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

"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.

It would probably be useless to ask if he was trying to make her lose her mind, right? It seemed pretty obvious, after all. She could feel all of that, for sure. She could also feel a throb between her legs. And wetness, beginning to build up.

"I want you inside me." The words came out in a rush. So no wonder the follow-up was much more stumbling, as her own words registered with her. Oh God, did she sound like a bad porn or something? "Is that -- that a thing people say? I don't know, I'm not --"

This was his fault, for being so hot and so nice to her. And also that thing, with his dick and all.

"That's a thing that I want to hear you say a lot while I'm here," Hyacinthe said in a husky whisper, right in her ear. "Maybe I shall hold myself back each time until you do. I like knowing that you're imagining how I will fill gliding into you, filling you up slowly until there's no room left to move."

He kissed her throat again, sucking a bit until he left a red mark behind. It was light enough that it would fade even before she took her clothes off, but he liked the sight of it against her pale skin.

"And mayhaps that isn't something people say, either, but 'tis what I needed to say to you, right now. So unless we wish to invite others into the bedroom with us, let's worry not about what they might say and more about what we wish to, hmm?"

"O-okay."

Xanthippe wished she could've gotten that out without stammering, but guess that wasn't an option. It seemed to matter to her less than usual, anyway. She bit her lip, and ran her hand further down his body, now. Right down to where she could slide her fingers over the fabric covering his length. Exploring. Rubbing lightly. It didn't help her composure any.

She breathed in. Right, they could say what they wanted. He wasn't going to judge her. Wasn't that kind of his whole thing, not judging her? "I bought like, a ton of condoms for this," she admitted in a hushed tone. "Like, I don't know if I... if I thought there'd be sex at all or whatever, but maybe I... hoped?"

She had to pause, and to wet her lips.

"But that was, like, before you were here. 'Cause, now you're here and it's like, of course there's gonna be sex." Again, she meant that in the best way. "'Cause I, I want you to -- to show me stuff I've never done before." Oh good, she was all flushed again. "And the stuff I have."

Hyacinthe didn't bother hiding any of his reactions from her, closing his eyes with a happy sigh and thrusting up against her exploring hand. He wanted her bold, wanted her to know that her touch affected him just as much as his did her. No, she wasn't as skilled as many of his other lovers; but that just meant she needed practice. Guidance. Both he was more than willing to offer her. Not just willing--eager.

Her curiosity and relative innocence were fun, but Hyacinthe believed that when she learned confidence and certainty, she'd be devastating.

"I want you, too," he purred, opening his eyes to catch hers. "I will show you everything you wish to know. I shall teach you the names of things like we're reading them straight from the Trois Milles Joies if you wish, or I shall just lay you back and demonstrate until you're exhausted and cannot take another minute. Ahh, cherie, if you trust me enough, I'll show you the stars."

Xanthippe's brain was short-circuiting.

So it seemed the thing to do was kiss him again, while her hand kept rubbing over him, tracing the shape of him through the fabric. After a moment, she found some words, which she mumbled against his lips: "I wanna see the stars."

It'd sounded hot when he'd said it. When she said it, she thought it sounded a ton more cheesy. Good thing she was getting too turned on to twist herself up about that too much.

It was the accent. And the utmost sincerity that he just kind of breathed when it came to sex, but mostly the accent.

"Then I'll show them to you, cherie," he promised, groaning at her touch. See, already she was driving him mad and he'd barely done anything at all. "So then I must ask you--my clothes or yours?"

The accent was definitely a major part of it. But the sincerity was still probably more important. She envied how easily all this seemed to come for him. (Pun not intended.)

"Yours?"

Look, touching him through fabric was fun but she was hitting that point where she wanted to see skin. No matter how much that sounded like she'd probably have to get off his lap.

He would endeavor to make her sacrifice worth it.

Starting by scooping her up and spinning around, placing her on the bed beneath him, and kissing her one more time, this time hard and hot. He ground against her, wanting her acutely aware of every layer of fabric between them and cursing them all.

It wasn't until he felt she'd been thoroughly kissed and his own lips were feeling a little tender did he stand back up, leaving her splayed out on the bed. "You look good like that," he told her, desire making his voice rough. His fingers went to the buttons on his shirt, unbuttoning them one by one. "I intend to see you like that a lot while I am her."

Okay, college boys were officially pointless. Not one of them had gotten anywhere close to the point of looking at her like that. Or sounding like that. Or, just... anything about this situation.

Xanthippe looked enthralled. And wide-eyed.

She licked her lips, although her mouth suddenly felt a little too dry for that. "I... think I'm gonna be okay with that." A beat, accompanied by a shuddering sort of breath. "Yeah."

In Terre D'Ange, taking one's clothing off--or undressing a lover--was considered part of the whole process. Something to be savored and enjoyed, not just a short interruption in the midst of everything else. So rather than rush into getting naked, Hya took his time, letting the fine linen of his shirt fall from his shoulders and catch on his arms, then slowly drawing it off to tumble to the floor.

It wasn't a strip tease, exactly. No bump'n grind, no exaggerated movements, just constant eye contact and an appreciation for each part of the body that was uncovered next, heightening the anticipation for whatever remained clothed.

His hands slid down to the front of his pants, fingers brushing over the bulge there. He shivered, then unfastened the laces, letting them fall open to reveal a thatch of shorn curls.

And on and on and on until he was standing in front of her, completely naked for her perusal.

Yeah, none of that made her stare at him any less. The only thing that changed was where she stared, because her gaze was compulsively drawn to whatever was being exposed at any given moment. And when he was taking his clothes off like that, every inch of skin was suddenly equally fascinating, from the curve of his shoulders to the muscles in his legs.

She'd seen him naked before, but she hadn't really seen him naked before, you know? Not like this, every piece of clothing an anticipation and the end result him just standing there, open to her gaze.

She continued to envy his confidence.

She was also completely lost for words, because anything she could've said was likely to just come out jumbled and kind of embarrassing, so she was choosing instead to look him over like she couldn't even comprehend the hotness. It was a good look.

Hyacinthe didn't mind being stared at. Even only half-D'Angelline, he still knew he was pretty. And, even if he hadn't had that kind of confidence, the way Xanthippe was looking at him was gratifying enough to make it all worth while.

"Touch me," he said, voice soft. Her reached for her hand, brushing it over his abs. "Wherever you want. However you want. Anything you're curious about, anything you want to explore...I'm here for you." He quirked a grin at her, brown eyes merry. "And we'll see how long I last under your explorations."

Xanthippe had heard boys (and, well, men) telling her to touch them, before. But never before in a way that was so completely non-gross. Or in a way that seemed to be more for her benefit and pleasure than someone just trying to use her.

That seemed to put a kind of shine in her eyes.

And she pushed herself upright so that she could sit on the edge of her bed. That put her pretty close to his body, but that was a good thing. You couldn't really explore from afar, right? Her hand was still on his abs; the other reached up for his chest. Her palm dragged over one side of it, her thumb bumping over his nipple.

The most disappointing thing Hyacinthe had discovered about this time was how gross other men were. They all needed Elua, like, immediately.

But yes, he made no bones about the fact that he would enjoy whatever Xanthippe did to him, but more than anything else, he wanted her to feel comfortable. To learn what she liked to do and see and touch. To discover what kinds of reactions she could elicit, so she could create them deliberately.

Like the soft moan he gave when his nipples hardened under her thumb and the way the muscles in his abs jumped at her touch. "See this, cherie?" he asked, gesturing at himself. "You are in control here. With every caress, your power grows, see?"

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