(Untitled)

[tin_hearts]

The mattress lands in the bed frame with the most satisfying thwump Wyatt's heard in several annuals. He brushes his hands on the front of his pants with a proud little grin and looks at his partner in crime.

"All in a day's work."

((OOC: Dirty, dirty stuff in the comments. Heading into NSFW territory, here.))

Comments

[smecker]

Paul responds by a full-body flop onto the bed, sprawling atop the mattress.

"In a day's work if you're a damn furniture mover," he bitches good-naturedly. "Remind me to have your friend Glitch invent a fucking elevator for this place."

[tin_hearts]

There are so many ways he could respond to that. He could get away with any amount of cheek, or snark, he could strike a pose, or make a teasing remark. He could rhyme in his head, he was so glad to have finally gotten around to this. A damn bed frame for the mattress, all set up and good to go.

"Wouldn't want too much electronics around in case of a fire."

Yeah, he just went the boring route.

Reaching out to run his fingers over the nearest leg extending into a bedpost, watching the other man with substantial...not just interest, but that's definitely part of it. Interest, no little amount of fondness. Maybe it's just a bed frame, but it was hard work getting it up here, and they did it. He's always been very much in favor of team efforts.

"So...things are starting to shape up around here."

[smecker]

Paul props himself up onto his elbows, peers around the third story. This is the place he's marked out as his own-- okay, maybe not the entire third floor, but enough of it. The things he was interested in bringing over from the place above the shop have been brought-- the clothes he's accumulated while here, the weaponry he grabbed during the zombies, his pots and pans...

Some furniture, although not much. The bed's the biggest thing. And the the thing they put off for longest, what with those three flights of stairs.

"Yeah. Currently, the shape is a bunch of random piles, but that's a shape." Paul looks around thoughtfully, figuring out where things are going to go, then gives up on the mental interior decorating for now.

"Thanks for the help. I'd probably still be swearing at this thing if I was doing it on my own."

[tin_hearts]

"Don't mention it," he replies, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, eyes looking here and there. Yeah, random pile shape is a good way to put it. But it beats the empty space, warehouse thing he had going on just a week or two ago. Or three, but who's counting?

He's glad Paul won't be sleeping on the floor anymore. It's a definite step up.

"You wouldn't have needed the help if you'd settled for a reasonable size, you know."

[smecker]

"And you getting ideas is a problem why?" Paul smirks. "It's fine by me if you get ideas. As long as you share them."

He helps with Wyatt's trousers, though-- hooks his fingers into the waistband and yanks, till they're down around his ankles. Paul straddles Wyatt's thighs, starts making quick work of his own shirt buttons while looking down at him with a lopsided grin.

"I'll tell you my ideas if you tell me yours..."

[tin_hearts]

"You know you're making my life damn difficult now, don't you?" He grins, toeing his pants the rest of the way off his feet and off the bed. A stifled little flutter of sound escapes his mouth when he gets his wish partway.

"Because I get flustered as all get out, while you can say the dirtiest things and not so much as blink."

[smecker]

"Practice makes perfect, Wyatt," Paul answers primly. And as if to punctuate that, he lifts his wrist to his own mouth-- starts undoing the button with only teeth and tongue, his eyes locked with Wyatt's blue ones as he does so, wicked amusement dancing in their depths.

His other hand amuses itself by trailing a path over the other man's now-exposed chest, fingertips brushing light and teasing through his ash-blond hairs.

[tin_hearts]

Wyatt swallows through the sudden dryness of his throat. He needs a drink, or one of those humidifier things you plug in and stick in a corner of the room. Paul's just such a damn tease, and it's not always easy being on the receiving end of it.

The flash of teeth, flick of tongue, and the pale blue eyes watching him hungrily--

He tries clearing his throat, but all that comes out is a soft grunt. "I-- It's nothing too elaborate," he stalls and knows full well how obvious he is about it. He never did have much of a poker face outside of work. Not when it's personal.

"Mostly just legs in the air and-- Just sex."