[ (You laugh into the open kiss, thinking maybe you teased him too much.)
But regardless he returns it, putting more of his weight once again onto G'raha and lifting a hand to rest against the trunk. Yes, they're aware... a little aware, though not to a dangerous extent-- just enough that maybe when it suits them, they'll use it as a way to escape questions they don't want to answer, even if it won't work for long.
It isn't the slow, languid sort from before, but it isn't overly demanding either. Giving G'raha what he wants, yes, but this branch is no place for Siffrin do all that they want either. Not because of who might be below -- who could even see this far up, blossoms swaying in the breeze -- but because they don't fancy a tumble if either grip fails. What hunger could they possibly have with the knowledge of forever in their pocket? When, soon enough, they'll part and all Siffrin will have left is memories, memories, memories,
something that has sustained them these past weeks already, will sustain them for "weeks" longer, adding in the scent of flowers to decorate each one. Oh, when he brings the bright flower to his nose he'll recall this; when he lays in the meadows, loop after loop, he'll recall this, when he peers close at the frozen flowers he'll recall this, and it'll be a necessary reminder to keep those very same memories safe, tucked away, unable to be forgotten. The taste, the feel, the heat and want -- his, his, his.
Their other hand remains pressed at G'raha's hip, massaging small circles idly into it. Half as a precaution, half as a tease. ]
no subject
But regardless he returns it, putting more of his weight once again onto G'raha and lifting a hand to rest against the trunk. Yes, they're aware... a little aware, though not to a dangerous extent-- just enough that maybe when it suits them, they'll use it as a way to escape questions they don't want to answer, even if it won't work for long.
It isn't the slow, languid sort from before, but it isn't overly demanding either. Giving G'raha what he wants, yes, but this branch is no place for Siffrin do all that they want either. Not because of who might be below -- who could even see this far up, blossoms swaying in the breeze -- but because they don't fancy a tumble if either grip fails. What hunger could they possibly have with the knowledge of forever in their pocket? When, soon enough, they'll part and all Siffrin will have left is memories, memories, memories,
something that has sustained them these past weeks already, will sustain them for "weeks" longer, adding in the scent of flowers to decorate each one. Oh, when he brings the bright flower to his nose he'll recall this; when he lays in the meadows, loop after loop, he'll recall this, when he peers close at the frozen flowers he'll recall this, and it'll be a necessary reminder to keep those very same memories safe, tucked away, unable to be forgotten. The taste, the feel, the heat and want -- his, his, his.
Their other hand remains pressed at G'raha's hip, massaging small circles idly into it. Half as a precaution, half as a tease. ]