[ his hands stop moving when she spreads her legs, sitting pretty on her throne at the base of the bed and showing off lace made translucent by her own wetness. he licks his lips and tastes her there, and he could just crawl across the room and take his chances, but he huffs out another breath and resumes unbuckling his belt, slowly pulling it from the loops. ]

I don't know where my hands are meant to be. That's a game you and Ash play.

[ presumably. if he sounds a little tetchy, it's only because he's pretty sure greer is the perfect submissive in ash's bedroom, while embry is the most under-performing one that's ever crossed ash's lap. whatever. he never officially signed up for that shit anyway. it was only a few years ago that he believed he was so fucking special, providing something to ash that no one else ever could, until ash married the most vanilla lawyer in america and dashed embry's delusions against the jefferson memorial. he's been careful ever since not to overstate his importance.

he discards the belt between them like a snake, then rests his hands casually against his thighs, not touching himself but itching to. his thumb twitches closer to his fly as another button slides open, her bra on display. ]

I can help you out of that, you know. [ he angles a brow at her. ] If you come here. Or let me come there.