It's not quite the feeling of being a young boy with an infatuation. Something akin to, perhaps.
She speaks up against his mouth and the sensation in tandem with the careful threading of fingers into his hair leaves a little brush of cold along the plane of his back. It wouldn't take much to pull her into his lap, he thinks. Restraint lingers in his fingertips when he leaves the splayed touch of coarse fingertips about her knee, discipline a test that he's unsure if he can continue to pass.
His other hold traces over her wrist, atop her forearm, and follows the trail of strength and slender over a striking shoulder. He admires her wordlessly in his touch alone. She is both soft and resilient. She sets him to flame and composition, something she has done, he suspects, for longer than he's been truly aware of it. The warm flat of his palm curves along her back, familiarising himself with something he's thought long-forgotten.
He could drown her in a kiss if he's not careful and though he's measured in the press of lips, he feels betrayed by his feelings, treasonous things they are.]
no subject
Nier can't quite put a finger on why hearing it makes him so nervous. Surely once upon a time he was better with this sort of thing. Maybe it's because where he and Kainé have stood in relation to one another, it's been largely unspoken aside from his sentimental words he's fluttered in her direction. Maybe it's because he's not exactly imagined this kind of exchange.
It's not quite the feeling of being a young boy with an infatuation. Something akin to, perhaps.
She speaks up against his mouth and the sensation in tandem with the careful threading of fingers into his hair leaves a little brush of cold along the plane of his back. It wouldn't take much to pull her into his lap, he thinks. Restraint lingers in his fingertips when he leaves the splayed touch of coarse fingertips about her knee, discipline a test that he's unsure if he can continue to pass.
His other hold traces over her wrist, atop her forearm, and follows the trail of strength and slender over a striking shoulder. He admires her wordlessly in his touch alone. She is both soft and resilient. She sets him to flame and composition, something she has done, he suspects, for longer than he's been truly aware of it. The warm flat of his palm curves along her back, familiarising himself with something he's thought long-forgotten.
He could drown her in a kiss if he's not careful and though he's measured in the press of lips, he feels betrayed by his feelings, treasonous things they are.]