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[recoined]

	you've reached kimberly — you really should have texted me. who leaves a voicemail anymore? audio | text | video | snapchat | action
kimberly hart.

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[recoined]

( he keeps asking, carefully posed questions whispered between them, and all she can do is nod her head in agreement. the answer seems obvious, to her — yes, to whatever you're offering, yes, and please — but the questions do come, as if there's an expectation that she's going to say no or push him away. she can't help but feel a little confused for it. is she not clear enough? is he looking for some kind of obvious signal that she's not giving, some body language or quiet sound that she hasn't offered? )

Okay, ( murmured over a slow exhale, an encouraging smile curving up the corners of her mouth, thumb brushing over the line of his hip. ) But I don't want to sleep on the couch if you're making me waffles in the morning.

( as in, i'm sure there's a perfectly good bed, if you'd prefer to use it. )

[killertrack]

[ Baby had been raised by a very polite old man, and had learned sexuality with women sometimes twice his age, teaching him the importance of making sure; or maybe it was just a Southern thing. He was sure she was into it, into him, but he thought it better to ensure she wanted more.

At her answer, Baby can only chuckle, pulling her close and wrapping an arm around her, hoisting her up easily, allowing her to wrap her legs around him if she so wished. That kind of answer was exactly what he'd been hoping for since he offered to make her breakfast in the morning; something just as unsubtle, and just as smooth. ]

Wouldn't have that.

[ Skipping the living-room couch it is. He'll walk them over to his bedroom without missing a beat, Motown still playing in the background, like encouragement. ]

[recoined]

( that's it, isn't it? she'd wondered what he wanted when she'd arrived, questioned the nature of the evening with his fussy jacket and her casual dress, but his clever allusion to something much more intimate than dinner had answered those questions for her. perhaps he'd been wondering the same thing. what she wanted, how far she wanted this to go, how much she wanted him.

because as soon as the words slip out of her mouth, it's like the gates open; his grip is firmer, more sure, more determined as he pulls her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist on instinct alone. kimberly can only laugh, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as it rumbles through her chest, clinging to him with arms wrapped around his neck as he carries her through the small apartment. )

This is much better, ( announced as they cross through the threshold, amusement high in her voice. ) Don't you think?

[killertrack]

[ Damn, but she weighs nothing. It's all too easy to walk with Kimberly in his arms, holding her tight to him as she laughs, making him grin. He nods, passing the threshold of his bedroom and pushing the door closed with a foot. ]

Much better, [ he agrees, intent behind the words, just as he sits down on the bed, letting Kimberly straddle him. Like this, it's just too easy to kiss her again, to let his hands roam over her hips, the small of her back, her ass, down to the hem of her dress, trailing his fingers along the skin just below it.

He lets out a noise against her lips when he realizes the music is not filtering through the door,
but he still can barely hear the ringing in his ears, replaced by the steady, rapid beat of his heart as he holds Kimberly to him. ]