That gets a snort out of him. "We'll see, baby, I don't make any promises, though." He can already see how it's going to go. He'll try for two or three minutes, then, when he looks enough like a drowned rat, he'll crawl back to his towel for a beer and a throwback to all the times spent at pools when Salome was a little girl. 'Yes, baby, of course I'm looking, yes, that's very good how brave you are jumping in, great job.'
At the very least, no one can ever accuse him of being anything but supportive.
With a little leer, Richard bends to kiss the top of her head. "You shouldn't think such things at school, kitten, you're not going to learn anything. But I won't pretend I'm not flattered." And a little turned on. His grin widens, the scent of her very hair divine. Mouth-watering. Suddenly the idea of a crummy little hotel tonight doesn't sound so bad. They'll stop someplace to eat, first, of course, where he can publicly humiliate her by having the waitstaff sing happy birthday for her. Someplace in West Virginia so they'll have atrocious accents.
Trolldad never takes a vacation from his passion.
Her question gives him pause, and he examines the tip of his cigarette thoughtfully while he guides the car onto the highway and out of Columbus. "I don't really know. It's particularly satisfying then. Well--it's not, not really, you shouldn't smoke." So responsible. "But it's--I don't know. Sensual. Symbolic of all things decadent and pleasurable. Deadly temptation at its finest. And...yeah, it really is very satisfying, like a reward, almost."
Taking another drag, Richard holds it until he feels the sting, then lets the smog plume from his mouth in a curling cloud. "And I find that I am desperate to do things with my mouth before, during, and after a good screw. It just needs to happen. Whether it's talking, kissing, biting, eating you out, or smoking, I just--crave it. And cigarettes are a convenient outlet for that, I guess."
He grins a little, his cheek resting against the top of her head. "Good question. Why do you ask?"
no subject
At the very least, no one can ever accuse him of being anything but supportive.
With a little leer, Richard bends to kiss the top of her head. "You shouldn't think such things at school, kitten, you're not going to learn anything. But I won't pretend I'm not flattered." And a little turned on. His grin widens, the scent of her very hair divine. Mouth-watering. Suddenly the idea of a crummy little hotel tonight doesn't sound so bad. They'll stop someplace to eat, first, of course, where he can publicly humiliate her by having the waitstaff sing happy birthday for her. Someplace in West Virginia so they'll have atrocious accents.
Trolldad never takes a vacation from his passion.
Her question gives him pause, and he examines the tip of his cigarette thoughtfully while he guides the car onto the highway and out of Columbus. "I don't really know. It's particularly satisfying then. Well--it's not, not really, you shouldn't smoke." So responsible. "But it's--I don't know. Sensual. Symbolic of all things decadent and pleasurable. Deadly temptation at its finest. And...yeah, it really is very satisfying, like a reward, almost."
Taking another drag, Richard holds it until he feels the sting, then lets the smog plume from his mouth in a curling cloud. "And I find that I am desperate to do things with my mouth before, during, and after a good screw. It just needs to happen. Whether it's talking, kissing, biting, eating you out, or smoking, I just--crave it. And cigarettes are a convenient outlet for that, I guess."
He grins a little, his cheek resting against the top of her head. "Good question. Why do you ask?"