harshboldcharm | (no subject)

Ever since they moved into this giant home, Wylie has been in the mood to get everything exactly how they want it, especially with that epic recording studio that he's been putting together. It isn't like he knows what he's doing, but it's been fun to go ahead and play around. He's still working on getting everything brought in and set up, but until then, there's been a lot of messing around.

At the moment, he's standing in the middle of the living room, guitar strap over his shoulder as he plays and sings at Van, who is playfully jumping around and howling and/or barking along. Wylie can't help but cause more trouble with this dog only because he's responsive and that makes for a lot of fun, especially since Wylie can sing at him and he barks back.

Right now, Wylie is singing a fairly poor acoustic version of "Fortunate Son" and laughing halfway through as Van seems to be going out of his mind, trying to convince Wylie to play with him.

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Just like he's resting his forehead against her shoulder, she lets her head drop back to rest against his. "I agree whole-heartedly," she says, breathing deeply and a little bit heavily, her heart thumping strongly in her chest. She's not worn out, not by far, and Wylie knows this. But she doesn't mind a quiet moment.

Oh no, when they both get into moods like this, it's a marathon of bodily fluids and curses. He's not about to let this end right here and he happily let's them rest together for a moment while they catch their breath.

His hands wander across her torso, unable to stop himself from toying with her breasts again when they are so easily accessible. He nips at the sensitive skin of her neck.