She does seem to be managing to find the triangles enjoyable, somehow. Shortly, she swaps her math book out for the Austen and tucks her feet up under her in her big comfy chair to read.

He turns around at the shifting noises, and grins to see her lean back in the chair. She's very cute. He still wants to kiss her. First he needs to hunt the answer to one question he missed, and then speed through his math. Which shouldn't be too bad. And then kissing. (And other things.) He stares at her a moment longer, then turns back around to concentrate on his own work. 

Then she can just cozily read Austen until he's done!

It doesn't take him terribly much longer. Math has always been his strong suit. Eventually, he writes the answer to the last question, closes up his notebook, puts everything away, and says, "I'm done!" with everything that needs to be done for tomorrow. "How are you doing?"

"I am three pages ahead on the next chapter," she says, bookmarking her Austen and tucking it away in her backpack. "So! What would you like to do now?" (Tiny anticipatory wiggles.)

Damnit, he was going to ask that question. Now he has to answer it. 

There are a lot of things he wants to do, some of which he's been thinking about all day. But the most responsible of which is (and also the one most likely to take off that robe though really they all are likely to have that result) "we, um, had plans around a um, anatomy lesson?" He blushes. 

"Ooh." She bounces some more. "I also remember something about a desk toy, though, and we're already in the room with the desks. So we could do that first, or we could go back to my room for anatomy lessons. Or I suppose you could take your anatomy lessons right here. Up to you." Blushing, "I'm at your disposal."

Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot. "I do want to make sure we actually get to the anatomy lessons," he tells her. But he also really likes the idea of doing desk toy things now. (He likes the idea a lot.) 

"...I suppose," he says, feeling clever and embarrassed all at once, "regardless of which plan we choose, um, it's probably a good idea for you to be naked, in, um, either case?" He blushes, unable to bring himself to actually ask/tell/order her the way he wants to. (But maybe she'll ask him to? She's done that before. He imagines her doing so, and starts to get very turned on.) 

"I promise I will not forget about the anatomy lessons."

She takes a few steps closer to him and drops her eyes demurely and says, "Please, sir, tell me what to do?"

That wasn't exactly how he'd imagined it but it's very close enough. (He's very turned on now and has to fight the instinct to hide it.) "I, uh, um," he says, and pauses. That's not how he wants to do it. He takes a deep breath. "Take off your robe," he says, channeling the in-control mindset (mostly, his voice is quavering only a little). "Slowly," he adds, "so I can see how pretty you are. And then show me the body of the, um," he breathes, "show me the body of my slave-in-waiting, the body that will be mine along with the rest of you." Not as smooth as he wanted it, but, there was something there. He breathes. He can do this. 

She bites her lip and whimpers softly; it's clear he's succeeding at turning her on. "Yes, sir," she says, untying the fuzzy white belt and starting to shrug the robe off her shoulders. She has very pretty shoulders. Some other pretty places, too, when the robe comes down far enough to show them.

John might be slightly enraptured with those other pretty places when they're revealed. (Her shoulders are nice too, but he's definitely focused on the boobs.) 

She opens the robe the rest of the way and lets it fall to the floor, and then, biting her lip, steps out of her bunny slippers. Her eyes are still low, looking at the floor at his feet as though, perhaps, she's imagining kneeling there.

He can see that that's what she wants, but he has other plans for the moment. He did say he wanted to see her body, after all. "Turn around, slowly," he says. "Let me see all of you, er, um," he blinks and shrinks a little and blushes. "Um, would um, 'toy' work to call you?" he asks in his normal voice. "Since, um, that's what you're about to do? Otherwise I can still call you slut. And slave-in-waiting." 

"I can be your toy for now," she says, rotating in place step by step by step. "I... think I like being your toy for now." She takes a breath and repeats, facing away from him, her body language still somehow conveying her blush, "I like being your toy, sir."

He waits for her to do a full rotation (touching himself semi-surreptitiously (she probably knows but he still feels embarrassed) when she's turned around, despite the plans they're planning for very soon means that he probably shouldn't mind) and then looks her up and down, takes a breath, and says, properly, "come over here, toy, and let me touch you. Stand close enough for me to grope you." He's going to touch those breasts now. He hasn't touched them directly and he's going to. 

She shivers slightly. It's good, it's so good, but it's also a lot and she needs to focus and not just get swept away in how hot he is.

"Yes sir," she says, moving closer. When she stops next to his chair, she puts her hands behind her back, keeping them out of his way and also incidentally pushing her breasts out a little.

Oh he likes that. (Also it's still hot when she calls him sir.) "Good," he tells her, and reaches up to touch them. 

He's never groped a girl's breasts before. (Not directly, anyways, and only ever Rosy's before this.) They feel good in his hands, warm and squishy, and touching them turns him on, but also he doesn't want to hurt her and he isn't sure how hard to squeeze. (Or how hard is ok to squeeze.) He gropes her gently, tentative. "How's that?" he asks, voice mostly normal. 

"Good," she murmurs. "I, I like it." Soft, hopeful, "You could do more?"

That's good, because he wants to do more. "Like this?" he says, squeezing harder, pressing fingers slightly deeper into flesh, his voice trending back into the sound of control and confidence, watching and feeling her reaction? "Like this?" squeezing a little harder, and he brushes his fingers over both of her nipples, which are much harder than the rest of her at the moment. 

"Mhm," she says at first, and then "mhm!!" at the second. "Please, more?"

Fuck he's hard as a rock? "More like this, slut?" he says, brushing fingers over the nipples again, watching her reaction. And then he does it a few more times. And then... "More like..." he says, questioningly, fingers gently pinched around the nipples, really hoping she agrees. 

Rapid nodding, and then, "Please, sir..."

He pinches, slowly at first, watching her reaction, then harder and with more confidence, even gently twisting, all watching to be sure she's still enjoying herself (which she so, very, clearly is, fuck. How did he get this lucky, fuck).

Yes. Very much enjoying herself. Very much with the quiet whimpers and the "please more" and, when he twists a little harder, a gasped "thank you sir—!"`