Lucian squeezed the paddings a little too roughly, as if they offended him in some way. Even when embarrassed, she weaponized whatever left she had to spite him. As if to say: You think you can corner me? I will drag you down with me.
Control disguised as playful teasing, true intentions veiled by measured gesturesis, these always worked in his favor, but with her? She never let herself be pulled. If anything, she yanked harder, just to see if he'd fall.
"Aren't you supposed to be drunk?" she tsked when he played with the little cushions like they were the most interesting things in the world. She looked around and grabbed a bottle from a crate.
"Not drunk enough to let just anyone climb into my bed, I am afraid," he replied, tucking her pads into her skirt pocket, "Never have, never will. The world has enough children running around without parents, I don't need to add mine to the mix."
"You are too sober. Here, drink some more," she ordered, uncorking the bottle and pressing it against his mouth, "I want you horny drunk, not I-want-to-talk-about-life-and-philosophy drunk."
He dodged his head to the side and shook his head. "What's wrong with I-want-to-talk-about-life-and-philosophy-drunk Lucian?"
She pinched his nose, tickled his sides, and pressed the bottle to his mouth again. Without success.
"What's wrong with him? He makes me question my life choices and that's not what I want to do today," she groaned and began to sniff on the content inside the bottle. "How can someone drink something that has been rotting in the cellar for years?" she asked, and actually began a philosophy talk about the origins of wine.
Lucian listened to her with a fond smile on his face. He liked how her thoughts formed into words, and the words into expressions on her face, which in turn, made her face look even prettier than before. It was like watching a garden blossom, and he would admire it silently until it was his turn to tend to it.
He placed his lips on the rim of the bottle, making her freeze mid-sentence. She gulped, then carefully raised and lowered the bottle, following his pace, while he took small sips from it.
"Happy?" he asked, licking his lips clean.
She looked down at the bottle, then at his lips, and eyes. "Do I look happy to you? Where's my answer? Don't start a discussion and then leave me hanging like that." She said, her eyes moving in the same order back to her bottle. She took a deep breath and continued to sniff on its content as if she could figure out the answer by doing so.
"..." Lucian's hands slid down to cup her bottom and lifted her on the crate, stepping in between her legs.
"─?!" She yelped in surprise and almost dropped the bottle. Quickly holding it against her chest, her gaze switched between him and the bottle, and then it remained glued to the bottle as if it had some magical powers.
"..." He blew a gust of air at her face, and she stared at it more intently, "..." This was why he couldn't give her leverage over him. She would use it against him, and his heart would be done for. "Do you want me to drink more or not?" he asked, slowly starting to lose patience.
She shook her head, "And risk you throwing up all over me? Absolutely not."
"..."
"..."
When he tried to take another sip, she moved it away from his reach, his head following it like a dog chasing a treat. Her brows furrowed as she watched him try to catch it again, and she put it in her mouth instead.
"..."
"..."