OOM: Mike and Indy's suite

[eldorne_girl]

[Delia is the kitchen, humming to herself as she moves about]

[making coffee]

[she learned from the diaster with Mel, yes she did.]

Comments

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy can't help but nibble on her ear a little. "That's too bad..."

His hands meet somewhere between a tickle and a caress.

"Remind me why you're making coffee at one in the morning again."

[eldorne-girl.livejournal.com]

[she has enough fire left under his caressing, distracting hands to say,]

so you don't fall asleep

[and enough cheek to grin as she says it]

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Everything pauses and Indy breaks out of his hushed tones, slightly incredulous. "When have I ever fallen asleep when you've wanted to play?"

"I thought it was for you," he concludes indignantly.

Of course, she can't see the deviltry-laced smirk.

[eldorne-girl.livejournal.com]

[Delia begins to laugh, low and throaty and utterly evil]

Me as well. Because I like the taste.

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy's eyes narrow.

"Well, if we're going on taste alone, I think we can do a bit better than coffee."

Slanderous perhaps, but perhaps explicable by his sidestep and quick move to easily lift her so she's sitting on some empty counter space. Delia isn't the only thing that's lifted. Indy's eyebrow quickly follows, accompanied by a dirty smirk.

[eldorne-girl.livejournal.com]

[breathing? What's that?]

Oh, you evil, beautiful man...

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy laughs softly and lowers himself onto his haunches.

"You have no idea."

Pushing silky material up her thighs. She may not be inspiring, but what she lacks, Indy makes up for with hot breath of his own—touching, closer, there.

[eldorne-girl.livejournal.com]

Indy! [she gasps. A bit more loudly then she thought, really]

[henry-jones-jr.livejournal.com]

Indy pulls back and straightens, a worried expression on his face. He peers over her shoulder into the living room, then glares a little and presses a finger to his lips.

"He's a heavy sleeper, but not that heavy."

The bundled form on the sofa doesn't move, nor does the tiny gray shape curled up next to its head. Indy checks his roomie again and then shrugs. With a wink to his lover, he drops to his knees once more.

Knocked by an errant hand seeking better support in the throes of passion, the packet of coffee topples over as Indy renews his affection, coarse granules spilling out across the surface and sprinkling quietly onto the linoleum.