For as long as he can remember, he's been a little bit prone to jealousy, to possessiveness, and though people say jealousy sits on them like a little green monster, he's never seen it that way. He figures it's a normal course of action: how can you be in love with someone and not exhibit a little bit of jealousy? For him, being in...
...wait a second. Yes, he's pretty crazy about her. Yes, he's jealous and possessive. Yes, he wants to be with her all the time. Yes, he thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread. Do his feelings have to be labeled?
Oh, of course they do, but not out loud. He can think whatever he wants, use whatever words he wants in his mind. There's something so treacherous about voicing the three little words, though: it's a verbal commitment and it would be really nice to know if the feelings were mutual before he goes ahead and risks everything. And isn't it too soon to talk about love? Or are there no rules and regulations?
They're both highly consenting adults, and right now words and declarations of any kind aren't necessarily appropriate. Something else is, though, because he walked out here with champagne and two glasses with the express purpose of seducing Faye to the best of his ability and the past few weeks have proved that his best is really pretty good. He hasn't heard a single complaint.
When her arm goes around him, he rests an arm around her tiny waist and pulls her closer -- not hard enough for either of them to spill their champagne -- and casts a moment's glance up at the moon. Yes, this is perfect, werewolves or not: he has no fear of them. He only has one fear, and that's for Faye to suddenly lose interest in him. It doesn't seem particularly likely. They are the prettiest boy and girl in the bar, after all, and that can't be denied.
"You're beautiful by moonlight." She's beautiful by any light and everybody knows it. But he's the one lucky enough to be in her arms, and for that he's so thankful. There in the moonlight, he dips in for another kiss and this one tastes tantalizingly like champagne. "You want to go on a date with me?"
no subject
For as long as he can remember, he's been a little bit prone to jealousy, to possessiveness, and though people say jealousy sits on them like a little green monster, he's never seen it that way. He figures it's a normal course of action: how can you be in love with someone and not exhibit a little bit of jealousy? For him, being in...
...wait a second. Yes, he's pretty crazy about her. Yes, he's jealous and possessive. Yes, he wants to be with her all the time. Yes, he thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread. Do his feelings have to be labeled?
Oh, of course they do, but not out loud. He can think whatever he wants, use whatever words he wants in his mind. There's something so treacherous about voicing the three little words, though: it's a verbal commitment and it would be really nice to know if the feelings were mutual before he goes ahead and risks everything. And isn't it too soon to talk about love? Or are there no rules and regulations?
They're both highly consenting adults, and right now words and declarations of any kind aren't necessarily appropriate. Something else is, though, because he walked out here with champagne and two glasses with the express purpose of seducing Faye to the best of his ability and the past few weeks have proved that his best is really pretty good. He hasn't heard a single complaint.
When her arm goes around him, he rests an arm around her tiny waist and pulls her closer -- not hard enough for either of them to spill their champagne -- and casts a moment's glance up at the moon. Yes, this is perfect, werewolves or not: he has no fear of them. He only has one fear, and that's for Faye to suddenly lose interest in him. It doesn't seem particularly likely. They are the prettiest boy and girl in the bar, after all, and that can't be denied.
"You're beautiful by moonlight." She's beautiful by any light and everybody knows it. But he's the one lucky enough to be in her arms, and for that he's so thankful. There in the moonlight, he dips in for another kiss and this one tastes tantalizingly like champagne. "You want to go on a date with me?"