“No,” he snaps, and very firmly ignores her disappointed noise (and very firmly does not think about her moaning beneath him- Because he actually doesn’t envision her moaning beneath him, because Chris is more the type to scream and swear and probably carry on a bloody conversation even if completely naked and being pleasured by the ten most attractive people on the planet) “…And have you really been noticing that?”
“…No.”
“Right.”
“But now that I think about it I am making remarkably good points,” she continues ever so brightly, shifting in his lap (ah, that’s a bit uncomfortable now that he notices it) “…Mainly I’m just bored, though.”
“Oh.”
“And you’re the nearest thing to a male around.”
“Thank you.”
“…And you’re also very attractive?”
He…
Actually considers that for a second, because it has to be better than turfing her off his lap (still uncomfortable, thank you for remembering) and going to slam his head against the wall, “so… Your main reason for us to shag on my sofa in the middle of the day is that you’re bored and as a good friend I should entertain you?”
“Basically!”
“Ah.”
“But you did interrupt my train of thought,” she nods brightly, completely ignoring the fact that she does that herself more often than not (a lot more often than not), “and I did have other points.”
“…Go on?”
“You haven’t had a shag since your wife left you” …He kind of wishes that she wasn’t going on now, but short of kissing her to silence (he will not do that) he’s not quite sure how to fix it, “since about a year before that, actually, which is roughly two or more years of complete celibacy.”
He squeezes his eyes shut.
“Which is downright unhealthy for a man in his late thirties looking to live a full and active life-“
“Alright, I get your point,” he grumbles, raises his head and opens his eyes with as much anger as he can muster (not that opening your eyes is a very angry movement, compared to snapping your head or raising your hand it’s practically pathetic) “…You are actually playing on my fear of loneliness and being a hopeless freak to get in a casual shag on a Saturday afternoon.”
“…Well.”
His voice is very flat, it must be very flat – possibly as flat as a desert that’d been pounded with a giant hammer many times (…Pounding is also a legitimate word as well as a sexual innuendo, he will not feel the slightest bit tempted), “you want more than a casual shag on a Saturday afternoon.”
She looks innocent, as innocent as only pure and utter evil can look, “we could see how things progressed?”
“What would Marcus think?”
“Please stop talking about Marcus when I’m perched on top of you with full intention of getting naked and having a passionate shag right here,” and, with that… Christ, he forgot to grab onto her hands again! She’s already reaching down and grabbing the bottom of her shirt and pulling up- “there!”
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timeasmymeasure
UNPROMPTED: One Saturday Afternoon, Female!Chris/Tim, NC-17 [2/6] [Spy]
Date: 2011-10-22 09:52 pm (UTC)“…No.”
“Right.”
“But now that I think about it I am making remarkably good points,” she continues ever so brightly, shifting in his lap (ah, that’s a bit uncomfortable now that he notices it) “…Mainly I’m just bored, though.”
“Oh.”
“And you’re the nearest thing to a male around.”
“Thank you.”
“…And you’re also very attractive?”
He…
Actually considers that for a second, because it has to be better than turfing her off his lap (still uncomfortable, thank you for remembering) and going to slam his head against the wall, “so… Your main reason for us to shag on my sofa in the middle of the day is that you’re bored and as a good friend I should entertain you?”
“Basically!”
“Ah.”
“But you did interrupt my train of thought,” she nods brightly, completely ignoring the fact that she does that herself more often than not (a lot more often than not), “and I did have other points.”
“…Go on?”
“You haven’t had a shag since your wife left you” …He kind of wishes that she wasn’t going on now, but short of kissing her to silence (he will not do that) he’s not quite sure how to fix it, “since about a year before that, actually, which is roughly two or more years of complete celibacy.”
He squeezes his eyes shut.
“Which is downright unhealthy for a man in his late thirties looking to live a full and active life-“
“Alright, I get your point,” he grumbles, raises his head and opens his eyes with as much anger as he can muster (not that opening your eyes is a very angry movement, compared to snapping your head or raising your hand it’s practically pathetic) “…You are actually playing on my fear of loneliness and being a hopeless freak to get in a casual shag on a Saturday afternoon.”
“…Well.”
His voice is very flat, it must be very flat – possibly as flat as a desert that’d been pounded with a giant hammer many times (…Pounding is also a legitimate word as well as a sexual innuendo, he will not feel the slightest bit tempted), “you want more than a casual shag on a Saturday afternoon.”
She looks innocent, as innocent as only pure and utter evil can look, “we could see how things progressed?”
“What would Marcus think?”
“Please stop talking about Marcus when I’m perched on top of you with full intention of getting naked and having a passionate shag right here,” and, with that… Christ, he forgot to grab onto her hands again! She’s already reaching down and grabbing the bottom of her shirt and pulling up- “there!”