[Behind her, the man grumbles, but the revelry is too bright and loud to pick a fight. Instead he turns, stumbling as he makes his way to the bar, and Rosalind exhales softly. Good.]
Thank you.
[She really hadn't wanted to spend tonight tending to cuts and bruises. Rosalind settles, shifting her weight and turning her attention back to him.
And that's . . . she blinks, suddenly aware of the fact they're pressed up together. It's nothing obscene, nothing vulgar, but still she's very much aware of all the places their bodies are touching. She's very aware that he's a foot taller than her, and that her shirt isn't buttoned all the ay up to her collar. She's aware of where his hand is, pressing against her back, rough fingers felt through thin cotton, and she notices how she feels muscle pressed against her body, hard and battle-worn.
It's awfully tempting to run her fingers over him. The thought pops into her head, lecherous and inappropriate. It isn't that she's so opposed to some kind of tryst, but she won't throw herself forward, not for any man.
But though courtesy dictates she take a step back, Rosalind doesn't. Not just yet.]
I'd tell you to buy me a drink, but I've beat you there.
[Though her whiskey is almost gone now, and she can feel it coursing through her, only adding to her heat.]
[ His sister would say he's a stubborn fool. Headstrong and willing to fight just about anyone that slights the people he's come to care for. And he does care for her. She helped him. She gave him aid when no one else did. She took care of Jamie. She brought him peace and comfort when his mind felt chaotic and broken. Perhaps she's not entirely Jenny, but she is something. A fond reminder of home. A friend he would happily stand up for it seems.
But they're still close. The man may be gone, but the closeness has not faded. They remain pressed together and Jamie has to hold his breath for a moment. It's not like he's never been near a woman before, but not quite like this. Laoghaire had been a lass, but a kiss was just a kiss. It was nothing more than that. Claire was the only woman he'd been this bloody close to for this long. This close to and let his mind run wild with curious and inappropriate thoughts.
When she speaks he focuses a bit more and he notes the buttons undone at the top of her shirt. But he doesn't linger on the sight. It'd be wrong. His heart seems to be trying to beat through his chest. He's almost certain she could feel it. ]
I wouldnae protest t' a drink.
[ He smiles at her, but he doesn't try to motion for anyone at the bar. He doesn't try to move away either. ]
[A few seconds pass, and then, without taking her eyes off him, Rosalind puts her glass to her lips. One quick movement is all it takes to finish off her glass, and though he'll be able to feel her shudder, that's not such a bad thing right now.
The whiskey leaves a flush to her cheeks, and god, but that will go to her head soon, but that doesn't matter, not when she's acting a touch competitive.]
Go get us something. I'll be waiting.
[It's an order, and she raises an eyebrow, waiting to see if he'll obey it or not. Honestly, she isn't certain if she wants him to or not. Sometimes, what Rosalind wants more than anything is not to get what she wants.]
[ That shudder runs right through him. He's not had a solid female form pressed up to him in quite some time. Everything courses through him and it's a wee bit addicting to tell the truth. It leaves a warmth in the pit of his stomach that seems to spread outwards. Reaching into the deepest and darkest parts of his soul. Jamie doesn't seem to be in a rush to move away. He doesn't seem to be hurrying to put distance between them. He's content to be here with her.
If what she wants is refusal that's not difficult to obtain. Jamie's a little shit. Even on his worst days. Saying no simply because he was ordered isn't that difficult. He smiles at her and he gives her a look. He glances at the bar for half a second before he focuses right back on Rosalind. He doesn't seem to be racing over there to do as she ordered. Orders have never been a James Fraser specialty. ]
Yer a wee bit bossy.
[ The hand on the small of her back attempts to pull her in closer. The air feels heavier. Jamie's not sure why, but somehow leaning into this feeling is far better. ]
[Oh. Oh, and her breath catches, a subtle little thing that whispers yes even as she gears up to bicker. Her back arches beneath his tugging, and she willingly steps closer, her hands settling on his hips.]
If you're aiming to get me to say please, Jamie Fraser, you're going to have to try a little harder than that.
[ He's an obstinate little shit. He has been since the day he was born. It's one of the things him and Jenny would often fight about. Jamie didn't seem to bend when he should have. He was a fool, but right now he's almost certain that bending isn't the right move. She's a woman that's grown quite used to getting exactly what she wants. If he was thinking that way he'd say it reminded him of Claire, but that's not really where his head is at right now. ]
I could make you say a great number of things, Rosalind. Please would certainly be one of 'em.
[ There's a smile that graces his lips. One that's assured and quite proud. He's a good man at his core, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a bit of bark to his bite. ]
Like I said. If ye ask nicer I'd certainly consider it.
[Oh, Christ, and though her expression doesn't change a bit, there's something in her melting. Oh, Christ, and it takes everything in her not to demand he drag her outside here and now, because she knows for a fact she wants to end the night with him in her bed.
Metaphorically. Against a wall or in the alley; bending her over the table or letting her drop to her knees . . . she's half a hundred different scenarios flitting through her mind, and her eyes dart over his expression as she thinks of them.
But this kind of game isn't fun if someone gives in so quickly. Rosalind squirms, ostensibly to shift her weight but mostly to tease.]
We'll see about that.
[A deliberate pause, and then:]
Will you buy me a drink?
[No please. That's for later. But it's at least a request.]
[ Whatever has taken over the people in Wyver this evening has found it's way into Jamie Fraser. While he's still gentle and kind there is a part of him that does wonder what's underneath those layers. He wants to know much give the fabric has. He wants to hear the little buttons popping off entirely. But he doesn't give. Not yet. He can't let the thoughts of her entirely take over. He'd never move forward. He'd never stop touching her. He wonders how long it'd take before they even left this tavern.
Jamie smiles when she finally phrases it like a request. A beat and he licks his lips. His tongue snaking out to run over them quickly before he nods. ] Aye. I will. [ He doesn't move just yet. Instead he makes a very obvious showing of looking at her lips for a moment before nodding again. ] Ye do listen. Good girl. [ The words leave his mouth before he contains them. He back steps away from her finally and goes to the bar.
But Jamie doesn't linger there. He doesn't stay with those strangers and the bartender any longer than he has to. Instead he returns with two fresh drinks. His bum hand barely curls around the second, but it doesn't bother him. ]
[Her mouth drops open the moment he says that to her, but he disappears before she can retort. Heat flushes over her cheeks, and she can't decide if she's more infuriated or turned on by that patronizing bit of praise. Good girl, as if she's an errant child finally seeing reason, as if she's some slip of a thing without experience; as if she's panting and hungry to please, to please him, and how dare he--
Good girl, and she glares at him as he heads to the bar, shifting her weight and pressing her legs together to stop the ache. But she stays still, waiting for him to return.
She's careful when she takes the drink from his injured hand, but there's a swiftness to the way she takes the other. It's not that she actually wants to get so drunk, but she's indignant and combative and in the mood to show him up.]
Well done.
It'd serve you right if I took these and went off to find some other man for the evening.
[It's odd, Rosalind had once thought, how so many times people say what they don't mean. They'll crouch it in metaphor and hide behind false words, and she's never really understood why. Much better to be blunt and straightforward, isn't it?
But sometimes she sees the advantages. Like now. Because what she threatens is to go and find someone else; what she means is that he ought to put a claim in her before she strays.]
[ Jamie's quiet when she says that. His brow raises and all he can do is smile. Because he's very amused. Somehow this outing has taken a turn. He had every intention of finding the people he knew that invited him out, but right now he has no desire to. The only desire is this. Figuring out how to navigate this. She pushes his buttons. He's not that surprised though. If anything it just makes him want her a bit more. He swallows hard and lifts his good hand to cup her cheek. It's brief as his thumb traces the corner of her mouth before he steps back.
He's close enough to a table. Close enough to fall back into a chair. For half a second it looks like Jamie's about to dare her to do such a thing. Daring her to flounce off with their drinks and finds another man. But that's not Jamie's intention. He's perfectly fine with claiming her. He's never been a man that shares well. Not when he sees something he wants.
His kilt fans out over his legs and he reaches out to catch her around the waist. He pulls her quickly to him and right onto his lap. If she wanted him to lay claim then he'd happily lay claim. ]
I dinnae think so. I went and got us these drinks. I intend for us to drink 'em together, ye hear?
[She's a slender woman and he's muscled enough; it's the work of a moment for him to pull her into his lap, and she glares at him, though there's none of the icy loathing he's seen directed at others.]
You're damned lucky we're not in Olympia.
[Because there, she'd fuss and fight and squirm until he let go, because she has a reputation there. She's a proper scientist there, well known and respected, and though standards are far more lax in this universe, Rosalind has no intention of testing their limits.
Here, though . . . here, they're the least interesting thing. No one's watching them, not when they're so very tame compared to some of the spectacles around them. So Rosalind glares, but she doesn't try and fight her way free just yet.]
And you're skating on thin ice.
[It's a warning as she sets one glass down on the table. The liquid had spilled when he'd tugged her close, and she licks her fingers, cleaning them off, perfectly aware of what she's doing.
It's a quick action, her tongue darting out against her skin for just a few seconds before she sets her hand down.]
Perhaps. But I think I could get ye in my lap in Olympia as well.
[ Might take a bit longer. More dedication and perhaps an entirely different approach. But right now the absolute last thing that Jamie wants is for Rosalind to climb off his lap. There's a pressure now that seems to be building. He can feel her. Everywhere. He wants nothing more than to wrap those legs around him entirely. To see what other sounds he could get her to make. Because the way she says his name is almost hypnotic for the Scot.
His head tilts as she insists he's skating on thin ice. Rosalind is a powerful woman. If she didn't want something she'd have no problem telling Jamie that. It's the only reason he's carried on like this. Knowing that he's not truly pushing beyond any limits. One hand rests on her thigh and the other on her hip. His brow raises when she goes about cleaning the alcohol from her fingers. His breathing a bit rougher as he watches. ]
Wouldnae dream of it. [ He lets out a sigh. ] Though it's good t' see that ye use yer mouth for other things than bossing me about.
[ He looks down as a bead of moisture rolls down his thumb. The sloshed drink splashed onto him. He lifts his good hand with his thumb extended. ]
[He's right in that she'd most certainly tell him bluntly and sharply if he ever truly pushed past her hard limits. Things like this, tugging her in his lap and patronizing her, teasing her and baiting her, that isn't crossing a line. It's infuriating, but it's nothing she isn't hungry for.
She glances down at his thumb, one eyebrow raising again. A few deliberate seconds pass, long and silent, before she shifts in his lap again, squirming pointedly as she settles in. She's well aware of him beneath her, and more to the point, well aware of what it is that's building between them.
If he wants to fight, they'll fight. And that means using every dirty trick she knows.]
For your information, Jamie Fraser . . . calling me a good girl is absolutely patronizing. At least admit to your crimes if you're going to commit them.
[She thinks she might just scream if he says that to her again under the right circumstances. Rosalind finally sets her drink down, her eyes locked on his. He really is built similarly to her, with red hair and blue eyes . . . she's more freckles than he does, she knows, but she hides hers beneath makeup. Him, though . . . it's no wonder he thought she was from his country. She looks like she ought to fit right in, and she wonders how often he's thought about that.
Slender fingers wrap around his wrist, and she draws his hand up.]
And I'll boss you as long as I please.
[But with that said, her tongue darts out, sliding against his thumb with deliberate languidness. She's hardly obscene about it, but rather simply efficient, doing precisely as he asks and nothing more. And yet he'll still be effected, she's certain, because her eyes are glittering as she watches him.]
[ He enjoys this. Whatever it is. This playful way. This way that neither one refuses to actually bend. Though they do leave a fair amount of breadcrumbs for the other one to follow. Hinting at what they enjoy and what they don't. When she moves about like that he considers giving the top of her arse a firm spank, but he doesn't truly want to drive her from his lap. That could very well be the tipping point. Instead he holds that card for later. He might find another opening then.
The movement doesn't go unrewarded. If Jamie were trousers it might be a bit difficult for him to remain in them. But the kilt does it's best to hide everything. But Jamie doesn't have anything on underneath the kilt. Apparently undergarments and Highlanders don't mesh well. When she brings up how he called her a good girl he doesn't respond. Not yet anyways. He doesn't immediately jump to admitting them like she said he should. Instead he waits.
His mouth opens just a touch as she lifts his hand and once she finishes speaking and her tongue slides out like that he exhales roughly. Neither one fairing well against the advancements of the other one. He waits until she's done before he leans forward. For half a second he's going to her lips, but then he tips his head and instead his lips are near her ear. ]
But ye like when I call ye that. I can hear it. In ye voice.
[ A moment ticks by. ]
Is nae patronizing if ye are my good girl. Which ye are. It's just honesty.
[It's very, very hard for her not to react to that. What reaction, she isn't certain; half of her is desperate to melt against him as she agrees, while the other half wants to slap him for such impudence. (She's certain she's going to slap him at least once before the night ends; she just won't do it in the middle of a crowded bar).
What should she say? Denying it seems both stupid and laughable. He's absolutely right: she does like it, very much, enough so that her breath had shaken in her next exhale as he'd laughed quietly in her ear. Enough that she knows he'll laugh when they finally tumble into bed, because she's ridiculously wet already all from the way he's talking. But eagerly agreeing is far too shameful for her to consider.]
Am I yours, then? You tug me into your lap and that's that, is that how it works?
[There. Neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and she turns her head, catching his eye again, something challenging in her gaze.
He has his wife and she has her Robert, and so that's a bit of a misleading question, she knows. Neither of them think this is anything more than it is: two friends enjoying one another, nothing more or less.
But for tonight . . . yes, she decides, yes, she'd be quite content to be his for the night. One possessive, hungry evening, where they throw themselves at one another with no delusions as to what it might or might not lead to. She'd be content to be someone else's for that time.
Rosalind sips at her drink, waiting for an answer-- and then, pointedly, squirms again, shifting just enough to tease without being obvious. Robert had always enjoyed her hips and backside; she wonders smugly if Jamie can really say the same. He's surely going to run into trouble soon if she keeps moving, but that seems a problem for him, not her.]
And I'm not good.
[That's likely the alcohol talking. She isn't good, but she wouldn't have insisted on that normally.]
A bit, but ye did threaten to run off with our drinks to a stranger. I had to lay down my claim on ye.
[ Completely legitimate. Somewhat. Neither belongs to the other. They know that. She's talked about Robert. Told him about the man's heart. He told her about his wife. They know that it's some sort of game for the evening. Something that the two of them can enjoy for a spell. It's not forever. They aren't trying to build a lasting relationship here though. They're friends and they'll get a bit closer with this, but it's not going to automatically make anything they say law.
But tonight. Tonight they're going to make an exception. They haven't told each other, but they've made the decision in their heads and they both tell by the others actions it's mutual. They aren't going around and around for something that will never happen. They're both very aware of what they're pushing for. What they're dancing around because that's half the fun isn't it? The anticipation. The challenges that you can present.
Jamie watches her take a sip. Drawn to her mouth more and more. He watches the way her throat bobs as she swallows her sip. She gives another squirm and the muscles in his neck tighten. He can safely say though he does enjoy her backside. But he's yet to really see it. Yet to truly gaze upon it. So far he's just enjoying the way it wiggles about. ]
Nae good then? [ He smiles. ] Bad then are ye? If ye dinnae want t' be my good girl--[ He leans towards her. His nose brushing hers. ]--do ye wanna be my bad girl?
[It's a groan both mortified and turned on all at once, with the latter only adding to the former (because how hideous, that she gets off on this; how utterly humiliating, she hates it as much as she loves it, and it's all she can do not to shift around again). She tips her head forward, bumping their foreheads together, her eyes closing for a moment as she ignores how red her face has gone.]
You're ridiculous.
[Not that she minds. One leg crosses tightly over the other. That's a movement purely for herself, though she'd be lying if she said she wasn't aware of how it made her skirt slide up her thigh a bit. Rosalind tips her head back, glancing down at him with a little smile.]
And I think I'll let you decide by the end of our drink which I'll be for the evening. But for now . . .
[She glances around them once more, but really, no one is looking at them. For all anyone knows, they're nothing more than a couple, happy and tame, a girl sitting in her man's lap as he whispers in her ear. There's absolutely nothing scandalous about them, and there's such a relief to that anonymity.
She settles back against him, relaxing for the first time tonight.]
It'd be rather petty of me not to at least finish this off. If you want to entertain me while I do, I'd be pleased.
[ There's a rough chuckle when she speaks. He knows he's found a weak spot. He's been keenly aware ever since they started this delicate dance. The way she sounds and looks right now is picture perfect. He exhales roughly when their foreheads touch. He could completely close the distance if he wanted to. He wants to wait though. He wants to feel the anticipation. The need and the want that come together to make the moment inescapable. So he holds and instead he just studies her face and tries not to go cross eyed with how close she is.
Her crossing her legs does give Jamie a little bit of a hint. He doesn't look down immediately. Instead he waits for Rosalind to withdraw and then his gaze travels down. Examining more of her exposed thigh before it lifts again. He's already decided. He'll make her a bit of both. Best of both worlds. Why deny themselves one or the other? Tonight is for them. They're allowed to be a bit greedy. Even with each other. ]
Entertain ye. [ He makes a humming sound as he moves his hand to rest higher on her thigh. ] I could think of something. [ Jamie squeezes her thigh and his hand drops to her knee to get a grip. She crossed them and he uncrosses them. But he doesn't go for anything too risque. Instead Jamie just runs his finger tips up and down her inner thigh now that he's created space. Sometimes going underneath the bottom of her skirt before dropping down. ]
But ye are right. I aim to please ye good and proper tonight. [ He licks his lips. ] And perhaps a bit in the morn as well.
[She refuses to take her gaze off him, but her mind's eye follows the path of his fingers, teasing just a touch beneath her skirt before drawing down again. She doesn't respond at first, not at all-- but then he'll feel the way her legs shift, spreading just a little wider and giving him more room.
She won't let him go very much farther, because they are in public. But though Rosalind has no desire for anyone but her partner to see her enjoying herself, she does like the potential of being caught. It's a delicate balance, but he seems more than capable of walking that thin line.]
Perhaps doesn't suit me.
[It's a falsely haughty tone, lessened by the way she's clearly amused. Rosalind finally turns from him, glancing out at the others, her glass lifting to her lips again. Quietly, then, so only he'll hear:]
But I think you'll do it regardless after tonight. I think, once I have you against a wall with your prick in my mouth, you'll do most anything to get your hands back on me.
[ When you're out collecting the rent with a gang of other men and your wife is along sometimes crowds aren't your concern. You don't often get privacy sleeping under the stars. You just have to learn to reduce noise and motion a bit. But he doesn't go beyond the limit. He knows not everyone is like him. Not everyone has had the life he has. She may have absolutely no problem sitting in his lap and challenging him in little ways, but he's not about to charge forward to test any boundaries. Not when things are going so well.
It's lovely to hear her say that perhaps isn't for her. That she intends to have him please her just as well come sun up. When her voice drops that low and she speaks again a shiver winds down Jamie's spine. He lets out a sigh and swallows hard to maintain any sort of composure. The lack of tight trousers does make it difficult to make out Jamie's growing erection, but she might start to notice a bit of something. Having a kilt does have it's benefits. ]
Given that I've nae taken my hands off ye practically since I arrived--I'd say ye're right.
[ He does look towards the exit of this tavern. His mind swimming with the image she painted for him. He watched the way her tongue worked over his thumb and her fingers. He watched the way she sipped. He wanted to see what else she was capable of. Needed to. ]
[She says it lazily, smug thanks to the hardness she can feel growing beneath her. She's aching as badly as he is, but she's always been petty in some regards; so long as he's needy, she'll be as sadistic as she pleases. And right now, Rosalind finds, what she really, truly wants? Is for Jamie to get his temper up.
After all, he'd shown lovely initiative before. But what Rosalind craves is a fight. She wants him hungry to put her in her place, just so she can be certain that he'll be ready and willing for her to argue and squirm and battle him properly to see who ends up on top.]
Don't you like me in your lap? Savor it, sweetness. I won't let this kind of thing happen often, even if we continue this beyond tonight.
[Which would be nice. She likes having steady partners, especially when they've a romantic connection of their own. It means there's even less risk of her partner attaching to her in ways she wouldn't want.
Languidly, lazily, she drinks again.]
Now, let's see . . . shall I have you fuck me against a wall or bending me over the table first?
[ She's edging him closer and closer to the edge. Pushing the buttons in an attempt to find the reaction. He's quiet for the moment. Instead choosing to let her drive the conversation forward. Her tempting words. Fighting him at every turn. He has no doubt in his mind that he'll get her in his lap more often than just now. She talks rather bit and she wants him to know that she doesn't need him, but that's not the truth. Not really. She just wants to be man handled. She wants to feel him snap and take.
Jamie's nodding his head along, but he's not agreeing with anything. Not really. Instead his hand rests on the small of her back. ] Ye'll be in my lap a bit, Rosalind. [ Just a fact. His hand smooths up and down the small of her back before he lifts it back, drops it a touch lower and smacks the top of her bottom. She wanted his temper to get up. She wanted a fight. She wanted him hungry to put her in her place. Which he has no problem doing. ]
Dinnae make me ask again. Up with ye. Or I'll take ye over my knee in front of all these people.
[ Whatever fear he may have of developing an audience doesn't exist right now. Not when she's wiggling about so freely. Not when she looks at him with this burning smugness that makes him want to push back. ]
[And unlike her little gasp of his name before, this is entirely full of indignation and incredulity. Rosalind stiffens, her back arching sharply, jerking in his lap. It wasn't painful; it was barely more than a swat. But it's not the pain that has her reacting, but the absolute audacity of what he's just done. Her thoughts stuttering, and distantly she's aware that her mouth has dropped open, her cheeks bright red as she stares at him. He'd just-- in the middle of everyone, he'd-- and how dare he, she swears her ears are ringing as she stares at him, how dare he--
Never mind that threat. Rosalind pants at him, her fingers clenched tightly around her drink.]
You wouldn't dare.
[Would he? She doesn't know. She really doesn't, and that's as thrilling as it is horrifying. She suspects he wouldn't if she made it clear she'd rather die than have such a thing done to her in front of others, but beyond a hard no . . .
He likely would dare, wouldn't he? But she waits for an answer, her body tense. She's set her drink down, though, which indicates she's prepared to leap to her feet if he indicates he really will turn her over.]
Put your hand to me again in public, Jamie Fraser, and I swear I'll slap you.
[ In Jamie's time spanking your wife is quite normal. Though this is not entirely how many of the other men would have done it. But Jamie figured out very quickly that sort of "discipline" hadn't been for him. This is different though. This has different driving forces. Not to mention it's a little dirty. Filthy you might say. Even Jamie doesn't quite know if he will take her over his knee. There's no telling how far he'd go to push back like she desires.
His brows raise when she insists he wouldn't dare. Maybe. Maybe not. Neither really know. He watches her set the drink down and he knows that's a step in the right direction. Once the drink is no longer in danger of sloshing her he takes her by the hips and lifts her off him. He gets to his feet and his hands take her by the waist again. His injured hand aches. The fingers don't quite get the right grip, but they don't really have full mobility. They never will unfortunately. ]
Go on then. [ He holds her close as he backs her up through the crowd. Navigating through the spaces that the groups of people have created. Careful not to run her into anyone right now. ] Gimme a slap. [ Cause if she hasn't noticed his hands are right back on her. Creeping around to hold her backside slowly. ]
[She matches him step for step, her eyes locked on him, trusting him to guide her as they slowly walk towards the door. His fingers are slow and subtle, creeping around her hips, and Rosalind takes a moment to appreciate them. Large fingers, rough from years of doing god only knows what, and she can feel the heat of them through the thin material of her skirt.
She imagines what it will be like to have those fingers digging into her, gripping her wrists and pinning her down or plunging deep into her-- and oh, but there's a thought to keep her warm. How it would feel (will feel, and what a delicious inevitability it is) to have him deep in her, fingering her until she's squirming and whining and begging him to fuck her properly.
If she was any kind of respectable woman, she'd have wrenched his hands off by now. But Rosalind waits until they've slid back entirely, palms flat over the curve of her ass, ignoring her body's urging to push eagerly back into them.
That's for later.
It's a good slap she gives him. Not her hardest, but sharp and stinging, a punishment and a goading come-hither all at once. The resulting noise is loud enough to draw attention, and there's ringing silence within the bar. But that only lasts a moment; soon there's laughter, drunken and not entirely mean-spirited, as people settle in to watch the show they might or might not provide.
Rosalind rises to her toes, her hand dropping to grip the front of his shirt and tug him in close.]
Now . . . come along.
[She'll wrench away from out and walk out the door if he lets her. She's an apartment not too far from here, a modest place that she rents for times like these.]
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no subject
Date: 2018-03-12 06:11 am (UTC)Thank you.
[She really hadn't wanted to spend tonight tending to cuts and bruises. Rosalind settles, shifting her weight and turning her attention back to him.
And that's . . . she blinks, suddenly aware of the fact they're pressed up together. It's nothing obscene, nothing vulgar, but still she's very much aware of all the places their bodies are touching. She's very aware that he's a foot taller than her, and that her shirt isn't buttoned all the ay up to her collar. She's aware of where his hand is, pressing against her back, rough fingers felt through thin cotton, and she notices how she feels muscle pressed against her body, hard and battle-worn.
It's awfully tempting to run her fingers over him. The thought pops into her head, lecherous and inappropriate. It isn't that she's so opposed to some kind of tryst, but she won't throw herself forward, not for any man.
But though courtesy dictates she take a step back, Rosalind doesn't. Not just yet.]
I'd tell you to buy me a drink, but I've beat you there.
[Though her whiskey is almost gone now, and she can feel it coursing through her, only adding to her heat.]
So perhaps I ought to buy you one, hm?
no subject
Date: 2018-03-12 06:20 am (UTC)But they're still close. The man may be gone, but the closeness has not faded. They remain pressed together and Jamie has to hold his breath for a moment. It's not like he's never been near a woman before, but not quite like this. Laoghaire had been a lass, but a kiss was just a kiss. It was nothing more than that. Claire was the only woman he'd been this bloody close to for this long. This close to and let his mind run wild with curious and inappropriate thoughts.
When she speaks he focuses a bit more and he notes the buttons undone at the top of her shirt. But he doesn't linger on the sight. It'd be wrong. His heart seems to be trying to beat through his chest. He's almost certain she could feel it. ]
I wouldnae protest t' a drink.
[ He smiles at her, but he doesn't try to motion for anyone at the bar. He doesn't try to move away either. ]
Cannae drink alone though.
no subject
Date: 2018-03-12 06:25 am (UTC)[A few seconds pass, and then, without taking her eyes off him, Rosalind puts her glass to her lips. One quick movement is all it takes to finish off her glass, and though he'll be able to feel her shudder, that's not such a bad thing right now.
The whiskey leaves a flush to her cheeks, and god, but that will go to her head soon, but that doesn't matter, not when she's acting a touch competitive.]
Go get us something. I'll be waiting.
[It's an order, and she raises an eyebrow, waiting to see if he'll obey it or not. Honestly, she isn't certain if she wants him to or not. Sometimes, what Rosalind wants more than anything is not to get what she wants.]
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Date: 2018-03-12 06:32 am (UTC)If what she wants is refusal that's not difficult to obtain. Jamie's a little shit. Even on his worst days. Saying no simply because he was ordered isn't that difficult. He smiles at her and he gives her a look. He glances at the bar for half a second before he focuses right back on Rosalind. He doesn't seem to be racing over there to do as she ordered. Orders have never been a James Fraser specialty. ]
Yer a wee bit bossy.
[ The hand on the small of her back attempts to pull her in closer. The air feels heavier. Jamie's not sure why, but somehow leaning into this feeling is far better. ]
Ask a bit nicer.
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Date: 2018-03-12 06:37 am (UTC)If you're aiming to get me to say please, Jamie Fraser, you're going to have to try a little harder than that.
Are you going to obey or not?
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Date: 2018-03-12 06:44 am (UTC)I could make you say a great number of things, Rosalind. Please would certainly be one of 'em.
[ There's a smile that graces his lips. One that's assured and quite proud. He's a good man at his core, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a bit of bark to his bite. ]
Like I said. If ye ask nicer I'd certainly consider it.
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Date: 2018-03-12 06:49 am (UTC)Metaphorically. Against a wall or in the alley; bending her over the table or letting her drop to her knees . . . she's half a hundred different scenarios flitting through her mind, and her eyes dart over his expression as she thinks of them.
But this kind of game isn't fun if someone gives in so quickly. Rosalind squirms, ostensibly to shift her weight but mostly to tease.]
We'll see about that.
[A deliberate pause, and then:]
Will you buy me a drink?
[No please. That's for later. But it's at least a request.]
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Date: 2018-03-12 06:57 am (UTC)Jamie smiles when she finally phrases it like a request. A beat and he licks his lips. His tongue snaking out to run over them quickly before he nods. ] Aye. I will. [ He doesn't move just yet. Instead he makes a very obvious showing of looking at her lips for a moment before nodding again. ] Ye do listen. Good girl. [ The words leave his mouth before he contains them. He back steps away from her finally and goes to the bar.
But Jamie doesn't linger there. He doesn't stay with those strangers and the bartender any longer than he has to. Instead he returns with two fresh drinks. His bum hand barely curls around the second, but it doesn't bother him. ]
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Date: 2018-03-12 07:05 am (UTC)Good girl, and she glares at him as he heads to the bar, shifting her weight and pressing her legs together to stop the ache. But she stays still, waiting for him to return.
She's careful when she takes the drink from his injured hand, but there's a swiftness to the way she takes the other. It's not that she actually wants to get so drunk, but she's indignant and combative and in the mood to show him up.]
Well done.
It'd serve you right if I took these and went off to find some other man for the evening.
[It's odd, Rosalind had once thought, how so many times people say what they don't mean. They'll crouch it in metaphor and hide behind false words, and she's never really understood why. Much better to be blunt and straightforward, isn't it?
But sometimes she sees the advantages. Like now. Because what she threatens is to go and find someone else; what she means is that he ought to put a claim in her before she strays.]
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Date: 2018-03-12 07:12 am (UTC)He's close enough to a table. Close enough to fall back into a chair. For half a second it looks like Jamie's about to dare her to do such a thing. Daring her to flounce off with their drinks and finds another man. But that's not Jamie's intention. He's perfectly fine with claiming her. He's never been a man that shares well. Not when he sees something he wants.
His kilt fans out over his legs and he reaches out to catch her around the waist. He pulls her quickly to him and right onto his lap. If she wanted him to lay claim then he'd happily lay claim. ]
I dinnae think so. I went and got us these drinks. I intend for us to drink 'em together, ye hear?
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Date: 2018-03-12 07:23 am (UTC)[She's a slender woman and he's muscled enough; it's the work of a moment for him to pull her into his lap, and she glares at him, though there's none of the icy loathing he's seen directed at others.]
You're damned lucky we're not in Olympia.
[Because there, she'd fuss and fight and squirm until he let go, because she has a reputation there. She's a proper scientist there, well known and respected, and though standards are far more lax in this universe, Rosalind has no intention of testing their limits.
Here, though . . . here, they're the least interesting thing. No one's watching them, not when they're so very tame compared to some of the spectacles around them. So Rosalind glares, but she doesn't try and fight her way free just yet.]
And you're skating on thin ice.
[It's a warning as she sets one glass down on the table. The liquid had spilled when he'd tugged her close, and she licks her fingers, cleaning them off, perfectly aware of what she's doing.
It's a quick action, her tongue darting out against her skin for just a few seconds before she sets her hand down.]
Don't patronize me.
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Date: 2018-03-12 07:31 am (UTC)[ Might take a bit longer. More dedication and perhaps an entirely different approach. But right now the absolute last thing that Jamie wants is for Rosalind to climb off his lap. There's a pressure now that seems to be building. He can feel her. Everywhere. He wants nothing more than to wrap those legs around him entirely. To see what other sounds he could get her to make. Because the way she says his name is almost hypnotic for the Scot.
His head tilts as she insists he's skating on thin ice. Rosalind is a powerful woman. If she didn't want something she'd have no problem telling Jamie that. It's the only reason he's carried on like this. Knowing that he's not truly pushing beyond any limits. One hand rests on her thigh and the other on her hip. His brow raises when she goes about cleaning the alcohol from her fingers. His breathing a bit rougher as he watches. ]
Wouldnae dream of it. [ He lets out a sigh. ] Though it's good t' see that ye use yer mouth for other things than bossing me about.
[ He looks down as a bead of moisture rolls down his thumb. The sloshed drink splashed onto him. He lifts his good hand with his thumb extended. ]
Seems ye got me as well. Do ye mind?
[ He could use with a bit of cleaning. ]
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Date: 2018-03-12 07:41 am (UTC)She glances down at his thumb, one eyebrow raising again. A few deliberate seconds pass, long and silent, before she shifts in his lap again, squirming pointedly as she settles in. She's well aware of him beneath her, and more to the point, well aware of what it is that's building between them.
If he wants to fight, they'll fight. And that means using every dirty trick she knows.]
For your information, Jamie Fraser . . . calling me a good girl is absolutely patronizing. At least admit to your crimes if you're going to commit them.
[She thinks she might just scream if he says that to her again under the right circumstances. Rosalind finally sets her drink down, her eyes locked on his. He really is built similarly to her, with red hair and blue eyes . . . she's more freckles than he does, she knows, but she hides hers beneath makeup. Him, though . . . it's no wonder he thought she was from his country. She looks like she ought to fit right in, and she wonders how often he's thought about that.
Slender fingers wrap around his wrist, and she draws his hand up.]
And I'll boss you as long as I please.
[But with that said, her tongue darts out, sliding against his thumb with deliberate languidness. She's hardly obscene about it, but rather simply efficient, doing precisely as he asks and nothing more. And yet he'll still be effected, she's certain, because her eyes are glittering as she watches him.]
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Date: 2018-03-12 08:03 am (UTC)The movement doesn't go unrewarded. If Jamie were trousers it might be a bit difficult for him to remain in them. But the kilt does it's best to hide everything. But Jamie doesn't have anything on underneath the kilt. Apparently undergarments and Highlanders don't mesh well. When she brings up how he called her a good girl he doesn't respond. Not yet anyways. He doesn't immediately jump to admitting them like she said he should. Instead he waits.
His mouth opens just a touch as she lifts his hand and once she finishes speaking and her tongue slides out like that he exhales roughly. Neither one fairing well against the advancements of the other one. He waits until she's done before he leans forward. For half a second he's going to her lips, but then he tips his head and instead his lips are near her ear. ]
But ye like when I call ye that. I can hear it. In ye voice.
[ A moment ticks by. ]
Is nae patronizing if ye are my good girl. Which ye are. It's just honesty.
[ A soft and short laugh. ]
And what a good girl ye are.
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Date: 2018-03-12 05:40 pm (UTC)What should she say? Denying it seems both stupid and laughable. He's absolutely right: she does like it, very much, enough so that her breath had shaken in her next exhale as he'd laughed quietly in her ear. Enough that she knows he'll laugh when they finally tumble into bed, because she's ridiculously wet already all from the way he's talking. But eagerly agreeing is far too shameful for her to consider.]
Am I yours, then? You tug me into your lap and that's that, is that how it works?
[There. Neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and she turns her head, catching his eye again, something challenging in her gaze.
He has his wife and she has her Robert, and so that's a bit of a misleading question, she knows. Neither of them think this is anything more than it is: two friends enjoying one another, nothing more or less.
But for tonight . . . yes, she decides, yes, she'd be quite content to be his for the night. One possessive, hungry evening, where they throw themselves at one another with no delusions as to what it might or might not lead to. She'd be content to be someone else's for that time.
Rosalind sips at her drink, waiting for an answer-- and then, pointedly, squirms again, shifting just enough to tease without being obvious. Robert had always enjoyed her hips and backside; she wonders smugly if Jamie can really say the same. He's surely going to run into trouble soon if she keeps moving, but that seems a problem for him, not her.]
And I'm not good.
[That's likely the alcohol talking. She isn't good, but she wouldn't have insisted on that normally.]
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Date: 2018-03-13 05:39 am (UTC)[ Completely legitimate. Somewhat. Neither belongs to the other. They know that. She's talked about Robert. Told him about the man's heart. He told her about his wife. They know that it's some sort of game for the evening. Something that the two of them can enjoy for a spell. It's not forever. They aren't trying to build a lasting relationship here though. They're friends and they'll get a bit closer with this, but it's not going to automatically make anything they say law.
But tonight. Tonight they're going to make an exception. They haven't told each other, but they've made the decision in their heads and they both tell by the others actions it's mutual. They aren't going around and around for something that will never happen. They're both very aware of what they're pushing for. What they're dancing around because that's half the fun isn't it? The anticipation. The challenges that you can present.
Jamie watches her take a sip. Drawn to her mouth more and more. He watches the way her throat bobs as she swallows her sip. She gives another squirm and the muscles in his neck tighten. He can safely say though he does enjoy her backside. But he's yet to really see it. Yet to truly gaze upon it. So far he's just enjoying the way it wiggles about. ]
Nae good then? [ He smiles. ] Bad then are ye? If ye dinnae want t' be my good girl--[ He leans towards her. His nose brushing hers. ]--do ye wanna be my bad girl?
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Date: 2018-03-13 05:52 am (UTC)[It's a groan both mortified and turned on all at once, with the latter only adding to the former (because how hideous, that she gets off on this; how utterly humiliating, she hates it as much as she loves it, and it's all she can do not to shift around again). She tips her head forward, bumping their foreheads together, her eyes closing for a moment as she ignores how red her face has gone.]
You're ridiculous.
[Not that she minds. One leg crosses tightly over the other. That's a movement purely for herself, though she'd be lying if she said she wasn't aware of how it made her skirt slide up her thigh a bit. Rosalind tips her head back, glancing down at him with a little smile.]
And I think I'll let you decide by the end of our drink which I'll be for the evening. But for now . . .
[She glances around them once more, but really, no one is looking at them. For all anyone knows, they're nothing more than a couple, happy and tame, a girl sitting in her man's lap as he whispers in her ear. There's absolutely nothing scandalous about them, and there's such a relief to that anonymity.
She settles back against him, relaxing for the first time tonight.]
It'd be rather petty of me not to at least finish this off. If you want to entertain me while I do, I'd be pleased.
And I'm fairly certain you want to please me.
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Date: 2018-03-13 06:01 am (UTC)Her crossing her legs does give Jamie a little bit of a hint. He doesn't look down immediately. Instead he waits for Rosalind to withdraw and then his gaze travels down. Examining more of her exposed thigh before it lifts again. He's already decided. He'll make her a bit of both. Best of both worlds. Why deny themselves one or the other? Tonight is for them. They're allowed to be a bit greedy. Even with each other. ]
Entertain ye. [ He makes a humming sound as he moves his hand to rest higher on her thigh. ] I could think of something. [ Jamie squeezes her thigh and his hand drops to her knee to get a grip. She crossed them and he uncrosses them. But he doesn't go for anything too risque. Instead Jamie just runs his finger tips up and down her inner thigh now that he's created space. Sometimes going underneath the bottom of her skirt before dropping down. ]
But ye are right. I aim to please ye good and proper tonight. [ He licks his lips. ] And perhaps a bit in the morn as well.
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Date: 2018-03-13 06:11 am (UTC)She won't let him go very much farther, because they are in public. But though Rosalind has no desire for anyone but her partner to see her enjoying herself, she does like the potential of being caught. It's a delicate balance, but he seems more than capable of walking that thin line.]
Perhaps doesn't suit me.
[It's a falsely haughty tone, lessened by the way she's clearly amused. Rosalind finally turns from him, glancing out at the others, her glass lifting to her lips again. Quietly, then, so only he'll hear:]
But I think you'll do it regardless after tonight. I think, once I have you against a wall with your prick in my mouth, you'll do most anything to get your hands back on me.
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Date: 2018-03-13 06:26 am (UTC)It's lovely to hear her say that perhaps isn't for her. That she intends to have him please her just as well come sun up. When her voice drops that low and she speaks again a shiver winds down Jamie's spine. He lets out a sigh and swallows hard to maintain any sort of composure. The lack of tight trousers does make it difficult to make out Jamie's growing erection, but she might start to notice a bit of something. Having a kilt does have it's benefits. ]
Given that I've nae taken my hands off ye practically since I arrived--I'd say ye're right.
[ He does look towards the exit of this tavern. His mind swimming with the image she painted for him. He watched the way her tongue worked over his thumb and her fingers. He watched the way she sipped. He wanted to see what else she was capable of. Needed to. ]
Finish yer drink, Rosalind, we've places t' be.
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Date: 2018-03-13 06:32 am (UTC)[She says it lazily, smug thanks to the hardness she can feel growing beneath her. She's aching as badly as he is, but she's always been petty in some regards; so long as he's needy, she'll be as sadistic as she pleases. And right now, Rosalind finds, what she really, truly wants? Is for Jamie to get his temper up.
After all, he'd shown lovely initiative before. But what Rosalind craves is a fight. She wants him hungry to put her in her place, just so she can be certain that he'll be ready and willing for her to argue and squirm and battle him properly to see who ends up on top.]
Don't you like me in your lap? Savor it, sweetness. I won't let this kind of thing happen often, even if we continue this beyond tonight.
[Which would be nice. She likes having steady partners, especially when they've a romantic connection of their own. It means there's even less risk of her partner attaching to her in ways she wouldn't want.
Languidly, lazily, she drinks again.]
Now, let's see . . . shall I have you fuck me against a wall or bending me over the table first?
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Date: 2018-03-14 01:03 am (UTC)Jamie's nodding his head along, but he's not agreeing with anything. Not really. Instead his hand rests on the small of her back. ] Ye'll be in my lap a bit, Rosalind. [ Just a fact. His hand smooths up and down the small of her back before he lifts it back, drops it a touch lower and smacks the top of her bottom. She wanted his temper to get up. She wanted a fight. She wanted him hungry to put her in her place. Which he has no problem doing. ]
Dinnae make me ask again. Up with ye. Or I'll take ye over my knee in front of all these people.
[ Whatever fear he may have of developing an audience doesn't exist right now. Not when she's wiggling about so freely. Not when she looks at him with this burning smugness that makes him want to push back. ]
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Date: 2018-03-14 01:23 am (UTC)[And unlike her little gasp of his name before, this is entirely full of indignation and incredulity. Rosalind stiffens, her back arching sharply, jerking in his lap. It wasn't painful; it was barely more than a swat. But it's not the pain that has her reacting, but the absolute audacity of what he's just done. Her thoughts stuttering, and distantly she's aware that her mouth has dropped open, her cheeks bright red as she stares at him. He'd just-- in the middle of everyone, he'd-- and how dare he, she swears her ears are ringing as she stares at him, how dare he--
Never mind that threat. Rosalind pants at him, her fingers clenched tightly around her drink.]
You wouldn't dare.
[Would he? She doesn't know. She really doesn't, and that's as thrilling as it is horrifying. She suspects he wouldn't if she made it clear she'd rather die than have such a thing done to her in front of others, but beyond a hard no . . .
He likely would dare, wouldn't he? But she waits for an answer, her body tense. She's set her drink down, though, which indicates she's prepared to leap to her feet if he indicates he really will turn her over.]
Put your hand to me again in public, Jamie Fraser, and I swear I'll slap you.
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Date: 2018-03-14 01:59 am (UTC)His brows raise when she insists he wouldn't dare. Maybe. Maybe not. Neither really know. He watches her set the drink down and he knows that's a step in the right direction. Once the drink is no longer in danger of sloshing her he takes her by the hips and lifts her off him. He gets to his feet and his hands take her by the waist again. His injured hand aches. The fingers don't quite get the right grip, but they don't really have full mobility. They never will unfortunately. ]
Go on then. [ He holds her close as he backs her up through the crowd. Navigating through the spaces that the groups of people have created. Careful not to run her into anyone right now. ] Gimme a slap. [ Cause if she hasn't noticed his hands are right back on her. Creeping around to hold her backside slowly. ]
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Date: 2018-03-14 02:15 am (UTC)She imagines what it will be like to have those fingers digging into her, gripping her wrists and pinning her down or plunging deep into her-- and oh, but there's a thought to keep her warm. How it would feel (will feel, and what a delicious inevitability it is) to have him deep in her, fingering her until she's squirming and whining and begging him to fuck her properly.
If she was any kind of respectable woman, she'd have wrenched his hands off by now. But Rosalind waits until they've slid back entirely, palms flat over the curve of her ass, ignoring her body's urging to push eagerly back into them.
That's for later.
It's a good slap she gives him. Not her hardest, but sharp and stinging, a punishment and a goading come-hither all at once. The resulting noise is loud enough to draw attention, and there's ringing silence within the bar. But that only lasts a moment; soon there's laughter, drunken and not entirely mean-spirited, as people settle in to watch the show they might or might not provide.
Rosalind rises to her toes, her hand dropping to grip the front of his shirt and tug him in close.]
Now . . . come along.
[She'll wrench away from out and walk out the door if he lets her. She's an apartment not too far from here, a modest place that she rents for times like these.]
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