[The rough edges may be what he loves the most, and really, how poetic is that? The city boy and the seafaring girl, caught in a chase, a game, where every round ends in a stalemate. At his fingers brush her cheek, he realizes he wouldn't have it any other way; that she's going to get away, in the end, and that that's exactly what he wants.
Think you can keep me?
He huffs a soft laugh, the corners of his mouth tugging upward as he whispers against her lips,] I don't think anyone could.
[And then they're colliding, sparking, her lips against his as the round comes to a standstill. Whatever Nami means the kiss to be, an acquiescence or a distraction or a trick, Yu attempts to alchemize it, to draw it out, urging more closeness, more feeling. He lets his hand move, coming to rest at the back of her neck, fingertips threading through her hair.
Nami, the thief, the force of nature. No one could keep her, and he knows it. But at least for now, he wants to keep kissing her.]
no subject
Think you can keep me?
He huffs a soft laugh, the corners of his mouth tugging upward as he whispers against her lips,] I don't think anyone could.
[And then they're colliding, sparking, her lips against his as the round comes to a standstill. Whatever Nami means the kiss to be, an acquiescence or a distraction or a trick, Yu attempts to alchemize it, to draw it out, urging more closeness, more feeling. He lets his hand move, coming to rest at the back of her neck, fingertips threading through her hair.
Nami, the thief, the force of nature. No one could keep her, and he knows it. But at least for now, he wants to keep kissing her.]