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"Darlin', you're incredibly naked right now," he says, rolling his eyes. "Exactly where else am I supposed to be lookin'."

"Nowhere else," Mac says, grinning even wider. "I'm just saying, I know that you like to look at me."

"Like back in New York," he says, bending his head to suck on her nipple. "You touching yourself for me. Making yourself come."

"Do you want me to do that for you now?" Mac asks, shifting a little under his touch. "I could, you know."

"I don't know," he says, plucking three ice-cubes out of the bucket and lining them up along her belly. "What do you want to do, Mac?"

"I want to put on a show for you," she murmurs, stretching a little more to show herself off.

"Alright," he says, reaching up to untie her hands. "Where do you want me, darlin'?"

"Wherever it's going to be easiest to see me get myself off," Mac says, frowning a bit in concentration. "Because I want you to see."

"Yes, Ma'am," he says, shifting to the foot of the bed, still dressed in his underwear, though it does little ti hide his interest in all of this.

"Do you like watching? Or does it just frustrate you?" Mac slides a hand down to cup one of her breasts and tease her nipple, smiling the whole time.

"I like watching you," he says, tilting his head to one side. "Because I know I'll be able to take what I want, later. Got a lap-dance, once. Didn't do it for me nearly as hard."

"They had that in Victorian England?" Mac asks, slightly confused. "The more you know, I guess."

"They have it here," he says, stretching his back and watching her. "In ample amounts, as it turns out. We had...different things, back home."

"Oh, well. I guess there's that, then," Mac says, inexplicably nervous about that. "But you didn't like that as much as me?"

"You see me going back there or staying here?" he asks her, rolling his shoulders in a lazy shrug. "Figure it should be fairly obvious what I prefer, darlin'."

"I'm hardly a professional," Mac says, laughing a little as she slides her hand down lower. "But I try all the same."

"Had my fair share of professionals," he says, eyes tracking the movement of her hand. He reaches out for an ice-cube, rubs it along the back of his neck. "You're somethin' else, darlin'."

"Am I very beautiful?" Mac knows she's baiting him but it helps her bring herself off if he's somewhat involved in the process. "When I'm touching myself like this?"

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he says, his eyes fixed on her. "When you're doin' that. Rest of the time, too. You're the apple of my eye, darlin'."

"Hmm, I do try," Mac says, sucking on two fingers to get them nice and slick before sliding them down between her legs. "Don't know that I'm always successful but damn, do I give it a shot."

"You're enough for me," he says. He's stopped trying to puzzle out exactly how he feels about her - everything will fall into place. Right now, he's happy. It's enough. "Even if you are a brat."

"You made me this way," Mac reminds him smugly, teasing her fingers around her clit lightly and keeping herself spread wide so he can see.

"Oh, no," he says, shaking his head emphatically. "You ain't layin' all of this at my door, darlin. You were always like this - I just gave you an outlet."

"It's true," she says, sliding her fingers in deep and working them in and out before crooking her fingers at him. "Come help me? It's less fun to do it by myself."

There's a smart comment on the tip of his tongue but, in the end, he just goes to her, stretching out alongside her, his hand sliding down her belly.

"What do you need, darlin'?"