Re: Marta / Seven
[What. It's an innocent start to a question, isn't it? Breathed out like that, between two pink and parted lips that form a question mark. And Seven's hands are pressed there, heels of his hands shoved so hard against the slight indent of temples, as a sense of warmth and betrayal runs down the length of his vertebrae and pricks at the electric heat of his organs.
On one hand, the desperation grates at his ears like the sharp whine of a wind instrument. And on the other, he can't quite grasp enough of a hold at Marta's sides to satisfy.]
Don't. [The word whips out of his mouth, harsh and solid, clamped tight around the edges as his lips form a grimace.] Don't try to reduce the shit that happened between us, Marta. Please. [Even as he says it, he is wincing, and reaching out to grab hold of the girl's shoulders with both hands. Calloused fingertips threaten to leave imprints against pale and porcelain skin.]
Listen. Would you shut the fuck up, for one second? Can you do that? [Seven's green eyes flicker from her mouth, up to her eyes, and back down to the arch made by her cupid's bow. And he's not sure of the answer, but he knows that it feels right when he leans in to press his mouth against hers without some present fanfare or ceremony. Just a kiss, tilting and searching as Seven angles his face against hers.]