"Don't. Mexico City's kinda in the middle right, not near a beach?" 'cause that would be a good date.
Her hand in his reminds him that what he really wants is validation, affection, that the aggression and sex is a means to get it. Maybe he can just hold her hand.
Paloma tucks away this little lesson as a means of soothing Hyde. His palm is dry, cool from the airport's low-key air conditioning. Most importantly it fits over hers like it was meant to.
"In a valley. We could bus to a beach, but it won't be hot year-round." Read: she's not wearing a bikini without wearing more layers than he's fantasizing about. "But it would be quiet..."
One of the attendants is calling for a few no-shows, signalling the start of boarding very soon.
Brilliant. Why didn't she think of that? She's sort of envious of his ability to just lie on her arm when just seconds before she had wanted to do the same, on him.
With the change they have to disentangle, leaving his hair open for sneaky caresses. "Do... well, nothing the attendants shouldn't see, either!" So he knows it's not private enough for, say, fingerfucking. She softens. "She likes her privacy and the window seat, though. You'll see."
Paloma sucks her lips in, giggling a moment. It's a far cry from the aggressive punk-ass white boy who tried to stick his hand under a stranger's dress.
(Remembering that incident doesn't do him any favors, still.)
"I could just say you're a weirdo, too." No lies there.
Priority boarding is announced. She ushers Hyde like a mother hen, making sure he has his pass in order in addition to her own things. Vanessa may notice but says nothing-- not her charge to chaperone. Ultimately setting up the fortress of personal space her window seat provides is all that consumes her boss (already sporting fashionable sleep blinders).
Paloma, of course, cannot order a mimosa after liftoff fast enough.
Look, it's Like what he did with Vanessa just now too. Aggressive for no reason.
Hyde goes ahead and orders two at once, might as well do the mimosa and something a little harder too. Load him up with mini bottles of rum and vodka. All the more excuse if he's drunk to push the divider down and lay on her lap. Especially when the boss isn't looking at all.
She overhears his order and pauses, then shrugs and hopes his tolerance is just that high.
The wall preventing Vanessa from spotting them is Hyde's saving grace. Paloma lifts her mimosa and uselessly tries to gauge his alcohol to blood ratio with a frown.
Too bad for her, she's just made it easier for him. He pulls her down to kiss her, hand on the back of her neck. It's fine, he's not drunk, but he is needy.
Her life is an amalgamation of impulsive mistakes without much forethought attached. Like giving him a clear path and no obstacles between his lips and hers, curling her torso inward and tasting like bitter oranges.
She closes her eyes, loving it despite being fiercely afraid of the fallout from getting caught. Catching her tongue flicking on his piercing is an indicator of when they're about to go too far. Paloma pulls away, just an inch, flushing and hot underneath his hand. "... Um."
"I'll wait." Until they can fuck in the toilet. But he does turn over so his face is in her crotch. So he's breathing on it. Just a little encouragement!
Still he does actually close his eyes as if he means to nap.
There's a lot of heat to unpack in 'I'll wait.' She would have thought herself too fucked to fuck after everything that went on, with the ache in her vag and her oversensitive tits, but a flare of hot interest announces itself in her tummy.
"Hm?" He looks up with dopey eyes and a little frown. She's interrupting his lap nap? The least she can do then is let him take her hand and pull it in with him, against his chest held in his.
He’s a lethal cocktail of mystery and animal magnetism but right now he’s just a sleepy boy who’s had a long night. Her, too. Paloma and her defenses, her worries, fall to the wayside and she squeezes his fingers with deep affection.
“Never mind. Go to sleep...”
Her eyelids feel heavy; she sets the drink down and rides the wave of drowsiness.
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Her hand in his reminds him that what he really wants is validation, affection, that the aggression and sex is a means to get it. Maybe he can just hold her hand.
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"In a valley. We could bus to a beach, but it won't be hot year-round." Read: she's not wearing a bikini without wearing more layers than he's fantasizing about. "But it would be quiet..."
One of the attendants is calling for a few no-shows, signalling the start of boarding very soon.
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"Where's she sitting on the plane, am I allowed to actually do anything?" Like put his head in her lap maybe?
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With the change they have to disentangle, leaving his hair open for sneaky caresses. "Do... well, nothing the attendants shouldn't see, either!" So he knows it's not private enough for, say, fingerfucking. She softens. "She likes her privacy and the window seat, though. You'll see."
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"That works for me. You can tell her I'm sick if she thinks it's weird." And there he goes, sliding even further until he can put his head in her lap.
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(Remembering that incident doesn't do him any favors, still.)
"I could just say you're a weirdo, too." No lies there.
Priority boarding is announced. She ushers Hyde like a mother hen, making sure he has his pass in order in addition to her own things. Vanessa may notice but says nothing-- not her charge to chaperone. Ultimately setting up the fortress of personal space her window seat provides is all that consumes her boss (already sporting fashionable sleep blinders).
Paloma, of course, cannot order a mimosa after liftoff fast enough.
no subject
Hyde goes ahead and orders two at once, might as well do the mimosa and something a little harder too. Load him up with mini bottles of rum and vodka. All the more excuse if he's drunk to push the divider down and lay on her lap. Especially when the boss isn't looking at all.
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The wall preventing Vanessa from spotting them is Hyde's saving grace. Paloma lifts her mimosa and uselessly tries to gauge his alcohol to blood ratio with a frown.
"That's blatant!" she whispers.
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She closes her eyes, loving it despite being fiercely afraid of the fallout from getting caught. Catching her tongue flicking on his piercing is an indicator of when they're about to go too far. Paloma pulls away, just an inch, flushing and hot underneath his hand. "... Um."
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Still he does actually close his eyes as if he means to nap.
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Paloma swallows. "You are... you're, ahh..."
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“Never mind. Go to sleep...”
Her eyelids feel heavy; she sets the drink down and rides the wave of drowsiness.
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He might call attention by snoring in her lap, hopefully it's muffled and Vanessa isn't paying attention!