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The Athens Gate Hotel is one of the city's shining jewels in the hotel industry. Tonight it has been taken over by several hundred dignitaries in preparation for the opening ceremonies of the 2004 Olympic Games on the morrow. And by 'taken over' the narration means it; both the ground floor reception room and the rooftop garden have been invaded by A-list guests, including movie stars, ambassadors and several deities.

The guest of honor is one Thallo Eirene, whose status wasn't something she was aware of until arriving at the hotel, and someone tried to whisk her away for a photoshoot with some of the other celebrities.

(It was a very reluctant photoshoot on her part.)

Now, she's ensconced in the garden with her date, mentally counting down the time they still have to suffer through before she can make a graceful exit and run away from all the media attention. The dress she's wearing isn't exactly helping with her attempts to be a wallflower.

"Your Holiness." Eirene glances up at the latest intruder, and smiles pleasantly. "Your Holiness. Thank you for coming, sir. I know that your followers are pleased to see you out and about."

That's right. She's talking to the Pope.

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That's a good noise, Clark knows. A hand cups one of her breasts, kneading and stroking the soft mound gently as his mouth continues its assault on hers.

Then the other gets a turn, and this tim, his mouth trails along down her throat to pick up where his hand just left off.

It's officially time for Eirene's brain (where she keeps the common sense and logic) to take a hike, cheerfully handing over motor control to her basic instincts.

Which is probably why Clark hears a low burst of Greek before her torso twists up against his mouth and hand, her own fingers sliding away from his rear to drag nails up either side of his spine.

Hears, yes. Understands... not so much. Not that it really matters at this point, because what he's getting out of that verbal outburst is that he's affecting her in a pretty big way.

And he's okay with that. So Clark will continue what he's doing for a little while longer, before a hands starts to wander down past her chest, brushing over the soft skin of her stomach before resting to draw light circles over her hipbone.

That would be a correct assumption. Even so, after the initial reaction, Eirene is tamping down on what remains of her fertility-inspired instincts, because she doesn't know yet what Clark likes and dislikes.

Her hips moves slowly under his touch, echoes of belly dancing, though a whimper sounds quietly -- despite her intentions to let him explore.

Clark isn't entirely certain what Eirene likes and doesn't, either, but he's willing to take a few chances. As he feels he already has and so far, so good.

His grips tightens on her hip, thumb stroking down toward her thigh as his mouth moves to capture her own again.

"Eirene..."

There's a second whimper, hinting that she's more than likely enjoying what his thumb is doing to her flesh. And a third, emitted soon after his tongue finds hers, prompting her hip to roll under his hand again. And possibly teeth to catch against his lower lip.

"Clark..." Someone's heartbeat is speeding up again.

Edited 2008-08-03 01:36 (UTC)

Both of theirs is and it's at about this point that Clark's had it with his jeans. His other hand finally abandons her chest and slips between them to start fumbling with the button and fly on his pants. None too expertly, but it should get the job done, eventually.

The moment her lips are free, Eirene reaches down to cover his hand with hers, briefly. "Let me. Lie on your back. Please." Some sanity is returning, and he'll be the better off for it. Or, rather, his pants, should her decide to humor her request.

Clark hesitates for a moment, looking down at her with some measure of confusion before he decides to do as she's instructed. "Okay."

Once he's on his back, however, it doesn't take him long to reach for her again, tugging her closer to him and leaning up to meet her lips with his.

She settles atop of him, lips curved in amusement, and lets Clark do as he wishes for a few minutes, which does have the bonus of making her tingle in so many places its amusing, but eventually she slides away and reaches down to finish undoing his jeans.

A glance upward towards his face, and a smile, before Eirene gently tugs them down his legs and off, leaving him in only his boxers. She stretches out at his side a minute later, a hand reaching out to slide across his stomach. "Hi."

"Hi." It's a quiet reply, a small smile playing across his lips. He covers her hand with one of his own, and tucks her hair behind her ear with the other.

"I love you, Eirene."

She watches him intently for a few seconds, then leans forward to press her lips gently against his in the same way their first kiss began, then murmurs, "I love you too, Clark."

She's leaning over, which gives his hands an ample amount of skin to skim along, down her back and squeezing gently at her rear.

"I'm glad," he mumbles back, kissing her again.

That induces squirming, to no one's surprise, and possibly a noise suspiciously similar to a purr. Clark's hands are multi-talented, it seems.

"Me too."

Eirene lazily shifts against him, stretching up to brush her lips against his forehead.

His fingers work slowly up her back again as she stretches out, and he nuzzles her nose with his. "I hope this is special enough for you."

"Just lying here in your arms is special. So anything else that might happen is just ... what's that mortal phrase?" Pause. Kiss. "Oh, yeah. Just icing on the cake."

"Ice cream on the pie" Kiss. "Double stuff in the oreos." Kiss. "I get the idea." Kiss, and then he nudges her over onto her back again.

"You know, I think the sight of you in those boxers is almost as delicious as a doublestuff oreo. But," she pauses to run a hand down his side, fingers toying with the waistband of his underwear, "might have to experiment. With and without boxers." Kiss.

"Experiment, hmm?" Clark returns that kiss and then offers one of his own. "Should we start with or without."

Eirene appears to give that serious consideration, before her hand creeps between them to stroke him above the cloth. "Your choice, Clark.

Clark's eyes drift closed and there's a low, soft groan in the back of his throat. And this is so not fair, because thinking and decision making aren't exactly foremost on his mind anymore.

"I think," he starts, voice low, "that once they're off getting them back on is going to take a while." Just so she knows.

"Then, I think, in all fairness, if I'm not wearing anything--- neither should you."

Her hand doesn't seem to be moving anywhere, either, because those noises mean he likes what she's doing.

Yes, yes he does. And Eirene will be treated to another noise for her efforts. Clark will also take her word that this is fair, because his brain really isn't functioning anymore. "If you say so."

"I do." She licks along the flesh right beneath his bottom lip, nipping at his chin, and continues what she's doing below until he tells her to stop. Or something.

His head drops down to rest on her shoulder.

"Eirene..." It's more of a gasp than anything else.