[His eyes catch on the motion of her tongue; he can't quite fight down the surge of heat that shivers through him in response]
[He swallows, with difficulty, nerves edging in on the sidelines to join that steady buzz of tension, mingling with the simple pleasure of being close to her, of being held]
[He can still shut up; he doesn't have to be greedy, doesn't have to ruin it like last time]
[But somehow, his traitor mouth is saying:]
Did you, like.
Did you ever think it over? After... after that one night, I mean.
[Surprise—a wash of something hot that’s not entirely embarrassment before she can douse it, many things have been thought over across many nights, and surely that is not what he’s talking about. She looks away, attempting to think back and project an attempt at calm and normal woth dubious success]
W...way back when...about...kissing?
[The not-quite-hidden heat deepens, more wry than nervous—directed more at the memory than now]
Did...you? Since...I mean. Ain’t like you don’t got other [better] choices.
[He ducks his head, a little, something self-deprecating creeping in around the edges. He smothers it quickly, before it can take root - pushes on.]
But... but yeah. I've thought about it, some.
[A lot. He thinks about it a lot. He's thinking about it now, and surely she knows, because try as he might, the wave of heat and embarrassment that rolls through him is impossible to subdue]
[A ball of various tangled emotions at the mention of a girlfriend, none of which are pertinent and she shoves them away]
--That's different.
[Then, a different ball of emotions--perhaps the same ones in different amounts--and no small amount of surprise, as though she had not expected him to have thought about it much at all]
For--this--it's kind of entirely about you? I mean, kissing's kind of a two-man job, I can't really do it myself.
[Bravado, she knows it's a weak quip. Continues, self-conscious]
I... I mean. Same thing I've always thought? That it's... real nice. That, like. That if you ever wanted -
[He cuts himself off - is almost swallowed whole by the embarrassment that rushes through, searing him from the inside out. It's tangled up in remembered pleasure, in tendrils of guilt. (In, somewhere down deep, something very like hope.) The emotions flicker through, there and gone, as he shoves them away, hard, with limited success]
But. But, like. If you never got around to thinking about it, or whatever - or if you thought about it and you just weren't into it - that's cool, too.
Like I said. What we got already's the most important thing.
[He feels it, too, strong and fierce and loving. It's the most important thing, and he presses it her way: that she's everything to him, and he's lucky to have this, and he wouldn't ruin this for the world]
[She can't help but look shyly back at him; no matter how often or how much he shares such feelings with her, it still feels too good to be true--a surprise gift sent to the wrong address, a treat to be gobbled up before someone else steals every bite. So it's difficult to leave something behind, especially with him so obviously looking for an opinion on the flavor.
For her part, she feels the same as when it first came up, too: surprised (confused, flattered) at the offer and eager (anxious, terrified) not to bungle it. ...But she had anyway, hadn't she? So this time, why not eat the whole plate?]
...Okay.
[A bloom of not-quite-guilty self-consciousness, and her hand drifts back down to his hip, warm in the sun. Okay. Okay.
She takes a breath before speaking, voice careful]
I...don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable. Since I know you ain't into...all that...if--if something is too much, you gotta say something. But if you wanna try it...let's try it.
[Bravado, nervous energy thrumming beneath the surface, uncertainty and interest still vying for dominance. She strokes her thumb over his hip again, intended to steady]
Don't wanna guilt you into it, neither. So--no pressure, okay? If you want a time out or something, just say so--no harm, no foul.
[The motion of her thumb settles him, somewhat, even as it sparks a brighter awareness, a prickle of heat]
Yeah... no pressure.
[He hesitates - peers up at her face, eyes flickering back and forth, as though searching for something. The concern is still there, keeping the rising tide of everything else at bay]
But, like. That goes both ways. Okay?
Don't, like - don't do nothing just cause you think I wanna do it. Promise?
Didn’t we do this earlier? But yeah, I continue to promise that I won’t do things I don’t want to do.
[She is considerably more worried about not doing things that he does not want to do, a (come to think of it, constant) thread of anxiety further fed by his current concern and insistent enough to cast a pall over anything else. She shifts the hand caught under him a little; reaches up with the others to brush her knuckles over his cheek]
Same for you, okay?
[Simple encouragement, and acceptance, and that unwavering affection, (mostly) undistracted by the pink of his mouth or the spill of freckles over his skin or that anticipatory feeling that still hasn’t fully gone away since he first touched her]
[A little spot of warmth blooms in him, when her hand brushes his cheek; the affection radiates back toward her, sweet and absolute. He leans into her touch, without meaning to]
...okay. Same for me.
[And that concern, finally, subsides - reassured by her words, maybe, or by what she feels. With it gone, what it was keeping aside comes bubbling up to the forefront, flustered and longing - that ache, stronger than before, so strong it feels like it might split his chest in two]
[He takes a breath in - searches her face again - leans in, very careful, to press his lips to hers]
[She almost hadn’t thought he would do it, so her first impression is surprise. But this quickly fades to something much more delicate in the face of his gentle touch and intense longing, and she flushes dark; keeps her touches back shy.
...Which is stupid, since it’s not as though they haven’t done this before. Of course, it’s different when it’s not forced, some activity to tick off for points. It feels nice—it feels important, to be willingly chosen, and the warmth in her own chest redoubles, a shimmery brightness coming over her like a shot of alcohol.
Her hand shifts from his cheek to his hairline, fluttering pressure over his jawline and against his scalp. With a light hum, she tips her head back in further invitation]
[It is different, when it's not forced - when he knows she's not just playing along for the sake of some game. The warmth in her feeds slow, looping waves of affection in return, something dizzy, a little giddy, radiating out like sunlight, strong and steady and bright.]
[He can't not accept that invitation - leans in, a little helpless, to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup the back of her head. It's a careful touch, gentle; his hand is trembling, just a little]
[She sighs into it, relaxing against his lips and into his hand, little by little. This is fine--it's more than fine, one kiss flowing into another, then another still. Why had she been worried again? Of course, she never would've guessed it would feel like this--never would've guessed he would be filled with such a heady joy, never thought it would be so simple to catch. It's flattering--humbling--other things that she can't quite seem to worry too hard about here, in the light of his sun.
So the more she kisses back, the more her touches become a little less hesitant, and soon she shifts to tangle their legs, close and comfortable; lets her hand tangle more solidly in the soft hairs at the nape of his neck; lets her glasses smudge, smushed awkwardly into their cheeks]
[He shivers when she presses them closer still, caught up in a rush of sudden, intense awareness, an electric thrill prickling down his spine. And there beneath it, at some more fundamental level, stirs a deep sense of satisfaction, so profound it nears bliss, as the part of him constantly crying out for more contact goes quiet at last, finally content for once]
[The hand in her hair curls in a little, careful; his thumbs drifts down, exploratory, to trace the skin of her neck. The kisses are open-mouthed, now - an invitation for more, if she wants it]
[She had promised herself to take it slow, keep it light. But her neck is very sensitive, and his lips are very soft, and everything from his side of the link is just so warm and lovely--all the heady wonder of a first time just without any of the insecurities or lack of skill. And it's just so easy to part her lips, utter a small whimper into his mouth...so she does. One doesn't always get such a nice invitation, after all]
[The sound she makes stokes a spark of heat in response - a corresponding wave of self-consciousness, as he realizes how obvious it has to be]
[But it doesn't stop him from deepening the kiss - from licking into her mouth, careful and slow. The thumb on her neck keeps up its motion, gentle; there's a little spark of joy, somewhere deep down, that he knows how sensitive it is now. It feels like secret knowledge, somehow, something about her he didn't know until now, and he hoards it close even as he attempts to make good use of it]
[She shifts, restless at the slow pace--at the gentle intensity of it all. Concentrates on the bite of her glasses frames into her skin because everything else is too--comfortable, too nice, too much something she wants more of, even though--reasons. Reasons why she was not going to lick at his tongue, still cool and sweet from the forgotten ice cream, or why she was not going to rake her fingers shaky and firm through his hair, tousling it from the crown of his head to the familiar nubs at his nape, or why she wasn't going to hook his ankle to invite him closer, or certainly why she wasn't going to be making any noises whatsoever.
And she knows she will be rightly disappointed in herself later that instead she's doing all of those things, even if in the moment is very difficult not to want to when she can feel his heat and his interest and it's just so easy to meet it with her own...whoops]
[He makes a soft sound into the kiss, when her fingers rake through his hair - presses closer, as she hooks his ankle to urge him nearer. He couldn't resist if he tried - doesn't want to - feels a little like he's drowning, everything is so good]
[He's aware enough, though, to catch that sense of impending disappointment - hesitates, slightly, and presses a wordless question out toward her, a hint of uncertainty creeping in around the edges]
[Attempts to ignore it, like when you've just gotten into the most comfortable position and you find you've gotta pee. Almost immediately realizes that is even more of a dick move, and slowly breaks the kiss and pulls away a little, just enough that she can see him. Which...she still can't, her glasses are too close and too smudged, and she tries wrinkling her face to scooch them out of the way without having to lose even more contact.
She sends apologies for both the face and the interruption; rubs soothingly at the back of his neck]
[He's frankly a little breathless - kind of half-dazed. He licks at his lips, subconsciously, and moves his hand around, careful, to cup the side of her face. The emotions rolling off him are heady: pleasure, and want, and warmth, and love, and a thousand other things that feel too big to fit in his chest]
But are you, like... is there something you're worried about?
[Watches his mouth, a smear of pink on pink; idly curses her poor vision. Then embarrassment, moreso at being called out; it seems to be the exact same flavor]
--Nah...not worried.
[A little preoccupied, perhaps, but there is a lot going on at the moment from all sides, hot and full and distracting, and she shifts the arm caught beneath his in an attempt to ground herself]
But--you're sure I ain't-- You sure you're doing okay?
[He's doing better than good; a goofy smile keeps trying to creep its way onto his lips, and his thumb brushes over her cheek, infinitely gentle.]
I... I'm real happy right now.
[Which might very well be the understatement of the century, and she has a first row seat to how small those words seem, in comparison to what he's feeling]
[That fluttery feeling goes over her again, her cheek warmer than ever, and she forgets whatever probably important point she was going to make]
Okay. Uh, good.
[She's suddenly struck by the thought of how lucky to be here like this with him, a feeling that sings through her veins and swells inside her chest, and she turns into his hand, nuzzles into it a little before she remembers to catch herself]
[There's a little flush of joy when she nuzzles into him, a bright spark that seems to encompass everything: how close they are, and how good this is, and above all, that it's her lying here with him, pressed so near that their legs are entwined, spread out on a warm roof beneath a blue, blue sky]
[His thumb runs over her cheek again, just as gentle]
Re: Day 235 - Emotion Share
[He swallows, with difficulty, nerves edging in on the sidelines to join that steady buzz of tension, mingling with the simple pleasure of being close to her, of being held]
[He can still shut up; he doesn't have to be greedy, doesn't have to ruin it like last time]
[But somehow, his traitor mouth is saying:]
Did you, like.
Did you ever think it over? After... after that one night, I mean.
Re: Day 235 - Emotion Share
W...way back when...about...kissing?
[The not-quite-hidden heat deepens, more wry than nervous—directed more at the memory than now]
Did...you? Since...I mean. Ain’t like you don’t got other [better] choices.
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[He ducks his head, a little, something self-deprecating creeping in around the edges. He smothers it quickly, before it can take root - pushes on.]
But... but yeah. I've thought about it, some.
[A lot. He thinks about it a lot. He's thinking about it now, and surely she knows, because try as he might, the wave of heat and embarrassment that rolls through him is impossible to subdue]
It ain't really about me, though.
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--That's different.
[Then, a different ball of emotions--perhaps the same ones in different amounts--and no small amount of surprise, as though she had not expected him to have thought about it much at all]
For--this--it's kind of entirely about you? I mean, kissing's kind of a two-man job, I can't really do it myself.
[Bravado, she knows it's a weak quip. Continues, self-conscious]
So--when you thought about it...what'd you think?
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[He cuts himself off - is almost swallowed whole by the embarrassment that rushes through, searing him from the inside out. It's tangled up in remembered pleasure, in tendrils of guilt. (In, somewhere down deep, something very like hope.) The emotions flicker through, there and gone, as he shoves them away, hard, with limited success]
But. But, like. If you never got around to thinking about it, or whatever - or if you thought about it and you just weren't into it - that's cool, too.
Like I said. What we got already's the most important thing.
[He feels it, too, strong and fierce and loving. It's the most important thing, and he presses it her way: that she's everything to him, and he's lucky to have this, and he wouldn't ruin this for the world]
Okay?
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For her part, she feels the same as when it first came up, too: surprised (confused, flattered) at the offer and eager (anxious, terrified) not to bungle it. ...But she had anyway, hadn't she? So this time, why not eat the whole plate?]
...Okay.
[A bloom of not-quite-guilty self-consciousness, and her hand drifts back down to his hip, warm in the sun. Okay. Okay.
She takes a breath before speaking, voice careful]
I...don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable. Since I know you ain't into...all that...if--if something is too much, you gotta say something. But if you wanna try it...let's try it.
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[He searches her expression from bare inches away - can't quite tamp down the little thrill of awareness, when she sets her hand back on his hip]
But, like. Do you wanna try?
[His feelings are a jumble, some swirling mess of light and excitement and that tension, stronger than before, a steadily growing heat]
[But there's concern, too, keeping all the rest in check; concern that's more important than any of it]
I mean... you still didn't say.
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[Bravado, nervous energy thrumming beneath the surface, uncertainty and interest still vying for dominance. She strokes her thumb over his hip again, intended to steady]
Don't wanna guilt you into it, neither. So--no pressure, okay? If you want a time out or something, just say so--no harm, no foul.
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Yeah... no pressure.
[He hesitates - peers up at her face, eyes flickering back and forth, as though searching for something. The concern is still there, keeping the rising tide of everything else at bay]
But, like. That goes both ways. Okay?
Don't, like - don't do nothing just cause you think I wanna do it. Promise?
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[She is considerably more worried about not doing things that he does not want to do, a (come to think of it, constant) thread of anxiety further fed by his current concern and insistent enough to cast a pall over anything else. She shifts the hand caught under him a little; reaches up with the others to brush her knuckles over his cheek]
Same for you, okay?
[Simple encouragement, and acceptance, and that unwavering affection, (mostly) undistracted by the pink of his mouth or the spill of freckles over his skin or that anticipatory feeling that still hasn’t fully gone away since he first touched her]
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...okay. Same for me.
[And that concern, finally, subsides - reassured by her words, maybe, or by what she feels. With it gone, what it was keeping aside comes bubbling up to the forefront, flustered and longing - that ache, stronger than before, so strong it feels like it might split his chest in two]
[He takes a breath in - searches her face again - leans in, very careful, to press his lips to hers]
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...Which is stupid, since it’s not as though they haven’t done this before. Of course, it’s different when it’s not forced, some activity to tick off for points. It feels nice—it feels important, to be willingly chosen, and the warmth in her own chest redoubles, a shimmery brightness coming over her like a shot of alcohol.
Her hand shifts from his cheek to his hairline, fluttering pressure over his jawline and against his scalp. With a light hum, she tips her head back in further invitation]
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[He can't not accept that invitation - leans in, a little helpless, to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup the back of her head. It's a careful touch, gentle; his hand is trembling, just a little]
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So the more she kisses back, the more her touches become a little less hesitant, and soon she shifts to tangle their legs, close and comfortable; lets her hand tangle more solidly in the soft hairs at the nape of his neck; lets her glasses smudge, smushed awkwardly into their cheeks]
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[The hand in her hair curls in a little, careful; his thumbs drifts down, exploratory, to trace the skin of her neck. The kisses are open-mouthed, now - an invitation for more, if she wants it]
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[But it doesn't stop him from deepening the kiss - from licking into her mouth, careful and slow. The thumb on her neck keeps up its motion, gentle; there's a little spark of joy, somewhere deep down, that he knows how sensitive it is now. It feels like secret knowledge, somehow, something about her he didn't know until now, and he hoards it close even as he attempts to make good use of it]
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And she knows she will be rightly disappointed in herself later that instead she's doing all of those things, even if in the moment is very difficult not to want to when she can feel his heat and his interest and it's just so easy to meet it with her own...whoops]
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[He's aware enough, though, to catch that sense of impending disappointment - hesitates, slightly, and presses a wordless question out toward her, a hint of uncertainty creeping in around the edges]
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She sends apologies for both the face and the interruption; rubs soothingly at the back of his neck]
...Okay? Too much?
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[He's frankly a little breathless - kind of half-dazed. He licks at his lips, subconsciously, and moves his hand around, careful, to cup the side of her face. The emotions rolling off him are heady: pleasure, and want, and warmth, and love, and a thousand other things that feel too big to fit in his chest]
But are you, like... is there something you're worried about?
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--Nah...not worried.
[A little preoccupied, perhaps, but there is a lot going on at the moment from all sides, hot and full and distracting, and she shifts the arm caught beneath his in an attempt to ground herself]
But--you're sure I ain't-- You sure you're doing okay?
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[He's doing better than good; a goofy smile keeps trying to creep its way onto his lips, and his thumb brushes over her cheek, infinitely gentle.]
I... I'm real happy right now.
[Which might very well be the understatement of the century, and she has a first row seat to how small those words seem, in comparison to what he's feeling]
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Okay. Uh, good.
[She's suddenly struck by the thought of how lucky to be here like this with him, a feeling that sings through her veins and swells inside her chest, and she turns into his hand, nuzzles into it a little before she remembers to catch herself]
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[His thumb runs over her cheek again, just as gentle]
...you doing okay?
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