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Carefully, Jill hops down. She feels the drink for a moment, a sway in her body, and steadies herself with a hand on Clive's hip. He gets a smile before she takes his hand to lead him out so another couple can check out the swing.

"I'm already having a good time," she says to him, tugging him closer. They're in public, in a sense, but everyone seems preoccupied. "And I hope you know how desperately I want you."

If the hand on his hip — on its face innocuous, functional — didn’t strike him with desire, the conspiratorial tone of her voice certainly does. He bows his face to her but doesn’t kiss her, content to linger close to look at her, meeting her eyes with confidence.

At home, there’s unspoken rules of engagement between men and women, and even over a decade since the fall of their nation’s court, they’re hard to shake. Here, beyond it all, there’s space to explore.

In a building like this, it’s not just permission. It’s encouraged.

He swallows his breath.

“Pick a room,” he says. “I’m yours wherever you’ll have me.”

"I admit, I'm curious about the third floor. No single men," she recites, and she stuffs down the petty part of her that wants to ask if that means him. Not right now, she supposes. "Why would that be? Shall we investigate, Clive?"

It doesn’t even occur to him that it might include him. He just agrees: “We should.”

He also gives a little shrug of his shoulders.

“Too many scoundrels, I assume.”

"But why that rule for that floor in particular? What are they hiding?" She teases, and she slips behind him to put her hands on his lower back, giving the most gentle of pushes forward. She's already playful--hard to tell if it's the mood of the place or the drink. Maybe both. "Let us find a way up."

Clive moves with the push to be game, even if he could easily resist.

“Impatient, I see,” he says, seizing upon one of the offending hands and locking it in his, but he walks. “Perhaps to limit the number of men in total? Perhaps it is a harem up there.”

Jill scoffs, perhaps more openly than she normally would allow herself.

"A harem? I'll allow many things tonight, but I want you to myself, and it's only you that I want."

“So what is the draw to making love here, if we aren’t to play with others?” It’s a genuine question. “To watch, or be watched?”

"Watching is one thing. Touching is another," she says, and it's simple to her. "I don't like others touching you."

He’s unsurprised, but it doesn’t quite stopper the flicker of concern on his face.

“Then no one will but you,” he says. Here, at least, within these walls, where they’re together.

She sees it. It makes her steps slow, and she pulls on his hand.

"... unless... that's something you'd like to explore?" Her thumb moves over his skin. "I don't like the idea of it, but that doesn't mean I'm not open to trying."

He slows to a stop, taking the tug as incentive to turn to her fully. He doesn’t want to sour her on the evening by being… himself.

“That’s not what I’m asking, Jill,” he says. “And I certainly don’t want to cause you upset.”

"I won't be upset," she reassures. Or she'll try not to be upset at the very least. They're not together, after all. What right does she have?

"This is for you, too."

He’s not so sure she won’t be, and for a beat he just glances away, ashamed that he might upset her. When he looks back to her, he’s sure.

“I don’t need to be with others to be content. I certainly do not want a harem,” he assures her. “But if the opportunity arose… I would see what would happen, if we agreed upon another joining us.”

"A man, too?" A thousand silly scenarios run through her head, one involving Clive bodily heaving Luis out a window, but even a little tipsy she manages to keep that amusement to herself.

She brings Clive's hand to her waist so her hands are free to cup his face and turn it to her.

"I've followed you into battle against all sorts of odds and enemies. I would follow you into bed with someone, too."

He takes her by the waist readily, looking down at her with a terrible pang in his heart that they find themselves this… what? Afraid of each other, their desires? Is another lover like an enemy?

“Depending on the man, yes,” Clive says. That, at least, he feels confident about. “Thank you. And should you find yourself unhappy, you need only say so.”

So maybe no calling up Luis. Jill lets go of Clive's face to rest her palms against his chest.

"That goes for you, too. I know I get jealous." And now she has no right. "I don't want that to ruin our night."

“I don’t want you to be jealous of anyone,” he says. “Perhaps it’s best we take this slowly. Tonight, it’s just us.”

She smiles fondly, happy to hear that. They should ease into it, regardless. Bringing in a third person complicates everything.

"Easier said than done. I envy anyone that has your attention. I always wonder if they cherish it as much as I do."

He chuckles under his breath, pulling away just to pull her with him, to tug her towards the stairs to explore the next floor.

“I doubt anyone cherishes it as much as you,” he says. “I’ve never had anyone else in my life care for me so deeply.”

"Fools, all of them."

The smile is in her voice as she follows after him. And as they go up the stairs, she gives his ass a grab. To lighten the mood.

He feels her cop a feel and gives her a look, surprised but thoroughly amused.

“Touching,” he says. In both senses.

"I can't help myself," she says. On both counts.

“Such poor impulse control,” he says, vaguely teasing as he takes the offending hand. “What would your governess say?”

"She'd tell me I'd never be a decent wife. But she also told me to apply myself to all that I do, so..."

She wiggles her fingers in his grasp. Let her grab you, Clive.

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Lands at lax

vile levels of excitement

Hee hee hee

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Where's Tifa and Cloud

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Sorry had to find Canadians

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