"My kind of hero, at least," she replies. Her lodging isn't too far, and she ramps up her smile as they get into the lobby, sparing the man at the desk an acknowledging look and then looking up at Arthur like she just adores him. Nothing untoward going on here, no sir. She leads Arthur up the stairs, not planning on being stopped.
"Look at how good we are," she replies, amused, and she unwinds herself from his arm. She puts out her hands to take his coat. "And how often do you stay in a real room, huh?"
He takes it off, rolling his shoulders now that he's rid of the constricting fabric. There's a reason he doesn't usually go around wearing suits, and it's good to remind himself.
"Not all that often. Go into town for a bath every now and then, get a haircut, a nice meal."
Tess hangs his jacket over the back of a chair, and then sits down on the edge of the bed and hikes her skirt up to her ankles to unbutton her boots. Sixteen buttons in total takes a moment.
"Enjoy it whenever you can, then," she remarks. "I don't mind roughing it but the novelty wears off quick."
His are a little easier. He looks nice tonight, of course, and the shoes
fit the bill: just a few laces, and he takes them off by hand instead of
just kicking at a heel with his toe.
He peels off his socks and stuffs them in his shoes, and then nods at her.
Her turn - but: "If this is headin' in the direction I would like it to,
Tess - you had a lot to drink, and I don't wanna be the kinda man to take
advantage."
"Some scoundrel you are," she replies, and she hikes her skirt up as far as her garters, revealing that she isn't wearing any drawers. She unbuckles one garter, then the other. "I would've had you the first time we met."
Now that is a sight. Arthur really doesn't, often - he's
hard-pressed to remember the last time he was with a woman, and it's been
longer still since he was with a woman he liked. He flushes underneath his
trimmed beard, eyes flicking to her thighs, the long expanse of her legs.
"Mmhmm," she hums, pulling off her stockings and dropping them aside. "I know what I like."
That little flush is cute, too. Her gaze roves over the line of his shoulders, his arms. It's one thing to be behind him on a horse or to link an arm with his, feeling out how big he is under his shirt. It's another entirely to have him undressing.
"Keep going," she says, playfully. "Then you can unwrap the rest of me yourself."
"You are some woman," he says, not for the first time, and likely not for
the last. His fingers are sure on the buttons, and then on the cummberbund
around his waist. He stands up to drop that, revealing the broad expanse of
his chest, his big arms. The hair on his chest and stomach is light of
color, lighter than his beard.
She chuckles under her breath, biting back the temptation to tease him more, and she gets to her feet, moving right over to him. She can't resist touching, letting her hands settle on his hips, sliding up his sides.
Tess runs her hands up his sides, up his chest –– a good excuse to touch as much as get her arms out of the way for him to tug at her laces. Her bodice comes loose and she shucks it off, leaving her in nothing but a gossamer-thin chemise and her skirt, which drops with a single unclasped hook.
"I think we're going to keep getting along perfectly, then," she smirks.
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"Hold on to that thought while you sneak me into your rooms," he says, cheerily. "'Heroic'."
He snorts and shakes his head.
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He tips his hat at the receptionist and easily follows her upstairs. He knows how well she can spin a tale - he fell for it himself.
They're not stopped. Who would dare to? Once the door is locked behind them he takes off his hat and grins at her. "Mission accomplished."
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He takes it off, rolling his shoulders now that he's rid of the constricting fabric. There's a reason he doesn't usually go around wearing suits, and it's good to remind himself.
"Not all that often. Go into town for a bath every now and then, get a haircut, a nice meal."
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"Enjoy it whenever you can, then," she remarks. "I don't mind roughing it but the novelty wears off quick."
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He won't disguise the way his eyes flit to her ankles, to her nimble fingers.
"I like the comfort for a couple days a month, but if I ain't out between those days I get antsy. Real annoyed."
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"We can't have you fussy, so we'll just have to trade off. I visit you and then you visit me," she says.
She gives him an obvious glance-over and then leans back on her hands.
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"Time for me to return the favor, lose a layer?"
His are a little easier. He looks nice tonight, of course, and the shoes fit the bill: just a few laces, and he takes them off by hand instead of just kicking at a heel with his toe.
"I think I'd like that. The trade-off."
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"Best of both worlds."
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He peels off his socks and stuffs them in his shoes, and then nods at her. Her turn - but: "If this is headin' in the direction I would like it to, Tess - you had a lot to drink, and I don't wanna be the kinda man to take advantage."
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"Some scoundrel you are," she replies, and she hikes her skirt up as far as her garters, revealing that she isn't wearing any drawers. She unbuckles one garter, then the other. "I would've had you the first time we met."
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Now that is a sight. Arthur really doesn't, often - he's hard-pressed to remember the last time he was with a woman, and it's been longer still since he was with a woman he liked. He flushes underneath his trimmed beard, eyes flicking to her thighs, the long expanse of her legs.
"You woulda had me, huh?"
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That little flush is cute, too. Her gaze roves over the line of his shoulders, his arms. It's one thing to be behind him on a horse or to link an arm with his, feeling out how big he is under his shirt. It's another entirely to have him undressing.
"Keep going," she says, playfully. "Then you can unwrap the rest of me yourself."
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"You are some woman," he says, not for the first time, and likely not for the last. His fingers are sure on the buttons, and then on the cummberbund around his waist. He stands up to drop that, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, his big arms. The hair on his chest and stomach is light of color, lighter than his beard.
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"Come on, lady, keep it together," he grumbles, ducking his head.
"Get over here so I can return the favor."
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"I'd love that, too."
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"Well," he says, his own hands going to the laces on her bodice, "I do want you to get what you want. I've a vested interest in it, in fact."
He wants to lift her up and throw her onto the bed - not to make it rough, or to dominate her, but to get quickly to the passion he feels for her.
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"I think we're going to keep getting along perfectly, then," she smirks.
All yours, outlaw.