He should probably get to it and not keep dwelling on this. 

Okay, but really, is he ready to handle all of this? He's not going to actually take advantage of her, that would be the worst, he's going to give her plenty of ways out if she needs them (it's the right thing to do), and he's not going to become like the people in the stuff he's read online (even if a lot of things are, um, really hot. But no. He won't). This is... this is gonna be okay, right? He wants this, she wants this (the far more important fact), and... he's gonna have a lot of fun. He grins. A lot a lot a lot of fun. Fuck. Okay. He should.... maybe try reading his book now. It's only an hour or so, right? He can wait.

The book is how he remembers it, of course it is. And while he had thought it would keep his mind off of everything, his mind keeps wandering, back to excitement and worry and back to excitement again. And then back to worry. (Is this really a thing that he's going to do? Is it going to be... okay? Is he making a huge mistake?) He puts the book down. Maybe the phone will do a better job. 

The internet isn't very fast, here, but that's probably okay, because John is mostly just looking at stuff at random, without any good idea of what to look at in mind. Possibly a phone game will do a better job? All he has is the free phone games that came with the phone (it's amazing how good you get at solitaire when it's one of three things that you can play) and there's no way he can download something else at the moment with how long it takes to load facebook, but hopefully one of those can do the trick? 

Solitaire did not help much, he got through about a game and a half before giving up and nearly throwing his phone across the room with frustration when he was so close to winning but there was just a stack of three cards that he needed to move and the card he needed was under it and... dwelling on it for the seventh time is not going to help. (Though maybe another game would do him good, now?) The space sidescrolling game was enough to keep him moderately entertained for a little while at least, but he beat that for the umpteenth time and doing it again and starting from scratch without any of the powerups he'd gotten over the course of the game didn't really appeal. And the stupid match three game was just as full of ads as ever, and the ads took forever to load and the game wouldn't let him progress until he watched the ad about toothpaste for the 17th time. Maybe he can play another game of solitaire, and then maybe read some more of the book again, and not think about the fact that he's not helping, or the fact that he's going to own her soon (and how hot that is), or that fact that he's going to own her soon (and how much responsibility that means, and how he can't fuck this up), or thinking about how he's going to make her kneel and she's going to have to do it and then... no. More solitaire. Touching himself now is not useful, he doesn't want to waste it. Solitaire, win, and then maybe he'll read more Ender's Game and get engrossed in it. (He certainly hopes so.) 

This is really happening, isn't it. This is what he wants, why does it feel like so much. This is what he wants! It is. He can do it. He will do it. And he'll do it right. He'll do it right and also he'll get back to Ender winning yet another battle at battle school, instead of thinking about this again. 

It's been an hour and a half now, and John has gotten to the point where Ender is doing the weird things in the video game with the giant, and John can't take it. Isn't she done by now? The notes said two hours, technically, and it hasn't been two hours yet, but man, why isn't she done yet? He knows this is just his anticipation and worry and like anxiety and stuff bothering him, but still -- he wants this to happen. He should have thought to install a good phone game, something actually entertaining and not full of ads, or picked a better and less annoying book. And running lines just makes him think about stuff more, how what he's doing really is accepting her as his slave, and while that's so hot (really fucking hot) it's still scary. He doesn't want it to be scary, it shouldn't be scary, he's going to do it right and not be evil, but he still feels his stomach churn at the thought. (He really doesn't want to throw up that incredibly tasty dinner, fuck, the house was incredible, and he's going to have to learn to cook to communicate better with it, which is going to be a lot, but that's ok. It should be ok.) It's only been a couple weeks since he found out about all this, less, really. Magic is real and there's a girl using it to make her his slave and then he can do whatever he wants to her. He's so lucky and he doesn't deserve this and he's going to have such a hot time and... space game. Now. Time to blow up all the bad aliens. 

And here comes Rosy, wheeling her plastic bins. She trundles up to the door with a cheerful smile.

Oh thank fuck. "You're back!" he says, and then immediately feels bad for saying so because he doesn't want to apply that she took too long (even though it was forever. But it was a forever that was important and he shouldn't say anything bad about it). "Are we, um, all ready to go?" He does he best to grin up at her softly. 

"Yep! ...do I sense a hint of turmoil?"

What? Oh come on. "It's fine," he says (trying to convince himself of it as well). (She's wants him to tell him stuff but him telling her this thing is stupid and silly.) "I just was waiting for a while and got a little antsy I guess. Nothing important, really." (Is he telling the truth? Probably. Mostly. Right?") 

"Sorry about that. There really isn't any way to cut down the wait time for something like this. You did bring a book, right? Should I have suggested you bring two?"

"That was fine," he says, "I didn't even finish." He holds up the book with a finger in it to show how far he managed to get. "I spent some time on my phone too. It was just... a harder wait than I was expecting?" His voice goes up in a squeak at the end as he realizes how silly he sounds. "It's fine," he adds quickly, "I needed to wait and I waited. And we're ready now, right?" He grins again, and this time he means it a little bit more. (They're going to do the ritual! She's gonna be his!)

"Yes. Just a sec while I put these away."

She gets the bins back on the shelves and the collapsible hand truck hung up in its spot and then turns around and marches back down the narrow aisle to wrap her arms around John's shoulders and give him a great big cozy squeezy hug.

Oh. 

Oh. 

Well, that feels good. 

John takes a deep breath and lets out some tension he didn't (entirely) know he was holding (lies, kinda), and hugs her back, letting her warm and loving hug comfort him. (She loves him. He doesn't deserve it but in a few minutes that's not going to matter kinda no yes it will and also stop thinking about it and hug her back!) He squeezes her in return. "Thanks," he tells her. "Thanks. Thanks." He's not entirely sure what he's thanking her for, but it seems warranted, somehow. 

"You're welcome!" Lil forehead kiss. "Better?"

He smiles at her. "I think so," he admits. "Yes. Thank you," he says again. 

"I'm glad." Squish. "Ready to go? Or more hug first?"

(Soon soon soon soon!) "I think I'm ready to go," he says, letting go of the comforting and comfortable Rosy (who is gonna be his!!) so they can go do the thing. (The ritual. The one where she's going to make herself his slave and... fuck. Focus, John.) 

"Okay. Would you rather leave our clothes here, or bring a second chair and leave them on it, closer to the ritual space? Sorry, I should have asked earlier, it just slipped my mind because I'm already familiar with my tolerance for walking naked through the woods."

"I..." 

(She's going to be naked, and so is he. This is an important detail, and it was in the notes, and he remembered, but the relevance of it...) "I... I think I wouldn't mind walking naked," he says (maybe a little too much looking forward to seeing Rosy naked and maybe that means actually this is a bad idea but it's too late now!), as long as like, no one is going to see us or anything. Right?" 

"It is really really unlikely that anyone will see us. Like, if someone has to come out from the house to get me because of some kind of catastrophic magical or political emergency, then someone will see us, otherwise no. Okay, leaving our clothes here it is."

She steps away and starts pulling off her shirt in a businesslike fashion.

And John... follows suit? He follows suit. (It'd be really silly of him to turn around while she's undressing at this point. Really really silly. It still feels like he should though.) He blushes, and watches, and pulls off his shirt, and then blushes some more and tries to resist the urge to turn around as she exposes more of her skin and body and bra. (A bra that's probably about to come off...) 

The bra comes off once she has folded her shirt and left it sitting neatly on a shelf! She smiles fondly at him, because he's being adorable about this.

John does not feel very adorable about this at the moment, he feels like a blushing mess of hormones and excitement. (Also maybe taking his clothing off is a bad idea for... other reasons. Fuck.) He puts his shirt next to hers as a bit of a delaying tactic. He plays with the waistband of his pants, trying to determine if he should change his mind and say something (probably not) or just give in and take his pants off (probably yes) and deal with the, um, consequences. (He can think a few more seconds, right?)