[ ever curious, marin doesn't hesitate to glance all around the second she enters his place. as much as her reptile brain has already been fixating on all the possibilities this evening could entail, there is, of course, a part of her that is also just excited for this chance to discover even more of jason himself. a hopeless romantic at heart, even something as simple as knowing the kind of cereal he keeps in his cupboard excites her.
somehow, finding his apartment void of a lot of distinguishing decoration makes sense. he work often takes him away for long bouts of time, after all; she doesn't imagine he has a lot of time (or inclination) to really set down roots. ][ might as well rid herself of the last of her nerves by plunging right on in! she flounces on over to plop herself down in the middle of his couch and beams up at him, her smile impish. ]
Unless you're gonna give me the one you're wearing right now~?
[ he'll leave her to her own devices for the moment, letting her buzz around snooping and studying what little there is to look at. no, there aren't a great deal of mementos to look - he is just a bit too indifferent for that. a bookshelf that shows that he reads a surprising amount of historical and romantic literature, maybe, including in japanese apparently as well as he speaks it, for one. lots of movies, for another, near a sizable tv.
a man has to have hobbies.
he does make his way over to the kitchen for a moment, mostly so that he can start the coffee maker. he's a simple man, and if nothing else, he likes the way it smells. he does pause, though, grinning a little over her as she calls that out. ]
Guess you've got a point. You gonna ditch the sundress, then, babe?
[ because he will, in fact, pull his hoodie up over his head then and there, the gesture causing his shirt to ride up in a way that is totally not on purpose (it is) and giving her a flash of stomach muscles in the process. he gently tosses it towards her, draping over the back of the couch. it smells of him, faintly - amber and smoke and a little bit of pine. ]
[ she mentally takes note of the familiar titles of romances she'd spotted (the historical novels are, perhaps obviously, far beyond her own interests) to pester him about it later. right now she's easily distracted by the allure of that hoodie, the way her gaze snatches on the soft fabric and how she's sitting close enough that if she inhales deeply enough she can take in that very distinct scent of him.
but, that's not the goal here. even if she would love nothing more than to crawl into that hoodie and drown in it. ]
Should I? It's not like I'm wearing a bra under it...
[ she stands then, with enough gusto that her chest bounces happily from the movement and — yes, sure enough, he can likely very easily tell that she is, in fact, wearing nothing else beneath that dress. especially with how the cold air of the evening still lingers on her skin, causing nipples to tighten and protrude slightly past the ruching of thin fabric. the bust of that dress is trying its damndest to keep her contained, and failing miserably.
maybe she didn't need to move quite like that, or arch her back the way she is so that her chest juts out even more... but consider it payback for that bit of flashing he did just now. ]
[ in all honestly, he's been very aware that she lived up to the idea of not wearing a bra pretty much since he picked her up. his observational skills are pretty sharp as a matter of course, and that sundress isn't doing a lot for support by its lonesome. it's a good thing he's been given carte blanche to pay attention, too, since he's not sure he could stop himself
she has a great chest, clearly.
he tries not to stare too openly, mind, and does probably 85% of a good job there. that's alright in his book. and he shrugs his shoulders, like he's not bothered, and in all honestly he's not. at least, not in the sense that he has a problem with it, or wants her to be any more dressed than she is. in the sense that it has an effect on him, though? well, he's not made of stone.
a part of him might feel like it, at the moment, but that's a different story entirely. and something she will likely find out for herself soon enough. ]
It's all what you're comfortable with. Like I said, no pressure. [ and he means that, too. hopes that she knows he means that.
for the moment, he turns to pour himself a cup of coffee. he might as well be a good host, anyway, and not just entirely think of getting his hands on her, even though it's hard to think about anything else. ] You want any? Sugar, cream, anything? Or you can just flop back down and I'll be there to do your heavy lifting in a second.
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somehow, finding his apartment void of a lot of distinguishing decoration makes sense. he work often takes him away for long bouts of time, after all; she doesn't imagine he has a lot of time (or inclination) to really set down roots. ][ might as well rid herself of the last of her nerves by plunging right on in! she flounces on over to plop herself down in the middle of his couch and beams up at him, her smile impish. ]
Unless you're gonna give me the one you're wearing right now~?
no subject
a man has to have hobbies.
he does make his way over to the kitchen for a moment, mostly so that he can start the coffee maker. he's a simple man, and if nothing else, he likes the way it smells. he does pause, though, grinning a little over her as she calls that out. ]
Guess you've got a point. You gonna ditch the sundress, then, babe?
[ because he will, in fact, pull his hoodie up over his head then and there, the gesture causing his shirt to ride up in a way that is totally not on purpose (it is) and giving her a flash of stomach muscles in the process. he gently tosses it towards her, draping over the back of the couch. it smells of him, faintly - amber and smoke and a little bit of pine. ]
help not dw eating part of my tag π
but, that's not the goal here. even if she would love nothing more than to crawl into that hoodie and drown in it. ]
Should I? It's not like I'm wearing a bra under it...
[ she stands then, with enough gusto that her chest bounces happily from the movement and — yes, sure enough, he can likely very easily tell that she is, in fact, wearing nothing else beneath that dress. especially with how the cold air of the evening still lingers on her skin, causing nipples to tighten and protrude slightly past the ruching of thin fabric. the bust of that dress is trying its damndest to keep her contained, and failing miserably.
maybe she didn't need to move quite like that, or arch her back the way she is so that her chest juts out even more... but consider it payback for that bit of flashing he did just now. ]
You could feel me up just fine anyway, right?
dw please.... give me all the content.........
she has a great chest, clearly.
he tries not to stare too openly, mind, and does probably 85% of a good job there. that's alright in his book. and he shrugs his shoulders, like he's not bothered, and in all honestly he's not. at least, not in the sense that he has a problem with it, or wants her to be any more dressed than she is. in the sense that it has an effect on him, though? well, he's not made of stone.
a part of him might feel like it, at the moment, but that's a different story entirely. and something she will likely find out for herself soon enough. ]
It's all what you're comfortable with. Like I said, no pressure. [ and he means that, too. hopes that she knows he means that.
for the moment, he turns to pour himself a cup of coffee. he might as well be a good host, anyway, and not just entirely think of getting his hands on her, even though it's hard to think about anything else. ] You want any? Sugar, cream, anything? Or you can just flop back down and I'll be there to do your heavy lifting in a second.