aimedforthemoon | (no subject)

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(no subject)

It's late afternoon - still warm, but late enough that the moon is out - and Esfir is lying on the grass, shoes next to her and pants rolled up. She's gazing up at the blue sky, one hand under her head.

The other is out in front of her and, one eyes closed, she is making the moon vanish and appear just by moving her thumb.

(possibly, she really shouldn't be doing this)

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He unfolds his legs and lies back on the grass, grinning over at her.

"Forgiven, I s'pose."

"Just 'suppose'?"

"Well, you might have to make it up to me."

She leans over him, bracing her weight on her hand the other side of him.

"Oh?"

He looks up at her, into her face.

"Oh, yeah. I think I can come up with a few possibilities."

"I'm sure you can." Her voice is amused.

"Bet you could, too. Smart girl that you are."

"I can come up with one. Anything else, and I don't know you well enough yet."

He's still looking up into her face.

"Well, one's a good start."

And she's still looking down.

"Like this?"

And she leans down to kiss him. Just lightly, though.

His eyes don't close, and he returns the kiss with just a little more pressure.

When it ends, "Just like that."

"Good."

Then she grins and flops down onto the grass to go back to moon-watching.

"I shall keep this in mind."

Owen sits upright, looking at her indignantly.

"Oi! Tease."

Sadly, any innocent face she may have attempted to pull is ruined by laughter.

"Naughty little girls", Owen pronounces with some gravity, "get taken over my knee."

To be tickled unmercifully, though, not spanked, as she's about to find out.

"I'm very, very good."

"Oh, but you're not." He's reaching for her surreptitiously.

"Am."

"Not."

Owen shuffles very slightly towards her, and Esfir suddenly finds herself lifted and deposited across his lap.

Which gets a yelp and a wriggle.

Possibly, she didn't think he was serious.

"Ha!" he says triumphantly.

He has at least that moment before she is up and pushing him back, using more their combined weights to unbalance him then her own strength.

Owen flails, despite the awkwardness of the angle, and actually manages to keep his balance for a second or two before he's flat on his back.

And then she gets pulled down on top of him.

"I," she says, "was looking at the moon."

"The moon's not going anywhere."

It's a fine night, and the grass is dry.