[He laughs again, a little less ragged this time, because the fact of the matter is there's something about Aerith's sweet-faced defiance that's just...satisfying. She masks well and gives as good as she gets, neither falling for his bait nor outright disregarding it; just look at her now, how even when she's startled she still finds a retort, refusing to let herself be unbalanced even when he's quite literally dragged her off her figurative and literal feet.
She's even a little better at keeping her composure than he is, although that's hardly an even playing field when she's actively running her fingers over his face, and he's only holding onto her for the sake of keeping her balanced. If he were raking his fingers through her hair, she'd probably be skittish and uncertain, herself. The fact that every bit of his focus seems to narrow down to the brush of her fingertips where they smooth away the errant locks of his hair is...it's just to be expected. It's not that the touch is unusual, or compelling.
It's funny how he's never really thought about how attractive a prospect it can be to have a girl in his lap. There's really no reason why he should have been dwelling on it anytime before now, but from behind the haze of simmering heat that seems to have overtaken his blood, it seems strange that he's never considered it before when it's as satisfying as this.
He doesn't stop staring, because he's not staring, just looking. Her eyes are so green it's hard to look away, much less to want to look away to begin with.]
Why's that?
[The banners, he means. It's not so much that he actually cares about the answer. Mostly he's just got an intriguing view of her mouth, from this vantage, and the thought of watching it move is enticing.
But then her hand leaves his hair, and her finger wanders down his face and ends up running along the length of his mouth, and he thinks about telling her to stop that too but it's altogether just easier to let his lips part a little and catch her fingertip between his teeth instead, the pressure light and more of a cautionary gesture than a bite.]
no subject
She's even a little better at keeping her composure than he is, although that's hardly an even playing field when she's actively running her fingers over his face, and he's only holding onto her for the sake of keeping her balanced. If he were raking his fingers through her hair, she'd probably be skittish and uncertain, herself. The fact that every bit of his focus seems to narrow down to the brush of her fingertips where they smooth away the errant locks of his hair is...it's just to be expected. It's not that the touch is unusual, or compelling.
It's funny how he's never really thought about how attractive a prospect it can be to have a girl in his lap. There's really no reason why he should have been dwelling on it anytime before now, but from behind the haze of simmering heat that seems to have overtaken his blood, it seems strange that he's never considered it before when it's as satisfying as this.
He doesn't stop staring, because he's not staring, just looking. Her eyes are so green it's hard to look away, much less to want to look away to begin with.]
Why's that?
[The banners, he means. It's not so much that he actually cares about the answer. Mostly he's just got an intriguing view of her mouth, from this vantage, and the thought of watching it move is enticing.
But then her hand leaves his hair, and her finger wanders down his face and ends up running along the length of his mouth, and he thinks about telling her to stop that too but it's altogether just easier to let his lips part a little and catch her fingertip between his teeth instead, the pressure light and more of a cautionary gesture than a bite.]