so don't you let her get under your skin

[samson]

Who: Brock and Molotov
What: Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool
When: Weds., 25 April, early evening
Where: Room 509
Rating: Probably PG-13, will edit if necessary :T

[Brock had been spending the majority of his time lately working on his cabin, or rather working on a garage to attach to his cabin so he could put his car somewhere to work on that. It was pretty convoluted, but the point was, he was getting married in less than a week and he should probably spend time with his fiancée instead of dicking around in the woods all the time.

So, it's just around dinnertime when he rolls in through the door. Better late than never, right? That's sort of Brock's philosophy about their whole relationship, which explains things.

Anyway, he shuts the door behind him and calls out for her.]

Hey, kitten? You home?

Comments

[samson]

[Brock just snorts, carrying the plates to the kitchen and sticking them in the dishwasher.]

You're nuts, lady. You don't know what you're in for.

[molotov]

Boredom and long nights of "is it in yet"?

[samson]

No ... the opposite.

[lol defensive]

[molotov]

So... chaste sleeping?

[samson]

[Rolling his eyes, he goes back over to the table, leaning on the back of her chair and lighting a cigarette.]

I'm going to smack you.

[molotov]

So mean to me.

[samson]

You like it.

[molotov]

It is terrible. You abuse me.

[samson]

No way.

[molotov]

You would be in jail, if this were home.

[samson]

Nah. Not at all.

[molotov]

Domestic violence.

[samson]

Like I said, babydoll. [He leans down to kiss her crown.] You like it.

[molotov]

I have never confirmed that.

[samson]

I guess we'll see what you like in a couple days, huh?

[molotov]

I can already confidently say that I will not like any of it.

[samson]

Then I guess we'll just have to keep trying until you do.

[molotov]

What if I decide you are not talented enough to give me something I would like?

[samson]

[frown ... he's getting tired of playing ...]

Then you can tell me.

[molotov]

[Molotov frowns a little too. It's just teasing!]

You will be upset.

[samson]

[he knows she's just teasing, but he's getting tired of it! it's bordering on the rude now.]

No. Then I can figure out what I'm doing wrong and fix it.

[molotov]

[But this is not rude! This is an expression of a legitimate worry. In fact, she now sounds more upset than anything else.]

But what if you can't?

[samson]

[FROWN...............]

Baby.

[He bends down to wrap his arms around her shoulders, kissing her jaw.]

We'll be fine. We'll work around it. If you don't like sex, we don't have to have sex.

[molotov]

[She's still frowning.]

But you like it, and I know that is why you are marrying me. I do not want you to regret it.

[samson]

[He kisses her jaw again.]

Babe, we can do other stuff that isn't sex. I mean, that thing with your hands, I like that ...