[ She likes to be informed. Well he already knew that, but he didn't realize it would ever come out quite so far in his favor. He remains still while she's assembling and adjusting, but looks at her when she deems it finished and sits back. He's not sure for a moment what's happening right then, but it looks like she's allowing him more chances to indicate how he feels about things. He takes the moment, looks up again, shifts a little bit, moving his hips in the minor amount that he's able, feeling the weight and restriction, breathing a little faster now, as though to make up for how still he was just a few moments ago. It's a difficult thing to describe, whether feeling or desire, and he's glad she seemed to be able to parse it all out on her own, much less that she apparently wanted to try it herself.
But he's got to say something, even still. ] I don't like it when you don't tell me things. [ Which is, for the most part, a true statement, but is obviously and blatantly in this context a lie. He's just saying it to have something mildly belligerent to say, even if the slightly breathless, approved tone he says it in totally contradicts the words further. ]
no subject
But he's got to say something, even still. ] I don't like it when you don't tell me things. [ Which is, for the most part, a true statement, but is obviously and blatantly in this context a lie. He's just saying it to have something mildly belligerent to say, even if the slightly breathless, approved tone he says it in totally contradicts the words further. ]