If that's not an invitation, he's not sure what is: taking that half-step forward he does what he does best: coax a kiss out from between her lips. He feels like a cat living up to that old wives' tale about stealing the breath right out of a baby's mouth, but Faye is no baby and he doesn't take anything she doesn't give willingly. He never has.
He could stand out here all night, werewolves or not, just drinking her in so deeply. It would put dinner and strip poker and dancing on hold, but he's pretty sure he could live off the thrill of this proximity alone. It's part of this... call it what you will, this phase of his existence. Faye, on the other hand, might greatly appreciate a little more sustenance than his embrace has to offer. And so he steps back a fraction, the taste of her still playing over his lips.
He's immensely satisfied with this turn of events. Had he known that a little memory loss was what might lead to this... but he didn't, and he edged along with her as cautiously as he could. Faye's the last person in the world he wants to hurt or take advantage of, but she's been his willing partner in crime since that night he told her he thought she ought to stay and she surprised him by doing just that, in her own roundabout way.
Finally, though, he sets the half-full champagne bottle back into his pocket so his hand can find hers. The simple act of holding her hand fills him with a ridiculous little excitement, as if she's some prize he's just won and can't resist showing off. The only thing he wanted for the longest time was a chance at happiness; he'd pretty much decided that what happened in prison put an end to his opportunities, romantically speaking.
And then Faye came along and... she just isn't bothered. She cares but the way his body's been transformed doesn't seem to matter to her in the least; it's a delight and a precious taste of freedom he never expected to enjoy again. He'll hold her hand, her waist -- any part of her he can get -- as often as he can, anywhere he can, be it in public or in the privacy of their own personal dance hall.
"Let's get some dinner."
As nice as it is out here in the night air, he knows that pale golden moonlight only offers the tiniest hint of what's in store and like any explorer, he's eager to uncover what happens next.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2007-10-28 11:37 pm (UTC)He could stand out here all night, werewolves or not, just drinking her in so deeply. It would put dinner and strip poker and dancing on hold, but he's pretty sure he could live off the thrill of this proximity alone. It's part of this... call it what you will, this phase of his existence. Faye, on the other hand, might greatly appreciate a little more sustenance than his embrace has to offer. And so he steps back a fraction, the taste of her still playing over his lips.
He's immensely satisfied with this turn of events. Had he known that a little memory loss was what might lead to this... but he didn't, and he edged along with her as cautiously as he could. Faye's the last person in the world he wants to hurt or take advantage of, but she's been his willing partner in crime since that night he told her he thought she ought to stay and she surprised him by doing just that, in her own roundabout way.
Finally, though, he sets the half-full champagne bottle back into his pocket so his hand can find hers. The simple act of holding her hand fills him with a ridiculous little excitement, as if she's some prize he's just won and can't resist showing off. The only thing he wanted for the longest time was a chance at happiness; he'd pretty much decided that what happened in prison put an end to his opportunities, romantically speaking.
And then Faye came along and... she just isn't bothered. She cares but the way his body's been transformed doesn't seem to matter to her in the least; it's a delight and a precious taste of freedom he never expected to enjoy again. He'll hold her hand, her waist -- any part of her he can get -- as often as he can, anywhere he can, be it in public or in the privacy of their own personal dance hall.
"Let's get some dinner."
As nice as it is out here in the night air, he knows that pale golden moonlight only offers the tiniest hint of what's in store and like any explorer, he's eager to uncover what happens next.