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• Hey, hey, you, you, I could be your girlfriend
When: Mid-Feoveuer
Where: Hubert's place
What: A confession and some roses
Warnings: TBD!
( Nico is aware that what she's about to do involves no small element of risk. Dinner had been ... eventful, to say the least, and not in a particularly good way, but Hubert doesn't seem like the type of person who'd let Nero's bad attitude impact his behaviour towards her. If he and Nero will need to be kept at an arm's length from one another going forwards? So be it. She can deal with the men in her life behaving badly - heck, she's pretty much used to it by this point.
The risk isn't so much to do with her relationships back home, but rather Nico is risking whatever it is she has with Hubert. It's been a pleasant, nameless thing since they kissed two months ago, but instead of fading to something unremarkable, Nico's feelings for Hubert have only deepened with the passage of time. It's ... unusual, to say the least, for this kind of thing to happen to Nico, and she's decided to make this one of the moments in her life where she doesn't just bury it under work. This time she's going to face it head on.
It takes her a moment to psych herself up as she stands there on Hubert's doorstep. There are all sorts of ways this could go wrong: Leslie could answer, Hubert might not be at home, Hubert might be elbow-deep in a new potion, but instead of letting those doubts gain a proper foothold?
Nico pushes them aside and knocks on the door.
A beat of silence follows, during which she adjusts the weight of the bouquet of roses lying cradled against her front. Flowers are nice, right? Sure, it's usually the guy who gets the girl the flowers, but Nico sees no reason why it can't work the other way around. There's also the fact that the bouquet of roses serves a greater purpose in her plans: the gift of a dozen roses must be a universally understood gesture of romantic affection, and she fusses with the bow around their stems as she waits to find out whether this really was a bad idea. )
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[By only Fódlan's stuffily repressed standards would it be bold that Hubert's ungloved fingers find where the hem of her shirt has tugged up, running his fingertips along that bared stripe of skin. It's thrilling for him, at least, that first touch of her skin to his hands. After a moment, his hand settles there, digits resting just under her shirt along the smooth curve of skin beside the spine, just savoring the touch.]
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( The sensation of being held closer is both welcome and encouraging. She smiles against his lips as she hears his gloves hit the nightstand, kisses him a little deeper when he touches her again, and tries not to let herself get too caught up in the fact that finally, finally she's feeling his bare hands against her skin. )
... You can touch.
( She murmurs, her hands drifting up to tease at the button sat neat at Hubert's throat, which she unfastens with a little twist of her wrist before moving on to the next one. What she wants to do is fairly obvious - her goal here is undressing him - but she's going to give him time to come to terms with the idea before simply tearing everything off. )
You can even help me take it off, if you want.
( Her skirt, Hubert. She means her skirt. )
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[He chuckles.]
"If I want?" I thought you were in charge.
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( You know? There's only so much Nico can do in the face of that little tease: she's trying not to be too full-on, she really is, but Hubert's teasing question pulls at something low in her gut. So, then. He wants in charge in charge?
You better believe she can do that.
One of her hands moves away from his shirt to cup his chin, guiding his gaze up to her face as opposed to the task on hand. )
Y'know, if you're gonna give me attitude I'm gonna stop tryin' not to spook you.
( She sighs, falsely put-upon. )
Here I am, goin' out of my way to be nice an' patient, an' not make you do too much too soon ... ( But she's smiling playfully, warmth and affection bright in the brown of her eyes. ) And all I get for it is cheek. Unbelievable.
( She considers him for a moment, her lashes low as she contemplates what to do with him, before sliding off his lap to stand over him with a mischievous smile touching her lips. )
Strip.
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[It's entrancing. Exciting. Nico's tone, her smile, the glint in her eyes—as disorienting as the sudden shift was, Hubert's heart beat a hair faster for it, arousal curling a little tighter in him.]
[He's left there, blinking dumbly for a moment after Nico slides from his lap, processing what just happened.]
...very well. [He rises to do just that, his hands finishing what Nico's had started at his shirt. There's a surrealism to it, in his mind, but the garment falls away quickly enough, and the rest of his clothes to follow; even in dressing and undressing, Hubert was almost comically efficient as always. His hands fold behind his back out of raw force of habit, and the familiar mannerism helps to distract from the twinge of uncertainty in baring his body to Nico for the first time. Pale, scrawny, touched periodically by scars of war and subterfuge. Curiously, this is a single tattoo—a line of purple runes—ringing his left bicep, the faintest touch of magic in the ink.]
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( Honestly? Nico hadn't know what to expect from giving him such an order, but when it becomes apparent that Hubert is going to play along - and play along well - the smile on her lips grows that bit wider. He's somehow methodical about this, too, in a way that makes her want to chuckle, but even she knows that now isn't the best time to let her playful nature get the better of her. The very last thing she'd want to do is trip them up now.
When the last of his garments is put to the side Nico takes a step back to really look at him. He's slender without his clothes - not skinny, exactly, but certainly very lean - and when her eyes drift over his scars she can't help but think about what he's told her of life back home.
She isn't surprised to see that injury has never stopped him in his tracks. )
Well, look at you.
( Nico's tone is appreciative as she lifts a hand to touch his chest, before skimming it down to settle at a very trim waist. Her other lifts to touch the purple line of runes: )
What's this?
( The tail-end of an eyebrow ticks up. )
Aside from real sexy, of course. I never figured you'd be a tattoos kinda guy.