cartographie | inbox for golden peacock

[ While she may not call herself out on her own prowess when it comes to giving herself shit, Nami's self-aware enough to meet Rokurou's gaze with a wry grin. They don't talk often, and they, especially, don't talk about subjects as esoteric as the seemingly endless stretch of time they've both been subject to the House's endless cavalcade of horny bullshit while others disappear, or otherwise turn to stone.

Glossing over it works, with him, with herself, with anyone – the casino makes everybody miserable in its way, after a person has been under its relentless sway for long enough, the losses just start to pile up, while the stakes climb so high that chips don't matter, and eventually absent friends are the only thing that does.

But, as keen as Nami is to continue never broaching subjects like time, and loss with Rokurou (who is, as always, hopelessly dreamy) when she meets his eye, there's only one thing Nami can think to say; ]

I'm glad you haven't either.

[ And though her gaze softens in heartfelt fondness, it heats up again in a matter of heartbeats, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she rises to her feet and begins to amble over to his side of the pods. ]

Tricked me? You know I have heard your voice before, right? [ She stops just within arm's reach and lets a hand touch his cheek lightly. ] Be flattered, it's too sexy to miss.

I am flattered.

[ Nami closes the distance, crossing the pods into his little territory and offers her hand; Rokurou tilts his head against her palm, affectionate, rubbing his cheek into the curve of her fingers like a housecat. A rub that he turns his chin into, brushing the curve of his lips against her in a feather-light kiss. ]

But I would have disguised my voice. Really committed to it, you know?

[ He leans back on his little couch after that, pointedly patting his lap, offering a cheeky grin and an air of expectation— ]

Care to sit? I still think you should console me.

[ The pad of her thumb brushes back and forth against his skin, tracing the line of his jaw, while Rokurou's face nuzzles against her palm. Nami chuckles quietly, charmed by the movement, enough so that when he invites her to join him on the sofa, she doesn't do much beyond roll her eyes before doing exactly that. ]

I think we could console each other. [ Her knees rest on either side of his hips, straddling him comfortably before she meets his eye with a slight, but markedly devilish grin. ] Since I missed out on such a peak dramatic performance. [ One hand rests on the back of the sofa, keeping her steady as she leans in to catch his bottom lip between her teeth, giving it a playful, light tug before she finishes her thought. ] We can skip to the encore, too.

[ With Nami so perfectly seated, how can he not sneak beneath the hem of her shirt and slide his fingers around her waist? Slender yet strong, distinctly feminine. Callus-studded palms rub against either side of her ribs, thumbs brush beneath the curve of her breasts. ]

Good. You wouldn’t want to kiss me after it.

[ Rokurou surges up to kiss her again, not satisfied with a brief press of lips and tease of teeth. While Nami’s kiss had been playful, his is intense—his tongue flicks across the seam of her lips before pressing forward, searching for a deeper taste within seconds.

During the kiss, one hand slides up to palm her breast while the other slides around back to grab her ass. The latter presses her hips down to grind their bodies together, guiding her to feel how he’s starting to get hard. ]

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