[ He wonders, briefly, if she shouldn't trust him, but the upwards turn of her face into the draw of his lip feels so sweet that it silences the thought before it really solidifies. Doubt tends to splinter his thoughts, but faith in him is enough to lessen its influence. He wouldn't be who he is without it: a creature wreathed in flame, a warning, a protector without equal. In her hands and with nowhere else to go, he finds peace enough among all of it for tenderness. ]

You can trust me. [ — is finally what he decides on, quietly sweeping his free hand up to her cheek to steady her trembling. It's a little for himself too. ] Which is exactly why I think we should go slow.

[ His lips meet hers again, once, twice, growing hot and pliant at the seams but not pressing past that boundary just yet. When he pulls away, just scant enough to still feel the buzz of her warmth, nose to nose, he gazes thoughtfully at the pretty downturn of her lashes, the color of his heat on her skin. ]

If I'm getting to be the one to touch you, I want to know the places you like. So you're gonna have to tell me...

[ Tucking pale locks behind her ear, he angles in to offer her parted lips and a faint brush of his tongue in return. ]

...alright?