[ he had miscalculated. earlier in the week he had taken note of the state of his suit — a deep gray just bordering on black — and he had thought, for sure, he had had more time. he should have planned better, or planned at all, honestly, but no amount of "should haves" and "could haves" can change the reality of the situation: he fucked up.
it happens far more abruptly than he'd been expecting. it is, technically, the first time it's activated in this way, but he had been under the false assumption it would have been a more gradual thing... subtle, even.
but this is anything but subtle. one second he had been smiling, offering hamel's hand a gentle kiss as they part from another friendly dance lesson (a waltz, this time, and he hadn't been too shabby at all); the next second a sudden heady need pulses through him, and he nearly doubles over when it feels like nearly all his blood rushes south. ]
I'm — [ fine, he'd been about to say, to lie, but a growing hunger suddenly renders him suddenly unable to even stand properly, and he stumbles forward on a low groan, only just barely able to catch himself against the side of the raised stage. ]
[ Marco's grace and ability to follow along with his partner, allowing him to take the lead more often than not once he knew the steps, had been something Hamel had been about to praise after their latest lesson.
But then he... buckles, a bit, with a groan, and Hamel does not immediately think "oh he is suddenly and fiercely aroused", as she really ought to be thinking in a place like this. She's just alarmed and worried, reaching out to try and steady him so the stage doesn't have to do all of the heavy lifting. ]
[ it courses through him like venom, hot and searing and leaving only fire in its wake. he'd never felt his suit activate like this before, an ache so bone-deep he's left winded as if he'd just run a marathon. ]
L-Lea—
[ leave me, he means to say, but can't even get the word out without choking on his spit. he feels bile rise up in his throat, not quite nauseous but dizzy still with the full force of the arousal that's forced on him. when she comes closer, his body reacts reflexively, reaching for her with a grip so strong on her arm it's sure to leave a bruise.
down to his knees he sinks, head hanging low in an effort to curl in on himself. perhaps then it could hide how he's already straining against the front of his pants, how labored his breathing has become, how flushed and hot his face feels. why now? why here?
with his other hand he reaches for her, but he seems caught between knowing he should push her away and wanting to feel her even closer. ]
M-Miss Hamel, [ he finally manages, forcing enough breaths that he can clear his mind past the raging lust, ] you need to go, now—
[ Swiftly, maybe surprisingly so. Hamel isn't caught off-guard by her own refusal, of course; she knows better than anyone how stubborn she can be. But it's easy enough to piece things together, for someone so usually lost in a haze of her own making. The bruising grip he's got on her arm, his miserable posture, the unsteady puffs of air that barely make for a decent rhythm for breathing, the flush of his face--
That bulge is hard to miss, too.
When he reaches for her, she reaches back, clasping his hand. ]
It's all right, Marco. Let me help.
[ He hadn't abandoned her, when she'd been far too shameless and yet still so ashamed. This is the least she can do. ]
[ he is struck speechless by the firmness of her voice, forcing his face to tip upwards to watch her for a few long and poignant seconds. they're seconds he can't afford, as each one is another pulse of white-hot heat that makes his body ache, crave, but he is so momentarily mesmerized by her resolve he can't do anything else but stare.
eventually, he words down the lump forming in his throat. he flexes his fingers around her own a few times.
alright, he thinks. maybe it can be alright. ]
...Not here, [ he says eventually. not here, in this little space they've made their own and filled with good memories.
with her help, he rises back up to his feet, already starting towards the exit. ]
There should be an empty room somewhere or - or something.
[ he supposes he could always take her back to his suite, but that room can barely fit himself... ]
Or something, [ she echoes, a little bemused by it. Well, he's not wrong. They're in an entire resort dedicated to encouraging sexual activities, so even if they weren't going to end up in a room belonging to either of them, they're bound to find something to serve their purposes. ]
My suite isn't very large, but there's enough space to move around on. Though we're not quite close to it, at the moment.
[ she continues to display her unending kindness u_u
he merely nods in answer, walking stiffly out back towards the lobby, where he knows a fair few rooms branch off. somehow, he manages to do so with some modicum of dignity, despite the strain against his slacks, and the increasingly labored nature of his breathing.
when at last he finds them a small room left unoccupied, holding only a simple love seat and a side table, he half-stumbles, half-collapses into one side of it. his head leans back, hand falling over his eyes as his teeth grit. another couch... such is their curse, it seems. ]
I was — reckless, [ he says through a clenched jaw. his other hand comes to grip the arm rest, but it's clear from the way he shifts in his seat he'd wished to grip something... else. ] I thought I had more time.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
— action ;
it happens far more abruptly than he'd been expecting. it is, technically, the first time it's activated in this way, but he had been under the false assumption it would have been a more gradual thing... subtle, even.
but this is anything but subtle. one second he had been smiling, offering hamel's hand a gentle kiss as they part from another friendly dance lesson (a waltz, this time, and he hadn't been too shabby at all); the next second a sudden heady need pulses through him, and he nearly doubles over when it feels like nearly all his blood rushes south. ]
I'm — [ fine, he'd been about to say, to lie, but a growing hunger suddenly renders him suddenly unable to even stand properly, and he stumbles forward on a low groan, only just barely able to catch himself against the side of the raised stage. ]
no subject
But then he... buckles, a bit, with a groan, and Hamel does not immediately think "oh he is suddenly and fiercely aroused", as she really ought to be thinking in a place like this. She's just alarmed and worried, reaching out to try and steady him so the stage doesn't have to do all of the heavy lifting. ]
Marco?! What happened??
no subject
L-Lea—
[ leave me, he means to say, but can't even get the word out without choking on his spit. he feels bile rise up in his throat, not quite nauseous but dizzy still with the full force of the arousal that's forced on him. when she comes closer, his body reacts reflexively, reaching for her with a grip so strong on her arm it's sure to leave a bruise.
down to his knees he sinks, head hanging low in an effort to curl in on himself. perhaps then it could hide how he's already straining against the front of his pants, how labored his breathing has become, how flushed and hot his face feels. why now? why here?
with his other hand he reaches for her, but he seems caught between knowing he should push her away and wanting to feel her even closer. ]
M-Miss Hamel, [ he finally manages, forcing enough breaths that he can clear his mind past the raging lust, ] you need to go, now—
no subject
[ Swiftly, maybe surprisingly so. Hamel isn't caught off-guard by her own refusal, of course; she knows better than anyone how stubborn she can be. But it's easy enough to piece things together, for someone so usually lost in a haze of her own making. The bruising grip he's got on her arm, his miserable posture, the unsteady puffs of air that barely make for a decent rhythm for breathing, the flush of his face--
That bulge is hard to miss, too.
When he reaches for her, she reaches back, clasping his hand. ]
It's all right, Marco. Let me help.
[ He hadn't abandoned her, when she'd been far too shameless and yet still so ashamed. This is the least she can do. ]
no subject
eventually, he words down the lump forming in his throat. he flexes his fingers around her own a few times.
alright, he thinks. maybe it can be alright. ]
...Not here, [ he says eventually. not here, in this little space they've made their own and filled with good memories.
with her help, he rises back up to his feet, already starting towards the exit. ]
There should be an empty room somewhere or - or something.
[ he supposes he could always take her back to his suite, but that room can barely fit himself... ]
no subject
My suite isn't very large, but there's enough space to move around on. Though we're not quite close to it, at the moment.
[ And Marco is... clearly suffering. ]
no subject
There are.. smaller roofs off of the lobby. Private ones.
[ more than suitable for their — purposes. please don't ask him how he knows. ]
no subject
Well, she's not about to ask him for further clarification. ]
I see. Then let's make use of one of them.
*rooms... not roofs ........
he merely nods in answer, walking stiffly out back towards the lobby, where he knows a fair few rooms branch off. somehow, he manages to do so with some modicum of dignity, despite the strain against his slacks, and the increasingly labored nature of his breathing.
when at last he finds them a small room left unoccupied, holding only a simple love seat and a side table, he half-stumbles, half-collapses into one side of it. his head leans back, hand falling over his eyes as his teeth grit. another couch... such is their curse, it seems. ]
I was — reckless, [ he says through a clenched jaw. his other hand comes to grip the arm rest, but it's clear from the way he shifts in his seat he'd wished to grip something... else. ] I thought I had more time.