eiattu_pride | (no subject)

(no subject)

Rial's working, stretched out on the couch and staring at a datapad. Totally not actually comprending anything.

He wonders briefly where Plourr is, and whether or not he can convince her that they should have another holiday.

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"I'm nervous, okay?"

He growls low in his throat and tilts his back, away from her.

"I don't like the responsibility that comes with a title."

"But it's the same responsibility you have now," she says, stung by the moving away from her. "Probably even less, because I'll be here to share it."

"But people don't think like that."

He sighs.

"Count is a lot different from emperor. And besides - Emperor Rial Pernon? It sounds funny."

"Who cares what they think? And it doesn't," she says stubbornly. "It sounds dignified."

Rial rolls his eyes.

"No, it sounds like some stupid would-be dictator with bad hygiene."

Sobering a bit, "But I'll do it. I love you and I married you and I'll do it and probably even enjoy it."

Plourr tries not to laugh. But a muffled snort escapes her, anyway.

She smiles very softly down at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, my princess."

And he smiles at her.

"I need to teach you how to take cues, I think."

Rial laughs, and leans up and kisses her softly.

"You do?"

"I was going to say that was a perfectly good excuse to kiss me."

"Well."

He smirks.

"Maybe I can take a hint."

Plourr laughs low, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Maybe you can."

And Rial just grins.

Because this? Is pretty damn good.

Is it hard to keep grinning when someone's kissing you (rather intently, at that)? Time for a scientific experiment!

It is.

It really is.

Rial also really doesn't care, and kisses back, pausing only to breathe.

Breathing, Plourr thinks, is overrated.

She plucks the datapad from his hand and drops it on the table alongside hers. "You're done," she murmurs, running her tongue up his jawline.

Rial clings to it for a second, then lets her take it away, his hand dancing up her back and running through short hair.

"Mmmkay."

"At least," she says against his jaw, settling herself more firmly (purposefully) between his legs, "for a while."

"Works for me," and then he's kissing her again, moving from lips to jaw to neck, nibbling his way down to her collarbone.

And she's grinning and squirming a little against him, one hand tangled in his hair, because he's good and really, the lack of mustache is never getting old.

Rial pauses at the side of her neck, and nips hard enough to leave a mark. It'll probably fade before she goes home - but he can always make another one.

"I'll miss you."

A low hiss escapes her at the bite and her hand tightens on his shoulder.

She squeezes. "I'll miss you, too. But there will be plenty of time for that."

Plenty of time not being now.

"Mmm."

And he captures her mouth again, wanting and needing and having.

She slides her fingers under his tunic, running her hands up his ribs and returning the kiss heatedly.

Rial squirms, and returns the favor, hands creeping under her tunic (though it's annoyingly tight and is most definitely going to be removed as soon as possible) to lightly fondle her breasts.