[as he'd said, he's listening, and he does so with nothing but his full attention. (she never receives anything less from him.) her discomfort is obvious, so he stays close, keeping her hand in his, following her eyes when she gestures and making a concerted effort to be here and steady for her.
but the thought that immediately surfaces in his mind is: that's it?
it's not one he voices, of course, because he doesn't want to undermine her trust in him or what it's meant to her to disclose this — but he'd been expecting something a lot more... shocking, maybe? there's no reaction from him at this, since there isn't one to have.
gently, he lifts his free hand, brushing more hair off the back of her neck.]
That's not uncommon where I'm from. [he tells her this like he'd tell her any other fact he knows — because that's exactly what it is.] Some people have cycles. It just depends.
[ she’s still anxious after letting him know what’s happening with her, because even though it’s never really been treated as big of a deal as it feels to her, it’s still a part of herself that she hates, because all she can think about is how this is another way manticore engineered her so she’d never truly get to have control of her own life. she doesn’t look back at him until he reaches for her, brushing aside more of her hair. her skin flares hotter beneath his touch and she draws in a breath, trying to concentrate on what he says. it’s a little disarming to hear that it’s something he’s familiar with. ]
It’s not? [ it’s almost blurted out, like she can’t comprehend the information. ] I just - I’ve never heard of this being something other people go through. Not even people like me.
[he continues to watch her and the still visible signs of her anxiety; as he does, his own confusion turns into hurt, on her behalf, at the idea that she'd be made to feel like this, so othered, so alone, because of something that really isn't that outlandish. his eyes soften as he takes half a step forward, all that it takes to cover the remaining distance between them. it doesn't escape his notice, either, that her skin feels just a little hotter under his touch — but that's knowledge he tables for the moment.
what feels more important to him, now, is to wrap an arm around her and bend his head to press a kiss to the top of hers, before just holding her close.
for a time, he's quiet, and when he finally breaks that silence, his voice is softer than before.]
[ for all she knows, other x5s have gone through this, but it hadn't been something that had had a chance to be discussed, given what else had been happening. so it does feel isolating, which isn't something she's really thought about. but the main reason she hates it is because she feels so out of control.
he comes closer to wrap an arm around her and just...hold her for a little bit, and for a few moments she feels stable, her body and mind calming enough to process everything. this isn't a big deal to him which makes her feel less uncomfortable about it, and more than that, he recognizes that she views it as an issue, something she goes through that she doesn't enjoy because of how it makes her feel and what it represents.
her eyes close as he presses a kiss to the top of her head, letting her body press fully against his as she lets him hold her. for a moment she feels content and safe, in spite of the fever still burning through her that she knows she'll need to acknowledge sooner rather than later.
one hand curls into his jacket as her opposite arm curves around his waist, and eventually she looks up, eyes on his mouth before she presses hers against it, kissing him gently. ]
[even if he'd never heard of anything like a mating cycle in his life, what she's told him wouldn't change anything. it wouldn't change the way he holds her, close and secure, trying to do his part to give her a moment away from what's made her anxious and uncomfortable just to breathe. it wouldn't change the way that he breathes, too, the last of the tension from his own anxiety of not knowing what he might find when he'd walked through the door. it wouldn't change the soft rhythm of his hand at her back, an added reassurance, just in case she needs it.
and it certainly wouldn't change the way that he kisses her back, a match of her gentleness that's also steady. certain.
as he does, his hand reaches for her face, fingers framing her cheek. he'll let her set the pace of this, whatever makes her comfortable, but for now, he's content to keep things like this (there's a hum against her mouth, confirming that), until he has to come up for air — which happens much sooner than he'd like.
he doesn't drift far. and to the inch of space that that now separates his mouth from hers, he confesses, in a solemn murmur,]
[ there’s not much heat to the kiss to start, even as he kisses her back. it becomes more heated as she feels his hand skim over her back, offering comfort and reassurance that she hadn’t fully recognized she’d been seeing, and her lips part to taste him a little better as her hand tightens in the folds of his jacket, tugging him closer to her.
it’s not until he parts from her mouth for air, panting against her skin, that she pulls back, fixing him with a quizzical look until he confesses, and she can’t help but laugh at it, her eyes bright in spite of her slightly mocking tone. ]
[there'd been a hint of something in that kiss, a beginning that he'd certainly like to continue, but he can't help but be transfixed by the brightness in her eyes. he can't help but be held in place by the sound of her laugh. it tugs a smile of his own at the corners of his mouth.
even so, as he doesn't bother to hide that, he goes to an effort to create a front that he's actually making a serious offer with:]
I can always go back out and do it again, if you want.
[ she punctuates that by using the hand wound into his jacket to pull him down further, not bothering with pretense anymore as she presses her tongue past his lips to properly taste him. there’s a whimper that draws from her mouth as she presses herself closer, her free hand now roaming over his back and underneath fabric to seek out skin, desperate to feel him. ]
[maybe a laugh starts brewing in him, but she stops that before it even has the chance to go anywhere.
it isn't long, barely seconds, until he's forgotten about the impulse completely. honestly, he's forgotten about anything that isn't her mouth crashing into his, or that isn't him parting his lips for her so that they can better taste each other. the whimper from her sparks an urgency in him, and while he'd been content, only moments before, to take this slowly, that suddenly isn't enough anymore; shrugging out of his jacket, he begins to move his hands with a purpose, one slipping under the hem of her borrowed shirt, seeking out the warmth of her, and telegraphing back, clearly, that he's on the same page.]
[ he seems to get the message pretty quickly; that her body’s not cut out for taking this slow in this state, that she’s already been wound up and primed to go. this doesn’t mean she wants things over with quickly, just that it’s agonizing when they start to move too slowly.
his hand slips underneath her (his) shirt, his hand roaming wherever it can reach, and she gasps lightly against his mouth, shivering a little as she grasps for his wrist, guiding him to her inner thigh. there’s a moan that’s pulled from her as she feels his touch drag over her skin, already so hot and slick with want. she shudders again, drawing her tongue away to nip at the swell of his lower lip. ]
[whatever cues she gives him, he'll follow; her kisses may leave him almost breathless, and may drown out almost any other thought, but he keeps his focus fixed on her wants — and her comfort. and what she's giving him is clear: there'll be no teasing to build up anticipation, as he'd often ordinarily do, because she's halfway there already, wanting and desperate.
he knows it from the way she shivers under his touch, well before she guides him to the slick heat lining her inner thigh — but there's knowing and there's feeling, and the feeling has him taking in a sharp gasp. her teeth digging into his bottom lip draws an answering noise from the back of his own throat.
she's halfway there already, wanting and desperate, and he won't deny any relief that he could give her. shifting his hand just slightly away from where she's guided it so he can have a better angle, he pushes a finger in past her folds, rubbing his thumb over her clit in a rhythm that he's come to learn she responds to.
there's no telling how long she's been in this state up to this point, and so he won't let any more time dwindle.]
[ even with her guidance, she's not quite expecting him to catch up to where she's already at so quickly, especially with his reaction to how primed her body is for what they're about to do. there's a wicked smile that curves at her mouth, up until he shifts his hand closer and presses his fingers inside and against her, and her knees buckle as she sinks against his touch, groaning against his mouth.
there's a moment where she needs to cling to him before working herself against him, riding his hand with careful, small movements to start. if this is over too quickly she'll need it again too soon, and she doesn't want to get overwhelmed before they even really get a chance to start. ]
[the concept of this may not be new to cassian, but her experience with it, specifically, is; he's not actually sure how much max needs from him, or how quickly. in the moment that she stills, clinging to him, he begins to question if she might've needed more time before he'd applied that kind of touch. he's about to pull back just far enough so he can ask —
but then she sinks into his touch, begins to ride his hand, and he has his answer. there's a sigh that breathes out of him as he captures her mouth with his again, a reassurance as steady as the arm that's wrapped around her, holding her close. he lets his hand follow her lead, using the small, careful motions that she does, waiting for her cues to shift his rhythm.]
[ tension starts to build within her as she continues to move her hips to match his rhythm, pleasure spreading through her until her skin feels like it’s on fire. she urges him into a quicker speed and groans as his movements become erratic as the speed picks up. she can feel her want dripping against her thighs, making his fingers slick and messy, and she tears her mouth away from his to pant against his shoulder, clinging tight to him so she doesn’t dissolve to the ground. ]
Please, [ she gasps sharply as she feels him press deeper, making her shiver again ] please -
[what he wants, above anything else, is whatever will make her comfortable. maybe this, not even having taken the time to move to the bedroom or somewhere that doesn't have them just standing here, isn't exactly it, but when his fingers are covered in her want and he can hear the shift in her breath, can feel her getting close, there are things that he's not going to change for the moment. he makes a quick mental note that he'll steer them that way eventually, but for now —
his focus narrows until his entire world is consumed by her gasps and the way she shivers against him, by the edge he's drawing her toward. please, she practically begs him, and of course he'll oblige. of course.
tightening his grip around her, secure so that she won't fall no matter what, he pushes his fingers in deeper, speeding up his pace, thumb at her clit to do what he can to finish the job.]
[ she maybe would have preferred to have this end up somewhere more private, but by the time she’d gotten him started it had been too late. she’s more or less been moving on instinct and halting in the middle of things just to move somewhere more secluded would be agonizing. so she’s grateful when he doesn’t move or make suggestions to take this anywhere else, instead adjusting his hold to make sure she’s secure as he helps chase her towards finishing.
it doesn’t take her long, her movements picking up speed against his hand as she holds onto him for balance, and she comes hard with a shuddery, breathy groan as he swipes against her clit after circling it with the pad of his thumb. her eyes shut as she rides out the aftershocks of pleasure, moaning his name into his neck. ]
[there's no sound he's ever heard that compares to the way she moans his name into his neck, with the shuddering, unguarded openness of the trust she's placed in him at what might be her most vulnerable moment. the impact of that has him taking in a shaky breath, too, has him closing his eyes, even if there's a part of him that wants to watch her come apart — because the realization is overwhelming, and if he thinks about it for too long, that trust is something he wonders if he deserves. rather than let that thought, or any, come in, he shuts it all out, focusing on keeping them standing as she rides out the high.
his hand stills, but, for now, remains positioned between her thighs, and the other rubs circles over her back with his fingers, what he intends to be grounding for whenever she starts to come back to the moment.
and there's a silence, filled only with breaths, that he lets sit between them for a time. he only breaks it to ask her, softly,]
[ she's not sure how much time passes as she keeps holding onto him as she starts to come down. she's aware of his breathing and heartbeat and her own, the way she starts to relax in his hold as the tension melts from her body. eventually she's aware of his hand moving in circles in the space between her shoulder blades, offering comfort and reassurance. she feels contented, safe in a way she's not used to that, that would ordinarily send a spark of fear in the back of her mind.
she's still thinking just clearly enough to shove the thought aside and focus on how she feels. it helps that he asks her, once he's gained enough of his breath back to speak. ]
Good. [ she knows better than to think that's the end of it, especially since it's still fairly early on in the cycle, but for now it's the truth. ] It's not gonna end there, though.
[it's noticeable when she starts to relax in his arms, which lets him start to relax, too — not completely, because that's so rarely been possible for him anyway, but equally noticeable. as she answers him, he opens his eyes, glancing down at her as best he can to where she's still leaning against him.
a soft smile cracks on his mouth, relief and reassurance all at once. the latter, he thinks, is important to show when she confirms what he's already guessed from prior knowledge of similar situations: that this could go on for a while. he's here to see it through, and he hopes that the way he doesn't pull back from her, the way he continues to hold her close, communicates that.
he just has one gentle suggestion.]
We might be more comfortable in the bedroom.
she has like five appropriate icons right now i'm sorry
[ she nods, shifting in his hold and making a soft noise in her throat as she withdraws herself from him, hands steadying her on his shoulder as she regains her footing. his shirt's bunched over her hips, hair mussed and still damp, and she feels slick and sticky between her thighs, still aching in a pleasant way. she looks up at him, eyes still clear, reflecting vulnerability and sincerity as a small smile curves her mouth and she nods her agreement. ]
[when she withdraws from him, it's enough to give him a look at her — one he has trouble drawing his eyes away from. one that he may never look away from again. he doesn't want to; she may be, at this moment, the most beautiful sight he's ever seen, from her mussed hair to her bunched up (borrowed) shirt, to the softness of her smile and the open vulnerability in her eyes. an intake of breath doesn't quite reach his lungs, getting caught in his throat.
there's a twist in his chest, too, the one that accompanies a thought he knows well, even if it barely surfaces from the back of his mind: what could he have possibly done to deserve that?
he swallows it down, that thought, and as he does, he can give her a smile, a reflection of what she's giving him. he leans in, satisfying an impulse to quickly press his lips to hers before he reaches out with his left hand, curling it around her fingers as he does what he's told.
it isn't a long walk to the bedroom, but he still stops them once they're barely through the doorway, releasing her hand to instead wrap his arm around her waist — as if even that amount of time had been too long to be away from her.]
[ in spite of how she’d warned him, she’s still in possession of the more rational part of her mind throughout this. it’s just much easier to ignore that when her body and baser instincts are screaming at her to stop thinking so much about the complications and how acting on what she wants could make things worse in the long run. this isn’t the same sort of complicated that it’s been in the past, but she is worried about how attached she’s been getting when she’s consistently been left behind by people she’s grown close to here.
that’s not his fault and also not something she really wants to think about, not when he’s taking her by the hand and guiding her back to her bedroom and she can feel desire stirring up inside her again. by the time he switches from holding her hand to winding his arm around her waist she’s much more concerned with getting him closer again and having him touch her without any barriers.
she turns on him, reeling up to kiss him as she works her hands underneath his shirt. it’s not until she pulls back to give him air that she says: ]
You’re gonna need a lot less clothes on, to start.
[if another thought attempts to surface in his mind, it's damn well silenced with her return to kiss him, and with the feeling of her hands slipping under his shirt, roaming over his skin. he groans quietly against her mouth, mind peacefully blank, as he meets her in the middle, reciprocating with equal intensity. the arm around her waist brings her closer, flush to him.
it's a loss, when she pulls back, and a part of him aches to protest (just as he aches with want), but she's right; there's still too much between them, and most of that is on him.
so he doesn't waste time, pulling back just a little more distance so he can tug his own shirt over his head and toss it aside, before unfastening his pants and stepping out of them.
and, speaking of clothes:]
You can keep the shirt, [he tells her, voice low, through a half-caught breath.] It looks better on you.
[he doesn't necessarily mean for her to keep it on now — although in his eyes, which he allows to scan over her again, that wouldn't hurt. that might, in and of itself, have its own effect on him.]
[ there's a soft noise made against his mouth as he pulls her flush to him and she feels heat bloom through her, warming her skin under his touch until he pulls away enough to shed some of his clothing after she makes her request. she growls low in her throat as she dives back in on him, kissing up his chest and shoulder up and over his neck, rubbing against him. he mentions the shirt she's wearing and she grins, nipping lightly at his neck. ]
Yeah? [ her tone is low and heady as her hands roam over his skin, fingertips tracing over the indents of his muscles. ] You want me to keep wearing it, or do you wanna tear it off of me?
[briefly, as she dives back in on him, trailing over his skin with both her hands and her lips, cassian wonders why they ever step away from this. the feeling of her teeth on his neck tightens his breath, pulls a noise from his throat and the tension within him taught, and he can't wonder anything at all.
he can barely keep track of a singular thought, much less the two possibilities she puts in front of him. there's a moment before he slips both hands under the shirt she's wearing, palms flat as he moves them over her skin.
there's an audible strain in his voice, echoes of his want, when he decides:]
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but the thought that immediately surfaces in his mind is: that's it?
it's not one he voices, of course, because he doesn't want to undermine her trust in him or what it's meant to her to disclose this — but he'd been expecting something a lot more... shocking, maybe? there's no reaction from him at this, since there isn't one to have.
gently, he lifts his free hand, brushing more hair off the back of her neck.]
That's not uncommon where I'm from. [he tells her this like he'd tell her any other fact he knows — because that's exactly what it is.] Some people have cycles. It just depends.
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It’s not? [ it’s almost blurted out, like she can’t comprehend the information. ] I just - I’ve never heard of this being something other people go through. Not even people like me.
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what feels more important to him, now, is to wrap an arm around her and bend his head to press a kiss to the top of hers, before just holding her close.
for a time, he's quiet, and when he finally breaks that silence, his voice is softer than before.]
It's a big galaxy.
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he comes closer to wrap an arm around her and just...hold her for a little bit, and for a few moments she feels stable, her body and mind calming enough to process everything. this isn't a big deal to him which makes her feel less uncomfortable about it, and more than that, he recognizes that she views it as an issue, something she goes through that she doesn't enjoy because of how it makes her feel and what it represents.
her eyes close as he presses a kiss to the top of her head, letting her body press fully against his as she lets him hold her. for a moment she feels content and safe, in spite of the fever still burning through her that she knows she'll need to acknowledge sooner rather than later.
one hand curls into his jacket as her opposite arm curves around his waist, and eventually she looks up, eyes on his mouth before she presses hers against it, kissing him gently. ]
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and it certainly wouldn't change the way that he kisses her back, a match of her gentleness that's also steady. certain.
as he does, his hand reaches for her face, fingers framing her cheek. he'll let her set the pace of this, whatever makes her comfortable, but for now, he's content to keep things like this (there's a hum against her mouth, confirming that), until he has to come up for air — which happens much sooner than he'd like.
he doesn't drift far. and to the inch of space that that now separates his mouth from hers, he confesses, in a solemn murmur,]
I did run here.
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it’s not until he parts from her mouth for air, panting against her skin, that she pulls back, fixing him with a quizzical look until he confesses, and she can’t help but laugh at it, her eyes bright in spite of her slightly mocking tone. ]
Yeah? I should have timed it.
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even so, as he doesn't bother to hide that, he goes to an effort to create a front that he's actually making a serious offer with:]
I can always go back out and do it again, if you want.
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[ she punctuates that by using the hand wound into his jacket to pull him down further, not bothering with pretense anymore as she presses her tongue past his lips to properly taste him. there’s a whimper that draws from her mouth as she presses herself closer, her free hand now roaming over his back and underneath fabric to seek out skin, desperate to feel him. ]
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it isn't long, barely seconds, until he's forgotten about the impulse completely. honestly, he's forgotten about anything that isn't her mouth crashing into his, or that isn't him parting his lips for her so that they can better taste each other. the whimper from her sparks an urgency in him, and while he'd been content, only moments before, to take this slowly, that suddenly isn't enough anymore; shrugging out of his jacket, he begins to move his hands with a purpose, one slipping under the hem of her borrowed shirt, seeking out the warmth of her, and telegraphing back, clearly, that he's on the same page.]
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his hand slips underneath her (his) shirt, his hand roaming wherever it can reach, and she gasps lightly against his mouth, shivering a little as she grasps for his wrist, guiding him to her inner thigh. there’s a moan that’s pulled from her as she feels his touch drag over her skin, already so hot and slick with want. she shudders again, drawing her tongue away to nip at the swell of his lower lip. ]
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he knows it from the way she shivers under his touch, well before she guides him to the slick heat lining her inner thigh — but there's knowing and there's feeling, and the feeling has him taking in a sharp gasp. her teeth digging into his bottom lip draws an answering noise from the back of his own throat.
she's halfway there already, wanting and desperate, and he won't deny any relief that he could give her. shifting his hand just slightly away from where she's guided it so he can have a better angle, he pushes a finger in past her folds, rubbing his thumb over her clit in a rhythm that he's come to learn she responds to.
there's no telling how long she's been in this state up to this point, and so he won't let any more time dwindle.]
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there's a moment where she needs to cling to him before working herself against him, riding his hand with careful, small movements to start. if this is over too quickly she'll need it again too soon, and she doesn't want to get overwhelmed before they even really get a chance to start. ]
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but then she sinks into his touch, begins to ride his hand, and he has his answer. there's a sigh that breathes out of him as he captures her mouth with his again, a reassurance as steady as the arm that's wrapped around her, holding her close. he lets his hand follow her lead, using the small, careful motions that she does, waiting for her cues to shift his rhythm.]
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Please, [ she gasps sharply as she feels him press deeper, making her shiver again ] please -
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his focus narrows until his entire world is consumed by her gasps and the way she shivers against him, by the edge he's drawing her toward. please, she practically begs him, and of course he'll oblige. of course.
tightening his grip around her, secure so that she won't fall no matter what, he pushes his fingers in deeper, speeding up his pace, thumb at her clit to do what he can to finish the job.]
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it doesn’t take her long, her movements picking up speed against his hand as she holds onto him for balance, and she comes hard with a shuddery, breathy groan as he swipes against her clit after circling it with the pad of his thumb. her eyes shut as she rides out the aftershocks of pleasure, moaning his name into his neck. ]
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his hand stills, but, for now, remains positioned between her thighs, and the other rubs circles over her back with his fingers, what he intends to be grounding for whenever she starts to come back to the moment.
and there's a silence, filled only with breaths, that he lets sit between them for a time. he only breaks it to ask her, softly,]
How are you feeling?
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she's still thinking just clearly enough to shove the thought aside and focus on how she feels. it helps that he asks her, once he's gained enough of his breath back to speak. ]
Good. [ she knows better than to think that's the end of it, especially since it's still fairly early on in the cycle, but for now it's the truth. ] It's not gonna end there, though.
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a soft smile cracks on his mouth, relief and reassurance all at once. the latter, he thinks, is important to show when she confirms what he's already guessed from prior knowledge of similar situations: that this could go on for a while. he's here to see it through, and he hopes that the way he doesn't pull back from her, the way he continues to hold her close, communicates that.
he just has one gentle suggestion.]
We might be more comfortable in the bedroom.
she has like five appropriate icons right now i'm sorry
Lead the way.
i got u
there's a twist in his chest, too, the one that accompanies a thought he knows well, even if it barely surfaces from the back of his mind: what could he have possibly done to deserve that?
he swallows it down, that thought, and as he does, he can give her a smile, a reflection of what she's giving him. he leans in, satisfying an impulse to quickly press his lips to hers before he reaches out with his left hand, curling it around her fingers as he does what he's told.
it isn't a long walk to the bedroom, but he still stops them once they're barely through the doorway, releasing her hand to instead wrap his arm around her waist — as if even that amount of time had been too long to be away from her.]
What next?
😘
that’s not his fault and also not something she really wants to think about, not when he’s taking her by the hand and guiding her back to her bedroom and she can feel desire stirring up inside her again. by the time he switches from holding her hand to winding his arm around her waist she’s much more concerned with getting him closer again and having him touch her without any barriers.
she turns on him, reeling up to kiss him as she works her hands underneath his shirt. it’s not until she pulls back to give him air that she says: ]
You’re gonna need a lot less clothes on, to start.
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it's a loss, when she pulls back, and a part of him aches to protest (just as he aches with want), but she's right; there's still too much between them, and most of that is on him.
so he doesn't waste time, pulling back just a little more distance so he can tug his own shirt over his head and toss it aside, before unfastening his pants and stepping out of them.
and, speaking of clothes:]
You can keep the shirt, [he tells her, voice low, through a half-caught breath.] It looks better on you.
[he doesn't necessarily mean for her to keep it on now — although in his eyes, which he allows to scan over her again, that wouldn't hurt. that might, in and of itself, have its own effect on him.]
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Yeah? [ her tone is low and heady as her hands roam over his skin, fingertips tracing over the indents of his muscles. ] You want me to keep wearing it, or do you wanna tear it off of me?
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he can barely keep track of a singular thought, much less the two possibilities she puts in front of him. there's a moment before he slips both hands under the shirt she's wearing, palms flat as he moves them over her skin.
there's an audible strain in his voice, echoes of his want, when he decides:]
Keep it on.
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