⟪ her accents loudly announces chicago, even though she tries quite hard to match his pronunciation as best she can when she repeats the words. there are whole phrases she wants to learn – she wants to be able to tell him how much he means to her, not just in the language they share, but in the one he has spent so many years making truly his own. ⟫
⟪ she... isn't used to putting the things she feels into words, though she's practiced more and more, both around him and the rest of her friends and in the journal she has begun to keep. easier to tell what it is, how to express it, what it all means.⟫
But the better news is that I'll be a little closer with each day.
( her love of the world is always a welcome warmth to him. she can be excited about anything, appreciate anything. she works hard to broaden her horizons, more than anyone else he knows.
he shifts his hands further down her back, between the wings of her shoulder-blades. )
Wa cheen txan e tch ya yo. 'Have patience'. Though men and women have a different way of speaking, you'd end the sentence with 'yea'.
Never felt better. ⟪ she rolls her shoulders, eyes shutting with pleasure. ⟫ At this point, I'd just be looking for an excuse to be sitting this close to you.
⟪ instead she gets up, wraps the blanket a bit more tightly – and goes on over to her backpack, pulls out an oversized t-shirt she's been meaning to sleep in, but that makes for comfortable around-the-cabin wear all the same. and, of course, crackers and marshmallows. ⟫
( affection is easy-come between them. it always has been, in a way. he remembers holding her small fox body against his chest, scratching her ears. it's easy to pet an animal. easier still, perhaps, to kiss a woman.
he waits for her to return with the marshmallows and the crackers, in a shirt so big on her it slips off one shoulder. )
Flora. Come here.
( he says it soft. it's a request, not a command. one hand held out. )
⟪ it's happened so easily with him. they'd been watching something or other, she'd shifted –– they had been at her place, so it had been partly done for space reasons. then, she'd rested on his chest, her tail curled a little around him, and he'd petted her, until her eyes fell shut.
the shirt, she'd gotten on a sale somewhere.
he might delight in the fact that it has a racoon on it.
at any rate, she's quickly over, having found the wood barbecuing sticks they'll need to roast the marshmallows over the fire, and she sets them down on the end table to take his hand. she'd like nothing more than for him to pull her in his lap, but she leaves the choice to him. ⟫
( he clasps her hand, twines their fingers. it's perhaps the single most intimate thing he's done. then he just tugs her forward, until she's standing between his knees.
slowly. slowly. he lifts their hands together, and kisses the back of hers. )
⟪ in its way, it's not traditional intimacy – and yet, it's so good, so fitting for the two of them, and it feels every bit as close as if he'd kissed her lips instead.
for her part, close as she is, she pulls his hand up to her lips, returning the gesture with a light blush to her cheeks that could be blamed on the fire. ⟫
Would you like if I –– ⟪ lord, words. ⟫ Could I be in your lap? I just want to be close to you.
( he tugs her down without a word, the weight of her barely enough to register. he wraps both arms around her and does nothing else so much than just lean in against her, his forehead pressed against her shoulder. breathing her in. )
⟪ nothing else as easy in this world as being in his arms is, one hand resting on his thigh, the other tracing patterns against his neck. her heart's racing, though. not in a bad way, she's pretty sure it's just doing overtime to contain all that happiness.
his scent has become familiar by now, she and it always comes with an odd sensation of home, even though she'd only stayed at his place for a couple of weeks.
eventually, might be a small eternity, she shifts, so their foreheads are pressed against each other. ⟫
( some things, when they happen, you take as irreversible. he got shot in a desert, once. married, divorced. the last thing he said to his father was that he hoped he died alone. the difference between irreversible and unforgivable is what settles in the frost in the hush that follows.
(some things are a prophecy.)
his eyes are closed. still (always) listening for wolves. but the crack of the fire and the drum of her heart drowns out the outside world.
tomorrow, everything and nothing will be different.
he threads his fingers in her hair, knocking it askew from where she'd pulled it up. then, thumbing at the line of her jaw, he kisses her. it's soft. sweet. a gentle press of his mouth at the corner of hers, more a question than a statement. )
⟪ if his kiss is a question, hers is an answer, warm, gentle, but open, happy and eager, her hand, too, burying itself in his hair let it down. her other hand moves from his thigh, his side, then to his chest, steadying herself against the headrush.
some first kisses had felt like an escape to her, but this... this is a homecoming, more than anything. for once, she isn't running away from something, but letting something happen, something good. she's excited, that's why her heart is racing, but she's calm, too. ⟫
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
( his accent still isn't perfect. but it's better than it was. he's lucky tashina had the patience for him. )
no subject
How can I say 'thank you'?
no subject
( he's almost glad she can't see his expression right now, if only because of how cracked open it must be. )
Careful. Tradition is, you're one of us if you speak the language.
no subject
⟪ she... isn't used to putting the things she feels into words, though she's practiced more and more, both around him and the rest of her friends and in the journal she has begun to keep. easier to tell what it is, how to express it, what it all means.⟫
But the better news is that I'll be a little closer with each day.
no subject
he shifts his hands further down her back, between the wings of her shoulder-blades. )
Wa cheen txan e tch ya yo. 'Have patience'. Though men and women have a different way of speaking, you'd end the sentence with 'yea'.
no subject
Wa cheen txan e tch ya yea? ⟪ just to make sure she's got it right. ⟫ I'll have a lot of time to learn.
no subject
( it's a soft affirmation, and he drags his hands down the outside of her arms mostly to rub some of the lotion off there. )
I should put another log on the fire, one sec.
( up he gets to do just that, sidestepping around her to where the fire is a slow-burning wall of warmth. )
no subject
You know, I'm pretty happy the jets didn't work.
no subject
( he wanted working jets, flora, come on!! )
no subject
⟪ what? she's been having a good time! ⟫
no subject
Well, I'll take the compliment, then. But both would've been nice, you know?
no subject
⟪ if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. ⟫
I brought marshmallows, you know. If you're into s'mores.
no subject
( he's happy to keep going, but he wouldn't object to s'mores, either. )
no subject
⟪ instead she gets up, wraps the blanket a bit more tightly – and goes on over to her backpack, pulls out an oversized t-shirt she's been meaning to sleep in, but that makes for comfortable around-the-cabin wear all the same. and, of course, crackers and marshmallows. ⟫
no subject
You need an excuse? News to me.
no subject
⟪ she laughs, though, because she knows she's got a bit of a Habit. ⟫
no subject
he waits for her to return with the marshmallows and the crackers, in a shirt so big on her it slips off one shoulder. )
Flora. Come here.
( he says it soft. it's a request, not a command. one hand held out. )
no subject
the shirt, she'd gotten on a sale somewhere.
he might delight in the fact that it has a racoon on it.
at any rate, she's quickly over, having found the wood barbecuing sticks they'll need to roast the marshmallows over the fire, and she sets them down on the end table to take his hand. she'd like nothing more than for him to pull her in his lap, but she leaves the choice to him. ⟫
no subject
slowly. slowly. he lifts their hands together, and kisses the back of hers. )
no subject
for her part, close as she is, she pulls his hand up to her lips, returning the gesture with a light blush to her cheeks that could be blamed on the fire. ⟫
Would you like if I –– ⟪ lord, words. ⟫ Could I be in your lap? I just want to be close to you.
no subject
no subject
his scent has become familiar by now, she and it always comes with an odd sensation of home, even though she'd only stayed at his place for a couple of weeks.
eventually, might be a small eternity, she shifts, so their foreheads are pressed against each other. ⟫
no subject
(some things are a prophecy.)
his eyes are closed. still (always) listening for wolves. but the crack of the fire and the drum of her heart drowns out the outside world.
tomorrow, everything and nothing will be different.
he threads his fingers in her hair, knocking it askew from where she'd pulled it up. then, thumbing at the line of her jaw, he kisses her. it's soft. sweet. a gentle press of his mouth at the corner of hers, more a question than a statement. )
no subject
some first kisses had felt like an escape to her, but this... this is a homecoming, more than anything. for once, she isn't running away from something, but letting something happen, something good. she's excited, that's why her heart is racing, but she's calm, too. ⟫