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[ Kylo doesn't even try not to grin, borderline smirking as watching him obey fills her with smug contentment. Oh yes, this particular ability would see plenty of use. Part of her is already thinking ahead, wondering how far she can push him or how little of her power she can use before his willpower is able to overrule a command.

After all, even though he hadn't been able to keep her from what she wanted the first time she was in his mind, she certainly wouldn't call him weak-minded. Without aid of the Force, virtually everyone succumbed to such an ability in the end. Even with aid of the Force it couldn't always be resisted. Though she doubted that was knowledge he would take comfort in. ]

Good. [ The power leaves her voice, but not before that single word. She wants to see if the simple praise makes him uncomfortable. ] It's so nice to see that even the most rebellious can be brought to heel. [ That remark is for their audience, however after she steps in close, lowering her voice for only the two of them. It's tempting to touch him, just to cause that much more unease in him, but she refrains. ] Perhaps after I've broken you in a little I'll send whatever's left of the Resistance a holo showing them just what's become of their revered pilot.

[ She steps back and out of the way then, gesturing for all present to tend to their respective orders. There's plenty to be done but Kylo lingers, eyes following Poe just to make sure her orders had the desired effect. ]

[ the praise is like her trying to gently touch his face in verbal form — it feels good, but his mind is screaming that it shouldn't. that it's wrong.

and then color drains from his face. now that bb-8 is, as far as he knows, safe, he has nothing to hide behind. not bb-8, not the resistance. just the worry (worry? fear) for himself and his own fate. he tries to shove it down, tries to stay angry instead. if he holds on to that emotion, it's enough of a livewire that he won't need anything else. ]

You won't break me.

[ that's all he says before he's carted off, unable to do anything besides glance back at kylo with indignation one last time. ]

[ Before he can bury it she catches a flicker of that fear and oh, she wants to clutch at that thread and yank it to the forefront. To invoke the sort of fear that could paralyze even the strongest foe.

But Kylo resists the urge, keeps her power to herself, and lets him go. Even if part of her wants to project her voice in his mind simply to have the last word. Patience, she reminds herself. There's all the time in the world. All the time she sees fit to allow him. Which would likely end up being far more time than he would ever want, once he begins to see what she's capable of.

As she heads off to a conference room to record the holo for the Resistance, she can't recall the last time she was so excited to have someone to toy with. Most of the wayward or unlucky Resistance fighters that the First Order had captured in the past were scarcely worth her attention, their minds of little value and easily broken. One or two were mold-able enough to be sent to reconditioning, but the rest had simply been killed like the irritating pests they were. An officer trying to defect had probably been the last time Kylo rolled up her sleeves and really had an enjoyable time with the torture. It was important to soundly punish such traitors to make sure anyone else with the slightest of doubts stayed in line.

This was yet more personal. Through Poe she could strike at the very heart of the Resistance. Strike at the last remaining family she had, the wretch of a mother who somehow yet lived and refused to yield even when the odds were so clearly against them. She could strike at the traitor responsible for Poe slipping through her fingers the first time (though with Snoke around she wouldn't have been able to actually indulge herself, so in that respect it was almost an acceptable loss). And she could strike at the dirty little scavenger who threw away the chance at real power in favor of playing at being a hero. Kylo would see them all dead, eventually. She might even keep Poe alive to see such just to torture him that much more, assuming she didn't lose interest by then.

It doesn't take her long to record the message. Kylo keeps it short and to the point. She tells them that the First Order have all the information from the droid and the Resistance would soon have nowhere they could hide so they might as well give up and beg for her mercy. She informs them Poe is alive but firmly under her control, and she taunts them with the threat of reconditioning (okay, the threat is mostly to jab at FN-2187). Lastly, she calls out General Organa and reveals herself for who she once was. Call it long overdue payback for how she found out the truth about her grandfather, mixed with a hope of causing strife within the Resistance. Surely it wouldn't set well with many, knowing their leader's child is the one who has been hunting them down.

Once done, Kylo sends the message over to the Finalizer and watches on the video feed to make sure it's transferred to the droid and protected from being overwritten. Thanks to the droid itself they know precisely where to send it and a trusted squad are sent with the droid to make sure it gets to the proper location. As part of this act of mercy, the troops are only an escort and have explicit instructions not to engage.

After all of that she retires to her throne room to patiently wait, taking audience with assorted officers and staff in the meantime. She did have an army to attend to and a galaxy that was slowly but steadily coming under her rule. Best to get 'work' out of the way so no one tried to distract from her fun once her prisoner was ready. ]

[ meanwhile, med bay was a new and exciting journey of self-discovery. sure, it was nice to have his whole nose situation fixed and any other minor abrasions tended to, but he couldn't find any real relief in it. even if she didn't say she wanted a clean slate, he wasn't stupid enough to think that getting him healed up was a gesture done from genuine concern for his health.

the self-discovery part came in when he tried to push the limits against her orders. leaving him with the self-awareness to fight instead of blindly obey was probably a fun game on her part. he knew that, too.

so he experiments with it. tries to will himself to make a run for it, or to knock things in the med bay over. he tries to lie. but it doesn't work. the ideas don't make it past the "idea" stage; his body flat-out ignores him.

is this what a mental breakdown is like?

it's not even over something drastic. just a relatively minor, innocuous loss of control. but he hates it so much.

that's the mood when it's time to him to be dragged back to kylo ren. he hasn't had a facial expression that isn't some flavor of angry since he was taken prisoner, and he's not about to stop now. today stoic, silent anger is what's on the menu. he doesn't know what happened, not to bb-8 or to the resistance or with whatever message she had been planning on sending, but he could only hope that, if nothing else, at least bb-8 was okay. that is literally the only thing he's clinging on to right now. ]

[ She's in the midst of receiving a report on the latest system to fall to the First Order when they bring him in. Her eyes shift his direction for a moment but she doesn't cut short the officer's report, continuing to listen even if some of her attention is elsewhere. (Let's be honest, she hasn't been giving anyone her full attention because she's been too busy browsing her mental library of torture scenarios.)

After a few minutes more she dismisses the officer, having heard all she needs for the time being. Kylo beckons the troopers closer with Poe, relaxing against her dark throne, and a little smirk starts to curve her lips. ]

I trust all went without incident?

"Yes, Supreme Leader."

Wonderful. Just what I like to hear. [ Her gaze moves from the trooper who had spoken to Poe and she regards him quietly a moment before returning her eyes to the troopers. ] That will be all. You may return to your duties.

[ Kylo is quiet until they're left alone, the Knights by the door stepping out as well, and then all her attention focuses on Poe. ] Your anger is rather delectable, you know. We'll see how long it takes to dissolve into the fear that it hides. [ After a pause she decides to give him one small bit of solace, since he did attempt to play her earlier game in the shuttle. ] The droid is shortly to be on its way back to the Resistance. Unharmed, personality in tact. I do have to wonder though if it's capable of understanding that you attempted to barter your life for its.

[ 'Attempted' only because his life was forfeit as soon as he was captured. ]

[ he's okay. bb-8 is okay. he lets all that anger (and fear) wash away for a split second, replaces by relief. it's not long before the wave comes crashing back. but still. bb-8 is okay. ]

He's not — of course he would be. If he knew.

[ bb-8 was like a child. naive in some ways, but always curious. always clever. (sometimes too clever.)

but, he knew ... even if droids couldn't express emotions like grief, they could still feel them. the last time they saw each other, they were being carted off to their own separate gruesome ends. besides that, bb-8 would be able to look at whatever message kylo and the first order uploaded into him. he knew poe wasn't going to come back this time.

the thought of that made his heart hurt. but he'd rather his droid be hurting than wiped blank or broken into scrap metal. ]

[ A brow lifts at that brief lull she senses in his emotions. Part of her is almost sad that a droid of all things is what strikes his emotions the hardest, only because there was no torturing a droid. Not really, not like with organics. So even if the First Order again snatched up the droid, all it would be useful for would be to taunt him with. ]

The droid may know, or find out, in any case. [ She purposefully refers to his droid as a thing and not a person, like he is. ] I'm sending it back with a little message.

[ Changing the subject, she makes an idle gesture at the room around them. ] It's nice, isn't it? Suitable for a galactic ruler. Snoke favored nearly all blacks but I thought it needed more red. Just some splashes. Kind of like fresh blood on the polished floor. [ There's something about the way she says the last sentence that sounds like foreshadowing. ]

You'll become plenty familiar with this room, as with others. The torture room with all my toys isn't far. What you went through in interrogation before is nothing. Droids break, but I can keep going for hours. And I'm very, very creative. [ The smirk returns to her lips and she beckons him closer, reaching out through the Force to pull him toward the throne. And once he's close enough she reaches out with one hand to curl her fingers in his shirt and physically pull him right in front of her. Personal space? Nonexistent with her.

Her eyes run over his face as she speaks again. ] Earlier you said I wouldn't break you, but we both know that's a lie. I can break your mind and your body, and I can put you back together to do it all over again. If I want I can break you and mold you into the perfect little pet. Erase every thought about the Resistance and the war from your mind, take away everything you know until there's only me. How does that sound, Dameron? Obeying me because you want to. Doing any little thing I tell you to without question. Living to serve my every whim.

[ there's the fear again, crawling up his throat. he tries to push it down like before. keep with his anger. but it's harder and harder. the fear keeps growing, getting louder, leaving the anger to dissipate. building from the second she starts pulling him closer, reaching a kind of precipice when she's done speaking. and he's left hanging over the precipice, trying desperately to claw his way back up.

but he can't. he can't lie anymore — not because of the force, either. he can't lie to himself anymore. he knows he can't fight it. he's tried. tried and lost, as if there could have been any other outcome. ]

I'd rather die.

[ for someone who isn't actively suicidal, he keeps turning to death as the solution for his problems. but ... after so long, it keeps feeling more and more like it may be the only solution. the only way he can get out while still holding on to his sense of self.

his body isn't locked in place by the force, he realizes. he could struggle against her, run away. but to where? he'd never make it to a shuttle. he'd never make it out of this room. he felt paralyzed by something else. the same thing that's keeping his heart racing and his breathing shallow. it's that fear taking over, relenting to the knowledge that she's right. ]

Oh, I'm sure you would. I'm sure you'll beg me to kill you. [ She lets go of his shirt, hand smoothing the fabric back down. Deceptive softness, a gentle but firm caress, perhaps not all that different from how she might offer reward in the scenario she spoke of. ] Just like earlier I'm sure you'll try to tell me your life has no value and I should just throw it away. Let you have the mercy of death.

[ Humming a thoughtful noise, she tilts her head as she looks at him and lifts her hand to the side of his face. Almost daring him to brush off her touch, turn away, anything. She can taste the fear from him and it makes her eyes darken, thrilling and delighting her. ] You can't deny it now, can you? The truth that's hovered in the back of your mind from the moment your ship was caught. No one's coming to rescue you. No one's going to help you escape. No miracle is going to occur to free you.

You're mine, Dameron. I can, and will, do anything I want to you. Your life is mine and I will keep you alive as long as I care to, and there's nothing you can do to stop me.

[ Kylo smiles then. It's genuine but dark, the way a beast might smile before it devours the feast laid before it. And what a feast she has before her. ]

[ the worst part of all of it was knowing that she was right. she was right. every bit of it. he knew nobody was coming for him. they didn't have the manpower. they couldn't have rescued him the first time, let alone now, with so much of the resistance whittled away.

worse than that, was knowing that she was right in the sense that he was hers. he couldn't fight against it. nobody else could help him — except rey, maybe — and she certainly wasn't here right now. placing his eggs in that basket felt futile. there was no guarantee that she would come, or that it wouldn't be too late if she did. (he didn't like that thought. the thought of "too late."

what can he do? what's left? there are no big battles to be won here. as in, he can't leave. he can't take down kylo ren. any fighting, any noncompliance, has to be done on the micro level.

so he takes a chance. he reaches for her wrist to pull her hand away. ]

Don't touch me.

[ "don't touch me" was a sad argument in the face of "your life is mine," but it's all he has. it's all that he feels like he can control. ]

Why? Afraid the more I touch you, the more you'll learn to like it?

[ She lets him pull her hand from his face before she twists her wrist in his grasp, not to break it but to grab a wrist in turn. Her grip is only strong enough to hold on, more of a mirrored grip than anything else. A small way of not letting him have entirely what he wants for the moment. At least for the time being her other hand remains harmless resting on the arm of her throne. ]

You know, you could have tried to barter for that when trying to convince me to let your droid go. Well, more the opposite, really. You could have offered your body rather than your life. [ The remark comes as Kylo shifts her eyes away from his face to drag her gaze over the rest of him, not remotely trying to hide it. ] Although if we want to get technical you sort of did by first offering anything.

[ his mouth gapes open as he tries to find the best words (or any words) to reply with, but nothing comes out. he's just standing there silent, mouth hanging open in a disgusted expression while she holds his wrist.

the truth was, he hadn't considered it as an option because he wasn't really interested in women that way. it hadn't even registered as a blip on his radar.

he pulls his wrist back (or tries to), expression settling down into his usual baseline of contempt. ]

Sorry, not interested.

[ The fact that catches him off-guard both does and doesn't surprise her. It's far from the first time she's seen such a reaction in a man. Amazing how prowess in the Force or on the field of battle they might scarcely blink at, but turn that to matters more intimate, to behavior more typically thought of as masculine, and suddenly they were shocked and appalled. Kylo's in a good enough mood to not have it grate on her nerves -- which most certainly is to Poe's benefit, even he might not consider anything to be at present.

Her lips press together in another smirk, a brow arching at the expression on his face. It's almost cute, really. A trace of innocence soon to wither and die. ]

As if that even slightly matters. Particularly at this point in time.

[ When he tries to pull out of her grasp she only tightens her grip, giving a slight tug in return to keep him close. Kylo shifts her position in the throne, sitting more properly with feet flat on the ground, legs parting so he stands between them, taking away another small bit of space that remains between them. She leans forward, purposely putting herself almost nose-to-nose with him to make him uncomfortable, her dark eyes on his. ]

Protest all you like, it's not going to help in that any more than when it comes time for me to sink a blade into you. What bothers you? The worry that I might be right about that too? That you might learn to crave me, need me? Sounds like a fun experiment. To see how long it takes before no means yes without my powers swaying your mind.

Of course, I think I've already proved I can make your body obey me without affecting what you really think... [ Her other hand moves then, splaying upon his stomach, and there's something almost threatening about what could otherwise be a relatively innocent motion. ]

[ he didn't think it would matter, not really, but he figured he'd try to deflect.

either way, she succeeds in making him uncomfortable. she's so close, too close. and she has his wrist, so he can't move back. he can't even imagine what she's talking about. needing her. impossible. every cell in his body wants to revolt against it. even her hand pressed against his stomach makes him want to recoil. he doesn't, but he wants to. his insides do. ]

C'mon, stop.

[ his witty retorts take a steep decline in quality. they aren't working. it's a game he can't win. telling her to sink the blade in wouldn't get him his way. that's the only other alternative his mind can come up with. and "stop" certainly isn't going to actually get her to stop, but it's all that comes out. it's the fear bubbling its way up to the surface. ]

Give me a reason to. [ Not that she's saying it's possible to, but he could try. It's the start of another little game like on the shuttle, curious to see what he might say or do.

After a moment Kylo tilts her head, almost like she might try to kiss him, however instead she leans to speak next to his ear. Though her voice lowers it remains every bit as predatory. ]

Would you like a choice in something? I bet you're yearning for one. [ She pauses as her eyes close, breathing in deep the scent of him. The fear and discontent, the faint trace of anger that failed to keep the fear at bay, and the scent of him beneath it all. Such a delicious cocktail. ] You can have a night's reprieve, but you have to offer me something worthwhile in return. Something you'll give and not be made to do with my power.

Or... you can protest some more and I'll take you right here, right now. [ Her hand shifts, fingers curling in the waistband of his pants with clear intent. ] And when I'm through you'll be sent to a cell to wallow in your pain and anguish.

[ Kylo draws back then. She even releases her hold on him, relaxing back against the throne. There's an expectant look on her face as her gaze settles on him. ] Your choice, Poe.

[ you can see him bracing for a kiss in the way his mouth clamps shut as soon has her face starts coming in to close the gap. it's no relief when she doesn't, though. not when the alternative is worse.

the choice isn't much of a choice. he knows it, and he knows that she meant for it to be that way. he's fully aware of this being just another game to her. he doesn't even try to step back when she lets go of him. she'll just pull him back in again, probably.

instead, he purses his lips in a thin line, exhaling through his nose. he knows what he's going to choose. he already knew, as soon as she laid the options out. but it doesn't make it any easier. he wanted the choice. he wanted to be in control of his own actions. even if the thought of whatever those actions might be left him feeling sick to his stomach. a new and exciting opportunity to feel disgust at himself instead of at her. ]

Did you have something in mind, or am I supposed to surprise you?

Oh, I've countless things in mind. [ she initially replies with a brief smirk.

And oh, how she loves that she actually can follow through with whatever her mind conjures up now that there's no one looming over her, seeking to direct her themselves. ] It wouldn't be much of a choice if I specifically told you what to do, now would it?

I will make good on the promise of a reprieve. That's a real incentive, not an illusion. A reward. [ Because all good subjects and pets need a little reward and positive reinforcement from time to time. It'll be a good one, but she's not going to give him any further details. Just in case she feels his decision doesn't merit the full reward she has in mind. ]

Yeah, yeah. Okay.

[ he knows what she means. what she's expecting. (something sexual.) at least, he feels relatively certain. there's not much room for interpretation.

and he tenses up because, it occurs to him that ... they're in the throne room? is this really the best place for this? but then, it's kylo's throne room, isn't it. and it doesn't really matter, in the grand scheme of things. he's going to feel shitty about himself regardless of whether knights of ren come in to watch or not.

so he lowers himself down on his knees. he took a split second to weigh his options, and decided this was the best one, since it was the one where he'd have the least total contact with her. and could keep his own pants firmly on.

it's at that point he considers asking her to take off her whole pants situation to expedite the process, but he feels like that would end poorly for him. instead, he reaches up to her hips/waist area and does an exploratory feel for buttons/zippers/etc. if he tries hard enough to dissociate, maybe he won't have to put actual thought into what he's doing. ]

[ Kylo bites the inside of her cheek in an effort to tame the pleased smirk that appears as she watches him. Just a slight habit lingering from before that hasn't been entirely broken. What could she say? There just wasn't as much thrill anymore in manipulating random troopers or officers. It certainly didn't come close to how absolutely delighted she is at the sight of Poe on his knees before her, and without requiring the use of the Force at that.

Any comments she might have are kept to herself for the time being. There's no need to provoke, not now. Not when he's listening and not fighting.

The pants have a button and zipper closure, although they're rather snug. Beneath are a simple pair of black panties. (the Star Wars equivalent of Victoria's Secret gets saved for special occasions, or at least that's her excuse.) For her part, Kylo doesn't make things more difficult for him. She lifts her hips when necessary so the fabric can be pulled down and out of the way. Nor does she touch him, though it requires restraint.

Her eyes are on him though, following every movement. But she's only looking, not searching his thoughts or seeking to influence his mind. Although if she knew of his wondering at a potential audience she might have considered recalling the Knights. ]

[ he's trying his best to mentally prepare himself for this before he ghosts out mentally. pull down her pants, pull down her panties. there's a kind of mechanical quality to his actions, since passion is not a feeling he's feeling for her right now. he doesn't think he could even be capable of it.

but he does it. when he's done pulling down her pants, his hands stay locked at her hips. and then he goes in, tongue first, looking for her clit. for the record: he has never done this for a woman before. or, anything with a woman before. in general. but he knows enough. the gist of it. and he's good with his mouth. once he susses out a rhythm for strokes, he keeps with it.

with that minimal amount of thought, he lets himself stop thinking completely. white noise and blank space. maybe he's somewhere else. with someone else. it doesn't matter, as long as he doesn't have to be here. ]

[ As it becomes apparent he's actually going to go through with this she shifts her position, slouching in the throne to better angle her hips for him and parting her legs as much as clothing will allow. After all, it might be a form of torture for him but she does want to enjoy it, and she has nothing to gain from making this particular task difficult for him.

She sighs quietly at the initial touch, smiling a little to herself as she commits the sight before her to memory. It does become clear, however, that he has a certain lack of experience. Something that actually surprises her at first... and then her mind shifts to how she could make it benefit her. An 'apprentice' in the bedroom didn't sound so bad, assuming she had the patience. At the very least it meant there weren't any learned behaviors or preferences from ex-girlfriends for her to do away with.

Eventually one hand moves to wind fingers into his hair and she helps guide him. She does vaguely sense when he mentally checks out, and though it makes her eyes narrow slightly she doesn't force his full attention back. With the inexperience she doubts it would make a difference, at least not in the positive, so she allows it this time. He didn't deserve it, but she knows there will be plenty of time to make him remain mentally present for activities. Plenty of time to teach and show and bend him to her will and whims.

As release nears her grip tightens on his hair, hips lifting toward his mouth. Her breathing's picked up, eyes having fallen shut some time after her head tipped back against the throne. A quiet whine rises in the back of her throat and fleetingly she's taken with the urge to shove him back on the floor and ride him to completion. Only that would break the rules of her little game. He was doing his part, even if he wasn't particularly enthusiastic about it. Her flicker of frustration manifests in the way she holds him close, hips grinding against his tongue as release finally washes over her. ]

[ he tries to stay checked out, but something in the way she grips him and pulls his face into her acts like a tether. at some point, he forgets he was trying to dissociate and mentally wanders back. it wasn't what he was used to, certainly, but if he could see her face, the whole thing was almost bearable.

there's a lot going on, on a sensory level. a sharp but pleasant pain from her hand in his hair. spit and her arousal sliding down his chin and getting all over his face as he moves around. feeling her hips as he digs his fingers in.

he's in control. he's the one doing this to her.

as he lets himself get into it, he becomes aware of discomfort in his pants. which is THE WORST THING and the polar opposite of what he wanted to happen. he feels a twinge of nausea with the realization that his body is actively betraying him, but it's drowned out by the loudness of every over sensation. ]

[ Somewhere along the way she feels a shift. From just going through the motions to actually trying. She can't put her finger on it but her body certainly notices and it heightens her arousal, and brings her to the edge that much quicker.

Even as she sinks back against the throne she can feel desire still winding through her. More so, actually. He's exceeding her expectations for the instance and it makes her want to stay in the moment, to milk it as long as she can because next time he's bound to fight, and while that will turn her on in an entirely different way that's not what right now is about. Her hand is still in his hair, not holding tight so much as cupping the back of his head. Silent encouragement that his mouth is right where she wants it to be. ]

Keep going... [ It's not much of a demand with the breathless tone of her voice. From anyone else it'd be easy to call it a request and assume there's a 'please' implied.

Her body's sensitive and flush with heat in the wake of release, her breath hitching when his tongue touches her clit. A sweet mix of pleasure and pain that sends a shiver along her spine and makes a soft moan fall from her lips. Her other hand, having been holding on to the arm of the throne, moves to her own body, sliding up over her top to cup a breast and squeeze as his motions cause her back to arch.

She doesn't want him to stop. She doesn't know what she'll do if he does, but truthfully she's not even thinking of that right now. All she's thinking of is yes and more and how good he feels. ]

[ her verbal encouragement makes it worse. her voice ringing in his ears — he knew it couldn't be the force. it was just her. him making her feel that way. her actually needing him. he tries to get the hang of breathing; it's more complicated than sucking dick. it's a nose situation but also he has to push hard enough with his tongue to get her to move and create a .005-second window for him to breathe.

but he can do it. he wants to do it. he can almost forget it's awful thanks to his newfound sense of control over her.

almost. because while she's intensely feeling all his ministrations, he's fighting his own personal battle. maybe while she's in the throes of passion, she won't notice if one hand ... slides away from her hip ... down to his pants. he's not going to unzip or unbutton. that would be admitting defeat. maybe he can get away with this. this being rubbing himself through his clothing. he can't even think about ruining his pants. ruining his pants is worth avoiding the humiliation of the admission that he got turned on enough to jerk one out in front of her. ]

[ There's definitely no use of the Force in this moment. No need for it, which yes, would give her a twinge of pleased surprise when she thinks upon the moment later. There's only the two of them and desire. Lust. Arousal that knows no sides or boundaries -- although there's no denying that those little details enhance things on a conscious or subconscious level.

Wrapped up in her own pleasure, she doesn't yet notice that he has need to tend to his own arousal. She felt the absence of his hand, a brief chill setting in where he'd touched her, but it doesn't register as something needing to be paid attention to. Not when his mouth is still working her over and the next wave of release is building ever higher. It's there for her to notice though if she cares to; a secondary pulse of arousal and need in the energy around them. But her own need is loud in her mind, and she's not often apt to particularly care if someone else gets off. Not unless it's part of inflicting humiliation or mind games, not unless it's of value to her somehow.

Her pulse is racing and she moans quietly, her fingers curling again in his hair. She squirms a little, shifting, and one leg lifts to drape over his shoulder. If he's hating this, she certainly can't tell. All signs point to some level of enjoyment and later she's going to relish in that little fact. And use it against him, definitely. ]

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pretends i shouldn't be running out the door to work in minutes :x

👌

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icon game on point as always

i try my best

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