[ marin does not, in fact, heed jason's suggestions when it comes to not "fancying it up." though, to be fair, she keeps the make-up fairly neutral, but you can't really ask a diamond not to sparkle when that's its default state anyway.
the frilly sundress had been a poor choice, though, considering the flimsy thing did more fluttering around her waist during the bike ride than actually keeping her decent, but she can own up to that particular poor choice. then again, considering how the night is going, what's one more poor choice on top of a mountainload at this point?
at least she got to feel his chest and abs up cling tightly to him throughout the ride. any excuse to do so is always a bonus in marin's eyes.
but as the ride slows to a stop at his apartment, the wild beating of her heart can no longer be ignored. is she seriously doing this...? but backing out now would be sooo so lame. and it's not like she's even scared, or doubtful or anything like that. rather, she's so excited, that something in her brain is telling her something has to be off... things this good can't be this easy....... right?
hovering by his side as he works his key into the lock, she twirls and untwirls a lock of long hair in an effort to manage her nerves. ]
[ in what he's pretty sure goes to his credit, jason does not, in fact, comment on her choice of sundress. mainly because the wind whipping against her legs is going to do that for him, but still.
the hands that slide over his body perhaps a little more than strictly necessary also go un-commented on. he does want her to stay secure to the back of the bike, and really? he's just mildly annoyed that his leather jacket - a necessity for any biker, and also "hot bad boy maybe boyfriend," of course - means he can't fully feel how she presses into his back.
but it's not like it'll take long, will it?
he grins at her a little out of the corner of his eye as she plays with his hair, the lock clicking open so that he can swing the door wide for her. the place is understated. he's not a big one for decorating, really, and so some would call the look of it "spartan". the windows are heavily curtained, for those days when he's been up late and doesn't want to see the sun until he feels like it, but there's a cozy kitchen and a decently sized living room mostly dominated by a couch. ]
Nah, just little old me. We have the place to ourselves. [ he waits for her to step inside, then follows, sliding off his boots and hanging up his jacket next. ] So make yourself at home. You need anything?
[ 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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[ marin does not, in fact, heed jason's suggestions when it comes to not "fancying it up." though, to be fair, she keeps the make-up fairly neutral, but you can't really ask a diamond not to sparkle when that's its default state anyway.
the frilly sundress had been a poor choice, though, considering the flimsy thing did more fluttering around her waist during the bike ride than actually keeping her decent, but she can own up to that particular poor choice. then again, considering how the night is going, what's one more poor choice on top of a mountainload at this point?
at least she got to
feel his chest and abs upcling tightly to him throughout the ride. any excuse to do so is always a bonus in marin's eyes.but as the ride slows to a stop at his apartment, the wild beating of her heart can no longer be ignored. is she seriously doing this...? but backing out now would be sooo so lame. and it's not like she's even scared, or doubtful or anything like that. rather, she's so excited, that something in her brain is telling her something has to be off... things this good can't be this easy....... right?
hovering by his side as he works his key into the lock, she twirls and untwirls a lock of long hair in an effort to manage her nerves. ]
Do you have roommates...?
no subject
the hands that slide over his body perhaps a little more than strictly necessary also go un-commented on. he does want her to stay secure to the back of the bike, and really? he's just mildly annoyed that his leather jacket - a necessity for any biker, and also "hot bad boy maybe boyfriend," of course - means he can't fully feel how she presses into his back.
but it's not like it'll take long, will it?
he grins at her a little out of the corner of his eye as she plays with his hair, the lock clicking open so that he can swing the door wide for her. the place is understated. he's not a big one for decorating, really, and so some would call the look of it "spartan". the windows are heavily curtained, for those days when he's been up late and doesn't want to see the sun until he feels like it, but there's a cozy kitchen and a decently sized living room mostly dominated by a couch. ]
Nah, just little old me. We have the place to ourselves. [ he waits for her to step inside, then follows, sliding off his boots and hanging up his jacket next. ] So make yourself at home. You need anything?
no subject
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.