loccent | familiar spaces | we'll be in love by the morning

"Can't believe they gave you the same phone back," she murmurs, nuzzling into his hand. "Don't check backdated messages, I've been...kind of pathetic." She has been texting him exactly the same thing, every month, after every Meet and Greet. Waiting is one thing. What Mae's done counds as something far more desperate, and potentially...dumb.

But the promise of another kiss makes her a little dizzy, and she lets out a choked little laugh. "You idiot. You could've done that a lot sooner than now, too."

To prove her point, she drags him down for another kiss first, her fingers hooked into the collar of his shirt to have where to tug. He had the element of surprise on him the first time, but this time she has the element of whatever you want to call the promise to never waste this opportunity ever again.

So - she kisses him slow, and deepy, and plays dirty. No-one will come out of it thinking it was platonic. He won't come out of it thinking he's her older brother figure.

He had plans. Take her out to dinner kind of plans. Bring her flowers kind of plans. But when she pulls him down for a follow-up kiss those plans might just have to wait.

There is nothing chaste about the way her mouth is moving under his. And nothing about the way that he responds that will excuse him later. So he leans in, pulls her close; fingers curling on her hips as he responds in kind.

"Mae," he murmurs, "we should probably go inside."

Because while yes, this is Eudio, he'd rather not press her up against the hood of his car when his thoughts are far, far from PG13.

Luckily, save for a few freak meteorological occasions, the climate in Eudio is more than just mild, rendering itself the perfect place for Mae to wear dresses in. At this point she's gathered up a whole collection, and the one she wore today has a vintage look (from her historical standpoint anyway). Black with red flowers, short sleeves with a heartshaped neckline, with buttons running down from top to bottom down the centre. It flares out from the hips, and falls down to her knees, and as he sets his hands on her waist, all she can think of is that she hopes he doesn't even take it off, just pulls it up and touches her. Right here.

Of course, he has other ideas. She sighs, dramatically. "I guess, if you've gotta be practical about it." With a last kiss to the side of his neck, she takes a whole step back.

Gives him a pointed look: lead the way, then.

Here's a slight tilt of the head sent her way.

Slowly now: "Did you have... something else in mind?"

He didn't have time to register her dress before, but since she's stepped back a bit he finds his gaze drawn to the dip of that neckline and remembers how light the fabric was beneath his hands.

Closing that gap between them with a step of his own, one hand coming up to trace fingers over the bare skin of her arm. "I'd hate to disappoint." Teasing, teasing.

She doesn't take a step back, doesn't get crowded against his car (of course he'd get the car back right away, fucker), even if she really wants to. Instead, she stands her ground, and only shivers a little when he touches her, a little whimper locked in her throat.

"Oh...fuck," she whispers under her breath, "this hits a lot of guilty fantasies."

She bites her lower lip and looks up at him, trying hard not to pant already. On the street.

"Okay." A quick lick of her lips, and she nods. "Okay, let's go inside. I'm still trying to figure out if you're a dream or really back, I think inside is a better idea...for talking and...mm, other stuff..." He is such a tease, and it works. It all works.

Keep licking your lips, Mae Crawford, and he might be tempted to kiss you again.

Instead, he slips his hand into hers, fingers easing themselves in the spaces between her own. "I'm really back." A sober response, this time. Because he gets it. He's half worried that he might wake up back home again; hence the need to touch her just to remind himself that he won't.

He'll lead her back up towards the apartment, drawing her up against his side with each consecutive step. "So," he starts, as they go up the stairs. "Guilty fantasies, huh?"

This is a gentle look of: go on, please.

She follows him upstairs, still floating a bit, until he brings up that question. "Oh sure, you heard that," she mutters, then nudges him with her elbow. "Come on. I've been drooling after you for ages now."

They're still in the hallway, and so it feels almost safe to say this part: "Of course I had fantasies. I had a lot of wishful thinking, too. And some crushed dreams to go with it all."

He stops at that, turns to her and lifts his free hand to caress her cheek. "You never said anything."

But even as he says it, he can put things together: he'd kept her at arm's length deliberately, even after multiple occassions where the opportunity to signal her for more presented itself. So, he amends that statement. "Then again, neither did I."

"You're not the only one who wrestled with guilty fantasies."

She can't help the little expression of disbelief. "You honestly think I never gave you any signs about that?" she asks quietly. "Ana was so loud in her teasing, I honestly thought...that you knew, and was trying to keep me at arm's length on purpose because you weren't interested."

She pouts, nudges her way past him and walks up to the doorway of his old flat. "I better hear all about those fantasies now."

He lets her pass and slips the keys into her hands as he comes up behind her. He isn't going to lie. He's glad he gets to come back here; as if Eudio knew he might return - and that he'd prefer the private space he, Phil and Ana had taken as theirs, instead of settling somewhere else.

Coming up behind Mae now and caging her a little against the door.

"Ana teased because she knew I liked you and was agonizing over it. I honestly thought she was doing it to clue you in." Juarez was dependable like that. He should have figured that she'd attempt to hit two birds with one stone.

"For the record, I always wondered what it would be like if we got the flat to ourselves -- without a snowstorm making me feel like I might be taking advantage of you."

One hand on the small of her back now, fingers indulging in the feel of her dress' fabric.

Oh yes, that snowstorm brings back good memories, of him trying to give her a footrub to warm her feet, and her falling asleep on their couch, plied with mulled wine and hot chocolate alike.

The surprise touch makes her fumble a little, key missing the keyhole a few times, as the graze of his fingers against her back, through the thin fabric of the dress and all, is enough to make her nearly have an orgasm in the building hallway.

She lets out a shaky breath and leans her forehead against the still locked door, trying to focus.

"And...are you going to show me what you'd do?" Key finds the lock, and she twists, and pushes the door open. "Or just talk about it?"

What is it about seeing her fumble that lock that he feels like he's not likely to keep things in his pants. Not that either of them are likely to object that this point, really.

The door is open, which makes it easy for him to nudge her inside, close it right behind them, and then loop an arm around her waist to draw her up because he needs to kiss her again. So he does.

"We can still talk about it," gently nipping at her lower lip at that. "I can multitask."

Talk? About something? Right, they were talking about something, but her brain is a bit fried now. He has the right presence of mind to pull them both into the flat, and close the door behind him, which means that her low moan is not heard by anyone else but the two of them, thankfully.

There is no more fumbling now. She chases his mouth for another kiss, and her toes practically curl in her shoes when he bites her lip like that.

"Tease." She crushes her lips against his again, impatient. "Hope you didn't have plans for the next few days, Josh," she warns him between kisses, "I'm keeping you here."

"My only plans involved you." He murmurs that against her mouth, even as he picks her up; one arm wrapping around her torso as he leans his shoulders back against the door for balance, his free hand guiding one leg to wrap around his waist.

No beating around the bush this time; no dancing around the feelings between them both. There's a flutter in his chest, and if he's smiling as he leans into those kisses, it's only because this is finally -- finally sinking in.

"Couch?" He asks, breathless.

"Yeah," she manages, because at this point anywhere will do. She wraps both legs around his waist, because when he picks her up it's not like she can touch the ground anymore anyway. The skirt of her dress slips down, bunches at her hips, leaving her pressed against him with nothing but a single layer of barrier.

A giddy little laugh escapes her, interrupting the kiss. She leans her forehead against his. "This is so hot."

"You're so hot." He murmurs back, walking them both to the couch where he eases down while stealing a kiss from her lips.

He still remembers the last time they found themselves alone here: snow, cold, the heater struggling to keep the place warm while he put together sandwiches to hand out to the volunteers braving the cold outside. Mae had looked... right, in his space. And if it weren't for a misplaced sense of chivalry, he'd have found other ways to keep them both warm.

Skimming hands down her back now and letting his fingers linger along the zipper of her dress.

She doesn't need to do much, he carries her, without struggle. It makes her feel sexy and desireable, to be seemingly so easy to just pick up.

When he sits down, gravity does the trick, bringing her down more fully in his lap. "I remember this couch..." She shoots him a little grin, and leans in to trace soft kisses down the line of his jaw, the side of his neck. She only pulls back when his fingers reach the zipper of her dress, and she makes eye contact with him again.

"Leave it on," she whispers, immediately pulling her lower lip between her teeth. It's not like Mae, with her job at the sex toy shop and her outrageous flirting is shy. But they've skirted around wanting each other for what now feels like an eternity too long, and for the first round to be something rushed and still dressed on the couch is...

Kind of perfect.

She leans in and bites his lower lip quickly, then nuzzle his nose with hers. "For now, anyway."

She leans in and he can feel the press of her against him - so forgive him if the next words come out a little strangled.

"Do I still get to touch?"

Hands moving lower now, his palms happy to cup her ass and press her a little closer.

"I enthusiastically encourage that, actually," she quips, with the last bit of sass that's left before her brain fries from how good it feels to feel him.

A little gasp escapes, and encouraged by his hands there, she rocks against him slowly. "You're so hard..."

There's a slight wheeze from him, before one hand comes up to cup the nape of her neck so he can drag her down for a kiss.

"Don't tease." A whisper now, fingers slipping beneath her skirt so that he can trace the flesh on the back of her thigh.

"Oh, now I really want to," she murmurs, rocking against him again. She leans close, seemingly going in for another kiss, lips swollen and tingly, lipstick messed up. At the last second, she deviates, until she's whispering in his ear.

"You could have this. Just like this. Right here. I bet you'd slide right in, fill me up so nicely..." A kiss against the skin below his earlobe. "If you knew how wet I am for you right now..."

He shudders at the warmth of her breath at his ear and instinctively squeezes the flesh of her thigh. His breath has gone shallow at the image of her riding him; his throat dry with want.

"Nipping her bare shoulder at that and then tracking kisses up the side of her neck. "Oh, are you now?"

It doesn't take much to tease her there; a shift of the hand at most. She's exactly as she promised: wet and wanting, her slick noistness seeping through the fabric and onto his fingertips.

She lets out a soft groan at that, and leans back to watch him. Greedy to see his expression, to see if it feels just as good for him to be touching her, as it does for her. And it does - it feels amazing, and just the beginning.

She sinks her fingers into the hair at the back of his head, pulling him back from her neck so she can catch his gaze. Lips parted, a pretty little blush on her face and all.

"Keep going..." she asks, very nicely.

There's a soft sound deep in his chest when her fingers thread into his hair as she pulls his head back. It's something he's honestly always found so irresistible about Mae. How, barring those odd shy moments that caught them both by surprise, she'd never shied from speaking her mind or asking for what she wanted.

Both hands now, fingers curling over the fabric of her underwear to drag it down before he traces his fingers in a line across her slick heat.

"Not going to lie," there's a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "the way you feel right now makes me want my mouth on you."

She has to reluctantly peel herself off his lap so he can take her panties off, but it's a sacrifice she is willing to make. Up and off she goes, and toes the underwear to the side as soon as she's stepped out of it. The skirt has fallen back into place, and she is standing in front of him again, between his spread legs.

"I know we should pace ourselves but," she starts, and brings one knee to the couch between his legs, leaning forward again. "I don't wanna."

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