Room 505, Tuesday Late Afternoon

[thismaskiwear]

So one minute there'd been an attempt at actually, finally sucking it up, saying 'the hell with it,' and kissing Francine until she couldn't breathe as a prelude to other things that . . . would have a definite impact on breathing.

And then she'd been small, and fuzzy, with floppy ears, and NOT ADORABLE, DAMMIT.

Katchoo had been keeping up quite the mental rant about this in her head ever since it had happened, but being a bunny she couldn't exactly express it in her usual oh-so-charming way. Chewing on things, maybe, vented some of the frustration but she had a lot more of that built up than this tiny lapine form should have room to hold.

. . . that rant was still going, no matter how comfortable she was at the particular moment.

[OOC: For that girl. NOT YOU, RAVEN. ETA: This post might be kinda NWS now. WHAT?]

Comments

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"I do." It was all she could say when her breath was a little hard to come by, and to underscore the words Katchoo's hands moved further up, very purposefully.

[thatsamilkshake]

"Good." No, they didn't really need that shirt at all. It was plenty warm in here, and maybe some of that was the power being on again, and maybe not much of that was the power being on again.

"Good," she said again, but this time she was mostly talking to Katchoo's hands, or about them, or something equally nonsensical because hands.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Hands, yes. And then lack of shirts, and mouth -- a mouth, but the key thing was whose mouth it was -- on bare skin and maybe a light nip with no longer bunny-like teeth.

[thatsamilkshake]

Maybe a decidedly un-bunny-like squeak, then, and maybe Francine's face turning a decidedly un-bunny-like pink.

And maybe Francine's hands deciding they had better things to do than flail.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

And Katchoo's mouth taking an interesting detour to, say, a place with a lily-shaped scar that matched her tattoo.

If there was a distinct lack of warm breath against Francine's skin, well . . . Katchoo was holding it.

Her breath, that was.

[thatsamilkshake]

If there was a distinct lack of silence, well, Francine wasn't holding anything.

Well, nothing except Katchoo's waist with one hand and her shoulder with the other, and herself upright through what might possibly be new and hitherto unexplored psychic powers because it certainly wasn't her bones, currently in the process of melting, doing the job.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Francie?"

Unfortunately, some questions required the use of her voice, which meant the use of her mouth, which meant -- well, aren't you glad it isn't quite as cold as it was over the weekend, Francine, so that was more likely to be an interesting sensation than an uncomfortably cold one?

Hands? Still moving, though, as there were pesky non-shirt-like items of clothing still in the way.

[thatsamilkshake]

And wasn't it an interesting sensation to have someone dealing with those pesky items of clothing who was actually used to them, had some idea how they worked, and wasn't terrified that one wrong move might launch some spring-loaded weapon at his head?

Not that it hadn't been a legitimate fear, but-- wait, that was a question. "What?"

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

And could have it unhooked and ready to slip right off almost before you realized it, even. Katchoo didn't mind the excuse to run her hands down Francine's arms.

"Do you wanna just fall over onto the floor?" It was a legitimate worry for her too, okay? Because Francine.

[thatsamilkshake]

"Uh..." Francine answered intelligently, because Francine. "Um. I guess if you want?"

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Ow. Snorting like that hurt a little when you were still getting used to not having a bunny nose any more.

"Bed. Comfortable."

That would require moving, though. And she kind of liked where she was, actually.

[thatsamilkshake]

"You could've just--" She was considering sticking out her tongue but then her bra disappeared and she got a little distracted trying to figure out where exactly that went, and how she could keep talking and use her tongue for better things again at the same time. "Bed."

That would require moving, though, and she might very well fall over in the attempt.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Not to mention there were other items of clothing that Katchoo would like

gone now

, thank you very much, and while that was doable while lying down it was a pain.

Thus Katchoo, now, leaning against that closet door like her life (or at least uprightness) damn well depended on it, sliding her hands to Francine's waistband. No verbal commentary necessary here; at the moment it wasn't exactly

possible

.

[thatsamilkshake]

So yeah, Francine was Francine, and that meant her own hands sort of stilling at that, because oh hi, but Francine was also Francine and determined to not let that be the prelude to a flail, or let Katchoo think it was, so...

So, something. So, moving her hands. That would be good. And maybe her lips, too, across Katchoo's chin to her jaw, and then to her throat.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

This could be easier. This

should

be easier, except that Katchoo's mind was racing along a speed limit free highway of

oh my god this is Francine and she's really letting me do this and those are her lips and she's not running away oh my god oh my god

and it made her fumble just a bit. Which might, in its own quirky way, be more reassuring than anything. She hoped.

"I love you, Francie." And that was important, too, enough to stop what she was doing long enough to say it, because she hadn't been able to say it in over a week and now especially, with pants getting worked loose so they could slide unmissed to the floor, it needed to be said.

[thatsamilkshake]

Not unmissed. Francine had a higher than average awareness pantsdar than some people and you better believe she was aware of the change from pants to no pants when the no pants in question were hers, but... unmourned? That would work.

No, pants were not more important than I love you. They were just simpler to understand. "I know."

Did I just quote Space Battles during foreplay? Oh God, I'm a moron. Did I just think the word foreplay? Mipph.

"I mean... tell me you know what I mean, because I think my brain just melted out my ear and wow that was gross, sorry. I love you too."

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Unmissed, unmourned, whatever. Katchoo could hardly be bothered to care about semantics

now

of all times. She certainly wouldn't miss them.

As evidenced by her hand sliding along the back of Francine's thigh when she turned her head to nip at an earlobe -- no, no gross dribbling brains here -- and murmur, "I know." Which was not, for the record, her quoting

Space Battles

.

[thatsamilkshake]

Gnyaaaah. Wait, was she supposed to be thinking something coherent? Brain. Ears. How could she not see it? Maybe it was just invisible.

"Good. That's--" Oh hey, there were her fingers. She'd lost track of those. Kind of a shame because that meant she couldn't quite remember the trip from Katchoo's waist and up her side and wow um um um um um um wow um. (Normal people call that a breast, Francine. A ways smaller than yours, but it should still be recognizable, especially considering the lily.) "Warm." That... wasn't the word she'd been going to say.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Oh, it's not warm enough yet, honey, I'm only getting started."

And that was the Baby June tone of voice, only Katchoo couldn't possibly have felt less like Baby June than she did right now. Not when Francine's hand was right there, and her own fingers were sliding very slowly upward and the word "love" was involved, which was less important than the fact that the word was true.

[thatsamilkshake]

So once upon a time maybe Francine had watched Taste of the Apple volumes 1, 2, and 3 (subtitle: Red Delicious, and if volume 4 turned out to be Granny Smith, Francine was so out of there) thinking mostly can I do that and if I can, will I go to Hell and that sort of looks fun if I picture it with different faces and but that woman has no HIPS, my legs don't BEND that way and it was all kind of academic and embarrassing and awkwardly tingly at the same time.

None of which has anything to do with the effect Katchoo's voice had on her now except for the part where if you could bottle and sell that feeling, 'Dite would go out of business. "Chewie?"

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

That would solve their financial problems nicely. It'd also be slightly more feasible than getting to Switzerland, but please. This was not about pocketbooks. Or even pockets, now that pants were out of the picture.

"Yeah, Francie?"

[thatsamilkshake]

"Falling over on the floor in three...two...one..." Not that she was, yet, but.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

That settled it. Katchoo didn't want to be down there.

"Bed," she said firmly. "Now. 'kay?"

[thatsamilkshake]

"Kay. So very kay. You have no idea how kay." That could go on for a while. She should probably find something else to do with her mouth.

Clavicles are nice.

Doing things to clavicles with your tongue? Not so conducive to moving backwards towards a bed with anything like coordination.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Having things done to your clavicles with someone's tongue? Not conducive to helping the movement be any more coordinated. Just for the record.

The squirming probably had something to do with that, but never let it be said that Katchoo wasn't

trying

.

There might be some progress being made here. Very staggery progress.