IT'S THE MOMENT YOU'VE WAITED FOR

"I don't know... Lance seems to have things under control so that's nice, I guess."

Trita shrugs with a little sigh, replaying Dolan's soft touch against her neck over in her head, trying to savor it and commit it to memory. It's not that they don't ever act gentle and loving towards each other, it's more that their normal is to be a little rough, untamed, actions meant to leave marks like medals and trophies. When you and your partner prefer the more wild side of love, sweet moments of affection become little treasures.

Dolan by nature isn't a very open and gentle man to begin with so these touches aren't so freely given out to just anyone. The fact that he reserves them for her, that he uses it as his serious mode of nonverbal communication with her just makes them all the more special. Makes her feel all the more special, not that she'd ever actually say that to him. Not that she thinks he'd use it against her, but she doesn't want to be known as someone pining after his attention and affection all day. There's one thing Trita Airin isn't and that's needy.

So even though she leans into the glance of his hand for a split moment, she follows along with his topic change, letting him swipe her coffee. She did offer it, after all.

"I just... This isn't the first time someone has called me out on being a fake and it won't be the last, but it is the first time someone's gone through such a drastic measure to prove I'm not what I claim to be. It's weird, don't you think?"

Holding out her hand, she waits for him to be done taking a sip and to hand the mug back to her. She takes a sip herself, relishing the warmth that floods through her as she holds the warm drink. He's getting to work gently but effectively wrapping her ear, but she can tell he's waiting for her to continue.

"The timing, I mean. The budget, then Luna's silks, and now this attack? It's all sort of... I don't know, just too coincidentally lining up. But that's not really what you were asking, was it?"

A smile pulls at her lips, a little smug as is her resting expression when it comes to him, but mostly soft, knowing, eyes glancing up at him to reassure him that he doesn't need to say it. After all these years, she can still read him and she wants that to be as comforting as possible for him.

"I am a little concerned, I won't lie to you. What if this is just some open invitation for people now? They start lining up to tug on my ears or tail, start mocking me more and more for being a fraud, a little playboy bunny showgirl with a halfway decent makeup artist and good quality props. It's crossed my mind. I'm assuming it's crossing yours right now and has been since last night?"

"I just think that maybe you should consider hanging back from the divider for a few nights. If you decide to. You don't need me to tell you what to do."

He says it all matter of factly, a little flatly, and he knows that to anyone else, what he's said could be interpreted as a little harsh. But it's all just another facet of their personal world, the hidden things only they can interpret between each other and the things neither of them have to come out and say out loud.

There's always been a mutual respect, an acknowledgment on both their sides of something in the other that they admired, identified with, and gravitated towards. Truth be told, it had started with their sexual preferences, but it surprisingly enough for both of them, it definitely hadn't ended there.

That's why it's sometimes so difficult for Dolan to watch Shand fawning over Luna, agonizing over how to best keep her safe. Then again, Dolan knows they're a different couple, a couple nonetheless, even though he'd rather not even acknowledge that. But the idea of treating Trita that way feels disrespectful, reductive, as if he's not really taking her for who she is. And the fact that he does is a part of what makes their relationship so natural and effortless.

She can take care of herself. Oftentimes much better than Dolan could ever hope to. Like last night, sometimes he steps in out of panic or some other emotion he hasn't identified in the moment and therefore doesn't know how to control. But she's never faulted him for that, either.

They both are who they are, likenesses and differences, and it's all accepted. Taken at face value for all it is. A deep and lasting security.

He finishes wrapping up her ear, takes a moment to smooth over where he's tucked the edge of he bandage.

"I've been thinking about asking Lance to cut the sideshow down for a few nights, to be perfectly honest. Keep it running for a shorter amount of time and push the same number of people through faster. So people aren't just standing around so long. Less time to do stupid things."

"Hang back?"

Trita arches her eyebrow up at him, smacking him right in the face with her good ear to show her displeasure with the suggestion. Probably a bad call since she's very much enjoying the delicate care he's giving her other ear and smacking him with the good one seems like a fast way to ruin the mood.

"And do... What exactly? Wave at people as they walk by? Watch you flirt it up with all the women that come to stare at you while I have to wink at all the men from a distance? Sure fire way to make me jealous but also just... Boring. We can't even play our game and take bets on who snaps first like that. Honestly, I'm not even sure what purpose I'd be serving the sideshow at that point other than a hybrid statue. They'd be better off going to an art gallery or something for that."

Sighing, she leans back, pressing her palms on the mattress behind her for support. He could have said something worse, she supposes, like told her not to do anything in the circus at all, to take a break from it all. Then again, he did just say he's not "telling" her what to do, it's just a suggestion. She is very much free to make her own call on that one.

But it's not like what he said is bad or wrong, there's a valid view and concern to the suggestion. Sometimes he wonders if he even knows how to give commands... Then again, that's never been the nature of their relationship. For the best, she couldn't imagine what she'd do if he ever got so full of himself he tried bossing her around. It definitely wouldn't end well, that's for sure.

"I mean, it's not a bad idea, I just don't see how it could work for what we do as our part in the sideshow, that's all."

And she can't imagine what would happen if she ever got so full of herself she started undervaluing and discrediting his ideas and thoughts in general. Again: Wouldn't end well. Thankfully, he's never had a thought she couldn't find some worth to, everything he says and suggests, seriously thinks through and plans out, are usually spot on, the best way to go.

Like the whole telling Lance to shorten the open hours of the sideshow. Definitely not a bad idea, have people keep walking through in a constant flow rather than stop and stand for minutes and minutes on end. The more time someone idles, the more time they have to think and plan and do something idiotic. If they keep moving, they don't have time, they're too distracted, trying to see and take in all they can. Dolan is onto something there.

"And have you told Lance about this idea of yours? Seriously, it's a good idea, it's just getting him on board with it because that means less time for him to pickpocket. The budget being what it is and all."

“I️ wouldn’t leave you back behind the rope all by your lonesome. You have no faith.”

Dolan flicks a mischievous look down at her only momentarily before returning to the task of smoothing the hair around the bandage out, making sure none of it is matted or knotted, all laying smooth.

“We could pause our little game for a while. Pay more attention to each other up on the platform than the people below it.”

He says it in that flat, matter of fact voice of his, but he can’t help but come across as sexual. Its not his intention in the moment, although he’s sure he can revisit that later if needed.

“I’m just saying we could figure out something to make it work, just for a little while, until this blows over.”

That’s been the name of their game for as long as Dolan can remember the two of them together. Adapt and survive, make the cards in your hand work for you. They’ve gotten so good at it that seldom can anyone tell when things don’t work out their way because they always simply act as if things have, and the universe often follows suit.

When it doesn’t, well, they’re pretty good at scheming up decent strategies together, too.

“As far as the other thing goes, I️ wasn’t going to bring it up to Lance without talking to you first. But I️ figure if he can bring someone else in so he’s working one side of the room while the other persons working the other, they should be able to make up for the change in pace. Maybe even exceed what we were taking in before. Depending on how well the other person can pick pockets.”

Dolan shrugs, knowing all the obvious suspects are spoken for. No one performing in the side show can do it, and Kvanne not only watches over Yvaine during that time, but he would also staunchly refuse to do anything even remotely similar to pickpocketing.

That really only leaves one person, which is another reason Dolan hasn’t brought it up to Lance yet.

“But I️ thought, if you were on board with it, I’d give Lance the general idea and he could figure the rest out his own way from there.”

As Dolan talks and finishes with the medical part of helping her, he sits back, closes up the first aid kit, and cocks his head at how her eyes look a little sleepy but fly back open once he leans away.

"Lunath...?"

Trita feels a million times more awake now than she's been the entire time Dolan has been working to patch up her ear. Of all people, Lunath? It makes sense as far as he's the only one free at that time, but can he really handle that? Is Dolan really alright with his son even remotely stepping foot in that sort of life and habit? Would Lance be okay with it? Honestly, feels like it brings up more questions than answers but what else do they really have going for them now?

"I guess it could work... I think that all really depends on how fast Lance thinks he can teach Lunath how to pickpocket. Also, and probably more importantly in Lunath's case, how to talk your way out of being caught. I love him, but the moment someone turns around and accuses him of stealing, it's all over."

As she speaks, she reaches forward and snatches his hand, moving it to rest on the top of her head between her ears. He seems confused, frozen as he tries to figure her intentions out, and it makes her laugh quietly. To try to help him out, she starts moving his hand for him, pressing his fingers through her hair, playing with some strands, mostly working along the base of her ears.

Dolan, as smart as he is, doesn't seem to catch on immediately. It's not as if these sorts of gentle moments don't ever cross his mind, they're just not his natural go-to way of affection. Trita can appreciate that about him because they aren't usually hers either, but, sometimes, they feel nice, hit the spot more than anything else. Now feels like one of those moments.

"I know you like my ears and how soft they are because you're weird like that. Why don't you play with them a bit?"

There's never a moment, even deep into a serious conversation, that the two of them don't sound like they're flirting with each other. It's a fundamental part of who they are as a couple. Right now Trita is trying her absolute best to convey as much sincerity as possible in the hopes he picks up that she's been enjoying his close attention.

Slowly, his fingers start to move on their own so she drops her hand and continues.

"I've gotta ask... Why did you feel the need to tell me your plan before you told Lance? Hoping I can persuade him after he inevitably tells you no?"

Dolan huffs a little sigh, first in frustration over the tight spot he’s thought them into regarding Lunath, but then with a bit of a smile as he starts raking his fingers gently through her hair, leaning in closer to her to ruffle her fur. Its a little strange for her to be directing him to be gentle instead of directing him otherwise- where to press or tie or bite.

But something about this is nice too, the way she leans into it and how her face melts a little, some of the tension from the last few days held at bay for a bit. If he’s being honest, now that she’s already got him thinking along this track, the last few days have been rough and harsh and hard. This gentle, sweet, and soft is good to balance them out.

He keeps rubbing circles around in her hair, stroking up and down her uninsured ear.

“The idea of Lunath doing that isn’t my favorite. He thinks he’s sneakier than he is. But in all honesty, he probably knows how to pickpockets already, with all the books he reads. Its just... the technique.”

Dolan would really rather figure out a way to do it himself and be in the sideshow with Trita all at the same time. Really, he’d rather find a way to just do everything himself.

“And well, I️ didn’t tell Lance because you needed to be okay with it first.”

He shrugs but she keeps looking at him, waiting for more. They do this sometimes. He’s not a man of a lot of words, most of the time, and sometimes she just waits, draws more out of him silently, helping him figure out along the way how to give it.

“I️ already derailed your night enough when you could have handled the situation. I️ made this a lot worse for everyone, but you mostly. So I️ wasn’t going to go giving Lance ideas if it wasn’t something you would want to do, or even liked the sound of.”

Everyone tells Dolan, or at least says behind his back, that Trita has him whipped. Its amusing at least in terms of the irony surrounding the activities often demonstrated in their sideshow act, but as a way of defining love, Dolan has always thought it unnecessarily superficial and dumb.

Its true that he would do anything for her, knows her well and tries to know her even better when he can. But it’s not a mindless, infatuated thing, like he’s some wild animal or hormone-addled teenager. Its a conscious decision, a dedication, a value judgment he makes about the importance of her and her wants and needs. That respect is always reciprocated, never taken advantage of. Which Dolan thinks is far better than being whipped. Well, in the figurative sense.

"Awh, is that what you're thinking?"

She sings her words a bit at the end to emphasize the tone she takes, a very teasing yet somehow sincere "how cute" little sound. A sound he doesn't seem to take kindly to.

"No, don't be like that, come here."

Snatching his free hand, she yanks him down to sit on the bed with her, momentarily stopping him from playing with her ear and hair but not for long. Once he's situated, she climbs on top of his lap and straddles him, taking both of his hands and shifting them up into her hair. Like usual, he doesn't instantly get to work so she flicks her eyes up at him a little pleadingly and that seems to let the message sink back in.

Words are necessary with them and she loves that, they just have to nudge each other in the right direction, if anything is even needed in the first place. Or, sometimes, it's more fun to do some forceful pushing like yanking him down onto the bed. He's always enjoyed moments like that, just as much as she enjoys it. Of course, that is to say the two of them enjoy both parts of the action, equally enjoying being the pushed or pusher depending on the day. They share roles rather well.

"You didn't ruin my night, Dolan. God, if anything I love watching you get all protective over me. The way you just kinda snapped and ran across the platform? Ugh, what a view. Don't even get me started on the muscle show as you were pulling that whip back and whispering all those threats in that punk's ear. And, yes, I heard everything you said, I am part rabbit. Your voice is very appealing to me when it takes that tone. Like a god of death or vengeance on earth."

Trita laughs quietly, moving her own hands to press out and smooth his shirt over his chest from all the reaching up he keeps doing to play with her fur. She can feel her eyes get heavy as every stroke of his fingers relaxes her further and further, more than he could probably ever know. Even her tail begins to flick back and forth slowly, though she's more than happy to hide that from him. It's just a little too animal-like, too much like a dog wagging its tail, for her liking. Embarrassing, in a way.

Thank God she's not a cat hybrid, she's heard stories of how they purr during different moments, happy, content, sensual, things like that. She's mostly grown out of being ashamed of her rabbit features but even that would be a little much for her.

"I know a man just died and all, but watching you act like that was really doing something for me."

She leans forward and tucks her head under his chin, letting her ears press up against the sides of his face, though her injured one flicks at the awful feeling of something brushing against the unpleasant texture of the gauze and bandage. Not so much because she can feel the rubbing motion itself but because she can hear how it sounds. After that initial movement is over, she just lets that ear rest against him and leaves the other to brush against him.

Up until now, he’s understood how the movements of his hands, the feeling against her fur, was comforting to her. But when she leans in against his chest, it takes a second for him because his mind shifts, starts to feel the comfort of it himself. He lets himself take a deep, contented sigh, one hand cupping the back of her head, fingers twirling in her hair, the other brushing gently through the ends of her hair that trail down the front of her.

“God, I️ think if I️ could have killed him twice I️ would have. I️ was so angry, I️ barely remember getting off that platform.”

Dolan expects that from himself, of course, but there are still times when it’s frightening, though he’d sooner die than admit it. And he knows good and well that he’d hit the jackpot in finding Trita, someone who not only accepts those frightening parts of him, but somehow finds them attractive as well. She’s special, that’s for sure.

He hooks his chin in a little over her head as if to solidify the embrace. It feels nice to have her wrapped up so close to him, feel her weight against his chest, her body pulled up tight to him. Comfort is the perfect word for it. But she was the one who’d brought up how the events of last night had done something for her, and it’s not in Dolan’s nature to let anything like that go.

“So you liked all that last night, huh? Finally showed you the extent of all that good choking power I️ bragged about when we met, hm?”

He can’t stop a chuckle from rumbling in his chest. Leaning back, he pulls them both, lays them out across the bed, holding her body still on top of his tight to him.

“Did it get you all hot and bothered, watching me choke a guy with the whip you’d been using on me just before?”

Trita's nose presses into his chest enough that she huffs, jerking her head away from his neck to rest her chin against his chest and look at him, eyebrow arched at the shift in his tone.

"Baby, watching you choke that guy made me think that you've been holding out on me. Not that I want you to kill me, of course, but clearly we could get you a little wilder then you've been."

He's still looking down at her, watching her, strange little flickers passing through his eyes. She recognizes them and recognizes them well at that, she knows what his brain is jumping to now. Not that she can blame him, she did shift the topic and, thus, the mood. Still, it humors her to watch him respond to her so easily.

As if she doesn't respond the same when she sees that look in his eyes...

"Now I have a new way to use the whip stored away for future reference. Thanks for that."

Leaning up, she places a little kiss on the tip of his nose, letting her hands shift and wander up to his head, combing her fingers through his dark hair. Nothing sensual or sexual yet, she's sure that's exactly where this is going, but still just soft, letting the moment lead up to where it's inevitably going to go.

It's not intentional, but Dolan's eyes slip closed when she starts carding through his hair. It's not that they're not soft or gentle or soothing with each other like this, but all the same, he hadn't exactly been expecting it. So when she leans up against him, even though she's made sexual comments, he can feel some of the tension melting out of him, feel his shoulders sink deeper into the bed, instead of that more common feeling of an energy surge.

He won't lie, it's feels nice. There's always stress to be had here in some way shape or form, but it's not something he's quick to talk about or even admit. He lets it pile up on his shoulders, in his spine, inside his head where he can put it all into boxes and deal with things at the appropriate time in the appropriate way. But even that way, things get heavy fast.

He lets out a compulsive sigh, slow and soft, and he can feel his breath slow down and steady out.

"If I didn't feel so strangely relaxed right now, you'd be giving me whiplash."

He would tell her that the pun was unintentionally, but he peeks one eye open as much as his heavy eyelid will let him and he connects with her gaze enough to let her know, which she smacks him lightly on the stomach for with a grin. It's not enough to pull him out of the deep relaxation she's got him slipping into, though.

To the best of his ability, he keeps twirling the ends of her hair around his fingers, reaching up just slightly to pet at the hair around her ears.

"I don't know right now whether I'd rather sleep with you, or sleep with you right now."

He puffs out a bit of air in an almost chuckle, lets the burst ruffle at the top of her head.

"Hey. If Luna can just take a day off out of nowhere, why shouldn't we be able to? Let's just all go on strike today and do nothing, yeah?"

He definitely doesn't mean altogether nothing. He has plenty of things in mind that he'd like to be doing in place of what they'll inevitably have to be doing later. But there is still time between then and now, so he gives a little grunt, shifts and rolls them over so he's on top of her, sitting up resting on an elbow, so he can trace her jaw, her nose, her cheeks with one soft finger.

"Oh?"

At the sudden shift, Trita's arms fall by her side, hands just slightly above her head on the mattress and, despite how this position usually always gets their minds rolling on things to do, she really just finds herself smiling up at him, leaning her head and face into the touch of his fingers all across her features.

Anyone who knew them, any member of the Fox family, probably wouldn't be aware that the two of them are capable of moments like this. All anyone hears are the desperate little noises, the sounds producing by experimenting with a host of different toys. To most, that's just who they are as a couple, and, yes, it's a big part of who they are but it isn't everything. They're soft and sweet, genuinely in love and all about the other.

"What do you have in mind for our 'day off,' dear? Honestly, it looks to me like you could fall asleep any second and that you're trying to get me to do the same. Was nap time on your mind, old man?"

She lifts one hand to cup his face again, rubbing her thumb under his eye and up to his temple, massaging into his hairline. Not everyone needs to see these moments. Though Trita wouldn't care too much if they did, she's aware acting like this in public makes Dolan uncomfortable. It's not that he's ashamed of her, of treating her like this, he just views this as vastly more intimate, something meant just for her, than anything sexual they do. More often than not, she doesn't disagree with that train of thought. Her helplessly in love side is just for him.

Though, sometimes she does wish they could just hold hands and walk around like Shand and Luna do, she ultimately knows every night, right before they get into their little games, he's waiting in their tent to dance to the songs on the radio with her. Even after they tire themselves out, she loves curling up against his chest and falling asleep just listening to him breathe.

The proposition of a whole day with him, mixing up their normal with things like this on and off all day is more than enticing.

"If you mean we're going to just do us all day then I hope you know that's going to spoil me and I'll expect more days off with you. Maybe every day off."

Dolan actually laughs at that, and it shakes both of them a little before he goes back to tracing over her features lightly like he's drawing or memorizing her.

"I'm sure I could find some way to be intimidating enough that Lance would have no choice but to accept it. Just think of all the things we could do with so much time, hm?"

If they had every day, or even close to it, to just themselves, the possibilities are endless. They've both always been the surviving type. Wherever they go, no matter what they're doing, they usually end up on top with other people trying to ride their coattails. Its just another reason on the very long list of reasons they're so good together.

And if they had more down time, time not eaten up by the circus, they could... could probably be softer more like this, couldn't they? It's not something Dolan's really considered before. Mostly the times they're like this, talking quietly alone, just feeling each other in a nonsexual way, are open and vulnerable. One of them is sharing something important, heavy, intimate. Dolan doesn't mind that, just has a hard time sharing those things on his part. But the idea of having more of this, just gentle touches and stress melting away, is vastly appealing.

All of it would end in one way, he knows, the same way he's sure this is going to end. The same way most things end with them. But he's not too keen to rush it this time. Despite how he can feel his body already reacting to her. Then again, when is it not?

Still, he pulls his elbow in a little so he can just lay his head against her chest, listen to how her heart thumps under him. The world has always been a harsh place, a place to keep your wits about you and always be on alert, always kill or be killed. It's like that everywhere but right here.

"So tell me what, in your opinion, 'doing us' consists of. I'm very curious."

He is curious, although his voice sounds slow and a little muffled with how his face is pressed to her and he's now feeling too content and lazy to move.

"Doing us, hmmmm...."

Now that he's lower, more within reach and better positioned, she moves her hands back down, immediately twirling at his hair with her fingers the moment she makes contact with all his various messy locks. Trita stares up long and hard and the top of their tent, counting each little quick patch job she can see in the fabric as a means to help her concentration.

It happens, just as it would with any house, really. As time goes on, your home, whatever it may be, collects areas of wear and tear. Thankfully, here in this family, they have Yvaine who is skilled at quick fixes when it comes to sewing. Her patchwork has held stronger than the original uninjured fabric of their tent and the other tents scattered about for various purposes. Still, Trita and Dolan's tent has seen the most of Yvaine's skill and willingness to help thanks to their... Adventures in bed.

Not that they'd ever tell Yvaine that's why their tent needs so much help.

Why... Does she think their tent falls apart faster than all the others? What lie has Kvanne told her that she actually believes in? That's probably a question for a different time, though the prospect of asking Kvanne himself does amuse Trita.

"Lets see... Well, in the morning we'd wake up, but our positions would be flipped. I'd have my head on your chest just listening to your heart and you'd have your arm lazily around me to keep me there. Our hair would be a mess from the night before and our clothes scattered far out of reach but we wouldn't care because we could feel the other's skin pressed against us. We'd probably make some flirty comment as we got up and used the sheets as makeshift clothes as we shuffled to the kitchen to grab breakfast. After food we would most definitely get some of our energy back and go in for a morning round that makes all the little old ladies and men out on errands blush as they pass by our tent because you and I don't know what quiet is."

Her hands slow and quicken in time with her story, gentle fingers just barely moving as she talks about soft, loving things, but quick, flicks that nearly tug his hair between her fingers as the story gets exciting. It's a bit of a roller coaster but that's just so extremely them. One act of love to the next, loving and being loved in every single sense of the words.

"Then we'd settle back down, curl into each other for a moment before we'd hit the bath together, wash one another's hair, laugh as we just sort of idly chat about this and that. Then we'd get out, dry each other off, go on some date into town, maybe a swanky little bar or some number where we could get all up on each other and dance however we want, check out all the rooms we're not supposed to be in to find our next spot to explore each other. Then we'd get back home, tired, sweaty, whispering dumb little sweet nothings to each other as we work on an extremely late dinner. A dinner we'd feed to each other, of course. After that's done, we'd open that toy box and do all the things we've had in mind all day but couldn't because we were busy or didn't have the box with us. You know, really nearly bring this tent crashing down around us."

She has to bite her lip a little at that thought because it's not as if that's something they haven't nearly done before and she remembers that time being so good she didn't get out of bed the entire next day. Come to think of it, neither did he. Guess it was good for both parties involved.

"And then, finally, we'd just melt into each other, lay in bed, talking about how much we love everything about who the other person is until we drift off to sleep in each other's arms. I think that's what a day of 'doing us' would be."

"Yeah, I'd do that. I'd do us with you."

It's so incredibly easy to just lay here, to do nothing but feel her hands in his hair messing it up, smoothing it down, pulling it here and there. He hums a little into her chest as she talks, as he can feel the vibrations of her voice rising up.

"So are you gonna go demand this from Lance, or should I?"

It's half joking but half serious. At least, serious in terms of desire for it. He knows that with all the pressures that have fallen on them lately, now is the worse possible time to ask Lance for a day off even, and much less to go around trying to sneak away time from needed tasks every single day. Still, imagining that kind of a world with her is nice. It's difficult not to feel stuck when he thinks about how far they are from that world, but that's just something else he boxes away and tries to not think of.

There are plenty of other better things to think about while they're still here with each other, still sunk deep into them time.

"In the event that Lance says no and we only have until practice starts... what should us time consist of then? I seem to remember that I won a small bet earlier."

He lets a smile flick around his lips even though she can't really see it. That's the beauty of being them, of having someone like her who miraculously not only puts up with him, but often has many of the same trains of thought. And it's so damn effortless to flow from this sweet easiness together into something less sweet, but just as easy.

"There was a lot of sweatiness in that scenario you just described to me. I think I need a demonstration."

"Do you?"

Trita laughs easily, rolling her eyes a bit at him. One thing Trita and Dolan are not is subtle when it comes to what they want from each other and when they want it once they get even remotely worked up. She loves it.

"Well... I can't remember where I put the key."

Slipping a hand under his head, she pries his head from her chest, holding him elevated to look down at her with just a few fingers on his chin. Clearly he was planning to look at her at some point but this had not been the point he had in mind. His brow knits but there's a sort of expectant nature to it.

Dolan knows her by now, knows that she is making him move and look at her for a reason, a reason he's probably going to enjoy quite a bit if their track record says anything.

"I think you're going to have to go looking for it."

She taps her finger against his jaw as she watches realization sink into his expression, a subtle change that has her smirking at him, licking at her lips suggestively. Her hand not propping him up reaches for one of his, sliding it from her hip up her body under her shirt. Well, it's actually his shirt, but that's probably for the best anyways. The loose fit of his clothes on her always makes it easy to explore under them and take them off.

Trita leads his hand until it's up at the base of her bra and his fingers seem to take the hint, pushing up under it, feeling all around her chest, pressing into each breast on a desperate hunt for the key she's hidden from him somewhere on her person. The more into feeling around he gets, the more she can feel her heart quicken and her body start reacting more, rough touches pulling satisfied little moans out of her, vibrating through her chest into his hands.

He seems to get frustrated with all the fabric in his way so she decides to help him a little bit, pushing him away from a break so she can rip his shirt off over her head, though she does slow a bit when she gets it to the base of her ears. There, she tries to gently work it off the rest of the way as to not jostle the still very injured tear she has that he just took time to patch back up. With that gone, he looks to reach around her, unhook her bra but she swats his hands away, directs them back to the front of her.

"Ah-ah, I think you need to look some more."

Of course the key isn't in her bra, it's not even on her upper half, but he doesn't seem to have caught onto that yet, earnestly feeling around at her skin in his hands. His grip is turning her skin a soft shade of pink, something she's relishing so she's not inclined to force his attention elsewhere for now.

This part of their relationship, the teasing playful banter always oriented at something sexual, never seems to get old, never seems to become boring for either of them. It's just a solid understanding between the two of them, a way that they both wordlessly show love and investment and interest in the other. It doesn't hurt that it's always a very good stress reliever for both of them, either.

If she's hidden this key on. her person, he knows good and well that it's not in her bra. She's smarter, coyer, edgier than that and God does he love her for it. But he's enjoying the process, enjoying the free reign and the excuse to just roll her body between his hands, as if he's ever needed an excuse. But it's still nice to be able to hide it behind something purposeful, to pretend he's still looking for the key he knows isn't between her breasts.

It's not there, and even if it was, he wouldn't have found it with his mouth, but that doesn't stop him from leaning close to her and lapping across her, letting his lips suck her skin into his mouth when he's pulled her bra back enough for access to her chest. He's purposeful about his placement, sucking and swirling his tongue only on the inside of her chest, like his tongue is somehow still performing some sort of search in her cleavage. He knows that she knows he's not actually looking, but why not stick to the script.

He wraps his arms around her while his mouth explores her chest, hitches her hips up a little so he can brush across the curve of her with flat palms, almost like he's patting her down, but he doesn't stop with her hips. He slips a hand past the waistband of her pants, toying momentarily with her tail as moves past it, paying much more attention to the curve of her backside, feeling across her, taking handfuls and pulling at the skin in his frenzied search.

"You're gonna have to tell me if I'm hot or cold."

He mumbles it from between her breasts, flicking his eyes up at her to see how much she's enjoying herself already. If they keep this up, they might not even make it to finding the damn key.

"All of you is very hot. In multiple ways."

Trita smirks down at him, bucking her hips right up into his playfully. She's already gone over today how physically attracted she is to him so that's no surprise there: Dolan is hot, case closed. On top of that fact, his body temperature is also very hot right now the more into the search he gets, the more he works his mouth between her breasts and his hands slide around under her pants.

Not that she can actually tell how hot he is because she feels herself getting sticky with sweat and other things the longer this continues. They'll just have to be hot together and that's something they're already pretty good at, thankfully.

"Warmer..."

She bites at her lip as one of his hands goes searching around, slipping more towards her front, pulling and pressing into her thigh, as the other continues grabbing handfuls of her backside, feeling her up while also trying to hold her in place after she forced a gasp right out of him seconds ago. The mattress bends and gives under their weight, the sheets shifting as he moves to a better position to wind his hand around. The family may have forced them to get rid of their bedroom but it doesn't mean they don't find other ways to be a disturbance.

Hell, things haven't really even gotten good yet and shes already giving him satisfied little noises, affirming moans and deep sighs. He especially gets a noise as his hand moves to her inner thigh and crawls up towards her, towards where she knows a hot, sticky mess is already waiting for him. That's never deterred him before.

"So much warmer and getting hotter by the second."

With a gasp, she rolls her hips, angling towards his touch, trying to assist him. They both feel it the moment one of his fingers nearly flicks up against the currently swelling skin, the distinct clink of metal against his nail all hidden in an area so sensitive that she even gasps again the moment he touches it.

"Hmmm. Hello. How long have you been in here?"

Dolan murmurs it to himself as he pulls his head from her chest, keeps his face close to her skin and slips further down her body, letting the key stay where it is for now, opting instead to keep groping at her inner thighs, flicking up into the hot mess between her legs, jolting the key around into her skin here and there, listening to her gasp in response.

His tongue trails down her front, his teeth grazing barely across her hipbones before he sighs in a bit of frustration at having to pull away. But, delayed gratification. He takes the waistband of her pants in both hands and yanks hard, jerking them over her hips and shimmying them down her thighs quickly, working determinedly with a wicked gleam in his eye as he pulls them off at the ankle and lets them fall onto the ground.

Her underwear is much easier. He takes the front and just yanks, and the thin, silky fabric slips across her smooth skin, only catches a bit between her legs, clinging to the wet stickiness starting to trail onto her inner thighs. A bit more pressure applied and the underwear is gone too, finally exposing her to him in the way he wants.

He pulls himself up onto his knees, positioning her legs wide open in front of him so he can sit between them, lean over with his hands pressing her thighs apart and start to work at the sensitive skin that conceals the key with his teeth. It's a pressure play now, biting down softly one moment, with a bit more sting the next, only to kiss at the tiny indents left by his teeth and lap away at the sensation he's left behind.

"I think you should send me on treasure hunts more often."

His voice gets muffled between her legs, only adding to the truth of how much he's enjoying himself, how much she is, how he has to move one hand to press down firmly on her between her hips to keep her from bucking up into his mouth and hurrying him along too much.

When he does finally pull his head away, the sticky key is between his teeth, dripping wet from her. He makes a show of pulling it into his mouth, sucking and licking over it, giving her a good view of how the muscles in his mouth work over it hard, pulling every trace of her off the metal before he opens his mouth again to show it back between his teeth.

"So does this mean you're ready to play?"

It's a weird mixture of relief and frustration when he pulls his mouth away from her. She finally has a second to breathe, catch her breath again, settling her hips back down and trying to regain some sort of mental control over the throbbing and sensitivity from every area his mouth decided to touch in his search.

But it's not really a second to do all those things that she really wants.

Sighing, she shifts her hips, reaching up to her hair and pulling it back into a messy bun over her head on the mattress, trying to pull as much of it away from her sweaty skin as possible in an attempt to cool down. There's a lot more to go given the tone in his voice.

"Glad you enjoyed that... All of that. Your face is a mess."

The sight of the glisten to his lips and the skin around them makes her smirk up at him. Yes, his head had just been between her legs and most people would see that as a very male-territorial act, "claiming" what's his and what he wants to enjoy or whatever the hell goes through a man's mind. Not that she minds, if that was his thought process, she loves it. The powerplay they go through is always fun. But that sheen on his face... That's part of her claim right there.

They spend a long moment just smirking at one another hungrily, eyeing each other up and down, letting their gazes rest too long then wander and rest again. It's nearly like they're thinking the same exact thing in every regard right now and it's working for them both.

"You know where the box is. Go get something fun."

They don't exactly hide they box, given that neither of them has any shame, as they relish in demonstrating to each other every spare second they get. He leans over and presses a quick, teasing little kiss on the highest part of the inside of her thigh before he pushes himself off the bed and returns quickly with the locked box, making sure he has her eyes before he jams the key in and turns, pointedly watching her eyes instead of what his hands are doing.

When the top pops open, he hums a little, feigning indecisiveness and resting his chin in his hand.

"This could be fun. But it's bigger than I am and honestly I'm not sure why we own it."

He roots around in the box at an angle to keep her from seeing inside, making her guess and wonder about what he's sorting through and what he'll ultimately pull out.

"Too soon for whipping or no? You did mention that as a turn on earlier."

He leans his head back and forth a little like he's considering, but goes back into the box anyway.

"I'll keep it on the consideration list. Hmm. Hands and knees would be really pretty."

He takes a second to glance up from the contents of the box and stare pointedly between her legs, then smirk back up at her face.

"Why isn't there a good way for me to tie you down while I'm tied down. Someone should have come up with that by now."

He keeps glancing up at her as if he's trying things on her in his mind, but nothing is sticking. It takes a minute or two of pensively staring into the box before he shrugs.

"Eh, fuck it."

He starts pulling items out of the box and tossing them onto the bed beside them in an almost haphazard way. Collars and cuffs, floggers of different textures and a seemingly endless amount of chain.

"Do you want to hear me moaning for you more than I want to hear you moaning for me? Or are we gonna have to rock paper scissors for it or something?"

He dangles a gag between his fingers as if this is another one of their betting games to see who gets to have their way.

"How about this. You win, you choose. You can get the dildo out of here if you want, too. But if I win... my choice. And I'd much rather do than watch."

Despite what he's said, it's still fun to watch her lay back there, legs still wide open angled at him, her chest rising and falling and trying to find a normal rhythm, her hips digging back into the mattress here and there as the air hits between her legs. She's a pretty sight no matter what, but he's always been a little greedier than to be satisfied by just that.

"You know that dildo iiiiiiisssssssssss my favorite of the ones I've ever owned. This is a really tough call for me, dear. You or the dildo, hmmmm..."

She can't help the teasing little laugh she gives as something in his face twitches over the fact she's seriously considering some fake sex toy to use and satisfy herself with over taking him when he is so very clearly sitting there ready to be in on the action.

"Well, I believe last time we had a go, I was riding you. You looked amazing in that red leather collar and leash combo I bought you. If I remember correctly, you enjoyed the fact that if we pulled on it, it got tighter, yeah? That was a good buy on my part. Ooooh, not to mention that tight little leather getup I put you in to restrain you... Damn, I do good work, don't I?"

Things are still hot, still sticky, but she feels like she's finally cooling down again, at least enough to have some of her wit about her to banter back and forth with him. There is something highly tempting about everything she's saying. They did have a hell of a good time last night as she was riding him to the point he was probably seeing heaven. Lord knows he didn't wake up until late this morning.

"All those little desperate noises you made when I didn't get off of you even after you climaxed, how I kept going... I really wore you out. But this is a give and take relationship, hun. I gave last time so I get to take this time."

Trita puts a finger to the tip of his nose, giving it a light little flirtatious boop that ends like most things are in this moment: Her biting her lip as another thought comes to mind, one that gets her squirming a little bit at the thought.

"I only have one request: Can you put something leather back on?"

As she makes the request, her hands blindly search through the various toys scattered all around her on the mattress, searching for a particular texture. The moment her hand hits it, her fingers dig into it greedily, yanking it up into the air for him to look at. It's a black leather... Vest is what people call it but that seems hilarious given the lack of fabric and coverage it gives. The bindings that go across the chest have little metal studs all meeting at a matching metal ring that looks perfect to hook a restraint of some sort through. Now that she's not in the moment like she was yesterday and can notice that detail, she'll have to remember it for future use.

"It's not what I forced you in last night but I think that's better. You'll have more freedom to do things in this one."

Her breath hitches just slightly when she holds it out to him, and if it’s anything that Dolan’s a sucker for, its Trita when she’s not even trying to conceal how she’s lusting for him. So he slips himself into it, leans over her to give her a good display of it across his chest.

“Everything all settled where you want it? Last chance to check.”

He grins, hovering over her a few seconds before he leans in closer to kiss her, pressing his tongue between her lips, pulling her bottom one back in his teeth before he goes after he gives her a few seconds to feel the leather strips across his skin, brush against the burnished metal that holds it all together.

But enough is enough. And if she wants him to give, fuck if he’s not going to deliver and then some. So he pulls a mess of thick black leather cuffs from the pile beside them, holding her head gently to fasten the larger collar around her neck just tightly enough that it’ll leave a mark if he does this right. The thing is so thick it leaves barely any skin exposed around her neck and keeps her from angling her head down too much.

The ring in the center of the collar is attached by short chains to two more cuffs which he works quickly to buckle around her wrists and test with short jerks. The chains are short enough that her arms are locked bent, her hands useless near her neck. It has her smiling already and well, he’d be smiling anyway, but she licks her lips in a way that’s making him wild. The look of her like this already is enough to make him start twitching before he’s ever even made it inside of her.

Speaking of which. There’s another cuff set in here somewhere he’s been meaning to try... he goes back to the box and emerges after a short search with a set of matching restraints, thicker around. He fastens then one after the other as high up as he can get them around her thighs, making sure to pull and grip at her already red, wet skin as much as he can in the process. With an impish smile, he connects each cuff by its short chain to the center ring of her collar, pulling her legs up to the point that her hips are barely even resting on the bed anymore.

“If I️ had more patience, I️ could just sit and look at you like this all day.”

But there’s already a low, rough, lustful tone in his voice that says that as much as he enjoys the view, he doesn’t have that kind of patience. He leans up over her, brushes his fingers across his jaw, letting his thumb hook against the inside of her mouth.

“Make some pretty noises before I️ decide which gag I️ want to use, okay?”

One more kiss pressed to her forehead and he lines his hips up with hers, watching her face intently, waiting like he always does, as antsy as his hips are, for her to give him the go ahead.

Lance is running all about the circus trying to get things set for tonight. Their main act and closing act gone, they will definitely have to resort to old performances. Thank God he thought to keep that metal rolling cage. He's really like to practice his old routine with Trita before tonight but she currently seems... Busy.

Honestly, is he the only one that takes this place seriously? Well. No, Kvanne and Naemi are pretty serious about keeping this show functioning, but Naemi and Aleric have been gone for weeks now. That leaves just himself and Kvanne and... Kvanne's style of showing his concern for the show doesn't always line up with Lance's own unique way. Guess that's something he'll have to look over for the time being.

"This place is a mess. Good ol' Uncle Al would never let the stands get like this."

Lance works to pick up pieces of trash he missed from cleaning last night. Down the usual snack-man, a lot of these odd jobs have fallen on his shoulders. Other than snagging wallets and running everything to keep this show going, it's not like he has an act to practice for usually. Today just happens to be an exception. So it's not like he's about to ask his performers to do this when they need to be preparing.

It's just frustrating when he knows they aren't actually preparing.

"Yvaine, the lions-"

There's some disgruntled roaring from off the the side as the two large cats pace back and forth in their cages. Must be time for food. Lance scans the place for the skittish faun but comes up empty handed, spurring him to pull on the chain hanging from his vest, popping his pocket watch out to check the time.

Ah, right. Yvaine usually slips away at this time to prep dinner since she won't have time during the show. Of course, the lions don't care what it is she or anyone else has to do, they just keep grumbling.

With a sigh, Lance stands, cracking his back, but the moment he takes a step off the stands onto the sand of the circus floor, he wobbles on his feet. There's a metallic click that draws his eye down to his left leg. All the various mechanisms of his brace seem to be in place, so why does something feel off alignment in his leg? A slow dull pain starts forming behind his knee. The lions growl, eyeing him from behind their bars.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you."

The leg can wait. They don't need hungry predators lurking around. He pushes past the pain with only a very subtle limp, making his way to the cages. Cracking open a well-sealed crate, he pulls large slabs of meat out, holding one up in each hand.

"Alright, kitties. Don't say mean Mr. Lance never did anything for ya."

He chucks the foot into two opposite corners of the cage so that way they don't feel the need to get territorial over anything, wiping his hands off down the front of his shirt and pants.

Then he thinks better of it, unfortunately just a few seconds too late. Well, no time to change now, he'll just make sure to do that before the show tonight.

"I know it's sad that I never gave a damn about the weather, and it never gave a damn about me."

As he turns, he sings a little tune to himself to try to pass some time, making his way out to the center ring to clean up some of the leftover objects from ... Well, what would have been Dolan's practice if he had been here for it. To think it was so nicely laid out and waiting for him, too.

Lunath never consciously tried to strike himself to it, but he can hear it probably miles off, no matter where he is or what he’s doing. Even though it’s not a loud noise, something in him has become conditioned to snap to at that metallic clinking. So when he hears it, he pulls his nose out of the books he’s working on updating and creeps to the tent flap, peering into the main tent just to see, unsure if his paranoid and possessive mind had just imagined it.

Because it’s true, Lance had hurt his feelings the night before by speaking so sternly to him like he had. It wasn’t like he’d even really yelled, and with the time that’s passed, Lunath has been able to calm himself down and convince himself of that much. Lance hadn’t meant any harm. He’s under a lot of pressure and last night the pressure was dramatically increased, very quickly.

But he still can’t keep himself from pouting, a little sore over his hurt feelings. Pride, mostly. He’d worked on the books all night while Lance was off running damage control on this side show fiasco. Its not normal for them to go all night without each other in some format- whether that be bed or just some cuddling or a head on a shoulder for a while if things are busy and hectic. And Lunath misses that contact now.

Sure enough, Lance is limping around the ring, picking up anything out of place, totally ignoring how one leg is dragging slightly behind the other.

“You know you’re supposed to tell me when that thing gets out of whack.”

Lunath skews his mouth up crooked in a frown, feeling in his pockets and all over for his glasses before they fall right onto his nose from their previous position on top of his head. He can see Lance better now, his face tired and his limp even more pronounced. But Lunath stays safety in the shadow of the tent flap until invited, just in case Lance is too busy or is somehow annoyed at his untimely intrusion the night before.

"Oh, but my dear Lunath, it never really is. It just likes to stick sometimes. All I have to do is walk it out."

Lance wipes his forehead with the back of his hand in the same moment he stands to look over to the shadow Lunath hides in, offering him something of a reassuring smile.

"No reason to worry, really, I promise. You've got enough going on, I can figure this out. It's my own leg, after all. Baggage that is literally attached to me. A metaphor can't get much more real than that."

With a huff, he slings a short spare tarp over his shoulder and continues on his way from one discarded item to the next. The ring is a mess from the show last night, it looks like everyone forgot to clean up in the chaos. And they would have cleaned up today if anyone had shown up to morning practice. Hopefully, they'll make an appearance for the afternoon round.

"Oh, I took the liberty of ordering that new bulb you wanted for the spotlight. I had to place an order for something else so I decided to go ahead and get the light while I was at it. I think I left the receipt on the table..."

He tries to breeze past the topic of his leg as he continues on, trying to force it to bend and kick out like a normal walking stride to will it to do what he told Lunath it would. His leg is the least of their concerns right now and it's not like he enjoys other people worrying about it. It's not their issue and it's a stupid issue no matter what angle he looks at it.