not_a_moonie | Room 302, Thursday Afternoon

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Room 302, Thursday Afternoon

The nice thing about having a room to yourself was that you could do whatever the hell you wanted. Today Alana had a little bit too much restless energy to sit and read, so she played with her music app until it started blaring something that made her want to pogo madly and bounce off the furniture.

So you been to school
For a year or two
And you know you've seen it all
In daddy's car
Thinkin' you'll go far
Back east your type don't crawl ...

She still wasn't a hundred percent sure what a Cambodia was, but whatever. Anything that made her shout along joyfully worked just fine. She hadn't bothered closing her door, but that worked just fine, too.

[OOC: Open post, open door. Dante thread is NSFW.]

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"It's just people, Dante," Alana told him. "We have better technology -- seriously, you guys are primitive that way -- and more sentient species, and there are these robot people with TVs for heads running around, but in the end? It's just people."

She leaned in to kiss his neck, thinking about what she was saying. "The stars seem closer there, though. I do miss that."

He stretched his arm out and draped it lazily around her shoulders. "I'll bet lots of tiny shit like that is different," Dante mused, careful to tilt his head towards her without blocking her off from his neck. That was kinda nice.

Then he rewound the conversation in his head and blinked. "...Though, really, robot TV people?"

It was kind of nice, wasn't it? Which was why Alana nipped a second kiss before she answered.

"Robot TV people," she nodded. "They're ... I dunno, we call them Bluebloods? They're all named things like Duke Robot III and Princess Robot XII. Seem pretty weird to us, too, when I think about it."

"But... what are the TVs for?"

Dante was seriously weighing the questions vs. getting in on this kissing thing, but decided that was just about weird enough to weigh things in the former case's favor.

"They show little videos that show what they're thinking about," Alana informed him. (Slightly impatiently -- she wanted to get to the kissing.) "Like, if they're talking about a battle, you'll get blood and guts on the screen. When they're calm they're just blank."

"That is so weird," Dante said. "Huh. Think they show porn when they're--?"

But that was about as far as he was carrying that line of thought, because hey, why think about other people's porn when you're right here?

He shook his head. "Weird," he repeated, and then he slid his hand over to cup her cheek, leaning in to give her a contemplative kiss. Which mostly meant 'not completely aggressive', when he was involved.

"They do," Alana told him. "Don't ask me how I know that, but they do."

She returned the kiss, sweetly but with some heat. "They're weird. And we should close the door."

Dante let out an over-the-top sigh. "I guess I can do that," he teased.

He stole another kiss before he grudgingly pulled away, wandering across the room to shut the door.

And, idly, take off his shirt. He might as well cut other interruptions off at the knees while he could.

Alana had seen attractive guys without a shirt before. That wasn't why she was staring at Dante like he was made of pizza and she was starving. But, well, he was very attractive, and Saturday night she hadn't really been in a state to properly appreciate it, and ...

She licked her lips and reached her fingertips up to tease them against his stomach as he got back to the bed. "I like your tattoo."

It was like an arrow pointing right at his spectacular ass.

And he'd grown it all himself, too.

Dante grinned at her. "Thanks," he said, settling back in - and sliding a hand onto her waist so he could tug her closer. "I've been told it's pretty nice."

"It is. I feel bad for you that you can't see it without a mirror," Alana said, rolling toward him. "I especially like how it points at your ass."

She was not particularly subtle today, no. But with the way she was kissing along his collarbone, it hardly mattered.

Dante let out an appreciative snicker. Hey, he was a simple guy. Who was taking advantage of the situation to sneak his hands under the back of Alana's shirt, running them upwards.

Being a little careful around the wings area. He wasn't sure he remembered how sensitive that was.

"You're also always welcome to check out my ass," he said generously.

"Mmmm, thanks, but then I can't kiss you," Alana said, squirming against him and helping him take her shirt off in the process. (Human boys weren't great with blind wing-handling in general, she'd found.) "It's a whole dilemma thing."

Not that she didn't intend to have fun trying to solve the conundrum. Right now, for example, rubbing a free hand over the curve of his bottom was almost as good as seeing it would have been.

Dante helpfully tossed her shirt aside. "I know it's got to be difficult," he said solemnly, pressing closer under her touch.

"Good to know my drunk memory isn't completely shot," he added, "You look fucking fantastic with your shirt off." Enough reason to nibble on her bottom lip, right? Right.

"Nope, I'm hot without the beer goggles -- shot goggles? -- too," Alana said lightly, and then didn't say much at all because he was a very good kisser and therefore she she should be kissing, not talking, right?

The biting was nice; she repaid it by sliding her nails along the skin of his back, pressing just hard enough to be sure he'd really feel it.

Dante made an appreciative little noise into her mouth, his hips rocking into hers. Nails - one of his top three favorite things when he was naked. "Wonder if some of the other stuff holds," he mused, sliding past her mouh for a moment to nip at her ear. "I remember you tasting pretty good."

Alana's heartbeat quickened, and her nipples went stiff against his chest. "I'm not gonna stop you if you want to find out," she said, half a giggle in her voice. (She was gigglier when she was sober.) "You know. For science."

Dante grinned. He pressed a kiss against her neck, and slid his hands back up, this time along her sides, until his thumbs settled over her nipples. "Science's important," he said, and kissed her neck again. "I think I'll check."

Alana closed her eyes and made a small, satisfied noise at his closeness and the pressure of his thumbs. No-strings sex was the best breakup cure ever.

"Make sure you fill out a full report on your findings," she reminded him, already reaching down to get rid of her shoes and socks. It was awkward to do without looking, but looking would have meant pulling away from his hands and mouth. "Otherwise it's not good science."

Dante laughed softly, making a good and mostly useful attempt at taking at least one of his boots off by pushing it off with his other foot. "Right, right," he said, rubbing gentle circles over her breasts.

He dipped his head down and kissed between her collarbones. "I solemnly swear I will do this right," he said.

"I'm going to hold you to that promise," Alana murmured, after a tiny gasp at the pleasure of that kiss. "Maybe even return the favor, since I'm pretty sure I owe you."

It seemed like the nails thing worked on him, so she scratched at his back again, now drawing spirals toward the top of his jeans.

"Eh," Dante said, his eyes sliding shut and his breath hitching some. Seriously. Nails. Awesome. "Who's keeping score?"

He left a trail of wet kisses down towards her breast, one hand sliding back down to her waist.

"I guess not us," Alana whispered, and nibbled his ear, and didn't make a 'scoring' pun because she couldn't think of a good one. The hand that wasn't scratching at his back buried itself in his hair, and she sucked in her stomach to improve his access to her belt.

Well, that was an invitation if he'd ever seen one. Dante moved his hand down, under her stomach, until his fingers had slipped just underneath her belt. "Though I won't say no if you go for it later," he said, before his m.outh sought out a nipple.

"You'd let me go down on you, huh?" Alana asked, amused. "Generous of you."

And then she gasped, because there was a mouth on her nipple and fingers moving south. Her hips pressed insistently into Dante's hand as her fingertips convulsed against him.

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