(no subject)

[eiattu_pride]

Do you know what's boring?

TRACC is boring. And by TRACC, Rial means the interplanetary Trade Relations And Commerce Conference, held annually and basically an excuse for a bunch of stuffy old people to sit around and brag about how rich they are over tiny biscuits and fine brandy. Rial, drinking a lomin ale and telling amusing tales about his wife shooting things during crucial diplomatic moments, has a sneaking feeling that he doesn't exactly belong.

He's also, possibly, exceedingly proud of this fact.

Proud or not, though, it means that the whole thing (a whole week long, ughhhh) is exceptionally boring and by the time he's stepping cheerfully through the corridors of his own familiar palace, where the servants smile and greet him, he's so ready to be home. So very ready, small child and slightly volatile wife noTwithstanding.

He doesn't even bother with a knock, just goes straight in and chucks his bag in the vague direction of the couch, already looking around for Plourr.

Comments

[eiattu_pride]

Rial quiets himself instantly. Much as he loves his daughter, he needs a little time with his wife right now, and she's a touch too young to understand.

He does, however, let his hands skate over the back of her bra, plucking impatiently as they draw little nonsense patterns over her skin.

[fighting_mad]

"You know," Plourr says (quietly) against his skin, "there's this thing called a clasp for a reason. I know it's a crazy concept."

[eiattu_pride]

"I don't wear one, how would I know?" Kidding, yes, but his fingers do fumble with the clasp for a little too long before it springs free and he makes a contented noise against her skin.

[fighting_mad]

"You are so slow," she grumbles against his neck, and she pushes herself off of him enough that she can pull the trick where you take off your bra without taking off your shirt.

[eiattu_pride]

Problem is, Rial wants the shirt off. And he's not afraid to tug at it, trying to get it up and over her head. "Only when it counts."

[fighting_mad]

"You've been away for a week," she says, impatiently brushing off his attempts at tugging and just yanking the tunic over her head herself. She drops it over the side of the bed. "It doesn't count now.

"Besides." She glances to the bassinet, where Ianna is still dead to the world and oblivious to her parents. "Someone is going to be awake and hungry in 45 minutes."

In other words: Step it up, Pernon.

[eiattu_pride]

"You asked for it," Rial says, voice catching on a stifled laugh as he reaches long arms up to wrap around her waist and yank her back down.

But before anything else he nestles his nose into her hair and breathes "Love you" into her ear.

[fighting_mad]

"Damn right I did, handsome," Plourr drawls, but she's grinning at him, wide and wild and pleased -- and quite determined that her husband is wearing far too much in the way of clothing.

In the process of fixing that, there may or may not be a low murmur returning Rial's sentiment. Only Plourr and Rial know for sure, and they're not telling.