suoxi | for striker

Her own cups contents have dwindled, and she feels much the same. Calmer, certainly. More tired -- definitely.

"Anytime," she tells him quietly, eyes moving from cup to him to back again. "I mean that, Hercules. Anytime."

Which seems odd to offer someone -- but it's hardly a secret that she has a soft spot for the Marshal.

He wants to kiss her.

He's almost blindsided by the realization, that he wants to lean in and kiss her and taste the gloss she lays across her lips. If this was a regular appointment, if she had let him pay for her time, he might have. But she didn't, she refused that, and she's only here because she's his friend and she's worried about him.

So he forces himself to turn away a little and set down his empty cup, scrubbing his hands through his hair instead.

"Thank you. I wish I could offer you something in return, but..."

She's almost leaning in for it already, just based on the way that he's looking at her and the way that she feels.

But -- it's bad timing, isn't it? This is not a good time to move on someone who is so obviously broken up about what is happening in their lives. He wanted her company tonight, certainly -- offered to pay for it, even -- but she isn't sure he meant that.

There are reasons why Inara doesn't engage in relationships, and why so few Companions like her do. It's...terribly complicated and Inara herself isn't a fan of complications. She runs from them -- it's why she's here, on this 'dome and not her previous one. Things had...escalated there, with a particular person that will continue to remain nameless.

But Hercules is so dramatically different and they've spent so much time together that it's progressed organically and now...now there's too much uncertainty as to if the leap should be taken, and Inara is...wholly unsure of where he even stands. Is he on the ledge with her? She's not sure.

Ugh, complication.

"It's...what friends do for one another." She rests a hand on his knee, giving him a gentle little squeeze, fingers splaying out over the fabric.

Her hand looks so delicate resting on his knee, but her fingers feel perfectly strong when she squeezes it, and Herc finds himself reaching to cover her hand with his.

He really wants to kiss her and he's almost ashamed of it, because Inara must have such a hard time making honest friends who don't see her as a sexual object or someone to covet or worship, and he had prided himself on being that for her. On being someone she could come to and not worry about whether her hair was fixed or her face done up, someone she could be honest with, no matter what. He doesn't want to feel like he's betraying her trust by suddenly letting himself realize how beautiful she is and how attracted to her he is.

Not to mention he's pretty sure she's not even thirty and he's smack dab in the middle of forty and fifty so... Yeah, that's not good either.

"Friends, yeah," he croaks finally, his hand still covering hers on his knee.

She's been told by her friends on several occasions that she just doesn't age. She still has the flawless beauty she had when she was in her mid twenties, and there isn't a single streak of grey in her dark waves. Inara was very handsomely blessed when it came to physical attributes, there's no question.

She was also gifted with what seemed to be inherent wisdom at times, though right now...she wants to be anything but rational. She wants his lips to hers, those arms around her body. She wants to do any number of things that aren't appropriate at the moment.

When she opens her mouth to speak, she had every intention of telling him that he should rest. What comes out is a completely different story.

"God...Bì zuǐ, wěn wǒ--"

Conversely, Herc knows he hasn't aged that gracefully, especially not in recent years. He's got red hair, which doesn't gray very attractively to begin with, and the pain and sorrow he's lived through — not to mention the constant stress of battle — have etched deep lines into his face that he's never free of, even in sleep. His temples are gray, his beard is going that way too... He looks in the mirror and sees his dad, an old man who's had to weather too many storms.

Inara looks like a delicate peach by comparison, ripe and firm and so very sweet.

She should be with someone like Raleigh, equally young and vibrant and obnoxiously handsome. Herc is past his prime now. He should leave the pasture for other bulls.

She opens her mouth to say something and he's bracing himself for a change in subject, but what comes out of her mouth is utterly incomprehensible. Never before has he resented his seeming inability to learn foreign languages as much as he does now. He just can't make them stick in his head, no matter how hard he tries. But she's leaning into him when she says it, her eyelids drooping, her lips plush and parted, and he knows what that look means even if he can't understand what words are falling from them.

Kicking himself, he leans in abruptly and meets her halfway, angling his head so he can seal his mouth to hers, muffling a choked-off groan against her lips.

Edited 2013-07-29 06:18 (UTC)

She...isn't sure if he can understand her and belatedly she realizes she probably should have said it in English. It doesn't end up a problem though, because he's leaning in to meet her and there's no need to worry about the language barrier that she might have accidentally created.

Pushing off the couch, Inara is immediately sliding into his lap, and cradling his head in her hands as she returns the kiss, deepening it with presses and swipes of her tongue.

He doesn't even have time to pull back and start to apologize, because the second his lips touch hers she's practically launching herself at him, sliding into his lap like she sits there all the time, her hands framing his face, her tongue pushing past his lips to turn this kiss a lot dirtier than he intended.

He is not complaining.

His hands settle at her waist, clutching her to him, squeezing tightly before one slides up the silk of her blouse to press between her shoulder blades, keeping her close as he parts his lips eagerly for her.

This may be rash, may be foolish, may turn out to be a mistake. But he doesn't care.

It could very easily be considered all of the above -- but Inara isn't complaining, either. As refined and reserved as she is, there's been something simmering just beneath the surface for some time, and now that they're here and in each others arms, it finally boils over.

When his palm is flat against her bare skin, she sighs against his mouth, her fingers brushing over the lines on his face, tracing patterns in his skin as her teeth come down gently on his lower lip.

He groans quietly against her lips when she bites him, his hold on her tightening a little as her delicate hands skim over his face. He wants to pick her up and carry her over to her bed and just...forget, for a little while, but this isn't a normal relationship and he doesn't want to overstep any boundaries. He's never heard of a Companion taking a lover who didn't pay for the privilege, he doesn't know what he's allowed to do.

So he just keeps doing this, keeps his hand pressed to her skin, keeps his lips moving against hers, keeps desperately drinking her in while she allows this to continue.

She can tell he's...holding back, or not sure, or something. She isn't sure what it is, and she makes a soft noise against his mouth, pulling back just a little and releasing his lip from her teeth.

"Stop thinking," she murmurs, mouth trailing a warm trail from his lips to jaw to his neck.

He huffs out a quiet chuckle, letting his head tip back so she can move her lips over his skin as much as she wants.

"Don't get told that often," he replies, blinking up at her curtained ceiling.

She hums a little against his neck before letting her teeth gently scrape over go skin.

"Maybe it's time you did," she says, lips curving a little against his neck.

Her hands smooth down his arms before sliding to rest at his hips, fingers curling against the material of his shirt.

He had shrugged out of his bomber jacket a while back which just left him in the soft waffle cotton Henley he favors, which means he can feel every pass of her fingers as she slides them down his arms and then over his hips.

Hercules almost wants to ask her if she's sure about this, but that would be insulting, so he keeps his trap shut, just shifts a little so she can do whatever she likes to him.

She's not really thinking very clearly about their current position, though she will in a moment. The shift allows her a little bit better of a seated position though, and she's able to settle nicely right there in his lap, fingers plucking at his shirt as she moves back in to capture his lips once more.

She's a slight little thing, but that doesn't mean her weight in his lap doesn't make him groan and shift against her. She keeps plucking at his shirt, twisting the hem between her fingers, and Herc is torn between just letting her and telling her to take it off if it's bothering her that much. But he doesn't, because she's kissing him again, and that's something he can really get behind.

She kisses him with all of the urgency of a woman that is very much into a man can kiss. Eventually though -- she's got to breath and she pulls back, panting a little, and rests her hands on his shoulders.

"We should move."

Because as hot as it is to kiss his lips until they're stinging and puffy right here on this couch, if this goes any farther -- it's going to get awkward.

He's not ashamed to admit he makes a disappointed grumble in the back of his throat when she pulls away, having been very much enjoying her tender ministrations, but what she suggests next is more than acceptable to him, so he doesn't complain too much.

"Okay," he says, shifting his weight a little and sliding his arms underneath her so he can stand and lift her up into the air.

It only takes a few long strides to reach her bed and then he's laying her down and following, his lips finding hers again.

She didn't expect to be picked up -- but that's alright. It's...rather romantic, all things considered, and she wraps her arms around him and keeps them there until she's flat on her back beneath him.

Now is when she really deigns to remove him of his clothing - the shirt needs to go, and eventually so will the rest but this is a good start for the time being.

Also, wow she is enjoying those kisses. They leave her a little dizzy and glassy eyes, and with a soft smile on her face that doesn't budge at all.

Herc's not piloting Jaegers anymore, but that doesn't mean he isn't still plenty strong, thank you. And it's not like she's particularly heavy, really.

He has to pull back a little when she tugs at his shirt, helping her yank it off over his head and then letting her figure out what to do with it. (Drop it over the side, probably, he's not paying attention.) He's busy with other things, things like trailing his lips over her jawline, pressing whiskery kisses into her skin.

It's quickly tossed aside - it's in the way, it's a barrier, and it's got to go.

Once it's taken care of, there can be a lot more exploration going on. Inara wants to see, touch and taste every part of him, and it began with his lips and the journey now takes her to his chest, fingers spreading over him, nails tracing lightly over skin.

Apparently she has no patience for his slow exploratory kisses, wanting to do it herself. Well. He's not going to fight her on it.

He shifts a little so he can spread out on his back and let her do what she likes to him, one hand settling on the smooth skin of her upper arm, the other raising to tentatively play with her curls.

She's sorry, Herc -- and really, she'll let you do that soon. Very soon. But at the moment, she's intent on having her lips all over his neck and chest, leaving a trail of damp kisses in her wake.

His hand in her hair does make her pause and sigh though, and she rests her cheek against him for a moment, savoring the feeling while one hand creeps downwards, resting at his hip.

It's no surprise she's good at this — this is kind of her job, really — and Herc is really appreciating her skill right now.

She sighs and settles for a moment, her cheek resting on his chest, her eyelashes tickling as she breathes slowly and he keeps petting her hair. It's so soft and silky, he's almost curious as to what she puts in it. Not that it will do him much good, his hair is too short to even properly comb, but still. It's nice, is what he's getting at.

It's nice like this, actually -- and for a moment she is content to remain here, because this is as intimate as anything they've done together so far. Just resting here with her bare cheek to his chest, Inara feels...safe. Secure. Like he'd never hurt her, never let her down.

Turning a little, she presses her lips to his chest once slowly trekking down until her hands rest at the waistband of his pants, fingers carefully unbuckling and unbuttoning and slowly tugging off.

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