"Are you." It's in no way a question; his grin gets just that much more sly as he takes another step forward, then another and another until he's right by her side, kneeling, pushing the hair back behind her ear.
Then he leans forward and whispers a suggestion so outrageous, so private, so full of innuendo that it almost makes him blush but he can't help it: Faye brings it out in him. After rocking back on his heels, he smiles again and shrugs, one eyebrow raised in suggestion, and now it's his turn to study her.
And he takes his time doing it, starting with her eyes and letting them travel down and down and down, lingering on all the right spots, then up again until he's transfixed by the perfect plum of her lips. His stomach tightens with memory and a little bit of hopeful anticipation and he has to laugh at himself for it: he spent a long time at this place before his relationship with Faye moved to this new and different level, and while they've always had a pretty torrid flirtation going, he never imagined it would turn into... this. He's not even sure how to classify what they have, but he doesn't have to label it if he doesn't want to. It's just what's happened with Faye, and it makes him very happy.
It doesn't look like it's bothering her either. From the casual way her arm drapes over the chair to the way her legs cross -- and they go on forever, her legs, until they disappear into the cuffs of those little white boots -- to the smile on her face, she's just about the image of smug satisfaction.
He happens to think she makes the perfect poster girl for it.
Often, when he contemplates this relationship of theirs, he feels like he's won some sort of contest he didn't know he'd entered. There are plenty of men at this place and a lot are more rugged, more virile, more handsome, more macho. Faye probably could have had almost any one of them just by gesturing them over with one finger, but he's the one she chooses to stay with.
Of all people, he's the one. Despite all his flaws, she's here, and he's... absolutely enchanted by the whole idea.
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Then he leans forward and whispers a suggestion so outrageous, so private, so full of innuendo that it almost makes him blush but he can't help it: Faye brings it out in him. After rocking back on his heels, he smiles again and shrugs, one eyebrow raised in suggestion, and now it's his turn to study her.
And he takes his time doing it, starting with her eyes and letting them travel down and down and down, lingering on all the right spots, then up again until he's transfixed by the perfect plum of her lips. His stomach tightens with memory and a little bit of hopeful anticipation and he has to laugh at himself for it: he spent a long time at this place before his relationship with Faye moved to this new and different level, and while they've always had a pretty torrid flirtation going, he never imagined it would turn into... this. He's not even sure how to classify what they have, but he doesn't have to label it if he doesn't want to. It's just what's happened with Faye, and it makes him very happy.
It doesn't look like it's bothering her either. From the casual way her arm drapes over the chair to the way her legs cross -- and they go on forever, her legs, until they disappear into the cuffs of those little white boots -- to the smile on her face, she's just about the image of smug satisfaction.
He happens to think she makes the perfect poster girl for it.
Often, when he contemplates this relationship of theirs, he feels like he's won some sort of contest he didn't know he'd entered. There are plenty of men at this place and a lot are more rugged, more virile, more handsome, more macho. Faye probably could have had almost any one of them just by gesturing them over with one finger, but he's the one she chooses to stay with.
Of all people, he's the one. Despite all his flaws, she's here, and he's... absolutely enchanted by the whole idea.