get it together ! *

{ ● Watching his ex on his couch, drunk and slumped over, trying to get his cat’s attention, Persephone realises once again that if he wants anything done, he’s going to have to do it himself. He stretches out his hand and gently cups Shota’s cheek, turning his head towards him. His voice, for once, lacks that effortlessly smug tone that usually slips into his speech. “Shota,” he says, then pauses for a second, apparently hesitating. Circe stretches before hopping off the couch and sauntering towards her food bowl. “–you miss me, don’t you?”

        “Ugh, really?” He’s pushing his luck. Yuna turns to look at him, nose wrinkling. She’d much rather massage his bare ass than kiss his lips. At least, that’s what she tells herself. If he gives her a choice like this, framed as a suggestion, is it really a command? She doesn’t have to obey it. “I can’t reach your face like this,” is the sole retort from the corner of her mouth. Obviously, his commands can’t be anything physically impossible—though nothing is stopping her from rising up and moving closer. “But I’m getting too tired to keep massaging you. This is a work out!” She frowns and wipes the faintest pearls of sweat from her forehead. “My arms are sore and…hey, is it hot in here to you?”

        She glances over her shoulder once more to check if he’s watching. Her face is flushed from more than the effort of working his muscles. Is this the right time to tease him? They’ve already come this far. With a small huff, she raises her roomy sweatshirt up and over her pigtails, then discards it in the same pile where his clothes sit. Though her chest isn’t completely flat, she finds she’s able to get away without a bra’s support in most situations—including this one.

        Now she’s too cold. This is a problem. She pouts. It’s tempting to lay down and press her front side to his back, snuggle a bit, but that’s too far, even for her. “Look at me, Sho-kun.” She smiles at him over her shoulder and blows a kiss. “Does that work for you? Or does my king require something more?” Hesitation gives her pause, then she lowers her eyelids in her best smolder. “You can exercise your grip by giving these a squeeze.” Her hands land on her own bust.

      brows raise at her weak resistance,  eyes following suit by rolling at her complaints.  he expects that to be it,  somehow --  she cut through the mood,  clearly giving indication she wants to quit.  he has half the mind to command her to keep going,  motivated by nothing but his own selfish interest,  when she continues to ask about the temperature.  her following actions only surprise him,  gaze locked upon her as she twists her flushed features to look at him.  

he is unable to keep the surprise from his face as she lifts her sweater over her head.  gaze immediately turns to her bare skin,  the curve of her back now open to his full appreciation.  ah,  what was she doing . . ?  could it be that she too,  felt . . ?  one hand slips from its gentle rest upon the matras to cover his mouth  ( and the smirk it had tilted into ),  eyes upon her form until she called to him again.  gaze snaps up,  watching her intently,  and as she blows her that devious little kiss and takes hold of her own breasts,  something sparks within his chest.  ah,  this is bad.  self - control was a virtue shota was barely acquainted with,  and in situations like this,  he forgot its definition all - together.

      he’s genuinely focussed on this thing he is researching,  completely obliv ious to her stalking closer.  when her tongue presses onto sensitive skin,  he squeals,  shoulders shooting up as he shifts abruptly within his chair.  the actual devil was standing behind him –  face immediately sours,  one hand reaching to grab her wrist while the other wipes away her saliva from behind him.  gross.  “  are you twelve ?  ”  he spits,  still holding her wrist as he moves out of his chair and around her,  until she is behind him and the table.  

“  wanna kiss,  tem ?  ”  he inquires,  lips tilting up into a devious smile.  “  hm ?  want some attention ?  okay,  i’ll spare you a little bit of my time.  ”   he pushes her back against the table,  pressing his free hand onto the table’s edge to trap her,  and blows a big old raspberry into her neck.  now she’s gonna get it.

{ ● Actually, forget it. Where’s Tem? He’d much rather be making out with her instead.

　　HE RECOILS, AND HER HAND FALLS TO HER LAP. The people on either side of them are making her feel more self-conscious, which is in turn only serving to raise her irritation at the situation as a whole. He’s drunk, and he’s being a whiny, petulant asshole. His protest sends a small pang through her stomach, sympathy and hurt that he’s hurt.

　　Brows furrow when he starts up once more. It’s a bit odd, that he hasn’t turned this around on her. For just a moment, she’s almost grateful. He’s not quite lashing out. He’s not telling her that it’s her fault somehow, or taking to opportunity to paint her as some sort of culprit here. But the self-deprecation doesn’t do wonders for her, eitherーshe can’t stand it, and the mix of an emotional response is going to make her focus simply on anger.

　　“ Shota, if you want to talk about this, we can do it at home. “  Tem stands, gathers up her jacket and bag, and grabs Shota’s arm to yank him along with her. Just to pull him out of his seat; she’s not going to lead him to the door, but she’s done being embarrassed by this obnoxious oaf.

         her promise of talking at home . . helps.  somewhat.  he’s grateful for her touch,  even if it’s rough and not borne from love,  letting himself be guided from his seat till he’s away from the table.  he mourns the loss of her hand on his arm,  easily distracted by such simple thoughts.  despite the whirlwind in his mind,  alcohol degraded his attention to single focus,  thoughts mulled over but not given enough consideration to produce any words.

he follows her out quietly,  tears on the verge of spilling before now dried as he focusses on moving in a straight line,  keeping up with her,  until cold air hits his face.  it sobers him up some,  but not nearly enough to think clearly.  initial move is to head towards the parking lot,  only for a fuzzy memory to pop up that tells him they walked here.  why’d they do that ?  it feels stupid now.  “  eugh,  don’t wanna walk,  ”  he complains,  and for a moment it seems like he may have dropped their earlier argument in favor of whining about some exercise.