[ He left his question hanging on thin thread, Tseng realizes, after asking and just when her answer tangles it up and knots it around and around itself again, to make it seem like something more sturdy than it really is. Common sense can tug and pull and even wrench it, and still the complicated knots may never again come apart. Only every split thread of a rational thought about their case is snipped away from the tangle of their close held bodies, by her roaming touch.
Beneath half-lidded eyes, Tseng feels the thin calluses on her fingertips on his face. He has seen her work in gloves when stripping thorns or handling cuttings that ooze staining sap, and again other times when she wouldn’t wear them. He, instead, never puts his bare hands on anything or anyone while at work.
Aerith’s arm wedges his fingers between it and the side of her chest, heavy where her trace along his jawline is light. He’s sure that her thumb ghosts at his bottom lip.
Tseng tilts his chin down and at that angle gives Aerith the plain view of something both possessive and tender flitting across his features, at her nomination. The idea of holding her like this and keeping her near is startling and an undeniable want. Their relationship has become a paradox overnight.
Not only against his chest but past her clavicle, where his other hand slides up the side of her neck, he can feel Aerith’s heart beating. Behind her ear, his fingers dip into the roots of her hair and cradle her at the nape when she leans up along the pillow. Tseng’s mouth opens, his tongue warms against hers. Under the shared cover, his thigh presses firmly next to and would slip between hers. ]
no subject
Beneath half-lidded eyes, Tseng feels the thin calluses on her fingertips on his face. He has seen her work in gloves when stripping thorns or handling cuttings that ooze staining sap, and again other times when she wouldn’t wear them. He, instead, never puts his bare hands on anything or anyone while at work.
Aerith’s arm wedges his fingers between it and the side of her chest, heavy where her trace along his jawline is light. He’s sure that her thumb ghosts at his bottom lip.
Tseng tilts his chin down and at that angle gives Aerith the plain view of something both possessive and tender flitting across his features, at her nomination. The idea of holding her like this and keeping her near is startling and an undeniable want. Their relationship has become a paradox overnight.
Not only against his chest but past her clavicle, where his other hand slides up the side of her neck, he can feel Aerith’s heart beating. Behind her ear, his fingers dip into the roots of her hair and cradle her at the nape when she leans up along the pillow. Tseng’s mouth opens, his tongue warms against hers. Under the shared cover, his thigh presses firmly next to and would slip between hers. ]