Booting the bedroom door open is a necessity, and a needlessly dramatic one at that. Jean's intentions are...
...Well, not more gentle, but they have nothing to prove, so they lay Pomni down on the bed they share with Zelda. This is happening. It's happening and Jean's thrilled. They could vibrate out of their skin, they really could, but that might make this not be Happening and this. Is. Happening. Everything feels like it's going a mile a minute, like the rush of battle...
They kiss the hollow where Pomni's neck meets her shoulder, hard, very much intending on leaving a mark. Their voice, thick before, is rich with lust and excitement and the restraint they barely have on both: "How can I make my model comfortable, Sailor?"
(Some distant part of Jean is attempting to assert that the 'model' thing is roleplaying at best here and is deeply unprofessional and, therefore, cringe. The rest of Jean is killing that part with hammers.)
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...Well, not more gentle, but they have nothing to prove, so they lay Pomni down on the bed they share with Zelda. This is happening. It's happening and Jean's thrilled. They could vibrate out of their skin, they really could, but that might make this not be Happening and this. Is. Happening. Everything feels like it's going a mile a minute, like the rush of battle...
They kiss the hollow where Pomni's neck meets her shoulder, hard, very much intending on leaving a mark. Their voice, thick before, is rich with lust and excitement and the restraint they barely have on both: "How can I make my model comfortable, Sailor?"
(Some distant part of Jean is attempting to assert that the 'model' thing is roleplaying at best here and is deeply unprofessional and, therefore, cringe. The rest of Jean is killing that part with hammers.)