“Oh, don’t be such a baby. It’s not like it’s even a life or death mission,” Hitch chirps, yanking on the cords of Marco’s corset so his waist inches smaller. It tears a low, breathless sound out of his throat, and his palms hit the desk as he leans forward.
Jean gives him a conflicted glance as he holds his own slack corset against his chest. There’s something oddly appealing about the scene, with Marco red-cheeked and a little breathless as Hitch hauled another gasp out of him. “Here, I’m stronger,” and he shooes her away to take the metaphorical reins.
Marco gives him a worried look as Jean puzzles out the mass of laces and grommets. Hitch, already fully dressed, swished past him giddily to fuss over Marlowe’s wig.
“It’s not just about strength. It’s about control,” and Marlowe’s noise is more comical than anything as she pulls him down to her height. “It’s about knowing when to stop. No amount of tightening is going to give any of you breasts.”
Jean pulls anyway,and Marco gives a high-pitched noise and grabs the desk, ears burning. At least the skirts are hiding any unexpected boners from this expedition.