unbr8kable | IC Inbox

[He's quiet for a long, long couple of moments]

[Then, softly:]

...hey.

[Looks over at him, quiet]

Hey what?

...you remember that one game where we could, like. Feel what each other was feeling?

[He's quiet for a long, long couple of beats, before he can make the rest of the words come out]

Would you wanna, like... with that one power we got...?

Uh...I mean. Do you?

'Cause, I mean. I wouldn't mind.

I wouldn't mind neither.

So then...yeah. If you want. Give it a go.

...okay. Here goes.

[He lets go of her, with one hand - offers it to her, palm up, so that she can take it in her own]

[Takes it, slowly but without hesitation]

[He twines their fingers together, gentle]

[And then there's a careful sort of opening, and suddenly they're much closer, though they haven't moved at all]

[She can feel the tangle of emotions in his chest, soft and fond, that all-encompassing center-of-the-heart warmth. Beneath it, there's something almost shy - a little self-conscious, over having asked for this]

[From her side comes something closer to relief—that this is so much easier—that he still feels the same way despite everything. There’s the thrumming bass line that all of this is too good to be true, other harsher counter rhythms if he chooses to listen for them. The melody that sings out over it is joyful, however; self-consciousness in tight harmony but not quite drowning out the simple pleasure at being here with him]

Um, you okay?

[He ignores the darker undercurrent, for now. After all, he'd wanted to share with her to celebrate the bright parts of this moment: the way she feels against him, warm and solid; the soft contentedness at how close they are; the quiet wonder of being in a beautiful place with someone he loves]

[(And if somewhere down beneath there is a thread of old guilt, it is not as debilitating as it once was - a dull ache, rather than the bright, sharp blade of a knife - assuaged, somewhat, by a church that stands empty and a courtyard filled with graves)]

[She ducks her head, cheeks warming further, and brushes her thumb over their joined hands. There's some uncertainty over the link, though maybe he won't notice. More important is the weight of his shoulder pressed into hers, the soothing rise and fall of his breath, the gentle relaxing of his expression. They enhance that bassline but are calming as well, stoking the warmth that radiates through her and reaches out towards him]

[He does notice the uncertainty: a soft glimmer of awareness, a hint of hesitation. Then he presses reassurance and affection out her way, almost shy]

[He ducks his head - nuzzles against the crook between her neck and shoulder, gentle]

[A flutter of faintly apologetic appreciation, and she rests her cheek against his hair. The feeling is not exactly calm, but more of a selfish contentment, actively ignoring how too good to be true it is in favor of just feeling the good. Eventually her other arm winds around him, like completing a circuit]

[When her other arm winds around him, she can feel the shivery sense of satisfaction that threads through him - the way something deep inside him presses in toward that closeness, greedy and yearning]

[He lets himself relax against he - presses a gentle kiss against her neck]

[Heat shivers through her, twined with self consciousness and a self satisfaction that rivals his own. She stays relaxed against him, however, inordinately pleased at how perfectly they fit together, how natural it feels. And though it still prompts a low trill of apprehension, there’s something wonderful—wonder filled to be this open and vulnerable with someone.

At least he can’t see how—embarrassing—her smile is, though the feeling behind it is hard to hide]

[A shiver of a response comes, at the feeling behind the smile - at the knowledge that she is smiling. He's helpless to tamp down on the curve of his own lips, on the almost-giddy swell of feeling in his chest]

[He presses another kiss to her neck, just as soft, and circles his arms around her a little tighter]

[Sinks further against him, just quietly, simply pleased to be where he is]

[He's pleased, too - content in a way that seems to thrum through his very bones]

[He tucks his chin over her shoulder - ducks his head a little, so that he can breathe in the soft almond scent of her hair]

IC Inbox

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish

Re: Day 254, late afternoonish