[ there's a hitch of breath in her throat as her eyes follow the path of his lips over her hand, fingers twitching gently in his grasp. her skin pebbles with gooseflesh, unused to this kind of attention but welcoming it anyway, if the flutter of her pulse beneath the delicate skin of her wrist is any indication. anticipation makes the flush on her cheeks darken, makes the ache in her chest sharper, and she finds herself thinking if she had spent less time in the cathedral back at the academy, would she have experienced this then? would she still feel like her heart is ready to burst from her chest; craving for more of his attention, even when she's already had it?
she has not known this kind of touch from a man who didn't want something from her—her body, her blood, or both. lighter can't know the significance of it, how freeing it is to be touched as she is herself and nothing more. ]
I think you already have, [ is what she shakily manages, swallowing down a soft sound when his lips inevitably find her pulse. she reaches out with her other hand to gently brush his hair away from his face, fingertips brushing along his jaw. ] But you won't hear any complaints from me if you feel it's not enough.
no subject
she has not known this kind of touch from a man who didn't want something from her—her body, her blood, or both. lighter can't know the significance of it, how freeing it is to be touched as she is herself and nothing more. ]
I think you already have, [ is what she shakily manages, swallowing down a soft sound when his lips inevitably find her pulse. she reaches out with her other hand to gently brush his hair away from his face, fingertips brushing along his jaw. ] But you won't hear any complaints from me if you feel it's not enough.