InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Have you the brain worms?"

Lacus Clyne (fields_of_hope) wrote in sandboxing,
@ 2012-02-20 01:08:00

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marina

[Marina] Mistletoe bot threads, continued!
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+ Saber

undyingideal
2012-02-26 08:09 pm UTC (link)

[[ooc: continued from here]]

[Thanks to his words, a moment is all she needs.

Rather than make excuses that he has no choice in the matter, he understands, allowing her to accept it in turn; when was the last time anyone had so empathized with her personal desires? She hadn't realized she wanted that so badly until it was shown to her firsthand.

Relaxing herself against him, she tilts her head in accordance with his touch, gracefully and carefully as he leans in, and for a second her eyes hold his to convey a last plea before they slide shut.

She's trusting him in this intimate moment, trusting him to-- even though neither of them want it-- make this something that doesn't leave only just regret with either of them.

Because even though anymore is troublesome, she...]

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_incurable
2012-02-26 08:57 pm UTC (link)

[As controlled as his steady hand and steadier expression seem, His heart pounds and surely it's given away his secret because she must hear it or feel it. That or his eyes, which soften as she relaxes because all he can think is whether it's acceptance or resignation.]

[Either way, he shouldn't wait because even though it's clearly just his imagination that there's a spark of warmth where his fingers touch her skin, it's distracting enough. His eyes stay open as he leans down with exaggerated care, but once their lips touch they shut on their own and his fingers slip over her jaw until his palm, seeking that slight but definite sensation, brushes her cheek.]

[He'd told himself exactly how long to linger, what count to reach before he could pull back. It's instantly forgotten. His lips tingle and there's this strange hushed silence where his thundering pulse just was. Gods he can really feel her, it can't be all in his head because he'd never be creative enough to imagine this.]

[It's the confetti popping above them that reminds him and restarts his hammering heart. He pulls back, as slowly as he leaned in but feeling as though everything were moving much faster. His fingertips stubbornly refuse to budge for a half a beat before he wrestles his control back.]

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undyingideal
2012-03-01 08:48 pm UTC (link)

[It seems like it's forever after her eyes close that his lips finally meet hers, firmly but not overwhelming; this is his own will, here. His ghosting fingertips bring the faintest shift from her, out of some sense of anticipation she hadn't quite realized existed, and at first she leans into it enough to reassure him, but then it just feels right to]

[She had held a certain expectation of what it would be like-- naturally, not the warm, smooth flesh of a woman's hand or cheek that her kisses would always be placed on-- but it is immediately decided to be "off". Cold and slightly roughed edges that send conflicting senses with how gentle he's clearly trying to be, yes, but not entirely unpleasant, simply more strange, and either way it just doesn't matter. She knows what is-- what he is underneath. And the "warmth" she feels through his movements, his intent, reinforces this conviction a thousand-fold]

[Neither the popping noise nor the confetti fluttering down into her hair serve as an ending signal for her, only the pressure against her lessening as he pulls away from her. She doesn't allow any forming disappointment to survive, but the conflict is already beyond eliminating so easily.

Remaining perfectly motionless for a time, eyes ever closed, she visibly and consciously resumes her breathing after a moment-- strange, because she can't recall stopping in the first place. Drawing her own hands from him, one brushes against the back of his leaving one, and lingers...

But if there was intent to hold him there it's abandoned in the same instant, and her hands drop to her sides as she steps away, taking advantage of their new-found freedom]

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_incurable
2012-03-02 01:37 am UTC (link)

[The simple brush of her fingers makes his jerk as if shocked, but toward her hand rather than away. His fingers close around nothing as her arms drop. His almost follow but his hand lingers close to his face, the urge to cover himself with his mask nearly overwhelming. He can't begin to know which of his tumbling emotions made it to the surface.]

[In the end he distracts himself by stepping back, his face remaining exposed. Whatever shame, or fear, or disappointment he's showing her he'll just have to live with it, but he doesn't want to know and that's why he's turning his head to look toward their -- the apartment.]

We should get inside. [Where he can busy himself with. Something. Making dinner works. He tries not to notice how thick his voice sounds.]

And I need to make a call. [First thing he's going to do once his hoarseness fades, the very first thing, is call about this Defense Force. Maybe a sword wouldn't have helped him today, but hell if he's going to keep getting pushed around.]

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undyingideal
2012-03-04 07:42 pm UTC (link)

Yes.

[The only verbal response from her is a quiet, automated one; following his assumed order. She still doesn't face him directly; there's no question of his current well-being and no inquiry to the nature of his call.

Because if she does, if she shows anything more than distanced servitude at this moment, she knows there will be no hope of keeping the solid stance-- facade, as even herself admits would be more appropriate now-- she tried so desperately to maintain from crumbling down entirely]

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