[ In contrast, he really, really, really should have known better by now. He flipped the coin, however, letting his own guard down when the succulent meat and surprisingly tasty fruit blend slides down his throat. Though a rebel and a fighter first, he really did put a lot of stock into cooking; at this resort where time was in abundance compared to back home, it gave Ragna plenty of time to want to explore and expand his own culinary horizons. Why let his Master's training go to waste, right? Despite the risks and the coin he just tossed, of course he was going to have to eat the resort's offerings.
Until he was high enough a rank to have his own kitchen where he had control over his own ingredients, he made his choice.
Then it's a good thing he was in the right company to make that choice feel all the easier. Ragna wasn't so brazen as to crumble at a single soft, wet little pop of those lips, barring those invasive thoughts that made him jealous of that finger. But his otherwise fair complexion is just as telling. He's red in the face, only letting the clearing of his throat one more time save face for just a little longer when the fleck of concern bleeds into her words. Used to fending for himself for so long, Hilda's hard lessons being carried unto him actually resonates in his chest. Awful kind of her to show some concern... ]
Please. They can keep dreaming if they think they'll get a taste of me.
[ If it weren't for the pleasant lightheaded sensation he was feeling, Ragna might have been his more usually blunt self. Kicking shitbirds sounded more up his alley of vocabulary when the combination of meaty, spicy skewers and impulse-inducing hybrid fruit wasn't making him so malleable within this "delicate flower"'s touch. A touch that would have made him recoil long before coming to the Golden Peacock— long before he'd been shown what it felt like to accept this. Before he'd learned what it felt like to accept that this was okay. So with parted lips, his breath warm awash along her thumb as he fights with every fibre of his being not to just catch it gently with a nip, he's thinking less and less about his food, with nothing left to swallow but that lump in his throat as Hilda will have his gaze.
His attention. And every urge and impulse that he starts questioning less and less... There'd be time to either lament or roll with the punches after the fact. Because when she releases her hold on him, Ragna grants it. Even without his Diamond suit flaring on him, a familiar urge from the past wells up inside of him. An urge that he thought he wouldn't have to deal with ever again; a couple of games ago, he was the rabbit being hunted. But then, as he finds his voice once more, deep in cadence and low for her ears alone as she lures him deeper with that playful tilt of her head, ]
I'm Ragna. [ Was he just finding purchase leaning in for her? Is that why, should it be within his reach, that Hilda may find his hand sliding against hers, if not overlaying it? He wouldn't dare fall into her. But as Ragna's heart starts to hammer away wilder and wilder in his chest, he was doing the exact opposite of pulling away from her space.
A prelude to the headier sense of yearning that would only grow stronger and stronger was an impulse that gets to the point of screaming in his mind's ears. Those lips that popped so prettily around her finger...
She asks for a hint. ] One sec. You've got a little...something...
[ Just a taste. A chaste brush of his lips against hers as if he were trying to scout out the same thing she pointed out for him. If she lets him. It's as far as he goes with her "hint" as his impulses win. It's still too kind. He still wars with himself on the inside because he just knows that impulse and urge was anything but tame. He's holding back. A little longer. ]
no subject
Until he was high enough a rank to have his own kitchen where he had control over his own ingredients, he made his choice.
Then it's a good thing he was in the right company to make that choice feel all the easier. Ragna wasn't so brazen as to crumble at a single soft, wet little pop of those lips, barring those invasive thoughts that made him jealous of that finger. But his otherwise fair complexion is just as telling. He's red in the face, only letting the clearing of his throat one more time save face for just a little longer when the fleck of concern bleeds into her words. Used to fending for himself for so long, Hilda's hard lessons being carried unto him actually resonates in his chest. Awful kind of her to show some concern... ]
Please. They can keep dreaming if they think they'll get a taste of me.
[ If it weren't for the pleasant lightheaded sensation he was feeling, Ragna might have been his more usually blunt self. Kicking shitbirds sounded more up his alley of vocabulary when the combination of meaty, spicy skewers and impulse-inducing hybrid fruit wasn't making him so malleable within this "delicate flower"'s touch. A touch that would have made him recoil long before coming to the Golden Peacock— long before he'd been shown what it felt like to accept this. Before he'd learned what it felt like to accept that this was okay. So with parted lips, his breath warm awash along her thumb as he fights with every fibre of his being not to just catch it gently with a nip, he's thinking less and less about his food, with nothing left to swallow but that lump in his throat as Hilda will have his gaze.
His attention. And every urge and impulse that he starts questioning less and less... There'd be time to either lament or roll with the punches after the fact. Because when she releases her hold on him, Ragna grants it. Even without his Diamond suit flaring on him, a familiar urge from the past wells up inside of him. An urge that he thought he wouldn't have to deal with ever again; a couple of games ago, he was the rabbit being hunted. But then, as he finds his voice once more, deep in cadence and low for her ears alone as she lures him deeper with that playful tilt of her head, ]
I'm Ragna. [ Was he just finding purchase leaning in for her? Is that why, should it be within his reach, that Hilda may find his hand sliding against hers, if not overlaying it? He wouldn't dare fall into her. But as Ragna's heart starts to hammer away wilder and wilder in his chest, he was doing the exact opposite of pulling away from her space.
A prelude to the headier sense of yearning that would only grow stronger and stronger was an impulse that gets to the point of screaming in his mind's ears. Those lips that popped so prettily around her finger...
She asks for a hint. ] One sec. You've got a little...something...
[ Just a taste. A chaste brush of his lips against hers as if he were trying to scout out the same thing she pointed out for him. If she lets him. It's as far as he goes with her "hint" as his impulses win. It's still too kind. He still wars with himself on the inside because he just knows that impulse and urge was anything but tame. He's holding back. A little longer. ]