[There isn't a better feeling in the world than Yseult's laugh, or a better sound. Darras takes a moment to appreciate it, as much as he appreciates the crawl of her fingers, gentle pressure, the gentle prickling of her fingernails on his skin. He presses a kiss to her chest, the flat plane of her breastbone.]
On the contrary-- [He pulls at her shirt, intent to draw it over her head, interrupting his own line of kissing to make this important change.] He thinks everything of the wife he loves.
[ Her voice may be momentarily muffled by the passage of shirt over head, but Yseult isn't about to let that stop her. The dry tone comes through the cloth just fine, and her eyebrow's still arched at him when her head is free again.
She tugs at his sweater too while they're at it, getting a fistful of soft wool at the back of his shoulder and hauling upwards until she's trapped Darras's head inside. And then leaving it there. ]
[Inside his sweater, Darras laughs. The trap has interrupted his concentration. He sits back, trying to pull the sweater the rest of the way off, momentarily abandoning his hot half-naked wife. For a good cause, of course. The wool is soft but that does nothing for breathing through it.]
I don't see. You did this on purpose. How is this not cheating?
This is the precise opposite of cheating! I'm resisting you, as requested. [ And laughing as he struggles.
Except it's not actually quite as effective a strategy as she'd intended. He looks a bit ridiculous, obviously, but sitting back and wrestling with the sweater over his head has the unintended advantage of showing off a swath of bare torso broadening from belt to chest, muscles taut and working as he reaches and pulls. Yseult watches for a moment where she's been left reclining against the couch arm, and then suddenly surges upright and forward. Not to help him, but to interfere with a distracting press of mouth to abdomen and hands tugging loose belt buckle. ]
Now [ she says, with a drag of teeth ] I may be cheating.
[Whatever he'd been about to say--something like the laughter calls that into question, for starters, and then go from there--is entirely interrupted. Blinded by his sweater, distracted by his imprisonment, he can't dodge her (as if he would, really). The press of her lips on his bare skin makes him inhale, sharp and surprised--and laugh, even as his back arches a little--]
This cheating-- [He has to keep struggling with the sweater, he's so close to freedom, and now it's a race--] This cheating, I like.
[ A race in opposite directions as he fights his way up and out of the sweater and she skims and scrapes a path downwards. Buckle clunks loose and is pulled free with a whisk of leather on cloth, pants pushed down only far enough to create a second tangling obstacle were he to try to stand. But that seems unlikely, as her palm settles flat and warm over his breastbone and pushes. ]
On second thought, I'm still within the letter of our agreement. [ She decides as she presses him back and down onto the couch, still not helping resolve the sweater situation if he hasn't managed it yet. Instead he'll feel her fit herself neatly between his knees, hands sliding up haunches. ] I have every intention of remaining extremely focused.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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On the contrary-- [He pulls at her shirt, intent to draw it over her head, interrupting his own line of kissing to make this important change.] He thinks everything of the wife he loves.
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[ Her voice may be momentarily muffled by the passage of shirt over head, but Yseult isn't about to let that stop her. The dry tone comes through the cloth just fine, and her eyebrow's still arched at him when her head is free again.
She tugs at his sweater too while they're at it, getting a fistful of soft wool at the back of his shoulder and hauling upwards until she's trapped Darras's head inside. And then leaving it there. ]
I see.
no subject
I don't see. You did this on purpose. How is this not cheating?
no subject
Except it's not actually quite as effective a strategy as she'd intended. He looks a bit ridiculous, obviously, but sitting back and wrestling with the sweater over his head has the unintended advantage of showing off a swath of bare torso broadening from belt to chest, muscles taut and working as he reaches and pulls. Yseult watches for a moment where she's been left reclining against the couch arm, and then suddenly surges upright and forward. Not to help him, but to interfere with a distracting press of mouth to abdomen and hands tugging loose belt buckle. ]
Now [ she says, with a drag of teeth ] I may be cheating.
no subject
This cheating-- [He has to keep struggling with the sweater, he's so close to freedom, and now it's a race--] This cheating, I like.
no subject
On second thought, I'm still within the letter of our agreement. [ She decides as she presses him back and down onto the couch, still not helping resolve the sweater situation if he hasn't managed it yet. Instead he'll feel her fit herself neatly between his knees, hands sliding up haunches. ] I have every intention of remaining extremely focused.