[Mercifully, she doesn't find herself answering this question out loud. Because part of her sees exactly where this is going, and that she won't need to answer.
When Illya's touch traces her thighs, Marion softly whimpers, squirming at the touch. Embarrassingly, it's not the squirm of a girl who wishes she could escape. She seems like she's anticipating where this is going, despite how she feels deep down underneath the excitement.
Sure enough, when Illya's touch moves upwards, the evidence is clear. She's shamefully, obviously, wet and eager. And it's all because of what Illya's done with and to her so far.]
no subject
When Illya's touch traces her thighs, Marion softly whimpers, squirming at the touch. Embarrassingly, it's not the squirm of a girl who wishes she could escape. She seems like she's anticipating where this is going, despite how she feels deep down underneath the excitement.
Sure enough, when Illya's touch moves upwards, the evidence is clear. She's shamefully, obviously, wet and eager. And it's all because of what Illya's done with and to her so far.]