Re: In-person: Cris/Sam
Opioid. [It's the gentle, thoughtless correctiona somebody with a kid, but Cris don't even realize he's doing it really, as he listens.] It's okay to be scared. I'm scared. I'm scared with Teresa still. I'm scared with you. It's a parta carin' about somebody so much, or carin' for somebody who's a parta you, your soul. I know you're scared you're gonna do somethin', fuck her up, forget her. I still think you're too hard on yourself and I still think you see the enda the world in things that ain't no harbinger. [He tries to tap her chin as best he can, and he's trying for reassuring—not minimizing, just reassuring.
He holds her, her cheek against his shoulder, and he smiles at Sam. He prolly shouldn't be smiling when she's talking 'bout this, but he does, 'cause he's touched, huh? He's a sap. His fingers stroke her arm.] Does it scare you when I—move you around? [And, as an afterthought:] Do you like that? I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me if you don't like somethin'.—Nah, not too much, [he says 'bout wanting him. Hell, they're sitting on his chair in his office, talking 'bout difficult stuff, and his cock's hardening with nothing but her proximity to stoke the flame.] I want you too, but I mean, I want you to want me to fuck you in the ass. I don't want you to do it 'cause you're worried 'bout how I'm gonna handle not fucking for six weeks. If it's 'cause you want it, 'cause you don't wanna wait out six weeks doin' other stuff, which would be fine—'cause I don't think sex is defined just as penetration, huh?—that'd be diff'rent.
[Unsure 'bout what she means 'bout being scared before, he asks:] What d'you mean? You got scared when we fucked? [And with a shakea his head.] We are talkin' 'bout us. What am I s'posed to be sayin' 'bout myself?