[ Of course Aranea respects repayment; she isn't running a charity over here. Not only has she saved him from the (very comfortable, all things considered) clutches of the Regalia, but she's also provided him with a screaming orgasm, all while decidedly not making good on the fact that she'd announced that his balls would be collateral if he defaulted on his payment. The Commodore isn't exactly known for her generosity of spirit when it comes to financial matters, so the fact that Prompto's gotten this far is testament to how much she must actually like him.
Aranea had never pegged herself for an exhibitionist, but every encounter with Prompto is making her rethink her stance on the matter. The thought of someone seeing her utterly dominate him strikes a very erotic chord inside of her, one she'd had no idea existed until now. The mere thought only serves to make heat coil and spike inside of her gut, and just as she opens her mouth to negotiate her end of the deal, he starts pulling on his pants.
Aranea shuts her jaw, tilting her head even as he tries to make her look semi-presentable for gods know whatever reason. ]
What the hell are you talking about? [ She asks, quirking a brow. If he had made any moves to dig out, Aranea's hands would have found her lance in a second, likely to shove its head where her fingers had been not moments before. Instead, she allows Prompto to do whatever it is he's doing (because that's worked out so well for her thus far), sitting still even as he swipes at her spit-slick mouth. ]
The fuck are yo-- [ Aranea is effectively silenced by the finger he has at her mouth, and she can't lie: her first instinct is to circle her lips around it, though she doesn't heed it by some miracle of the Six. As the boy clambers over her to leap out of the car, Aranea pokes her head out of the semi-ruined vehicle, eyeing him with a look that borders on murderous. ]
Are you fucking with me right now? [ She is, indeed, a dripping, molten mess beneath the tight fabric of her pants, and she collects her gauntlets and helm before extricating herself from the Regalia's back seat. Her face is flushed as she staggers after him, her expression caught somewhere between anger and extreme sexual frustration... though, really, when it comes to Aranea, there's really no difference between the two, as the latter usually begets the former. ]
Are you seriously suggesting that I take you out to dinner? After that? [ Her hand twitches, eager to reach for the spear strapped to her back. Her mind already whirs with revenge scenarios even has they reach the pier leading to the resort, her anger practically radiating off of her in waves. Her boots clunk heavily upon the boards as she follows after him, and for all of her angry gesturing and ranting, she keeps pace remarkably well.
Before she knows it, they're seated in a secluded, romantic portion of the dining area, the only lighting provided by the candle at the center at their table. She glowers at Prompto from over the glass of wine that their server had so graciously provided her with, taking a long swig before pouring herself another glass. She fills the damn thing to the brim before repeating the action, never once tearing her eyes away from him as she glares hard enough to bore holes into his skull. ]
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Aranea had never pegged herself for an exhibitionist, but every encounter with Prompto is making her rethink her stance on the matter. The thought of someone seeing her utterly dominate him strikes a very erotic chord inside of her, one she'd had no idea existed until now. The mere thought only serves to make heat coil and spike inside of her gut, and just as she opens her mouth to negotiate her end of the deal, he starts pulling on his pants.
Aranea shuts her jaw, tilting her head even as he tries to make her look semi-presentable for gods know whatever reason. ]
What the hell are you talking about? [ She asks, quirking a brow. If he had made any moves to dig out, Aranea's hands would have found her lance in a second, likely to shove its head where her fingers had been not moments before. Instead, she allows Prompto to do whatever it is he's doing (because that's worked out so well for her thus far), sitting still even as he swipes at her spit-slick mouth. ]
The fuck are yo-- [ Aranea is effectively silenced by the finger he has at her mouth, and she can't lie: her first instinct is to circle her lips around it, though she doesn't heed it by some miracle of the Six. As the boy clambers over her to leap out of the car, Aranea pokes her head out of the semi-ruined vehicle, eyeing him with a look that borders on murderous. ]
Are you fucking with me right now? [ She is, indeed, a dripping, molten mess beneath the tight fabric of her pants, and she collects her gauntlets and helm before extricating herself from the Regalia's back seat. Her face is flushed as she staggers after him, her expression caught somewhere between anger and extreme sexual frustration... though, really, when it comes to Aranea, there's really no difference between the two, as the latter usually begets the former. ]
Are you seriously suggesting that I take you out to dinner? After that? [ Her hand twitches, eager to reach for the spear strapped to her back. Her mind already whirs with revenge scenarios even has they reach the pier leading to the resort, her anger practically radiating off of her in waves. Her boots clunk heavily upon the boards as she follows after him, and for all of her angry gesturing and ranting, she keeps pace remarkably well.
Before she knows it, they're seated in a secluded, romantic portion of the dining area, the only lighting provided by the candle at the center at their table. She glowers at Prompto from over the glass of wine that their server had so graciously provided her with, taking a long swig before pouring herself another glass. She fills the damn thing to the brim before repeating the action, never once tearing her eyes away from him as she glares hard enough to bore holes into his skull. ]