat was only natural.

“Yes, I would bill you,” she agreed a bit tongue-in-cheek. When her averted gaze met his again, her eyes sparkled with a scheme. She couldn’t help it now. “Although that is nothing you need to worry about. I planned to retire to my dressing room shortly, to change into more comfortable attire. This corset…” she paused to gesture at her bodice for illustrative effect, and added with a sigh, “Is really quite heavy.” At first brush it sounded as though she were flirtatiously bidding him goodnight, but of course, she wouldn’t end their game here.

“If you would like to see the paperwork before I retire, I could meet you in… shall we say ten, fifteen minutes? In the lobby, by the ticketing counter. But I won’t wait long for you,” she finished her play with a devil-may-care attitude that suggested she had other things to do. Moreover – it gave him as easy an ‘out’ as he needed. She wouldn’t indulge him if he still felt so conflicted over his various personal reasons he refused to divulge.

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thank you gin for the set<3

Oz quirked an eyebrow at her mention of retiring to the dressing room to change, thinking it bold of her to invite him back to the scene of their catastrophic prior entanglement. As she continued and he realized that wasn't what she had in mind at all, his eyebrows raised higher. It was even more bold to suggest they part ways and meet in the lobby. She must have felt secure in her hold on him, if she was confident he would wait around for her like an abandoned puppy and would have no qualms being seen to do so in the theater lobby, which he assumed was still thronged by society members from the audience. Not to mention his own siblings, if any of them were still waiting for him. He could have followed her straight from the backstage area to some abandoned corner of the theater and fooled around without putting too much scrutiny on his own decision to do so, but did he want this badly enough to concoct a cover story for his family if they were between him and the ticketing counter?

She had turned the tables to the point where either choice reflected poorly on him, Ozymandias thought. If he agreed to her plan and followed through with it, he surrendered to her whims entirely; he might as well start sending her poorly written love poetry for all the dignity he would be able to maintain through that chain of events. If he backed out now, after his last too-bold comment, it could only read like a lack of fortitude; he would have been cowed by the mere idea of others watching and whispering. He had to determine which he cared more about: her or what everyone else might think. Somehow his own wants and desires had fallen to the background, so nothing he did now would make him look strong or in control of the situation. It was a poison choice for certain.

It occurred to him that he could perhaps kick the idea back and propose another time or place to meet, but that was dangerous too. Firstly, she might not agree; if she insisted on the plan she had initially proposed it would leave him in the same position but with one less degree of pretended dignity. If she did agree, it stripped him of his self-deception regarding the enchanted powder being at least partially to blame for how enraptured by her he felt. Worse still, what if the enchantments tonight did have some impact in that regard, and he found himself obliged to go through with something that in the light of tomorrow morning he no longer felt he desired?

He rolled his cigarette between his fingers and wondered how much of this internal struggle she had anticipated. Was she particularly cunning, paring away his excuses and defenses until she left him with a predicament like this, or did she put him in such a position without even trying? Her eyes were inscrutable. Which was more dangerous?

"If you've other matters to attend to, I wouldn't want to waste your time on a trifle," he countered. If he was going to go through with this, he wanted some concession from her. She could at least admit that he was the most important thing on her agenda for the evening. Then, without stopping to consider whether this was wise, he added a slight barb: "The experimentation with the powder was more of a passing fancy than a serious pursuit."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Waste your time on a trifle, is that what he thought of all this? So far Sophia felt adrift at sea in trying to parse out everything that clouded their undeniable magnetism, and he provided her with nothing useful. Until something in that self-victimizing statement struck her. Compounded by this surly avoidance, or insistence that she need not apologize several weeks ago.

Why, he wanted to see her as the villain! And he a chivalrous knight, their tryst being his valiant martyrdom. The woman bit her bottom lip again in an effort to keep back a laugh. Although she had no proof, the theory filled her with fledgling hope; this was the most resonant one she had by far. Although, there was only one way to find out if it was the fight he liked.

Without answering his jibe, Sophia took two short steps to close the distance between them and plucked the cigarette from his hand. No magic or substances, just audacity. The woman bounded to her back foot and retreated to a safer distance before anyone was the wiser.

Then Sophia took a moment to appreciate her conquest, bringing his cigarette to her lips with flourish. Smoke drifted from her lips before she inhaled it into her mouth, and she slowly exhaled it to the side. Oz had been shown to the crossroads, and now he obfuscated from picking a route forward, choosing childish remarks instead. She wouldn't let him off so easily.

“Speaking of wasting time. My patience grows thin with you, Ozymandias Dempsey,” she finally ventured into character, and enjoyed the way his full name sounded on her tongue. Sophia leveled him a cool look, voice pitched lower and far more serious. “As I believe I have already made my appreciation for your company clear, somewhere between my sincere apology, and orchestrating the perfect means for us to make a discreet departure from this party.”

As she spoke, she dragged her foot in a quarter circle on the ground to pause in front of her, toe pointed. An idle enough stretch, to some. Though for her target, maybe he’d notice the pretty pink silk laces that went from her slipper criss-crossed up her shins, or the suggestion of her upper thighs under the tulle tutu that barely grazed her knees.

“Or is it that you are not interested in putting in the slightest effort to indulge in your passing fancy? Hmm, not even for my opening night?”  Her eyebrows raised in polite enough inquiry, keen to make him eat his words if she had no guarantee she’d see his mouth at work in other ways.

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thank you gin for the set<3

She plucked the cigarette from his fingers and Oz smiled in spite of himself. He could not have said why. It was the sort of thing that might have surprised him, but he wasn't surprised. It was bold but so was she, and this was no more forward (though certainly farther from the bounds of propriety) than the pirouette she'd done when she first caught his eye. It felt more raw than her previous attempts at flirtation, but that didn't mean it was more sincere; she was a performer, and she could play this part as easily as any other. So what was it about seeing her smoke his cigarette that stirred something in his stomach?

He didn't miss her stretch. She'd been trying to draw his attention and he allowed it to be drawn, dispensing with even an attempt at subtlety as he drank her in. There was a spark of mischief in his eyes when he looked back to her face. (Young men’s love then lies not truly in their hearts but in their eyes.) Make an effort, she said. She had called him by his full name and said quite plainly what she wanted from him, so he did feel he owed her something. He pressed his lips together to suppress the smirk that had taken over. His wand was in the pocket of his jacket and he reached in to grasp it in his fingers as he cast a quick spell, conjuring a single exuberant red rose in his other hand.

"For your opening night," he said cheekily as he held it out to her. "I'll endeavor not to try your patience any further."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

It felt as though she’d been trying to solve a riddle, and with the right sequence of steps the bolt to a door unlocked. Sophia tried not to dwell over how his smile ignited a pool of heat in her center, or the way his dark eyes felt like fire licking her legs. But the devilish flicker in his eyes she could not ignore; it looked so natural on him, spectacular enough to make her want to kiss him.

The little rose trick drove a soft laugh from her lips, and she returned his flirt with a winsome smile that promised bigger plans. Of course, she couldn’t depart without first assuring her victory. A quick glance around the two of them was the first tell that she was going to try something. Satisfied with what she saw, Soph ventured closer and reached her cigarette-free left hand towards his offered rose – lightly capturing his wrist instead, which she tugged on gently towards her. The sensation of touching him again felt like lightning that sent 300 million volts from her head to her toes.

As though buoyed by the energetic shock she rose up to her toes, closing a bit of the gap in their height. With his cigarette poised between her right index and middle fingers, she reached up to gently press the pads of her fingertips against his lips, gently parting them enough to return the cigarette to its destination in his mouth. There wasn’t much left to it, but it wasn’t hers to begin with anyway. From closer distance, a layer below the tobacco, she detected a masculine scent of clove and cinnamon.

As swiftly as she came, Sophia dropped her hand and back to her heels. Her right hand joined her left as she took the rose from him, then took another step back. Almost a demure move to return a respectable distance between them, were it not for her knowing smirk as she twirled the rose between her fingertips.

“I would appreciate that,” she teased, unsure of what to make from the way her heart fluttered against her ribcage as she understood he’d worn a different cologne. After a pensive moment she ventured quietly, “Leave some ten minutes after I do, for the ticketing area at the lobby. I’ll have Lennon distracted enough to not interrupt your exit. Don’t be surprised if someone besides myself greets you there,” she added, small smile turned to a slight grin. It was all she could do but tell him trust me (since mostly untrustworthy people say that).

Before he could find room to think twice or object to flaws in the plan, Sophia gave him a small curtsy and moved to step away. Though she threw a glance over her shoulder before she departed completely, and added slyly, “You smell nice tonight.”

In the next instant she was gone – melted into the crowd again, where she was seen a moment or so closer to the door, speaking with a small group of dancers and patrons, wielding her charm on others for another few moments before she made a graceful exit.

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thank you gin for the set<3

She was laughing; she was smiling; Ozymandias felt himself walking on air despite standing still. He saw her glance around them and had just time enough to wonder what she was planning (she was obviously planning something) before she met his eyes again and seemed to obviate the desire to think through it and hazard a guess as to her intentions. He was content to let her work her magic on him. Her fingers were on his wrist. For a split second he felt as though he were falling into her, but it wasn't him who had moved. She had closed the distance between them and stretched up like a blossoming flower reaching for the sun.

It wasn't until she had retreated that he realized his cigarette was back in his mouth. His head was spinning. It was too bold by half for any space where they could be seen by so many, and he ought to care about things like that; he had a wife who might mind a particular set of rumors. He couldn't find it in him to regret her action, though. So tantalizing, so lovely. He wanted her to touch him again, and the rest of the backstage crowd be damned. (O thou didst kill me: kill me once again). She issued instructions and he found himself distracted by the way her fingers twirled the stem of the rose he'd presented to her. Ten minutes, no interruptions. He didn't understand her remark about someone other than her meeting him, and he might have thought to protest that he didn't want anyone else involved in this affair, knowing his business, except —

You smell nice tonight.

It was a good thing that she had left immediately after saying that, because he found himself grinning like a fool. The cologne situation had caused him some anguish earlier tonight as he berated himself for being so obvious about his thought process before the ballet, but now he was glad things had worked out the way they had. Perhaps he had played himself right into her hands, but he thought he could rather enjoy having her hands on him. More than that, though: she had noticed the shift, interpreted the gesture correctly, and seemed appreciative of it. Even when he'd decided to wear a different cologne tonight he had not expected all of that. Even subconsciously, he didn't think he had dared to hope for anything more than a physical connection, and this seemed... slightly more than physical. It seemed that she understood.

He finished his cigarette and discarded it. He had forgotten to check his watch when she left, so when he did pull it out he decided to give himself three more minutes before he departed (likely cutting her estimated ten minutes short, but after her trick with the cigarette he was inclined to err on the side of impatience). He doled a few paltry compliments to dancers and designers in the backstage area, then returned to the lobby. Endymion was the only one of his siblings still remaining — typical on all counts, really — but Oz shrugged off his company with a vague excuse and then beelined towards the ticket counter, where he waited expectantly. And impatiently — it was difficult to keep his mind from drifting when he was doing nothing but waiting. He wished he had a drink. Better: he wished he had an entire bottle of wine to offer Sophia Voss as a symbol of goodwill when she arrived, which they could split with each other over the course of the evening. Better still: a bottle of champagne, in keeping with the congratulatory theme he'd begun with the rose backstage. Would the lobby bar sell him a bottle of champagne, if pressed? He checked his pocket watch again, wondering if he had enough time to find out. The last thing he wanted to do at the moment was keep her waiting, after he'd just promised not to.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

These butterflies in her stomach were typically reserved for the minutes before the curtain raised on opening night. The ballerina couldn’t even remember the last time her gut settled on this type of reaction to a man’s smile. Not even when she and Dempsey met before, did she feel this way. Was this an instance where absence makes the heart grow fonder? If so, she’d have to credit him a game well-played. Even as she idly chatted with others and set her plans in motion, her mind lingered on how he wore a different cologne tonight. She could have dismissed this as a simple courtesy (to protect herself, she should). But the way he looked at her drew goosebumps on the backs of her arms; his gaze was filled with more intent than courtesy.

Freshly motivated, Sophia made quick work of her promise. Seamus would hear that she left a bit early because she was tired, a pretty brunette corps dancer didn’t mind resting in the dim room of her dressing room if he bothered to peek in later. He’d be too preoccupied by Damien’s complaints about the lighting angles to pursue Oz exiting across the room several minutes later.

When Ozy made his escape to the ticketing counter, a gentleman was there waiting for him. He greeted Ozymandias exuberantly, sure to be overheard by anyone the other might have just been speaking to. Clearly, the man was a bit drunk, having heavily imbibed in the box seats opposite the Demspey’s. Though his relationship to Sophia was unclear, a heavy Russian accent suggested he had a similar familiarity to her as Karina. He led them behind the ticketing counter and through a locked door to reveal a dim wood paneled and carpeted hallway beyond (though a rather strange hallway, considering there were no other doors besides the one they just opened). All the while, the man went on conversationally about some board meetings investors should attend, or how he was quite lucky to be shown the patents. “Ah, this is where we go separate ways, the producer shall meet you here,” he announced abruptly, fumbling with the key on the lock of the door they just went through. Opened again, it revealed a different room - a smokey one with strange music. “Enjoy your evening, good sir!” With a salute, he disappeared into that room and closed the door with a locked click.

Sophia didn’t keep him waiting. After a few seconds the wall across the door shifted aside, pleating as if the panels were just curtain fabric. The ballerina stood there with a conspiratorial smile, having changed from her costume to a more relaxed dress like the one she wore for rehearsal. Her tiara was gone, hair brushed into long tresses that grazed her upper arms.

“You made it. I hope without too much trouble?” she asked teasingly, taking a demure step backwards to suggest where she would like him to follow. The step made her shorter; she was on a staircase that led to the level below the theater. “Apologies for making you go through these motions… As you can imagine, Lennon is not very pleased with me. Ordinarily I wouldn’t go to such great lengths to hide my intentions.” She turned her back to Oz to lead their way, eventually bringing them to another quiet hall that looked a bit like the one by the dressing rooms.

Sophia took them to a handsome wooden door, and leaned against it while she picked the right key from a ring she wore on her wrist like a bracelet. It was hard to miss the gold plaque on the door, emblazoned with the name Seamus Lennon. Sophia’s eyes caught his with a playful smile as she finally unlocked it for them. “This may not be the most interesting room of the theater, but I promise you this is the last place anyone would think to look if they need me,” she explained. “Besides, Seamus is a selfish bastard. He makes a point to keep the top notch liquor all to himself here.”

All she said was true, from a practical sense. Though less practically, Sophia had a reckless appreciation for flirting with danger and trouble, so she enjoyed that they were being sneaky.

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thank you gin for the set<3

No time for champagne, then. Oz played his part well enough for someone forced to improvise, though he was rather befuddled to be left alone in a plain hallway when the stranger disappeared. When she appeared from behind a wall he'd previously considered solid, he felt pleasantly beguiled. She continued to find ways to surprise him, while remaining perfectly in character with what he already knew of her. Her hair was down and he thought to catch it in his hands and bury his face in it, absorbing the scent of her and basking in the softness, but before he could do anything she had beckoned him down. There was a metaphor here, he thought vaguely as he followed her into the darkness below. He decided not to dwell on it.

"There are times to be circumspect," he agreed, to her concession about going to greater lengths to hide their liaison now than she normally would have. "Particularly after the scene we made the last time." Very well, the scene he had made, leaving in a huff after demanding the return of his coat. Since she had been instrumental in determining the nature of his departure from her dressing room, however, he felt she at least shared the blame for the ensuing moments and any rumors they may have stirred up. And they were only being very slightly more careful to avoid rumors, at the end of the day; as he was coming to learn, the ballet world (or at least the one in this theater) pivoted around Sophia Voss as planets orbited the sun, drawn in by gravity. They were all connected to each other but especially to her; he was under no illusions that anyone would stay ignorant long about what they got up to tonight.

His eyes lit on the plaque by the door. He raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't miss the gleam in her eye as she explained. Not a lengthy liaison, then; whatever she said, they would be operating on borrowed time until the theater manager finished with the patrons upstairs. Somehow, Oz doubted they'd spare much time with the liquor, no matter what quality it was.

"Is it sound-proof?" he asked, but it was less a question than it was a lascivious threat: the things I will do to you, Mrs. Voss. He didn't give her time to answer before he was on her, kissing her urgently as he pressed her against the door they'd just closed behind them.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

It took Sophia significant willpower to not throw herself into Ozymandias’ arms the moment they had even a semblance of privacy, seeking out any secluded rooms or soft surfaces be damned. Not that she intended to act demure - it was more out of reticence to offend. Despite his obvious interest now, the cause of his earlier aloofishness still felt unresolved in her mind. Soph didn’t dare think their slate was clean. She was determined to be on her best behavior with him tonight. Better to follow his lead.

Good news is, he took the lead quite nicely.

Sophia felt his presence around her before she could see him, eyes still adjusting to the darkness of the room once the door closed behind. Impulsively her hands flitted to rest against his chest— poised to push him off if needed, but the electricity she found at the touch compelled her to pull him closer instead. How tall he was— she had to crane her neck to capture the dim outline of his face.

A sharp intake of breath exposed her to his new scent again, and brought on a fresh wave of excitement. Bodies flush against each other like this, certainly he could feel the way her heart surged against her chest like it wanted to reach out to him. By the time the question he asked registered somewhere in the pit of her abdomen, Soph only managed to let out a soft ‘hah!’ before his mouth closed on her. Her way of saying no— not soundproofed at all.

One hand busily found the doorknob by her hip to make sure it was locked (which seemed like a futile move, but every second counts if someone planned to barge in). Then she sighed happily into his mouth, a soft sound that parted her lips and deepened their kiss. Sophia didn’t miss her opportunity to match his urgency. As if to encourage this, she endeavored a few insistent tugs at his shirt to free it from its trap under his waistband. Every inch of her skin exposed to Ozymandias felt hot, like a fever burned her from the inside, and she wanted much more of this.

Sophia pulled her mouth away from him with a teasing nibble to his lower lip, and found she instantly regretted the distance. To make up for it, her fingers found their way under his shirt to the  bare skin of back. She raked her nails gently there. Would they even make it further into the room? Nevermind waste any time getting undressed? Usually this type of anticipation only made things better, but tonight any more delay over having his hands and mouth all over felt like the most vicious form of torture.

“Would you like the lights on or off?” She barely gave him the time to conjure an answer before her lips crashed into his again.

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thank you gin for the set<3

It was his turn to laugh, sharp and short. "Damned if I care," he muttered, already pressing his mouth to her neck for his next kiss. The only thing he wanted at the moment was her. Lights on, lights off; a dressing room or the manager's office, the catwalks or the stage itself made little difference to him when he had the taste of her on his tongue and the feeling of her fingers on his back.

"Don't leave any marks," he murmured as he turned his hands to her body. He caressed her breast with one hand (it felt as though she'd skipped the corset when she'd changed, in favor of something lighter; his heart rate picked up). He slid his other hand down along her waist, over her hip and to her thigh, which he pulled towards him until they were right up against one another. He was overdressed for this; formal attire to attend a show's opening night came with too many accessories that stood in the way her. A watch chain that had to be undone before he could take off his vest, cufflinks preventing his sleeves from just peeling off if he unbuttoned his shirt, a cravat to be removed — he wanted his skin on hers and every layer that stood between them frustrated him.

Oz leaned into her and pressed another eager kiss to her mouth as his fingers fumbled with his cufflinks. It was clear it would take more time to undress him than it would to undress her, so the best he could do was offer a suitable distraction while his hands were occupied.

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia couldn’t contain her gasp at the feeling of his lips against her neck or his hands against her breast and thighs. His haste for intimacy completely disarmed her, and robbed her of any thoughts beyond this, more this.

“No marks,” she repeated breathlessly, her way of confirming she heard him at some point, having already dropped her hands from under his shirt. One hand grasped his hair at the nape of his neck so as to encourage his mouth’s current progress, while the other gave an impatient, vague gesture over his shoulder. A few odd candles lit around them, her aim suffered under duress. It was enough to illuminate them a bit better, at least, along with the suggestions of a couch on one side of the room, and a handsome mahogany desk with a few cushy armchairs on the other.

Not that she had much intention to move away from where they were rooted now. The way his body pressed her firmly against the door gave her enough leverage to hike up a few inches, enough to wrap her legs nimbly around his waist. Now her hands found the cravat on his neck, pulling apart its knot impatiently to deposit this unnecessary fabric to the floor. “You’re wearing far too much clothes, who were you trying to impress?” she complained against his skin, and set to work on his topmost buttons while her lips found the soft spot where his jaw met his neck.

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thank you gin for the set<3

The real answer to her question was no one but also everyone; this was just what we expected of men of a certain social class. If he'd attended a performance without cufflinks someone would suppose he had secret money troubles or a concealed drinking problem, and couldn't dress himself properly as a result. She probably knew that already, though, and wouldn't begrudge him a little idle flattery, so what he said was: "You, obviously."

He dropped the cufflinks, which thudded softly against the carpet, and moved on to the buttons of his sleeves. With her hands doing half the work things went quickly. By the time he broke off their kiss again he was able to slip his jacket and shirt back off his shoulders. "I could hardly watch the performance," he admitted, breathless. "You were too distracting. Don't tell Karina every compliment I offered her tonight was imagined."

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MJ is the light of my life <3

Sophia laughed breathlessly against his skin, his flattery too much temptation to resist giving his buttons a good yank in response. Yes he said no marks on his skin, but he had yet to volunteer any more little rules and she was sure he had a servant or two who could stitch back on a few buttons.

“Mm, the clothes do make you look good,” she agreed absently, smothering his jawline with kisses. “I’ll forgive you for all the delay this has caused. Only because I enjoy your new cologne so much. You were really so thoughtful before you came to tonight’s show,” she teased.

Immediately her hands set about grazing his bare chest, quite satisfied with her ability to see the ripples of his muscle under pale skin, and because he had no other rules so far she could tweak his nipple with a salacious look. Ozy’s admitted distractions had shocking consequences to her insides, it poured an intense heat like molten lava down her center. Even if it was just flattery, he certainly had an excellent sense of timing for delivery.

Sophia returned his compliment with a deep kiss first, where their tongues danced and she endeavored to draw out his breathlessness. When they finally broke apart, it was only so Sophia could arch her body into him and create a gap between her back and the door. She fussed irritably with the laces along her back. “I could feel your eyes on me,” Sophia confided back, her bright blue gaze bore into his expression as her fingers worked behind her back. “Your look made me want to impress you, it made me take my highest jump yet. Your effect on me is… profound.” The sort of thing that became an addiction if one wasn’t careful.

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The following 1 user Likes Sophia Lissington's post:1 user Likes Sophia Lissington's post
   Ozymandias Dempsey

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thank you gin for the set<3