[The rasp of her breath is something beautiful in its own right; the soft keening noise that escapes her lips when his fingers move is yet another. She squirms for him, robbed of words and the capacity to say them, and thus left to express herself by the language of her body alone.
It's a funny reversal, almost. She's compared him to a foreign language before, the need to read his nuance to pick up all the things he can't find words to say. Now here they are, and he's the one still possessed of his words, and she's the one left acting in the bare hopes that she'll still somehow be understood.
But it's all there, for a scholar who knows her well enough to interpret the signs like constellations in the night sky. The flush of her cheeks, the tremor in her arms. The shiver down her skin. The slick heat near his fingertips.
For the second time tonight, she fits her arms along the tops of his, her breath so ragged it's audible as she squeezes the arm that's holding her in place, grateful for the anchor it provides.]
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It's a funny reversal, almost. She's compared him to a foreign language before, the need to read his nuance to pick up all the things he can't find words to say. Now here they are, and he's the one still possessed of his words, and she's the one left acting in the bare hopes that she'll still somehow be understood.
But it's all there, for a scholar who knows her well enough to interpret the signs like constellations in the night sky. The flush of her cheeks, the tremor in her arms. The shiver down her skin. The slick heat near his fingertips.
For the second time tonight, she fits her arms along the tops of his, her breath so ragged it's audible as she squeezes the arm that's holding her in place, grateful for the anchor it provides.]