IC contact for wethelost

[devoutish]

Solomons & Melborn
1108 Sweet Cream Street

[Feel free to use this space for letter/package deliveries as well as visits/knocks on the front door!]

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[devoutish]

[When the backs of her legs hit the couch, he tightens his grip on her a little, in case he needs to steady her. Nudging gently, he tries to get her onto the couch, and if she goes, he'll follow.]

Show me later?

[furgood]

Have to frustrate you too

[It helps to have him holding her steady but she ruins it by dragging him given with her. When she hits the couch, her hands pull away from his buttons and wrap around his neck. ]

[devoutish]

[He grins, letting himself land next to her - halfway on top of her, really - and reaching once more to pull up her shirt.]

All right?

[furgood]

Yes please. [Grins and tugs on the hairs at the nape of his neck. But, in the interest of making the whole process easier, she unwind herself and drapes her arms over her head]

[devoutish]

[Thank goodness that's her answer. He pulls her shirt up completely, up and over her arms and head, and runs his fingers down her sides - over her bra, if she's wearing one.]

[furgood]

[Her bra is far too lacy for its own good but it is Capitol made so it at least does its job well. And she's got enough of a chest to need that support ]

Let me just...[She undoes the last buttons on his shirt, or at least attempts to. Her breath comes a little faster at his touch ]

[devoutish]

I like this.

[He fingers the bra, not trying to take it off just yet. He'll shrug out of his own shirt completely, though, baring his shoulders and chest.]

[furgood]

It's pretty, just kind of impractical. I wish you luck getting it off.

[She traces down his chest and preses a soft kiss to his neck and then his collarbone ]

[devoutish]

I'm trying not to rip it.

[And he's searching around for a clasp of some kind. He's usually pretty good with bras, but those are the bras of his own time.]

[furgood]

I have others you know. Not exactly like this but. Similar. [She nips at the base of his throat and puts her hands on his hips, squeezing lightly] Easier to get out of than half my dresses.

[devoutish]

Are you telling me to rip your brassiere, Meulin?

[furgood]

No--I was-- If you don't get it off soon I'm not letting you take it off at all. I'll taunt you with it. [She slips herself into his lap and presses close, so he can feel the difference between lace and skin ]

post-drinking session

[bywolves]

[ Royce has been - off, the past few days. He's quiet and a bit withdrawn, not sulking necessarily but just not being sociable. He's spent a lot of time in the treehouse, curled up in a blanket and pillow nest with books, just reading to pass the time. But the thing that's the most off is that he hasn't been on any walks in a while. The trees miss him, and he knows it because they whisper their leaves in his direction, just listen for a second, please?

But he doesn't. He wallows. Until he and Renart get real fucking drunk.

By a stroke of luck (or whatever the opposite of that is), Alfie's going to find Royce staggering angrily towards the treehouse, down the road. He is plastered. Alfie saw him drunk earlier, sure, but he's had far, far more to drink since then. ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie has been spending a lot of time with Royce, sometimes resting next to him and other times urging him to get up for a bit. On this particular day, he's been trying to strike that balance between keeping an eye on him, but not hovering - so while he doesn't see what leads up to this, he's still able to show up pretty quickly, speeding up the path towards him and wordlessly slipping a stabilizing arm around his middle when he gets there. Hi, friend.]

[bywolves]

Don't fucking -- oh.

[ He nearly tries to rip himself away from Alfie, but when he realizes who it is, he stops himself. Deep breath. He stares at Alfie, eyes unfocused. He is probably the most drunk he's been in a while, slurring heavily. ]

... Alfie.

[devoutish]

[Welp, no more fooling around now. He pops the clasp and gently pulls it off, then wastes no time smoothing his fingers over the bare skin along the underside of her breasts.]

[devoutish]

Yeah.

[Alfie doesn't drop his arm, but he doesn't tighten his grip either.}

Did you want me to fuck off, then?

[bywolves]

... No. [ Royce says, swaying. His voice cracks a bit, and he drags in a shaky breath, pursing his lips tightly together. After a moment: ] I - no. Don't go.

[devoutish]

C'mere.

[He pulls Royce to him, tugging him close.]

I think we should go home.

[bywolves]

[ Royce nearly collapses into Alfie's side, holding onto him tightly. He's shaking a bit, but not because he's upset - he's angry. ]

Treehouse. [ Royce says, sharply. ] I don't - want. I don't want. People to find me. Us. I -- [ He breaks off into pissed off muttering. Alfie can probably catch Kid's name in there. ]

[devoutish]

Kid?

[Alfie's brow furrows as he pats at Royce's back, and his mind goes to entirely the wrong kid.]

Emily? Are you worried about her seeing you pissed, mate?

[bywolves]

I -- what? [ He slurs, squinting. ] No. I don't want Emily. I don't, I -- fuck Kid. The Kid. Death. S'stupid power that I can't...

[ Sorry, he's pretty much beyond explaining coherently. He leans heavily against Alfie, kneading at him. ]

[furgood]

[Proper motivation and all. Not that he needed it but Meulin is impatient. There's a little sigh at the ever present relief of being freed from a bra and then a little catch in her breath ] Better.

[Settled in his lap gives her plenty of options on what to do next but she doesn't take much advantage. Simply time for more eager kissing ]

[devoutish]

[Alfie's frown deepens. Gruffly, he asks:]

What powers has he got? What did he do to you?

[bywolves]

[ More mumbling, then: ] He knows. He knows n' I didn't tell 'im.