He kisses like it's an indulgence, like it's a vice he's just remembered he has, and she likes it.
She knows he's been lonely. He's been lonely since he got here. Since before he got here if his answer about why he took her back to his apartment on Callisto is any indication.
It's possible he'd kiss like this almost no matter who was sitting here in her position right now, but that possibility doesn't bother her because apparently no one else has gotten this close in all this time and she remembers feeling so sly and intrigued just last time she was in this room, telling him and you like me when asked what she remembered.
The hand clutching his shirt uncurls and flattens and pushes him back a little, maybe a few inches away, a kind of I-can't-believe-I'm-kissing-you-and-I-can't-believe-you're-kissing-me bafflement mixing with just let me take one breath reluctance on her face.
(He wasn't kidding a while back when he called himself the prettiest guy in the bar.)
"If I'd known how you kiss, I wouldn't have waited so long."
It's a bold lie -- one she knows he'll see through -- but it's like honey on her tongue and there's not a drop of purposeful deviousness behind it. There's only the flirting she's still not sure she really should be doing.
But not even knowing better has stopped her from doing things before.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2007-07-04 03:35 am (UTC)He kisses like it's an indulgence, like it's a vice he's just remembered he has, and she likes it.
She knows he's been lonely. He's been lonely since he got here. Since before he got here if his answer about why he took her back to his apartment on Callisto is any indication.
It's possible he'd kiss like this almost no matter who was sitting here in her position right now, but that possibility doesn't bother her because apparently no one else has gotten this close in all this time and she remembers feeling so sly and intrigued just last time she was in this room, telling him and you like me when asked what she remembered.
The hand clutching his shirt uncurls and flattens and pushes him back a little, maybe a few inches away, a kind of I-can't-believe-I'm-kissing-you-and-I-can't-believe-you're-kissing-me bafflement mixing with just let me take one breath reluctance on her face.
(He wasn't kidding a while back when he called himself the prettiest guy in the bar.)
"If I'd known how you kiss, I wouldn't have waited so long."
It's a bold lie -- one she knows he'll see through -- but it's like honey on her tongue and there's not a drop of purposeful deviousness behind it. There's only the flirting she's still not sure she really should be doing.
But not even knowing better has stopped her from doing things before.