Masculine
Thirty One
November 13
Cinnabar Island
heterosexual
Kantonian Ambassador
Ex-Head Ranger
you gotta use what you've learned in order to receive what you've earned
TAG WITH @crimsen
Sénon Game
at horizon's edge [ dw | o ]
POSTED ON Sept 25, 2020 14:34:56 GMT
It was beyond cute the way she played along with him, her snorts made him smile; exposing that dimple again.
His forearm didn't flex; he left his limb to be putty in her hands. Tensile and toned putty maybe, but putty nonetheless. In an instant his mind shot to the future; weeks, months, years, decades.
What he would feel about himself when he looked back on this very moment, what would he feel about her? Gratitude, lament, hatred, mourning, joy? It was strange feeling to realize a moment you were still living out would echo across time and cause ripples and waves in your life for years to come.
He might have been overthinking things but most of his time here with Cait he'd been running on instinct; improv. This would be no different. It was after she figured out that he was just messing with her about the tattoos being war paint, she accused him of teasing her with giggle.
He couldn't take it anymore, he wouldn't let this moment pass by a second time.
"No, No." He scoffed with a chuckle, briefly and subtly licking his lips as he explained. "You can't just mash and grind them away." Taking her hand once again, "The rub requires finesse.. you gotta caress it." He looked into her eyes; maple meeting mint.
"Like this." The moment she looked to him to present her phone, he seized her into his arms. He pulled her close, losing any personal space between them. Leaning over her in a bit of a dip, he pressed his lips to her own, his tongue sending arousal and intent from his mouth to hers.
Time stood still as he waited for her to reciprocate, or bite his tongue off.
|
|