[ nina can feel the slight tense in his figure once she's lifting the sheets enough to allow lean legs to brush beneath, watches the way muscles flit amongst the broad plane of his back, and it's enough to urge her closer. to note that he's awake, even if he'd already slightly began to drift off. only a moment after his comment and she has her chest pressed up nearer him, one hand resting at his side while she plants lips at the centre of his spine. ] They're not going to know.
[ they couldn't. it's just a whisper, running her thumb in smoothing lines back and forth where it rests, nosing against his heated flesh. ]
[ his eyes finally flutter to a close the moment her lips press against damaged flesh, quick to assume that his body is all she's come to him for, regardless of how brutalized it's become. he doesn't have much else to offer, after all, with a heart that's too charred to function properly, unable to beat without aching. and still he allows it, every time, because he knows that's all he can give her. it's all he knows how to give her. and even that alone is wrong of him.
you don't know that, he's tempted to say, always expecting the worst, always waiting for anything good in his life to be stripped away from him. an expectant smirk starts across battered mouth, his body already shifting, turning around to allow darkened gaze to meet her own. ] You're saying you'll be quiet?
[ to think: now, the last thing she came for was his body. and if she did, it was to hide against, something to feel that wasn't herself, something familiar and warm— something safe. and maybe she was naive to think such a thing, to find comfort in the way he shifts toward her, in the way she can nearly predict every movement he makes, even that little tick at the edge of his lips.
she only just catches that his eyes are on her, the tiniest glint within the dark. she won't comment aloud how even the lustful husk of his tone is softer, tonight, maybe even distracted. she won't bring it up because she never has, and they're too far in to start now. ] Do you want me to be? [ a breath, lifting her hand to trace two fingertips across the pout of his mouth. ]
[ there's no denying the way things have changed between them, the way they no longer simply use each other the way they once had; now, her touch is more than something to distract himself with, something soft to contrast against his rough. but still he tries, fooling himself into blaming the gentleness of her voice on a need for sleep, quiet only so they won't get themselves in trouble. because she's with him, so it couldn't possibly be anything more than that. she couldn't possibly want him for more than just his battered shell. ]
You don't have much of a choice, do you? [ his answer is no, though it doesn't matter when their parents are just down the hall; being together is risky enough without a sound, so there's no chance they could push it any further. it's a disappointment, not because the sounds would feed his ego, but simply because her voice calms him in a way he can't explain, both inside the bedroom and out. and if the only way he's able to hear it is when she's moaning his name, he'll take it. ]
[ already she's hovering before his lips, and she wants to tell him it's so much more than that, that it isn't forgetting she's interested in, or a distraction— it's just him. always so drawn in, stumbling their mouths in the most delicate of brushes together for their breaths to play at one another. those fingertips that'd trailed there previous slide themselves to a familiar haunt: his hair, just up above his ear to card through, lashes falling to a close as she revels in the delicate, low ripples of his voice. ]
Maybe if you're gentle. [ not that she's ever wanted him to be, hasn't pleaded him for more. she doesn't know if theres ever any fixing this— whatever this is, but it seems theres only one way for it to end. bitterly, bluntly, him never knowing just how much it'd hurt.
she nudges herself a bit closer, ankle linking through his, body like a live wire in waiting for his touch, subtly moving as if he were already running his palm along her side. ]
Since when have you wanted me to be gentle? [ it's happened before, even if momentarily. there's been moments when he's forgotten he's not supposed to feel anything for her, anything at all, when his touch wasn't so bruising, his words less venomous. it's easier to pretend such moments never happened, to blame any gentle touches on fatigue; but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to be gentle. he just doesn't know how to be anything other than rough with her without giving too much away.
but maybe if she asks for it, he'll allow himself to leave behind callous tendencies, even if only for the night. even if ferocity is the only defense he's built, a way to ensure that he'll never be hurt again. so far, it doesn't work well with her.
a single hand rises to brush scarred thumb just below her lip, his own parted as if mesmerized by the sight of her. he could only hope that it's too dark for her to notice the warmth in otherwise cold, hooded gaze, a gentle sigh that he would likely blame on exhaustion stumbling past battered mouth. ] Do you? ––Want me to be?
[ she's studying him, she always does when they lie beside one another like this— so rare that it's not filled with biting taunts, touches meant to hush an otherwise running tongue, wishing only to silence one another if it wasn't sounds, pleasure, some means of ensuring themselves they were good at something.
that she was good for something. there was so much anger within him, so much that he didn't want her to see, and she wouldn't tell him that she did. that she could feel it, even right here as he traces a thumb beneath the plump swell of lower brim, dropping to the slightest of parts in response. encouragement. she should tell him no, that she doesn't want him to be gentle, should let them fall back to familiar territory rather than the whispered intimacy of now... but she's intoxicated by it, that his palms aren't groping, aren't possessive; that he's given her the choice.
she nods, because it's all she can do. brushing her digits to the nape of his neck, the tiniest pull an incentive to come closer to her, even if not yet to seal their mouths together. a shaky breath of her own, for once not goading him, but instead allowing her body to plead for her, the look in her hues as they open to find his in answer: yes. ]
[ do his hands even know how to be gentle anymore? for so long, they've known nothing outside the realm of violence, greedy and taking even during intimate moments. only vaguely does he remember a time in his life when his body wasn't capable of such brutality, when the thought of harming another, whether intentionally or accidentally, made him sick to his stomach. that boy's long gone now, only alive in his mother's memory, though hardly in his own.
he'll try to remember, for her. despite the pressing thought that he's no longer capable of it, that his edges are too rough to be gentle, his hands more similar to thorns than petals, he'll try. while he's usually forceful, overly eager, he's slow this time, his lips finally brushing against hers, as if testing, rather than consuming, though her mouth is something he's already explored countless times before. the tips of battered fingers disappear within her hair, thumb brushing over her cheekbone now. the pace he's moving at is slow enough that he'd typically find it agonizing, but right now, it's calming. it's dangerous, taking their time like this, when every moment spent together is yet another moment either of their parents could peek into his room, but with the taste of her on his lips, her hands on his skin, the thought of getting caught is the furthest from his mind. ]
[ all she can hear is the fervent, enveloping patter of her heart within her ears, eager in her chest, ringing heat to each of her limbs and to the tips of her fingers. the way he kisses her, something almost hesitant, as if he has to relearn how to have her if it doesn't mean taking her; how to touch her if it doesn't mean claiming. it was like loving in reverse— the blazing trail thumb along petite cheek leaves, how she presses into him just enough to give back, yet not enough to push it any further. to rush it.
she was hardly a girl to give up control, but she's focusing on every little detail of his mouth melding to hers. how their petals part one by one and grace together. how her breath trips in tenderness, trying to remind herself to move. small hand drops to his side, and slowly she's smoothing it around to the plane of his back. the lower, middle, upper, gently suckling his upper lip between hers for the briefest of moments.
and as she lets it go she exhales, using that hand to help pull her flush against his front. ]
[ he's almost waiting for her to pull back, to laugh at him, to taunt him for ever believing that she'd ever want him in a way that didn't leave him feeling used; but even when he's considering the possibility, he decides the humiliation is worth the risk so long as he's able to touch her like this even for a matter of moments. when he's able to touch her like she's already his, like he doesn't have to mark her up to prove it to himself.
even if he does want her just like this, it still takes a conscious effort to keep from taking more, the way he would any other night. he's become a creature of habit, and everything about this goes entirely against what he's used to. his hand falls from her face to her waist, slipping beneath the oversized shirt she adorns, rising just enough for scarred flesh of his palm to rest against her waist. he doesn't clutch at her the way he's used to, only holding her tight enough to keep her close, not out of the desperate need to leave bruises to remind her the following morning.
even the noises that emit from strained throat are softer, less animalistic, more humane, a soft sigh of content rasping from his chest as his tongue teases across her lower lip. ]
[ you'd think that being touched so softly, being held rather than clutched, mind would have far much more room to murmur the most unkind things to her. to remind her how wrong it was, how they could get caught, how he doesn't really want her like this- how it may be the one and only time he feels with her instead of solely for himself. but everything is still, and it's just the way he's touching her, the way he's mapping out each of her lips as if it were the first time. as if they were something good for one another.
and then that sound husks from the bed of his throat, wanton and needy in a way she's never heard it, and all she can think of is to swallow it, to keep it, to remember it. she wants to remember all of this. the greeting of his tongue, light and warm coaxes the faintest of whimpers to intermix within her breath, giving the slightest writhes against him in efforts to keep still. it's all fidgeting, nerves that didn't belong, that she shouldn't let herself feel with him— but here they are. ]
Ace- [ just a whisper, and then she lets her tongue dance against his own, welcoming it into the heat of her mouth with a retreat, exhales growing all the more stuttered in their rhythm. ]
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[ they couldn't. it's just a whisper, running her thumb in smoothing lines back and forth where it rests, nosing against his heated flesh. ]
no subject
you don't know that, he's tempted to say, always expecting the worst, always waiting for anything good in his life to be stripped away from him. an expectant smirk starts across battered mouth, his body already shifting, turning around to allow darkened gaze to meet her own. ] You're saying you'll be quiet?
no subject
she only just catches that his eyes are on her, the tiniest glint within the dark. she won't comment aloud how even the lustful husk of his tone is softer, tonight, maybe even distracted. she won't bring it up because she never has, and they're too far in to start now. ] Do you want me to be? [ a breath, lifting her hand to trace two fingertips across the pout of his mouth. ]
no subject
You don't have much of a choice, do you? [ his answer is no, though it doesn't matter when their parents are just down the hall; being together is risky enough without a sound, so there's no chance they could push it any further. it's a disappointment, not because the sounds would feed his ego, but simply because her voice calms him in a way he can't explain, both inside the bedroom and out. and if the only way he's able to hear it is when she's moaning his name, he'll take it. ]
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Maybe if you're gentle. [ not that she's ever wanted him to be, hasn't pleaded him for more. she doesn't know if theres ever any fixing this— whatever this is, but it seems theres only one way for it to end. bitterly, bluntly, him never knowing just how much it'd hurt.
she nudges herself a bit closer, ankle linking through his, body like a live wire in waiting for his touch, subtly moving as if he were already running his palm along her side. ]
no subject
but maybe if she asks for it, he'll allow himself to leave behind callous tendencies, even if only for the night. even if ferocity is the only defense he's built, a way to ensure that he'll never be hurt again. so far, it doesn't work well with her.
a single hand rises to brush scarred thumb just below her lip, his own parted as if mesmerized by the sight of her. he could only hope that it's too dark for her to notice the warmth in otherwise cold, hooded gaze, a gentle sigh that he would likely blame on exhaustion stumbling past battered mouth. ] Do you? ––Want me to be?
no subject
that she was good for something. there was so much anger within him, so much that he didn't want her to see, and she wouldn't tell him that she did. that she could feel it, even right here as he traces a thumb beneath the plump swell of lower brim, dropping to the slightest of parts in response. encouragement. she should tell him no, that she doesn't want him to be gentle, should let them fall back to familiar territory rather than the whispered intimacy of now... but she's intoxicated by it, that his palms aren't groping, aren't possessive; that he's given her the choice.
she nods, because it's all she can do. brushing her digits to the nape of his neck, the tiniest pull an incentive to come closer to her, even if not yet to seal their mouths together. a shaky breath of her own, for once not goading him, but instead allowing her body to plead for her, the look in her hues as they open to find his in answer: yes. ]
no subject
he'll try to remember, for her. despite the pressing thought that he's no longer capable of it, that his edges are too rough to be gentle, his hands more similar to thorns than petals, he'll try. while he's usually forceful, overly eager, he's slow this time, his lips finally brushing against hers, as if testing, rather than consuming, though her mouth is something he's already explored countless times before. the tips of battered fingers disappear within her hair, thumb brushing over her cheekbone now. the pace he's moving at is slow enough that he'd typically find it agonizing, but right now, it's calming. it's dangerous, taking their time like this, when every moment spent together is yet another moment either of their parents could peek into his room, but with the taste of her on his lips, her hands on his skin, the thought of getting caught is the furthest from his mind. ]
no subject
she was hardly a girl to give up control, but she's focusing on every little detail of his mouth melding to hers. how their petals part one by one and grace together. how her breath trips in tenderness, trying to remind herself to move. small hand drops to his side, and slowly she's smoothing it around to the plane of his back. the lower, middle, upper, gently suckling his upper lip between hers for the briefest of moments.
and as she lets it go she exhales, using that hand to help pull her flush against his front. ]
no subject
even if he does want her just like this, it still takes a conscious effort to keep from taking more, the way he would any other night. he's become a creature of habit, and everything about this goes entirely against what he's used to. his hand falls from her face to her waist, slipping beneath the oversized shirt she adorns, rising just enough for scarred flesh of his palm to rest against her waist. he doesn't clutch at her the way he's used to, only holding her tight enough to keep her close, not out of the desperate need to leave bruises to remind her the following morning.
even the noises that emit from strained throat are softer, less animalistic, more humane, a soft sigh of content rasping from his chest as his tongue teases across her lower lip. ]
no subject
and then that sound husks from the bed of his throat, wanton and needy in a way she's never heard it, and all she can think of is to swallow it, to keep it, to remember it. she wants to remember all of this. the greeting of his tongue, light and warm coaxes the faintest of whimpers to intermix within her breath, giving the slightest writhes against him in efforts to keep still. it's all fidgeting, nerves that didn't belong, that she shouldn't let herself feel with him— but here they are. ]
Ace- [ just a whisper, and then she lets her tongue dance against his own, welcoming it into the heat of her mouth with a retreat, exhales growing all the more stuttered in their rhythm. ]