She's an impatient woman, always had been, doesn't like being played with more than she's the one who calls the mark. But for the first moments, she's happy to let her eyes close, let her head roll back into the bed. Her hands stretch up behind her on the bed. Because well - truth of it: besides the many wraps of material about her body, there isn't anything else particularly in Teren's way. Nothing to stop how she shivers, that one thready sigh of relief of being touched at all. Gripping around her hips with the hard set of her leg to make sure she didn't get any ideas.
Because - like a woman used to having servants, or either way, living in houses where the poor barely had one room between a family - she doesn't seem to mind being watched or concerned for the display without Teren undressing. Rather, when her eye cracks a sliver, looking up under thick dark lashes, lips party thinly, there's a faint challenge. That meets her eye and the sound is barely that. One beckoning moan that, go on then, is more challenge than in earnest.
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Date: 2018-11-17 07:28 am (UTC)Because - like a woman used to having servants, or either way, living in houses where the poor barely had one room between a family - she doesn't seem to mind being watched or concerned for the display without Teren undressing. Rather, when her eye cracks a sliver, looking up under thick dark lashes, lips party thinly, there's a faint challenge. That meets her eye and the sound is barely that. One beckoning moan that, go on then, is more challenge than in earnest.