aucourant | Open RP Post

"Not an issue at all. I just also like being creative." Hartley's smile was positively angelic. He knew it too, because even though real smiles weren't something that happened to him much, he was still aware of the boyish, all too All American charm he could have used in theory, if he ever bothered much. There never seemed to be much reason, at least outside of when his fingers felt their way along Connor's thigh, only the knuckled brushing against his crotch before they started slowly withdrawing again. "You're more flexible than I'd have thought too. I didn't get to take that into account last time, but I guess we can explore your limits now."

He reached for his glass and took a sip, his eyes still on Connor. "So. The texting pitch worked?"

Edited (because we're not self-inserting) 2016-07-03 10:25 (UTC)

"The....what now?" He blurted out, having not followed on the path back to the topic they'd started with. His imagination had snapped up on just what exploring limits could possibly mean and ran with it. Combined with vital resources being diverted to respond to that teasing knuckle, he was left with very few faculties in tact.

Was that the game? Teasing and acting like there was nothing happening? Usually he was the one driving these things, so he wasn't quite sure where they stood or where they were going. It took him several attempts to even get back on track with the conversation, let alone figuring what what he was supposed to.

"Oh. Yeah. Totally. Shot a whole commercial, eventually lost the account. A whole drama thing. Ruined the whole year. Can we get back to that other thing? About the limits? I kinda need an elaboration there." It was quite possible that he didn't know how to breathe between words.

"Seems like you'd have an easier time keeping up in show as opposed to tell." Hartley rolled his eyes, but his smile was teasing while he watched Connor's face. He was easy to mock, but at the same time also all too charming. "I've never talked to someone in advertising before. It's interesting."

Also interesting? What Connor's reaction might be to his fingers trailing ever higher up again. Actually far more interesting, but that was the point. Connor was so eager to talk the other day, it was fun to keep him talking today, although now it seemed he'd have preferred to listen.

"What elaboration do you need? I'm just curious to find out more about you. How long you can last before begging, for example."

Connor was prepared with an answer to that, about how science and advertising tended to not mix, or about how he probably had and just never knew because ad men could easily move among any crowd like chameleons. But before he could get the words out, that hand was wandering again, throwing his mind off course. Just a small stumble at first, but then those words had him openly staring. Did Hartley mean here? Or was that for later? Bring spots of color blossomed on his cheeks as he tried to settle on what it could mean or imply.

"Ah. Well. Advertising is...well, it's like anything else, isn't it? At the end of the day, it's just a job. You go in, you do the work, you go home. It just takes a, uh..." He stumbled again, clearing his throat and casting a wary glance around the restaurant. "Shouldn't we maybe take this somewhere else?"

"You're sweet. All talk." Hartley chuckled and shook his head, using his free hand to run a finger along the rim of his glass, finally dipping it in and then leading it to his mouth. "Don't worry. As long as you show any control at all, nobody will even notice."

No, he really didn't seem that bothered by any of this. Amused, if anything. He watched Connor and relented, moving his hand down along his thigh again and finally just letting it rest on his knee. "I don't actually appreciate being stalked, so I have a different idea about what you and I will be doing today and for the time being."

He let out a breath that was almost a laugh, both eyebrows lifting. When did he ever have control? Connor never had any sort of control, impulsively or with his mouth. He just sort of went after things with no concept of control. And he was expected to keep it together when he just wanted to shove everything off the table and take Hartley right then and there?

"I wouldn't call it stalking. Come on. We went to your place, didn't we? I just happened to be in the vicinity of said place on another day. Stalking would be using knowing where you live and your name. Well, your first name. Hartley's a first name, isn't it? Could be a last name for all I know. Anyway. It's still enough that I could have used the magical power of the internet to find out all kinds of information. Which I can honestly say I did not do. Otherwise I'd know whether or not Hartley was your first or last name." To prove that he could totally be in control, he marked the end of his statement by picking up a fry off his plate and popping it into his mouth. He was in no way over explaining to cover how nervous he was. Nope. Not a bit.

"That really just makes you seem like you're an incompetent stalker or I'm not worth that much dedication, so I'm not sure if you want to lead with that argument." Hartley had to make the wry observation, but there's a lot of amusement mixed in with his unimpressed look, which took away a lot of the sting it might otherwise have had. "It's my first name."

Might as well volunteer that information. "I got used to it." Not exactly the coolest name around, but at least it was fairly unique. He preferred Piper, but he preferred even more to keep that thought to himself. No need to let Connor in on that. No need to really let him in on anything.

He held up two fingers, while with his other hand two fingers were raking along Connor's thigh. "You have two choices. Either I come home with you and I guarantee that you'll beg, but won't get off or you go home alone and I'll let you get off. I'd even send you something for stimulation. What's your choice?"

Yet again, Connor had his reply all ready to go. He was used to defending his actions and words, especially when they seemed to fall short of expectations. A snappy wit and quick mind allowed him to keep up. Most of the time. A slight smile tugged onto his face, and he drew a breath to lay it out, when Hartley blind-sided him again. He verbally stumbled and had to press his lips together. Those fingers on his thigh weren't helping.

His gaze drifted down to the table briefly. What did that mean? Wasn't the point of it all to get off? Why would he take Hartley back to his place if they weren't going to get off? But that left further implications. What sort of something would he be sent with? Could he take care of business after Hartley left? Would he come back? He had far too many questions to come up with a proper answer. Maybe it was all just some twisted trap.

"Neither of those sound very fun. I mean, either we're working toward a very specific goal or we're not. Which is really the point if a lunchtime hook up, isn't it? A little mid-day relief. And I am in fact not an incompetent stalker. I am, actually, a considerate stalker. Anything more than what I did would be very invasive on the privacy front and would therefore cast me in an incredibly poor light. My dedication shows in the fact that you have no way to know how many times I circled your block--completely on foot, mind you--hoping to see you."

"I am working toward a very specific goal. You just don't seem to know what you're into. Which is interesting, because clearly you're craving exactly that." There's only so many ways he can react to his stalking argument, so what he does is roll his eyes and shake his head. "A considerate stalker. That is so much nicer than the inconsiderate stalkers I have." Whether or not he was just joking or if he actually had stalkers other than this ever so considerate one was up to debate.

"Let me ask you a simple question. Do you want me to make you whimper the way I have again or not?"

And again, Connor faltered. He opened his mouth to answer, but bright color blossomed on his cheeks and he immediately shut his mouth. His gaze darted around to anyone who might overhear them. Should they really be having this conversation right here in public? But he was stalling. How could he answer that? Of course he wanted it again, it felt better than anything he'd ever felt before. But he also wanted to get off. That wasn't exactly a fair choice to be offered.

"I know what I'm into," he said, not answering the apparently simple question. "There's not any question about that. Never will be. I am a man who knows what he wants and what he likes. Simple as that." He gave a firm nod, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded. Like that was any kind of answer. How was he supposed to answer a question like that?!

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