There's something charming, or perhaps more like endearing about his hesitance when it comes to being gentle, and his stubborn willingness to try it anyway. Like it's something he's been denied every time he's ever thought to want it, and started to believe that he doesn't want it after all.
And it's reassuring that he cares enough about what she wants to ask her, when in doubt.
Athessa slides her arms over his shoulders in a loose embrace, some buoyant happiness broadening the smile on her face. "Good."
He's made her look like a lot of things. Sated, desperate, crying, begging, the afer-glow afterwards, sometime furious or irritated or demanding.
But he's never made her look...
No, it's not... not that. Not her. Not exactly. Or well, he means: it is her. But it is only her. There has never been anyone that has greeted him, looked at him, and... seemed... pleased? in his presence. That wasn't right. Chrysis was pleased wit him and often. But it was not - that way Athessa's eyes crinkled. Her lips pulled at the corners and her brow softened, just that little bit, like she was seeing something, and that thing was him, and that caused this... this... what was this? He didn't know.
Who was supposed to ask about it?
His throat clears and his hands drop, picking a spot somewhere over her head.
"As long as that's cleared, then. Tell that dog-fucker to shut his mouth then." Gruff, and it's valiant attempt to hide how uncomfortable he is.
"Yes, Deimos," said in the same tone as yes, dear, and she kisses his chin. When she pulls back, she doesn't fully release him, hands planted on his shoulders for balance and because she's always remiss to let him go. "I'll tell him. No guarantees he'll listen, buuuut--"
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And it's reassuring that he cares enough about what she wants to ask her, when in doubt.
Athessa slides her arms over his shoulders in a loose embrace, some buoyant happiness broadening the smile on her face. "Good."
no subject
He's made her look like a lot of things. Sated, desperate, crying, begging, the afer-glow afterwards, sometime furious or irritated or demanding.
But he's never made her look...
No, it's not... not that. Not her. Not exactly. Or well, he means: it is her. But it is only her. There has never been anyone that has greeted him, looked at him, and... seemed... pleased? in his presence. That wasn't right. Chrysis was pleased wit him and often. But it was not - that way Athessa's eyes crinkled. Her lips pulled at the corners and her brow softened, just that little bit, like she was seeing something, and that thing was him, and that caused this... this... what was this? He didn't know.
Who was supposed to ask about it?
His throat clears and his hands drop, picking a spot somewhere over her head.
"As long as that's cleared, then. Tell that dog-fucker to shut his mouth then." Gruff, and it's valiant attempt to hide how uncomfortable he is.
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