secondchances | return to paradisa

He's chuckling again, and in typical Ezio style, even though his shirt is open midway to his chest already, he reaches up and undoes a couple buttons one-handed so she can get her hand right in there if she wants.

"Enjoy yourself a minute," he says, resuming kissing her, but this time along her jaw and down the side of her neck.

Talk about a hint. She can't help but feel like some inexperienced schoolgirl next to him and his mile long list of women, but if he wants her to touch, she's more than happy to do just that. She lets her palm side over his chest, settling somewhere on his side against his ribs.

"Oh, don't you worry about that," she says, but relaxes, letting her head roll to the side so he can kiss away. "That's nice."

He probably doesn't need to be told with the way she's melting into him.

With a man of his experience, at least, she's in good hands. Ezio kisses his way from under her ear down to her collarbone, and then back up the column of her throat once more. Her skin tastes nice. In just the right spot, he feels the thump of her pulse and he lingers there a moment, and a pleasant rumble rolls from the back of his throat.

And the more she's melting into him, the more he's going to be digging into her thigh, too.

Her pulse is fast, but it's all the thrill of the moment. He was always good at making her pulse race when he happened to be particularly charming, and it was annoying because he knew damn well what he was doing, but to let herself give into it now is ridiculously liberating.

She thinks she would reach back and do him the favor of removing her bra so he can let his hands wander some more, but she remembers she's in a sports bra. Of course. Oh, well. The hand that isn't in his shirt tips his face back up, so she can kiss him again.

It takes him a moment to remember the intricacies of modern bras. Still groping her through her clothes, his fingers meander over the centre back as if he might find a clip, but there's nothing, and he's guessing it's not one of those fancy ones with the front clasp. If it's not coming off, fine. As she captures his mouth again, he fishes the hem of her shirt out of her tightened belt so he can feel the warmth of her skin up her back. Normally he might be going through the paces, dishing out attention out of habit, but here it feels exploratory, new. It's always different with a girlfriend; it's incomparable with someone with this kind of history. These kinds of bonds.

That touch to her back is such an obvious search for her bra clasp that she can't help but laugh. They might not always be on the same wavelength, being from such different times, but here's one of the times they are.

"Sorry," she laughs against his mouth, body shaking with the effort not to outright crack up. "Real slick attempt, though."

He grins, rocking her a little as he shifts his weight to sit a little deeper on the step.

"Every day I discover some new garment designed to keep me out of it," he rumbles, and he runs his fingers up and down her spine. Every time he does, she might feel the cool profile of the hidden blade flush against his inner arm. "But I'll spare you my usual work-around this time."

You don't become a vigilante without having some sort of thing for danger. She sort of likes feeling that hidden blade, knowing it's there, and trusting him entirely to be careful.

Shifting to get comfortable, she rests her arms on his shoulders.

"Asking might get you the same result without me yelling at you."

She's less worried about getting stabbed, more worried about losing a bra and not finding another.

"What would the fun of that be?" he teases, and he withdraws his hands to pick up her hem and lift it up her ribs. Up and over, girl.

She lifts her arms and helps him get her out of that shirt. And there's the offender: a black sports bra, keeping the girls in their place.

There is so much sweat under there. Gross. Hopefully, the impending boobs are enough to distract them both from that.

"This is one of the weirder days of my life," she says, going in for another kiss. Yeah, making out on the stairs of the castle? Weird. Totally up there.

He tosses her shirt aside. Ah, the thing. The thing he doesn't remember the name of, but the ones girls wear doing their athletics. He's not bothered by sweat, and he lets her kiss him once more before he wants to lean her back in his arms and kiss down her collarbone, right to her cleavage. This shit is messy, dolcezza, you can't be having big hair-tossing orgasms without getting at least a little sweaty.

"Weird?" he repeats, between kisses. He knows what it means, he's just pretending.

Steph knows him well enough, but it's still up to debate as to whether that sigh one of exasperation or from the kissing. But she'll humor him.

"This. You, face in my chest, on the stairs," because that would have a snowball's chance in hell happening if not for their particular situation.

She runs her fingers through that thick mop of hair.

"Always kinda imagined this happening in a bedroom, I think."

He lifts his head up from her cleavage, but just enough to meet her eyes. He adopts a mischievous grin.

"Just say the word," Ezio says. "I will spirit you to mine in a heartbeat."

And because he can't resist, he kisses her chest again.

"Or yours."

"I'm just looking out for your back," she warns with a grin of her own, pushing him against the stairs just a little.

That, and maybe being out in the open would be less distracting if she knew what exactly was going on with the castle. A room feels safer as long as there's not a skeleton in it.

"You'll change your mind if we look for my room now," she says, teasing. Mostly. She has no idea where that is. "Yours makes more sense."

"I would never," he says.

He gives a low little chuckle at being pushed, and then he retaliates by sweeping her up by the waist, clearly intending to just carry her there. He won't dispute his room -- he had thought maybe she'd consider it a little too, ah, public use -- but he supposes he might have to earn hers.

If they even stay in the castle, that is.

Him picking her up always tickled her, but now she can have all the fun she wants, right? And in her books, that means managing a kiss just to see how hard it is to distract him. They're both limber, quick people. A tumble down the stairs wouldn't be that bad.

She knows him a close, dear friend. Figuring him out as--well, she's not sure what she'll be calling him--this is exciting. She knows what makes him laugh and what manages to get beneath his skin, but she doesn't know really how he likes to be kissed to teased.

He grins into that kiss, and he ends up tucking her against his hip so he has the other hand free to stoop and pick up her shirt. No easy feat, mind, but he's always been an upper-body kind of guy, with all that climbing around. She can do her worst. Plus, with only one arm around her, she'll probably be more inclined to hang on -- he knows all the tricks.

"Away we go, then!"

Stephanie makes a sound like she's worried they'll topple over, but then they don't, so she can laugh. Laugh, and then help distribute her weight by wrapping her legs around him. All that running around has made her a lower-body kind of gal, so he can enjoy those thighs.

"And you were just going to change the topic and go to the kitchen."

He shrugs casually, fully appreciative of those powerful legs of hers, and he heads down the stairs.

"I wanted to give you a chance to say no," he remarks. "Just in case you did not find me to be a very charming and handsome lover who was prepared to seduce you at a moment's notice, of course."

"That's all? You weren't nervous?"

She smiles sweetly at him.

"Never," he replies, boosting her a little higher. He drapes her shirt over his other shoulder so he has a hand free to adjust his pants because, ah, reasons. "I have never known nervousness in my life."

"I could have been appalled. Rejected you," she urges, unconvinced.

"The best relationship you've ever had could have gone kaboom."

“Why? We’ve had plenty of disagreements before. Why should my loving you be any different?”

That slips a little serious, but he presses a kiss to her neck, too.

"Maaaaybe, just maybe, rejection from me could have irrevocably hurt your feelings."

She's only teasing. She doesn't know what it would be like to actually reject him or tell him off, because clearly that's not what happened.

"I can only be wounded so many times, dolcezza," he says, and he bumps her with his nose. "How can you imagine such cruelty!"

His room is here, and he turns the handle and brings her in. See, you get carried over the threshold and everything. Real romantic.

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