crypt | meme #004 | slow-dancing ( think outside the boxstep )

meme #004 | slow-dancing ( think outside the boxstep )

slow dancing

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ a meme

→ COMMENT WITH YOUR CHARACTER'S NAME, FANDOM, AND PREFERENCE.
→ PICK A CHARACTER YOU WANT TO TAG AND GO FOR IT.
→ PLAY NICE; NO WANK, FLAMES, OR GENERAL HUMBUGGERY.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ the deal

FORMAL OR INFORMAL, WITH MUSIC OR WITHOUT, YOU COULD BE AT A GLAMOUROUS GALA WHILE A SINGER CROONS SOFTLY OR IN THE SILENCE OF YOUR OWN LIVING ROOM. WHEREVER YOU ARE, YOU HAVE THE URGE TO DANCE. DID YOU ASK YOUR PARTNER OR DID THEY ASK YOU? HAVE YOU GOT TWO LEFT FEET OR IS THE VIENNESE WALTZ YOUR JAM? IT COULD BE AWKWARD, IT COULD BE ROMANTIC. EITHER WAY IT'S CUTE AS HELL.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ she was right, and there was no point in denying it. people like dancing with robb stark at functions. there was no shortage of eligible daughters nudged over by their mothers, and robb had taken them all by the hand and whirled them around the dance floor like a dutiful son.

but that was different than this, half-dressed in his kitchen listening to slow blues guitar rumbling through the wall, hands pressed against bare skin. there had never been anything like this. ]

At functions, yes.

[ there's a quiet, indignant huff at the pressure of her foot on his toes, but he doesn't pull away. that's how it is with asha, just as many bruises gained as lovebites when they part in the mornings. ]

It's not so hard.

[ she laughs at him. it's more a chuckle, low and short, but not quiet enough to be drowned out by the music. it is not shallow and jaded enough to be drowned out by the mask of insincerity. it is hard to be consistant at early hours of the morning; it is a time for sleep, or some sort of rest, and sex with subsequent follow up dancing did not quite substitute that. ]

[ humor does. for she laughs in his ear and drawls sweetly; ]

Oh, you're right, it can't be hard.

[ she uncurls one arm from around his neck, reaches for her spoon and manages to scoop a small dollop of ice cream from the container with reasonable grace. it drips. it's melting. but asha doesn't mind; it tastes the same when she takes the bite in her mouth, and when she speaks again, it is with the spoon still in mouth. ]

You've mastered it.

[ there's a soft breath of laughter before he reaches to take the spoon from her mouth, lean in to kiss the stray drops from her lips. everything is easier in this half-darkness, so deep into the night that masks fall away with such ease. ]

My brothers and sisters are better than me. I was always skipping lessons.

[ it had been easier to shirk his duties when he was younger, too young to understand what was expected. he'd been such a tiny bit of a thing, stealing away to skate along frozen ponds and pretend to be wayne gretsky. he misses it, those solitary afternoons spent outside, skating until his toes froze and his cheeks were red and chapped. ]

And you dripped that on the floor.

[ she'd closed her teeth for a moment, held onto the spoon for a playful moment before letting him take it and occupying her empty mouth with kisses. asha had licked her lips then, slowly and thoughtfully, and decided that if they made a robb stark's mouth flavored ice cream, she would buy it. ]

Don't step on my feet and I think you'll have gotten your money's worth.

[ she shrugged, though had no problem stepping on his again to accentuate and ironic point before her attention was distracted, torn from his face to look at the floor and the little ice cream splatter. ]

Well, that's your fault. You keep leading me away from the counter.

[ and whether that is a jape at his dancing skills or an invitation to press her to the marble countertops is anyone's guess. the only one probably guessing right so far is the man playing deep jazz blues on the prerecorded cd next door. ]

[ there's a muffled grunt in response. his poor toes, what did they ever do to deserve this?

but that's all the admonishment offered, because what use is it complaining? he likes this moment too much to bother with it, and instead tightens his hands about her hips, steers her in slow circles around the drips of ice cream. this is effortless. robb knows dancing, has done it often enough that it's second nature. and instead of thinking about steps, he's free to give his attention to her, the way their bodies sway in time to the music. ]

I'll have to wash the floor now, you know.

[ because theon wouldn't do it. half the mess of this place came from situations where robb declared he wasn't fucking cleaning up anymore, and theon shrugging his shoulders and waiting until robb gave in. ]

[ he's almost too good at this, to the point where it isn't even fun to be sloppy with her footwork anymore. but far be it for her to let this turn into some sort of professional, uppity affair (affair was a good word for it). no, she would not stand up straight for this, nor stop knocking his knees with hers or stepping on his feet every so often. ]

[ she leans on him, too, preventing this from being too classy and romantic an encounter, though the damper asha is boldly trying to put on her uninhibited actions is rather ruined by the soft, wet kiss she places on his jaw bone. ]

I think you'd look dashing in a maid's apron. [ she breaths against his skin before dissolving into a chuckle. ]

[ it's par for the course with asha. banged knees and smushed toes, it's expected and makes him laugh softly. maybe there'll be bruises on his shins tomorrow, who knows, but that's the price he pays to be this close, and he bears it without complaint. ]

Maybe next time you sleep over.

[ one of theon's girls probably left one somewhere in the place anyway.

this close, she can most likely feel the full body shiver in response to lips against skin. she lays a kiss on his jaw, and his grip on her tightens instinctively, fingers digging into her hip. ]

[ if there is a next time, she thinks quietly, not even letting her own self conscious ruminate on that train of thought. it was not very hard to get her little brother out of the apartment. they both knew him so well - one of the few times where she recognized that robb stark knew her little brother as his own and didn't feel an immediate flare of aggravation in her chest - and between the two if them it was no trouble herding him about. her particularly favorite event had been the time she had called, told him she had something important to talk to with him, told him she was coming over, and when he threatened to not be there, to avoid her, she had gone anyway. she had texted him constantly the rest of the evening, giving him constant and unchanging updates about her location: his apartment. ]

[ that had been the first time she had spent a whole night, and left sometime after eight the next morning. later, when theon had called to interrogate her about her location - her own hotel room now - and asked what had been so damned important, she had told him she had forgotten. ]

[ asha squirmed gently, pressed her from to his and managed to press another kiss further up his Hawkins before dissolving into stored chuckle. her mouth stayed on his skin, lips brushing his cheeks and eyes drifting closed. ]

You shouldn't hold me like that, Stark. I might think you're trying for another round.

[ he chuckles. it would be an easy thing, to press her against the counter, to lift her up to sit on it and kiss the words out of her mouth. sometimes robb thinks they'll manage sex on every surface of the apartment, which is probably a cruel thing come to think of it, but appealing in its way. ]

Perhaps you shouldn't kiss me like that, Greyjoy, and then I might not hold you so tightly.

[ tightly enough to press bruises into her skin, like the ones he once sucked onto her collarbone in a foolish, foolish moment. marks were just this side of possessive, something robb told himself he wasn't, so he barred himself from leaving marks all over her skin, as if that were proof of his unattachment. ]

Maybe I like kissing you.

[ ...no, no wrong. she cursed herself but her mouth was already moving, and the words tumbled over her lips with little disregard to the demands firing from her brain. ]

And maybe I like being held tightly.

[ they were stupid words, stupid and childish and girly. there was not the appropriate hint of sexual sarcasm in her tone to imply she had a rough sex kink. it was a little too true, a little too intimate with her mouth against his jaw and words escaping to tickle his skin. there's the slightest sense of dread in her stomach, reflecting inward and asha swore to herself again. pale green eyes open and she squirms halfheartedly, only trying so hard to disengage herself and dance away from him. ]

[ he knows better than to read into that. he knows there's nothing there but banter, and so instead he does hold her tighter, back her against the counter, trap her there with his body and his arms circling her. the music plays endlessly on in the background as his hand finds the small of her back, flattening against the fabric of her t-shirt. ]

Do you?

[ it's robb giving her a do over. a chance to be flippant and irreverant. the words meant something, sent a flush rising up his neck. it was an uncomfortably sincere thing, and robb wasn't sure how she wanted him to respond. so he sidesteps, another turn in this little dance, robb saying, do you want to try that again? ]

[ listen here, wolf boy, you should know better than anyone that no one likes to be caged. the playful quote about baby and corners could be quite appropriate here, but asha doesn't watch quite enough television for that to immediately come to mind. ]

[ she looks at him for a time, no jabs, no puns, and she fidgets. there has to be a smooth come back in here somewhere. if she were to be a queen of anything other than blisters and shouted orders, it would be of wit; of snappy retorts and teasing responses. ]

Only sometimes.

[ but they're not working right now, coming out a bit more defensive than she would have liked, even as she leans away from his hand, successfully pressing their bodies together and leaving very little wiggle room for defenses. ]

[ his expression is serious. she's given him something genuine, and he doesn't know what to do with it. sometimes. sometimes is more than he'd have answered, if he'd been asked this morning when he woke up.

words fail him, as they so often do. one wonders what sort of politician robb might make, when he is all action and hardly any talk at all. in so many ways, he is better suited to hocky, to sports, things that don't require public speaking skills.

but the important thing is that robb can't think of what to say in response, so he leans in and kisses her. it's softer and sweeter and more tender than it has any right to be. and later, later robb will remember this when she's gone away. once robb stark pinned asha greyjoy against his kitchen counter and kissed her so very sweetly whie a saxaphone played in the background.

this was a moment that had weight, even if in the morning they both might decide to pretend otherwise. ]

[ shit. ]

[ shit fuck, dammit. ]

[ he was kissing her then, and it's intimate and sweet and nice, and dammit she likes it. somewhere just underneath her lungs is curling in a way she prefers lower in her belly, in a tight and warm way that she would have much rather preferred to manifest while they were fucking - not...not kissing. ]

[ for a moment or two, she kissed him back, but her jaw was slack and her actions lacked the surety that marked all her other actions. then she forces a laugh, turns her face so his lips might drag across her cheek but the kiss is broken, and sighs. ]

It's late.

[ robb doesn't lean back. the soft progress of his lips continues for a moment, up along the line of her jaw. for a moment there's the press of lips at the high point of her throat, then the nip of teeth at her earlobe, before he leans back just enough to look at her face and gauge her expression.

his actions speak too loudly, but if they didn't speak of it, then nothing need come of it. it's all testing, seeing what these new waters held. ]

I know. Are you finally tired?

[ hush, hush, let's not speak of anything. ]

If I'm not, are you going to fuck me again?

[ and she wriggles, but it lacks any real dedication or intention. she is finally tired, and it's more a stretch than a purposeful slip of her leg between his, more a yawn than a purposeful push of her breasts against his chest. ]

[ ...yeah she's tired. ]

[ his hands skim down her sides once more, come to rest on her hips. robb's no expert (it's hard to be fluent in asha greyjoy, especially when she changes the rules every other moment) but he knows the difference, knows how she moves. ]

Come to bed with me.

[ it's not the tone he uses when he means let's have sex, asha. it's something else, something softer around the edges. come to bed and sleep with me, as if this were something other than what it was. ]

[ and that's a perfect cue for her to shrug again, to concede and let the arms around his neck shift, like she's going to unlace them. but she stalls, hand on his neck and fingers toying with the hair at the nap of his neck before threading up to tug on the curls. ]

Hmmmm... [ she hums after a time - an appropriate thinking time, though there was really no need to thin; there's just one answer - and disentangles her hand from his hair. arms from shoulders, too, and lets her palms rest on his forearms. ]

Alright.

[ she does that, makes a show of considering him. and robb lets her, because it lends something like normalcy to this. as if they hadn't just had a moment of tenderness and affection, too honest for even his tastes.

and when she says yes he steps back, lets her away from the counter as his hands come up to twine through hers. ]

I'll even let you have the pillow.

[ and robb would steal theons, huzzah. ]

Oh, how nobel of you. [ she practically coos. but it's almost entirely mocking. ]

[ still, asha lets him hold her hands for a moment, lets him squeeze her fingers and even squeezes back before shaking her hand from his. she turns to deposite the spoon in the sink, but doesn't bother to put the ice cream back in the ice box. ]

[ and it's not as if she needs any guide to his room - as infrequently as they spend time in the flat, it was not amaze - and she was comfortable enough to start making her way toward his room ahead of him. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

meme #004 | slow-dancing ( think outside the boxstep )

are you tyler durden in this scenario or am i ?

i'm always tyler you should know this by now.

i can live with being the narrator.

which one of us gets shot in the face again.

i think it's both.

it's probably both

accurate.

yeah it's totally both. closed casket ceremonies.

matching caskets

white lillies and little lace pillows in them!

so cute

our funerals are gonna be boss

you bet

better than our joint weddings ngl

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject