xp_logs | Doug, Marie-Ange, tonight. (Monday night)

Doug and Marie-Ange talk. It does not go well. :( Doug's low-self esteem finally bites him firmly in the ass, and Marie-Ange is tired of picking up after his flagging ego.

Doug sighed and closed his laptop. The last thing he wanted was to talk about any of this, but he got the feeling Marie-Ange was worried that she had done something wrong. Getting up, he put his shoes on and padded across the hall to tap quietly at her door.

Still typing out a reply to Clarice, Marie-Ange gestured and sent a small construct - a almost bird-like metallic-looking creature to open the door. She frowned as she hit 'send' and then looked up. "I am confused. I do not understand why you were so upset.." she said, quietly.

Doug shrugged, scuffing one foot against the other and staring at his feet. "Like I said, love, it's not anything you're doing. It's my own issues with myself." Forcing himself to look up and look at her while talking, he took in her outfit. Shorts and one of his button-down shirts over the bikini that had wreaked havoc with his concentration earlier that afternoon. He attempted to stamp down on his body's instinctive reaction with middling success.

Rolling her eyes a little, Marie-Ange stood and took Doug's arm firmly, obviously intent on leaving the room. "That makes even less sense than you being upset with me. What could you have possibly done wrong?" She put one hand on his lower back and led him out of the room, and down the stairs to the sunroom.

Doug, however, directed Marie-Ange past the sunroom and towards the doors to the back patio. If they were actually going to have this discussion about his libido, he wanted it to be someplace where people were less likely to interrupt them. "It's not so much that I feel like I've done something wrong," he sighed. "More a severe level of embarrassment, sort of."

"Over that picture?" Marie-Ange blinked, and stopped in mid-step. "Doug? You've seen me in a bikini, and that picture has less skin showing than a bikini would." She shook her head, and let out a sigh. "You've seen me in a bra, you've seen me in a bathing suit, what is it about that picture that has you so bent out of shape?"

Doug shook his head. "It isn't so much the picture as...my reactions. And it's not so much that I'm bent out of shape over it. It's..." He blushed darkly. "Gr. Words."

~Oh. That was what he was all upset over. Well.~ Marie-Ange was very grateful Doug was not telepathic. The body-language was bad enough. She grinned lazily and stretched out on a lounge chair, crossing her arms behind her head. "So, I suppose I could delete it.." she said, not meaning her words at -all-.

Doug fidgeted nervously. "I...it's not that I don't like it, Angie. I like it a lot." ~Too much,~ he thought internally. He dry washed his hands for a moment, then stuffed them in his pockets as he sat sideways on an adjoining lounge chair, hunched over and incredibly embarrassed.

Marie-Ange let her eyes pass over Doug's shoulders and chest, and down to his thighs. "I noticed," she said, casually. Affecting a slight shiver, she crossed her arms under her chest, and rubbed her upper arms with her hands.

Doug blinked. He'd been so involved in his own self-loathing, he hadn't even... "Are you cold, Angie? We could go back inside if you want, or I could..." He plucked at the loose long-sleeve shirt he'd put on over his own T-shirt. He didn't know how much warmer it would be, but...he pulled at the hem of it, intending to offer it to her.

Biting back her slight irritation that Doug missed the point, entirely, Marie-Ange shook her head. "I should be fine in a minute.. " she said. "It is only a little chilly. Though, if you wanted to come sit with me..." She smiled and moved to sit up a little.

~Oh.~ Doug smacked himself internally for completely missing the boat. He moved to sit next to Marie-Ange, allowing her to rest her back against his chest and nestle under his chin. He placed a tentative arm around her, feeling incredibly unsure of himself.

Idly, Marie-Ange wondered how it was that Doug could manage to be completely shameless on stage, and then manage to be -so- shy normally. She scooted a little closer to Doug, and wrapped her arm around his, holding it in place. "What happened to the Doug that was on stage today?" she asked quietly. "Who sang to me and did not blush or hide?"

Doug closed his eyes and sighed raggedly, blinking back a few tears. He was so tired of being overemotional. He knew it was probably his system still balancing itself out from the lack of sleep due to the cicada problem, but it was really annoying crying at the drop of a hat. "That's 'stage Doug'," he replied, shivering slightly, though not from the cold.

"And 'stage Doug' and 'regular Doug' are mutually exclusive?" Marie-Ange asked. Feeling the tension and shiver from behind her, she turned to face Doug, and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Stage Doug should come out and play more.."

Doug shook his head slightly, his eyes glued shut. "'Stage Doug' is a mask," he said. "When I'm on stage, I can pretend that I don't care what everyone thinks. For a while, at least. Afterwards, it all comes right back."

With a sharp sigh, Marie-Ange sat up, pushing away from Doug. "So, you think I am going to be upset about something? Or you just do not want to take a risk, so you let me make all the first steps?" She folded her arms, and scowled. "It is safer to let me make all the moves, so you do not have to worry about what I or someone else might think?!"

Doug huddled backward under the heat of Marie-Ange's glare. "I...I..." he stammered. Finally he swallowed and closed his eyes, and gave a try at articulating all of his conflicting inner thoughts. "I don't know, Angie. I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm petrified of upsetting you. So yes, it's easier to not take any risks. Because then I don't have to worry about you leaving because of something stupid I've done. I mean..." He swallowed again. "When you first asked if I wanted to talk about this, my reaction was, 'sure, Angie, let's have a talk about my overactive libido, and the instant hard-on that resulted from that icon of yours, and how most of me would like nothing more than to get you alone and take you in a manly fashion against the nearest convenient hard surface'! _That_ is what I struggle with, because I'm scared shitless that I'm going to mess this up somehow!" He trailed off at the end, breathing a bit heavily from the forcefulness of his speech.

Marie-Ange stood, and gestured at her bikini, under the open button-down. "Do you think I wear things you like just to torment you? Do you think I do not know exactly what effect this has?" She rubbed the bridge of her nose, and sighed. "The only way you are messing this up is by hiding and being nervous every time you get aroused! Do you think I -don't- want you? Did you forget that I'm not quite a virgin? Do you want details? Do I need to tell you exactly what I've done and what still scares me, so you know what is and is not safe? Take some risks, Doug! I am not going to be mad at you for it!"

Doug's mouth worked silently for a moment. He sighed slightly, incredibly frustrated with himself. The frustration rose, until finally he acted on Marie-Ange's words and took a risk. Reaching out, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her forward, kissing her insistently. It was certainly better than trying to figure out how to respond to her frustrated words.

It was, Marie-Ange thought, a start. It wasn't going to be enough to lessen her irritation - Doug had been passive for far too long to make her think one kiss would change things, but it was at the least, a good beginning. She wrapped one arm loosely around Doug's waist, and returned the kiss, letting him take the lead.

Finally, after thoroughly exploring Marie-Ange's mouth with his tongue, Doug pulled back, breathing heavily. He cradled her cheek in his hand, and cocked his head, drinking her in with his eyes. "I think I know what it is. Angie, love, the thing that scares me is just how much I want you. It's like...it's like being pulled out to sea by a riptide. It's so powerful it scares me," he whispered quietly.

"And you worry that you will do something stupid or push me too fast?" Marie-Ange raised an eyebrow, and folded her arms again. "Or, push yourself too fast into something you are not ready for?" She sighed and shook her head. "I wish I knew what to tell you. I know what I want, and what I am ready for. I cannot take those first steps with you. I started backwards, I do not want you to get hurt, again, because of Kwannon."

Doug's mouth quirked in an uncertain expression. "I don't know, love. I don't know what you want, and what you're ready for. I don't want to push you too fast, and I don't want to push myself too fast either. But I think my problem is I'm not sure what is too far for me. I know what my libido says, but I don't know if it speaks for the rest of me."

After a few minutes of trying to decide how to ask, what to ask - what to say, even Marie-Ange finally sighed and pulled her legs up to her chest. "I am not even sure how to begin. Should I just be blunt? Should I try to be delicate and polite about it?" She rested her chin on her knees, and frowned. "My libido still wonders if you have just as cute of a butt with the pants off."

Doug blushed slightly, but at the same time he was determined to work on not clamming up at the slightest mention of anything remotely sexual anymore. "Well, they're pretty much skintight, so I'd imagine the butt in pants bears a pretty close resemblance to the pants-less butt," he ventured. "I wouldn't know. I never really think about it. It's a butt, and it's mine. I sit on it a lot, and that's about all the thought I spare for it," he chuckled dryly.

"Still with the jokes.." Marie-Ange sighed. "I sometimes wonder if you see someone else when you look in the mirror." She reached out and brushed a lock of hair off Doug's forehead. "Sometimes you act like if you do any little thing wrong, that I am going to stop seeing some illusion you've cast on yourself."

Doug shook his head and smiled sadly. "I don't see the same person you see when I look in the mirror, I think, love," he replied. "You see this good-looking, amazing person who is worthy of your love."

After letting out a long sigh between clenched teeth, Marie-Ange stood. "If you cannot see how much you deserve me, how much you've been good to me, then you are blind." She turned and walked towards the door leading inside the mansion. "Talk to Doctor Samson, talk to Jamie, talk to someone. I .. cannot keep picking up your ego and putting it back where it belongs."

Doug sat, stunned, and watched Marie-Ange walk away, then sat for a long time, staring into the darkness and thinking about himself and his own self-perceptions.