[Goes still, as if trying to withhold a shiver, or--really, any gross physical reaction. But that doesn't stop her from canting in towards him, letting his gentle touch draw her that much closer. It certainly doesn't stop the light flush still over her cheeks.]
[The touch is warm, and she lets out a little breath, quick. She had been watching him, waiting for anything that seemed off, like he was just going through the motions. But her cheeks go hotter at the touch, and hotter still when she realizes he can feel that, no matter how dim the lighting, and she hoods her gaze, self-conscious. Her body language is still open, welcoming]
[His body language is hesitant, like he isn't quite sure he's allowed. His expression is searching, cautious and a little bit hopeful, however much he's trying to tamp it down.]
[His thumb brushes against her cheek, gentle. When he leans in to kiss her, it's barely a brush of lips, soft and almost reverent.]
[She doesn't mean to kiss back. The whole point was to provide Hurricane with a safe space to display his boundaries because she loves and respects him but if nothing else she can't leave a kiss like that hanging. It's like a comma without a period; an unresolved chord. So, honestly, how could she have not gone to kiss him--it was just a proper paragraph ending; something to bring them back to do. It was still sortof light, but present, her lips parted, pressing a little unevenly into his.]
[His eyes flutter closed; he shifts a little, so that he can lean in properly, this time.]
[It's his knee that falls along the line of her thigh, this time, and not the other way around - and though he flushes, aware of its placement, he doesn't move to take it back.]
[He presses into the kiss a little, still hesitant - the fingers at the nape of her neck curl in, slightly.]
[A little noise comes from the back of her throat unbidden; very not cool. But the back of her neck is sensitive, and his fingers are warm and careful, and it's hard not to think about them hot and less careful, especially as he leans further in, places even that small amount of weight on her.
Automatic, she places her hands forward for balance; ends up placing one on his calf and one high on mid-thigh and--wwwwell it's only a thing if she makes it into a thing, so she doesn't pull away,]
[His breath catches when her hands find his leg; he is very aware of her palm on his thigh. It feels hot enough to burn, there on the bare skin below the too-short shorts.]
[His heart's pounding in his chest so loudly that he's sure she must be able to hear it. He breaks the kiss, just for an instant, to try and breathe, and then he's pressing in again, lips parted - cautious, yes, but with a sense of restrained urgency.]
[At the back of her neck, his fingers trail back and forth, forth and back, toying with the soft strands of hair there.]
[She makes another little noise, because it--tickles, mostly, and she doesn't squirm, mostly, even though being around any sort of restraint has never been her strong suit. She doesn't think about her fingers pressing gentle (mostly) into his leg, or the pulse speeding through it, or the powerful muscles underneath she so recently became acquainted with in what really was one of her worse ideas, no matter how nicely he fills out those shorts]
[The hand on her cheek trails downward; the fingertips brush her jawline, and then carry on down, skirting feather-light over the skin of her neck, to settle on her shoulder.]
[He hesitates, then - but she said to prove it, and so he brushes her lower lip with his tongue, exploratory, as though offering an invitation, if she chooses to accept it.]
[It would be impossible to miss the shiver that goes through her at the touch; she can't even attempt to hide it. Her shoulder is hot, blazing against his hand.
She presses in towards him, darting her tongue towards the bow of his mouth rabbit quick; withdrawing from his plush lip as if afraid of a scolding--as if having crashed the party after all. Her hands creep northwards, gripping onto his suspenders]
[He makes a soft sound at the careful brush of her tongue - doesn't mean to chase after her so quickly, but can't quite stop, pressing forward and opening his mouth to deepen the kiss.]
[The hand on her shoulder is restless, the fingers roaming; they trail back and forth, like they cant bear to be still, drifting down from her shoulder to her arm and then further. The hand settles at her waist, smoothing over the skin there. The motion is restless and searching, still, as though he's trying to map her with his fingers - as though he needs to press this moment into his memory so that he won't forget.]
[She squirms kind of vaguely against his touch--into it, perhaps--at any rate, she doesn't have any complaints, and it's easy to trail up beneath the hem of her shirt, over the warm skin of her back. Her skin is goosepimpled, the odd bump or scar present, but here, too, there's nothing to stop him from exploring as he wishes. Her only response is another hum, and how her hands slide up and down the fabric of the suspenders, the backs of her fingers running two narrow tracks up his chest and down his belly.
When he deepens the kiss, she lets him--welcomes him, catching his tongue between her lips when he dares to approach once more and draws it into her mouth, giving a tentative suck]
[He shudders, hard; the back of her hands brushing over his chest and abdomen are intoxicating. He shifts into the contact, eyes fluttering closed - traces his fingers up her spine, reveling in the warmth, the softness, the tiny imperfections.]
[He accepts the invitation for what it is - eases his way into the kiss, trying very hard not to be too eager and not managing to be entirely successful.]
[If he takes the invite, then it's fine that she offered it. And if he is a little eager, then it's fine if she rides that feeling as well, tipping her head back a little to take him more deeper in; fine that she tugs him a bit closer so there isn't quite so much space between them--maybe none at all, if that's how much closer he cares to get.]
[That is how much closer he cares to get; he crowds in against her when tugs him in, greedy for more contact. The new angle means that his leg crosses over her thigh more fully - and he hesitates - hesitates again - lifts up and over and shifts his weight, so that he can face her head on, instead, straddling one of her thighs.]
[The angle leans her back even more--overbalances--and they drop back just enough to knock heads a bit as they drop safely into cushions, not flat on her back but considerably closer thereto. Her hands grip tight at his bracers as she stares up at him, face flushed and eyes blown, lips plump and kiss-dark. Her frame is tense under the weight of him, as if suddenly very aware of just how much space is--and isn't--between them]
[His eyes flicker over her face - the dark cheeks, and the kiss-swollen lips, and how good she looks like this.]
[He's suddenly aware, too, of how close they are, and he fights down the rush of heat that washes over him along with the realization. What he wants, more than anything, is to be kissing her again - but it's impossible not to notice the tension in her, and he draws back a little, to give her some breathing room.]
[His voice, when he speaks, is soft and breathless.]
[Her hands chase after him, automatic, and her blush deepens further at that. But she doesn't loosen the grip at his waist, resting unevenly warm over his skin--not so tight that he couldn't get free, but enough to imply she may not want him to.]
Just-- I mean.
[She swallows, throat dry; breathes; tries to look anywhere but the expanse of flushed, freckled skin with little success.]
But, like - you asked me to prove it, not to, like - feel you up or nothing. So. So if you wanna be done, we can be done.
[Despite the space between them, he hasn't drawn back all the way, either; he's aware of the hands at his waist, aware of how close they still are, aware that she reached out to hold onto him. He licks at his lips, unconsciously - flushes deeper, and glances away.]
[She breaks off, unconsciously stroking her thumbs over the ridge of his hips from where they can reach with her hands still clutching tight. She darts her gaze to him then away a few times; darts her tongue out to wet her lips. Does not flush any less at any point. Eventually continues:]
[He lets himself be tugged in, a touch awkward, trying hard to tamp down on the eagerness. He's not entirely successful - shivers again, hard, as her guiding hands erase what's left of the space between them, leading him to settle where he'd landed, a knee on either side of her thigh.]
[He's painfully aware of the thin fabric of the shorts she chose, and how very little they must hide - aware that if she didn't know how into this he was before, she surely does now.]
[He does his level best not to squirm at the closer contact, at the pressure - fails, and shifts, and flushes a deeper red even as he leans in to kiss her.]
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[He swallows again, harder this time.]
Okay.
[He edges in, closer, so that their thighs are pressed together - turns a little, to face her more fully.]
[He starts where she left off, a little tentatively - lifts a hand to smooth through the hair at the nape of her neck, gentle.]
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[He lifts the other hand, very gentle, to cup the side of her face.]
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[His thumb brushes against her cheek, gentle. When he leans in to kiss her, it's barely a brush of lips, soft and almost reverent.]
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[It's his knee that falls along the line of her thigh, this time, and not the other way around - and though he flushes, aware of its placement, he doesn't move to take it back.]
[He presses into the kiss a little, still hesitant - the fingers at the nape of her neck curl in, slightly.]
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Automatic, she places her hands forward for balance; ends up placing one on his calf and one high on mid-thigh and--wwwwell it's only a thing if she makes it into a thing, so she doesn't pull away,]
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[His heart's pounding in his chest so loudly that he's sure she must be able to hear it. He breaks the kiss, just for an instant, to try and breathe, and then he's pressing in again, lips parted - cautious, yes, but with a sense of restrained urgency.]
[At the back of her neck, his fingers trail back and forth, forth and back, toying with the soft strands of hair there.]
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[He hesitates, then - but she said to prove it, and so he brushes her lower lip with his tongue, exploratory, as though offering an invitation, if she chooses to accept it.]
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She presses in towards him, darting her tongue towards the bow of his mouth rabbit quick; withdrawing from his plush lip as if afraid of a scolding--as if having crashed the party after all. Her hands creep northwards, gripping onto his suspenders]
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[The hand on her shoulder is restless, the fingers roaming; they trail back and forth, like they cant bear to be still, drifting down from her shoulder to her arm and then further. The hand settles at her waist, smoothing over the skin there. The motion is restless and searching, still, as though he's trying to map her with his fingers - as though he needs to press this moment into his memory so that he won't forget.]
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When he deepens the kiss, she lets him--welcomes him, catching his tongue between her lips when he dares to approach once more and draws it into her mouth, giving a tentative suck]
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[He accepts the invitation for what it is - eases his way into the kiss, trying very hard not to be too eager and not managing to be entirely successful.]
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[He's suddenly aware, too, of how close they are, and he fights down the rush of heat that washes over him along with the realization. What he wants, more than anything, is to be kissing her again - but it's impossible not to notice the tension in her, and he draws back a little, to give her some breathing room.]
[His voice, when he speaks, is soft and breathless.]
...sorry. Too much?
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Just-- I mean.
[She swallows, throat dry; breathes; tries to look anywhere but the expanse of flushed, freckled skin with little success.]
Is--are. This too much for you?
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[He swallows, with effort - glances away.]
But, like - you asked me to prove it, not to, like - feel you up or nothing. So. So if you wanna be done, we can be done.
[Despite the space between them, he hasn't drawn back all the way, either; he's aware of the hands at his waist, aware of how close they still are, aware that she reached out to hold onto him. He licks at his lips, unconsciously - flushes deeper, and glances away.]
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[She breaks off, unconsciously stroking her thumbs over the ridge of his hips from where they can reach with her hands still clutching tight. She darts her gaze to him then away a few times; darts her tongue out to wet her lips. Does not flush any less at any point. Eventually continues:]
And. If I don't wanna be done...?
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Then -
Then we keep going.
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[She looks a little nervous and a little anticipatory, and she tugs at his back a bit, prompting him back closer.]
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Okay.
[He lets himself be tugged in, a touch awkward, trying hard to tamp down on the eagerness. He's not entirely successful - shivers again, hard, as her guiding hands erase what's left of the space between them, leading him to settle where he'd landed, a knee on either side of her thigh.]
[He's painfully aware of the thin fabric of the shorts she chose, and how very little they must hide - aware that if she didn't know how into this he was before, she surely does now.]
[He does his level best not to squirm at the closer contact, at the pressure - fails, and shifts, and flushes a deeper red even as he leans in to kiss her.]
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