The question of, what the fuck was he doing, was two-fold; he'd lost his mind, surely, but it had been a while since he'd indulged in something like this and never with someone he was actually familiar with. Every other time it felt almost transactional (money was exchanged) but there had been a purpose, quick and easy.

This was wildly different.

There were layers and it opened a door he wasn't sure he wanted open. But Merlin, she knew exactly what to do to get under his skin. That condescending tone to the request, "pretend you love me." As if he'd actually stopped. If he had they wouldn't be here.

That was all he needed though, that consent, to dive in again, lips rough on hers instead of the offered neck, hands back at the buttons of her dress as he pressed closer. The feeling of her body flush against his was driving him forward again and finally he had to break off to catch his breath, pulling at her clothes in earnest, trying to get his footing without fumbling. He couldn't fumble, he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of it.

To buy himself some time he moved back and motioned toward the stairs with his head. He was impatient, but he wasn't about to take her on the floor of the parlor.