[ Thoughts of could have, would have, should have, of decorum and what is right and proper have all but flown from her mind. Hilda would be the first to admit she’s a romantic through and through. Denying that she doesn’t enjoy the experience of getting to know someone (even better if it were over a shared meal) would be like saying she didn’t have a pink hair. But, a voice asks, what was wrong with getting to know someone like this? Or maybe she should think about it this way: what if she didn’t wake up again tomorrow? What then? It’s the last push she needs to put her reason in a bottle and toss it out to sea.
She can’t remember ever being so acutely aware of someone and their reactions. The faintest hitch of his breath. The leftover sweetness of the fruit he’d eaten that lingers on her lips. The way his skin feels alight with something that is so similar to the kindling in her own belly. All of culminates in a singular want, or rather, a singular need. Her intrusive thought from earlier suddenly begins to make itself known again, no longer feeling intrusive and more sound logic.
The feel of his touch down the back of her bare skin sends a jolt down her spine. As she instinctively arches into his touch she can’t stop the soft exhale of desire that leaves from parted lips. More than anything she wanted his hand to dip lower, to feel the grip of him as he held her close.
The sound of her heartbeat thudding in her ears drowns out the sound of everything else around them. Suddenly nothing else matters except Ragna and the need to have him cure the ache between her legs. The hand that had rested so lightly on his chest begins to slowly walk its way up, resting at the nape of his neck. Her nails scrape lightly against his skin as lithe fingers take a hold of white strands so she can pull him towards her. But instead of lips meeting lips, they flit against the corner of his, cresting up the curve of his cheek before finally brushing the shell of his ear. He doesn’t need to see her to hear the grin in her voice. ]
Show me then. And who knows? Maybe I missed a spot too.
Oh noo! don’t apologize, you gotta rest up when you’re sick - i hope you’re feeling better
She can’t remember ever being so acutely aware of someone and their reactions. The faintest hitch of his breath. The leftover sweetness of the fruit he’d eaten that lingers on her lips. The way his skin feels alight with something that is so similar to the kindling in her own belly. All of culminates in a singular want, or rather, a singular need. Her intrusive thought from earlier suddenly begins to make itself known again, no longer feeling intrusive and more sound logic.
The feel of his touch down the back of her bare skin sends a jolt down her spine. As she instinctively arches into his touch she can’t stop the soft exhale of desire that leaves from parted lips. More than anything she wanted his hand to dip lower, to feel the grip of him as he held her close.
The sound of her heartbeat thudding in her ears drowns out the sound of everything else around them. Suddenly nothing else matters except Ragna and the need to have him cure the ache between her legs. The hand that had rested so lightly on his chest begins to slowly walk its way up, resting at the nape of his neck. Her nails scrape lightly against his skin as lithe fingers take a hold of white strands so she can pull him towards her. But instead of lips meeting lips, they flit against the corner of his, cresting up the curve of his cheek before finally brushing the shell of his ear. He doesn’t need to see her to hear the grin in her voice. ]
Show me then. And who knows? Maybe I missed a spot too.