[While Usui has no problem with displaying his affections publicly and frequently, there's an upwards point in which his shamelessness folds. Not for himself being his reputation never struck him important. It's her reputation he's careful with; someone of Misaki's stature getting caught in a compromising position is unbecoming and something he won't allow.
He's confident enough he'll know when to stop if eyes begin prying and having to keep a watchful eye is thrilling. Papers falling to floor sounds louder than he gauged them to, but he's sighing and shaking his head. Her glare is met with a sly smirk to speak for him and melts when focus takes back on what he plans to do with the piece of ice.
Locked between his thumb and two nearest fingers, the cube travels to her neck below her ear. Application is faint like the brushing of a feather. It's no direct application, yet, and travels with his hand lower about her neck to below her chin and coming to a stop where her shoulders begin. Then it's over, hand lifted and ice put on her lips with a singer finger.]
That. [Short and curt, and by indications of his expression, not the last of it.]
You still look heated Misaki, I may have my work cut out for me. [He chimes bordering the sing song voice he takes in compromising situations like these. With her seated upon the desk, his free hand roams taking rest on her leg above her knee and drums against her skin by his fingers. A different and more human brought sort of heat stirs in his stomach; the sort that's meant for privacy and seclusion.]
no subject
He's confident enough he'll know when to stop if eyes begin prying and having to keep a watchful eye is thrilling. Papers falling to floor sounds louder than he gauged them to, but he's sighing and shaking his head. Her glare is met with a sly smirk to speak for him and melts when focus takes back on what he plans to do with the piece of ice.
Locked between his thumb and two nearest fingers, the cube travels to her neck below her ear. Application is faint like the brushing of a feather. It's no direct application, yet, and travels with his hand lower about her neck to below her chin and coming to a stop where her shoulders begin. Then it's over, hand lifted and ice put on her lips with a singer finger.]
That. [Short and curt, and by indications of his expression, not the last of it.]
You still look heated Misaki, I may have my work cut out for me. [He chimes bordering the sing song voice he takes in compromising situations like these. With her seated upon the desk, his free hand roams taking rest on her leg above her knee and drums against her skin by his fingers. A different and more human brought sort of heat stirs in his stomach; the sort that's meant for privacy and seclusion.]