Lizzy was sitting in the Ravenclaw Common Room, absently reading a book. She was dressed as she normally was, in an Empire- waisted gown.
Despite the fact that she had been reading for a good quarter of an hour, she hadn't read more than several pages. Her thoughts were occupied with pleasanter thoughts (mainly of Simkin) and more confused musings
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Tyrion was still drinking his coffee and considering what to do next. There was a commotion on the stairs, but he ignored it for the moment, as shrieking females weren't really to his taste.
Then the common room door swung open and... Seven hells! Was that Sansa? Swishing her hips seductively?
Oh, hells. It was someone else in Sansa's body, he was fairly certain.
Still... He ought to go rescue her before she wound up doing something the real Sansa would have regretted.
'Damn, I'm chivalrous of a sudden,' he thought as he sauntered over to her.
"Well, hello there. You seem remarkably cheerful this morning."
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He was intrigued enough to move closer to her, his gaze lingering on her cleavage for a moment.
"The same seems to have happened to me, sweetling," he murmured. "I think you have the right of it."
He was very close to her now, and he reached down to tangle his fingers in her hair and then bent--gods help him, this was a novel experience--so he could kiss her.
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When Tyrion kissed him, Robin returned it with passion, his own tiny hand clutching at Tyrion's shirt and pulling himself closer. Moving against the other man in a way he knew - from personal experience on the other side of the equation - would bring all attention to the way their bodies fit together, Robin pulled back enough to murmur against Tyrion's lips, "Gods and saints, please tell me that your room is close by." Well, come to think of it, his room was just upstairs; however, as he had no idea what his body was up to, it was probably a decidedly bad idea to go looking. Then, not waiting for an answer, he kissed Tryrion again, deeply, his free hand stroking along the small of the other man's back.
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"My room is up these stairs," he murmured huskily against not-Sansa's lips. He felt a pang of conscience, but whoever had Sansa's body was damned good at this, and, well, he did want to try out the equipment.
Setting a hand at the small of her back, he guided her up the stairs to Salamander's room and kicked the door shut behind him.
"You're in far too many clothes, sweetling," he said, expertly unfastening the laces, his heart pounding with excitement.
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Shrugging off the the dress as soon as he was free of the bindings, Robin let the fabric pool down around his feet. Stepping back, letting his own hands wander lightly over his new body, he gave Tyrion a fully suggestive look. "Is this better?" Slowly turning in order to display every inch and dip and curve, Robin then walked over to the bed, hips swaying most deliciously. Damn, he'd love to fuck himself, this body was so sweet and fresh, but the next best thing would be to make this lovely boy he'd picked up pant.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, legs crossed and chest thrust out slightly, unabashed in his nakedness, Robin looked over at Tyrion. "Now, darling, you seem to be the one overdressed."
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Tyrion watched not-Sansa as she ran her hands lightly over her body, and displayed herself for him. His heart was racing, and his blood seemed to have been transported to his groin.
"I am overdressed at that," he said, removing his clothing with alacrity.
He glanced down at his nude body and noted that Salamander wasn't nearly, in his own opinion, as well-endowed as he himself was. Oh, well. The pretty face made up for it, and Tyrion was used to working with what he had.
Once he'd divested himself of his clothing he strode over to the bed, rejoining not-Sansa, pulling her to him for another kiss, letting his hands wander over her lovely young body.
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Lips tracing across Tyrion's neck, Robin concentrated on the unique sensations of the other man's hands on curves and crannies he most certainly did not have in his usual form. Returning to Tyrion's lips in a deep, hungry kiss, Robin pulled the man down on top of him as he lay back on the bed. One long, graceful leg wrapped around Tyrion and Robin pulled back long enough to smile seductively. "Now that we are both more adequately clothed for the occasion," he whispered in a husky voice, "what shall we do?" One finger lightly traced the outline of Tyrion's ear and Robin laughed, sofly, in the back of his throat. Oh, he liked this bloke. Knew what he wanted and was hell-bent on getting there. Brilliant way of thinking.
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