[ it's tender. there's no other word for it. no other word either for how he lingers against her lips, stalling for the length of a few slow breaths. this close, his vision muggy in the warm tones of the room, he can see the low long sweep of her eyelashes, the moue of her mouth, things he tries not to think about on his own and does anyway, on occasion. a private conspiracy, all to himself. photographic memory is good for keeping things you shouldn't. ]
... another time.
[ his voice low, reluctant. but she'll regret sending those texts, after all; she might regret inviting him in. they've been careful in their avoidance of awkward mornings and stephen—he's given up too much in life to want to fret about things said and not meant.
he slips back. winks, cheesy. and shifts back through the portal, just as the circle closes outright. ]
[The wink, silly as it is, is what makes it all right. She goes from surprised that he'd refused her to scowling at him, rolling her eyes for that cheesiness. And then he's gone, just like that, and she doesn't know if she's happy or displeased by that.
At least it means she's left alone to process . . . whatever the hell that was on her own. She presses her fingers to her lips, staring down at her sheets for a long while.
She texts him one final time, and then she does indeed go to bed, because the room is spinning.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
... another time.
[ his voice low, reluctant. but she'll regret sending those texts, after all; she might regret inviting him in. they've been careful in their avoidance of awkward mornings and stephen—he's given up too much in life to want to fret about things said and not meant.
he slips back. winks, cheesy. and shifts back through the portal, just as the circle closes outright. ]
no subject
At least it means she's left alone to process . . . whatever the hell that was on her own. She presses her fingers to her lips, staring down at her sheets for a long while.
She texts him one final time, and then she does indeed go to bed, because the room is spinning.]
you owe me dinner for a stunt like that.
make it within a few weeks.