Re: Third Class ; Dining
Again, the girl almost fled. It was nothing the boy had done, no, he was gentle and sweet and all the things she'd thought a boy should be from watching humanity for so long. She was surprised at herself, nerves and anticipation mixing together and it was enough to make her want to try to outrun it, these foreign feelings seemingly bursting forth all at once, but it made her want to stay, too. It made her want more. She swore she could hear her heart beating, pulse fluttering at her throat, and she shivered when his fingers brushed her cheek. Such simple contact, that touch, but she liked it. She liked it and just then she didn't care about anything else.
She hadn't done anything like this, not ever, and she wasn't thinking about whether that applied to just here and now or before, too. It didn't matter, really, because she couldn't have pulled forth any prior experience even if she'd wanted to. It was all so new, and oh, she wanted to learn.
Her hands found his shoulders, fingers twisting themselves in the fabric of her shirt, and the fallen angel let out a quiet whimper when his tongue touched her lip, wanting more but confused as to what she wanted. Hastily she tried to remember, to pull forth memories of what humans did, and after a second or two of hazy nervousness she calmed enough to give permission with a slow parting of lips. Her fingers tugged on his shirt, silent encouragement, entirely instinctual and not thought out at all.