sampippy | Outside Voorhees Hall, Columbia University, New York, Thursday

Hyacinthe honestly had no idea what to expect from a college dorm, so he was looking around with curiosity. He noticed the heads, giving people roguish winks and charming smiles as they made their way towards her room, sometimes pausing to slide an arm around Xanthippe's shoulders or waist in casual displays of affection.

"I'm sure they'll they fine," he said, his thumb flicking over her cheek. "I look forward to meeting all of them. I'll be on my--not best, but most interesting?--behavior."

"They're all, like, on the rowing team," Xanthippe told him, as if that actually explained anything. She leaned against his side, just a little. "They're all tall and strong or whatever." And made her feel self-conscious about her noodle arms.

She pulled to a stop in front of a door. There was another pennant on it, but this one said Columbia University Crew. Sports. Yay.

She inhaled, then nodded at the door. "This is it."

"Sailors?" Hya asked, because that was what made sense so far as 'rowing on a crew' was concerned. He unobtrusively wrapped his arm around her, keeping her tucked against him. Perhaps even providing a bit of support, though he would deny it did anyone ask. Xanthippe needed no one's support, clearly. "They are fun when they come to the Cockerel for an eve, merry and boisterous and free with their funds, but longer than that and they stale as companions. Nor can I imagine it much fun to live with several others, all of whom share the bond of a ship."

Xanthippe should've expected the confusion, and yet. "What?" Her face scrunched up. "No. No, they're like... athletes? Like, they compete in rowing a boat. Like a race."

She paused.

"But they have the bond of being on a team together. So that's accurate." Really accurate. "I don't know why the school housed me with them, you'd think they'd just put a fourth crew girl in here with them."

"...Why would you compete in rowing a boat?" Hyacinthe asked, amused. "'Tis like competing for who can till a field the fastest or dig a ditch."

He smiled down at her. "Your roommates have strange hobbies," he decided.

Xanthippe wasn't even going to try explaining college sports culture. Mostly because she couldn't even understand it herself, really. She'd always been a nerd at heart.

So she skipped explaining and showed him a quick smile, instead. "Yeah, they do."

But then she had to actually reach out and open the door, and -- goddammit, of course all three of her roommates were out in the living room. Grace was making some kind of a smoothie in the kitchen area, Josie was reading a magazine on the couch, and Paige was on the rowing machine. Of course.

Xanthippe stopped slouching against Hyacinthe, straightening up some. There was a shift in her demeanor - trying for upbeat.

Too hard.

"Hey, your highness," Paige called out. They'd gotten better about not making fun of Xanthippe for her privilege ever since Kimmy had shown up at the school, but... it hadn't stopped entirely. The moniker had less of an edge to it now, though? Grace nodded at Hyacinthe. "Who's this?"

"Oh, this is Hya," Xanthippe chirped, like it was no big deal. "Remember, I said he was coming over...?"

"And hello," Hya said, singling out each of the girls in turn for a moment of eye contact and a slow smile. He let a little more of his D'Angeline accent bleed through. "I appreciate you all being hospitable enough to share your dorm with me a few days. I must admit, I've missed Xan."

He smile down at Xanthippe again, tucking her in a bit closer to his body. "It's been too long, cherie."

He was so much better at being cool and smooth about this than she was, good God. But at least his tugging made her relax just a little bit, so that she didn't look like she was physically straining to look cool.

"I know, right?" she said, and managed to sound a little more natural. Meanwhile, her roommates looked mesmerized. Or a mix of mesmerized and like they were calculating how much lusting after him their 7th wave feminism would allow them.

Well, Paige and Grace, anyway. Josie looked a little more like she was doubting the whole situation. "I don't think we're supposed to have overnight guests in here."

Xanthippe's eyebrows crept up. "You're not gonna go to Sheryl about it, are you?" she asked. Then, looking up at Hyacinthe, she added, "Sheryl's our RA. Kinda like a weird aunt supposedly looking over us."

Charming people was what he did. It'd been the key to his survival for years as a tiny Tsingano street brat stealing pies to supplement his meals.

"Ahh, please, mam'selle, you'd truly not, would you?" he asked, turning puppy dog eyes on Josie. "We've not seen one another since she left to come here. Have you never longed just to fall asleep, cradling someone close to your chest, to wake up to find them near?"

Grace actually said 'aww', earning a Look from Paige for one reason or another. Who even knew with these girls, honestly?

Also, it looked like Josie's doubt melted when faced with such grade-A puppy eyes. In fact, it looked... like she was maybe blushing a little? "I mean, I guess there's not going to be consequences," she hazarded. "It's so late in the year."

He beamed, grinning at all the girls. "My thanks," he said, his hand falling to twine with Xan's, giving hers an amused squeeze. "Is there a kitchenette nearby?" he asked her, since the only dorms he knew were Fandom's. "If so, might I make dinner for everyone to show my appreciation for letting me stay?"

Oh, had Xanthippe not mentioned to her roommates that he cooked?

Edited 2018-05-06 22:05 (UTC)

Had Xanthippe known he could cook? Judging by the slight look of surprise, nope! "Wait, you can --?" she started, then caught herself. Still clinging to some misguided idea of coolness and needing to impress, and it probably wouldn't be good for that to let on that she didn't know him super well. (Unless it would be? She was so confused about what the current trend was for if casual hook-ups were cool or not.) "I mean, yeah. There's one down the hall. That'd be like, great, Hya."

"We're on a pretty strict diet," Paige volunteered. "Coach's orders."

"Ahh, 'tis a pity," he said. "I mostly know how to cook French cuisine."

Which sounded far grander than it actually was. He was no D'Angelline chef, to make a sumptuous meal out of a handful of grain, but he had made dinner often enough for himself and his mother that he was deft in the kitchen at least.

"Though, did you wish it, I could always try to improvise...?"

Either they'd agree and he'd feed them and they'd enjoy the meal. Or they'd refuse and he'd still get the credit for offering. Either way, 'twould reflect well upon Xanthippe.

He was really great. He knew that, right? Xanthippe was probably going to have to tell him later regardless.

"We can't really risk it," Paige said. "Coach's orders." Yes, the coach was basically like a god. Still, Paige looked sufficiently impressed. "Thanks for offering, though."

The squeeze Xanthippe gave Hyacinthe's fingers was kind of involuntary, like a physical manifestation of her joy that maybe they wouldn't have to spend too much time in direct contact with her roommates. She wanted to impress them, but they also terrified her. "So we should like, probably get out of all of your faces," she told Paige and the girls with an uncharacteristically earnest tone. "Don't wanna get in the way of your sched, or whatever."

"Plus, I wish to hear all about what you've been up to," Hyacinthe said, squeezing her hand back. "And they lived through those stories, so they do not need to sit through the retelling."

He pressed another kiss to her temple and tugged on her hand. "Show me where we'll be sleeping," he said, and then lowered his voice so only she could hear, "...if we end up sleeping, I mean."

Xanthippe's ensuing flustered giggle was only half for show.

... Actually, not even that. Because you couldn't really fake a blush, not even a faint one. "Yeah, let me show you my room," she said, her roommates now just about all forgotten. "It's, um, right this way."

Where 'right this way' seemed to be the door across the living room, as that was where she was now tugging him towards.

Hyacinthe followed her quickly, eager to get Xanthippe alone in her room. Not for that--okay, not just for that--but because the sooner they were away from public scrutiny, the sooner she'd relax a little. Enjoy herself.

"You know," he said lightly, a tease, "we could just spend all this time talking did you wish..."

Yeah, about that...

As soon as the door closed, Xanthippe turned to kiss him. He could take a look at her room in just a second, once she'd satisfied this sudden urge to take initiative for once.

(The room was small, and kind of more openly nerdy than her room back at the high school dorms. For the record.)

Hyacinthe didn't really know what counted as 'nerdy' or not, but what little he saw before his arms were full of Xanthippe seemed like it was more her than at Fandom. More lived in, perhaps.

But then she was there, in his arms, and he was devouring her mouth like it had been three years since he'd seen her, not just one. His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, seeking entrance and his hands caressed up and down his back before gliding down to cup her ass, tugging her closer.

Yeah. 'Lived in' was a good term for it. Here, Xanthippe wasn't constantly hiding her birding journal or her non-fiction books or basically any trace at all of being anything but a teenager who was too cool to care about anything.

She'd meant to let him take a lengthier look at it, rigght about now, but... Now, there were hands on her ass and there was tongue and there was him, kissing her in a way that was very very different from the random college boys she'd made out with over the past year. So, the room could wait while she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his like she was trying to fuse them into one.

And yes, the kissing got a whole lot more open-mouthed after that.

Hey, Hyacinthe had spotted the most important feature in his brief scan of the room: her bed. He maneuvered them over to it, sitting down and drawing her down into his lap so they could continue to kiss at their leisure. He encouraged her hands to explore him as well, while his tongue claimed her mouth over and over again.

He would gladly look at her room in a moment and get to know the girl beneath the facade, but Xanthippe was lovely and he remembered their night together with real fondness. He truly could not be blamed for wishing to rekindle some of that, could he?

Xanthippe had zero blame to place on him right now. She was much more interested in resting her weight on his lap, instead. She hadn't amassed a ton of experience since that night they'd spent together, but she'd still managed to get at least the tiniest bit more comfortable in her own skin. Enough that straddling him wasn't an issue.

Neither was that exploring he was encouraging her to do. One hand rubbed over the side of his neck, her thumb brushing over his jawline. The other splayed its fingers over his chest, trailing downwards. Slow, but firm. Maybe in a second her brain would catch up with her and she'd hit another awkward note in her behavior, but right now she was just feeling his muscles through the fabric.

They had time. Hyacinthe would be happy to lie back and let her explore, to get her comfortable in the idea that she could play with a man to her heart's content. And do the same in return, so she would relish in the attention he could bestow upon her body and accept it as her due for the next time she was with someone, whether 'twas him or not.

His taut stomach jumped under her exploring fingers, desire melding with ticklish amusement and his nipples hardened. So did the rest of him and he arched up just a moment to let her feel it, to show her the affect she had on him.

Okay, that had Xanthippe's brain fritzing out for a second. But, like, in a good way. In the best way. In a suddenly wanting to writhe all over his lap and against that particular hardness kind of way.

She didn't quite go as far as writhing, but she definitely made sure to shift a little, with a purpose - which was to get some friction between their hips. It was more rubbing than writhing. Totally different. Really.

(Her skinny jeans did not feel skinny enough, all of a sudden.)

Semantics aside, she did it right enough that she finally had to slip away from his mouth for a gasp of air. "Oh, my God."

Hyacinthe grinned up at her, aching a bit, yes, but still pleased by her reaction. "You are beautiful," he informed her with a kiss to the hollow of her throat. "You fit in my lap perfectly."

And in response to all that, ahem, rubbing, he pressed up against her again, holding her hips to make sure she felt the entire thrust.

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