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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 1, 2008 22:13:15 GMT -5
::Pietro's other eyebrow quirked at her. He thought there was a flirtatious note beneath the comment.:: "I am honored."
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 1, 2008 22:20:29 GMT -5
"You'd better be, considering you'd be in my bedroom," Ty said, openly flirting for the pure joy of it. "And who knows where to go from there.." She took a sip of her drink to bury the unspoken end of her statement.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 1, 2008 22:25:57 GMT -5
::Pietro's back stiffened at the suggestion, feeling the temptation. They had moved slowly, for which he was grateful. And yet, when she spoke that way...he reached one hand across the table for hers.:: "Rossignol..."
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 1, 2008 22:32:35 GMT -5
Ty set down her drink and put her hand in his, sensing that her lighthearted flirting had struck a chord. "I know."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 1, 2008 22:43:09 GMT -5
::Pietro caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. He knew that she knew, and she accepted, or at least was not completely put off by it. He was grateful for that as well.::
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 1, 2008 22:49:36 GMT -5
"I flirt because I'm having a good night, and because I know I can with you without being required to go home with a stranger," Ty said, softly, squeezing his hand. "I like being dressed up for you, and calling attention to myself because I enjoy the fact that you enjoy it. If it's too much, I can stop."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 1, 2008 22:57:02 GMT -5
::Pietro returned the squeeze of her hand. If she flirted because she enjoyed it, and dressed the way she did because it made her comfortable, then that is all there was to it. He could not ask her to change, particularly because he found her radiant and would never wish to stifle her.:: "You don't need to stop."
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 1, 2008 23:00:41 GMT -5
"But it seems like it hurts you," she said, still softly.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 1, 2008 23:03:49 GMT -5
::Pietro shook his head a single time. It did not hurt him, and it would to stifle her. He knew the importance of freedom.:: "I'm rigid and can't relax. That doesn't mean you should be."
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 1, 2008 23:12:44 GMT -5
"Pietro..." She chose to say nothing about his being either rigid or unable to relax- it was a part of him she'd accepted long ago. Instead, she spoke differently, as if to negate whatever unspoken fear he had of being close in such a way. "Is it that you think you'll hurt me?"
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 1, 2008 23:29:22 GMT -5
::"It" could only refer to what they were not doing. Pietro feared harming her, that was part of it. He was far too strong for gentle touches when he lost control of himself. The speed of his movements could burn her, or cause abrasions. Then there was the satisfaction factor, which was another daemon entirely.:: "Not only that."
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 1, 2008 23:38:51 GMT -5
"Something else?" Her questions were still gentle, leaving him room to defer answering them if he didn't want to talk about it. She wished for honesty, and he'd never been less then honest with her, but she didn't want to embarass him either.
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 1, 2008 23:52:13 GMT -5
::A Czech restaurant at the tip of Manhattan, near Queens was no place for Pietro to delve into the peculiarities of his physiology, or his sexual history. Life on another plane was not easy; it made connection difficult. Shaking his head, he spoke softly.:: "Rossignol, do not ask, not here."
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Post by Typhoid on Jan 1, 2008 23:57:46 GMT -5
Half expecting that, she turned his hand over, rubbed her thumb across his palm. "I will not."
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Post by Pietro Maximoff on Jan 2, 2008 0:02:10 GMT -5
::Pietro brought his other hand to clasp hers. He would explain it to her, when they reached the need for it. Until then, he would simply enjoy her company.
The waiter arrived with their dishes, putting his sausage and dumplings before him, and her fish and vegetables before her. He ordered a Czech beer to cap off the meal.::
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