bitten_notshy | Priest - de Ulloa Residence, London, Wednesday Evening

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Priest - de Ulloa Residence, London, Wednesday Evening

Jack had stayed at the library late after hsi first day of classes. He wasn't studying -- it was all material he'd covered at the age of 12. He was, however, trying to ingratiate himself with his fellow students. They were such an interesting group, and Jack asked so many interesting questions about their lives that no one noticed he hardy talked about his own.

Home at last, he found a note from Sebastien indicating he'd be out working, then cooked himself a light dinner. Then he went up to his room and took out his phone. There were a few people back in Fandom he needed to check in with.

He dialed.

[OOC: If you want him to have called you, he did!]

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Jack considered that for a long moment. Then he got up to close the door to his chamber, heart thudding away.

"Close your door," he said. "Triela isn't in, is she?"

"Nooooo..." Emma gave the phone a strange look, as if trying to read Jack's mind through the connection, but she flipped the lock on the door anyway. "Why?"

"Because I want us to have a conversation that I don't fancy a third party intruding on uninvited," Jack answered conversationally. "I'm taking off my shirt, by the way."

Hopefully she'd pick up on where he was going from there.

"Why are you telling me...?" Wait for it, Jack. Emma's still a little slow when it comes to some ideas about this sort of thing.

"Oh. Oh!" Emma flopped back on to her bed, mildly in shock. Oh. "I think I could stand to hear more, darling."

Oh, dear lord, they were actually doing this. Jack hadn't before either, but it always seemed like fun.

"My shirt is off," he repeated. "I'm sitting on my bed in ... soft old navy trousers and gray dress socks. Should I take off the socks?"

"You don't need socks if you aren't going to be putting on shoes anytime soon," Emma pointed out, quickly sitting up and making herself comfortable by scooting up the bed and leaning back against the wall. "Besides, you're home, right? You can wander around barefoot if you like. It's not like it's the dorms."

They were seriously going to do this. Emma was torn between giggling and hiding under a pillow.

"No, in the dorms I'd only go barefoot if I wanted especially vicious foot diseases," Jack said.

Because fungus was totes sexy.

He pried off his socks one by one and dropped them on the floor.

"There. Gone. Your turn," he said, sing-song. "I've taken off three things and you're still fully dressed."

"That's what you think," Emma sang back. "For all you know, I'm still in my pajamas."

But she wasn't, so Emma took stock of her attire. "I'm just wearing one of the button-downs I swiped from you -- which looks better on me, by the way -- over a plain tank-top and a pair of rather nicely fitted jeans." Emma chewed her lip while she considered her ensemble. "I suppose I could loose your shirt..."

As if she wasn't perfectly aware of how he reacted when she wore his clothing.

Jack made a pleased noise and closed his eyes. "Don't rush on my account," he said hopefully. "Though it does sound like the shirt is an extra layer. Gorgeous as it is on you, it's much easier to -- appreciate you without it."

His tone left little doubt what he meant by appreciate.

"Hold on a moment." There was a bit of dead-air as Emma placed the phone in her lap, then the sound of her undoing the few buttons she'd fastened, and the rustle of cloth falling off her shoulders and on to the bed.

"There we go," she said, picking the phone back up. "I'll even hang it over my desk chair right now, so it doesn't get wrinkled laying around, if you like."

"Oh, I think just this once you could let it get wrinkled," Jack purred. "Though if I were there, I'd take it over to the chair to hang it myself. Then I'd go lie down -- just to rest, of course."

"Mmmm." Emma leaned over to toss it on to the chair. There. Didn't need to get up, and realistic. "Always so fastidious with your clothing, Mr. Priest. How is it that I always end up the one rumpled beyond all hope?"

"Because you look good that way," Jack answered. "All flushed, with your hair rumpled, and I can't wait to touch you."

"Why can't I get in your head from a continent and a universe away? It's not fair," Emma sighed, shaking her head. "I'm going to need to work on that."

As if this wasn't kinky enough as it was.

"Although you're the one that's shirtless..." she continued suggestively. "I think there's more of you to touch than me."

If Emma were ever strong enough to telepathically have sex from across the ocean ... actually, why would she ever do anything else?

Ahem.

"True," Jack agreed, glancing down at his chest. "Unless I tried to make things more equal by taking off that tank top."

"You could. It is rather warm in here," Emma purred.

However, she had a hunch that holding the phone was going to get tricky very quickly. "You contemplate that idea for a moment, especially since I'm not wearing a bra. I'm going to switch to my hands free earpiece."

Tease? Emma? NEVER.

Oh, that was unfair.

"I'm not sure I have one," Jack admitted after swallowing hard. He clicked his phone over to speaker and rested it on the pillow next to him.

One of his hands journeyed down his stomach, resting at the waist of his trousers.

"Better?"

"Maybe if you're a good boy, the birthday fairy will leave one at your house." Which rather implied that she would come over for the event, and that this might happen again, if all went well.

Emma suddenly realized she didn't know how this fit into their 'friends apart' plan, but she missed him too much to care.

"I can hear you just fine," she confirmed. "Now, why don't we back up, darling. I think I want to hear about how you want me to want you. Or how you want me, gentleman's choice."

"How I want you," Jack repeated, hand playing at his stomach. "I think I'd have you lie on your belly so I could massage out any tension -- you do get terribly tense, and I'm sure some of the new ones are still shouting in your head. My fingers would just brush over your sides, of course. Nothing improper in a back rub."

And no, this wasn't sounding much like 'friends apart' at all.

"You have no idea how divine that sounds," she sighed, shutting her eyes. "Sometimes it feels like I can't even breathe anymore."

"Although you know how ticklish I am; if you keep running your fingers over my ribs, I'll start squeaking and squirming."

"If you were squeaking and squirming my hand might slip," Jack answered. "And then the back rub wouldn't be just a back rub. Would you mind?"

In a softer tone: "Do you think you'll be all right? With the -- not breathing, I mean." Playtime was less important than her health.

"I'm fine. I blew off some steam by yelling at Alex for no reason, and now my head feels much better," she promised.

"As for if I minded...would I be letting a Victorian gentleman such as yourself give me a massage if I minded? I wouldn't want to corrupt you beyond all hope."

Somehow, she even said most of that with a straight face.

Jack laughed explosively. "You were the virgin when we met, darling," he pointed out. "If anything, I corrupted you."

"Hush, you'll slander my reputation," she giggled. "Some people seem to think I'm quite the femme fatale." Impressionable people like Karla, at least.

"But if you're such a horrible influence, I doubt I'd want to stop any wandering hands."

"And you don't mind giving that impression at all," Jack said. "... while my hands are wandering, it might be nice if -- if you aren't too relaxed to make the effort -- you turned your head to kiss me."

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