[Kiritsubo peels away the upper segment of her robe, revealing the beauty of much of her bare body. The stoic expression on Concord's face fully cracks, not with a bluster, but with a smile. A warm and appreciative grin, so very honest in how it peels across his features. Arousal makes his face and ear redden against the pale color his silver hair, but there's no shame to his expression.
The raw earnestness of his slow spoken and quiet twang of a voice should hold it's own charms,]
Fond... as you should be. How very beautiful.
[Concord moves himself closer, in a very particular way. At such a sight, he's sure many a man simply buckle and fall to their knees before her. As would be her right, he believes. He'll have a bit more dignity than that. Concord kneels himself down before her, moving with all the poise of a royal knight. He had been one once and while a soldier's rigor never left him, the manners of such chivalry weren't often required of him.
It felt right, about now, to bend down before her. He settles himself to his knees, so to admire her close enough to touch- though he resists until he is given such permission. Likes being called sir... sure, but not as much as he likes being told yes, please.]
Would much rather feel and taste, than just see. [Given any affirmation, those large hands of his will reach out. Despite their roughness, he would use them to smooth beneath her robe, seeking to peel the fabric away from her with attentive, unrushed motion]
no subject
The raw earnestness of his slow spoken and quiet twang of a voice should hold it's own charms,]
Fond... as you should be. How very beautiful.
[Concord moves himself closer, in a very particular way. At such a sight, he's sure many a man simply buckle and fall to their knees before her. As would be her right, he believes. He'll have a bit more dignity than that. Concord kneels himself down before her, moving with all the poise of a royal knight. He had been one once and while a soldier's rigor never left him, the manners of such chivalry weren't often required of him.
It felt right, about now, to bend down before her. He settles himself to his knees, so to admire her close enough to touch- though he resists until he is given such permission. Likes being called sir... sure, but not as much as he likes being told yes, please.]
Would much rather feel and taste, than just see. [Given any affirmation, those large hands of his will reach out. Despite their roughness, he would use them to smooth beneath her robe, seeking to peel the fabric away from her with attentive, unrushed motion]