[He could make a similar statement about her, if living weren't so very contrary to her plans. But, for now, he chooses the path of least resistance against her mouth, breath hot and grape sweet when his lips part. He'd once told her this had been a liberty to take, on learning of the dulled contagion in her blood. But it's been past concern for a long time and, even then, he never completely managed to abstain. Something addictive in his personality, his heredity, that buzzes like a moth around anything with the potential to burn. He kisses her back, instigating contact again after a break for breath and to look at her, dizzily blue.
Still, though at some point his hand has found its way through the gape of her dress to clasp against the flat of her stomach and slips steadily upwards, there's no move on his part to press forward, or break the barrier of her doorway.]
no subject
Still, though at some point his hand has found its way through the gape of her dress to clasp against the flat of her stomach and slips steadily upwards, there's no move on his part to press forward, or break the barrier of her doorway.]