[She's ready and waiting for him, when he moves. She doesn't have the time or the opportunity to wonder if perhaps she knows what she's doing when it comes to this better than he does; what matters is that he angles in toward her, and she already knows what angle to tilt her chin at to meet him properly, and thus, there it is, a kiss.
It's a kiss that aches, laced through with warring emotion — with fear, with sadness, with the rawness that accompanies futility. It's filled with need; it's sharp with desire. She wants to be kissed, wants to be wanted, and the intensity of that aspect of it frightens her a little, because of how powerfully it hits her. This is hers, just hers, and there are so few things in the world that are, but it is and she doesn't want to lose it.
That's why, maybe, she doesn't waste time before pushing on him, guiding him to sit back far enough that she can climb over him and sit straddling his lap facing him. It makes it easier for her to kiss him, facing him head-on instead of having to twist to the side; it makes it safer for his stitches, because this way she can partially protect them as she leans into him. It makes it easier for him to hold on to her.
And it makes it impossible for him to get rid of her, because her weight is pinning him to the couch, and she doesn't want to go.]
When I told you I should go — why didn't you ask me to stay?
[There's a hint of desperation in her tone that she doesn't intend to be there, and yet there it is.]
no subject
It's a kiss that aches, laced through with warring emotion — with fear, with sadness, with the rawness that accompanies futility. It's filled with need; it's sharp with desire. She wants to be kissed, wants to be wanted, and the intensity of that aspect of it frightens her a little, because of how powerfully it hits her. This is hers, just hers, and there are so few things in the world that are, but it is and she doesn't want to lose it.
That's why, maybe, she doesn't waste time before pushing on him, guiding him to sit back far enough that she can climb over him and sit straddling his lap facing him. It makes it easier for her to kiss him, facing him head-on instead of having to twist to the side; it makes it safer for his stitches, because this way she can partially protect them as she leans into him. It makes it easier for him to hold on to her.
And it makes it impossible for him to get rid of her, because her weight is pinning him to the couch, and she doesn't want to go.]
When I told you I should go — why didn't you ask me to stay?
[There's a hint of desperation in her tone that she doesn't intend to be there, and yet there it is.]
Don't you want me to?