[ Abby's name is sighed, drawn out in an annoyed groan as Romanceโs hand slips from the back of Abbyโs head down to his neck when he moves over him. It's just posturing, though - Romance would have swatted him away if he didnโt like it, but etiquette and what little remains of his dignity insist he at least pretend to be irritated.
His free hand drifts up to brush the tender mark on his throat, brushing over his sensitive skin with a soft wince. It stings because of course it does, but the ache of it settles low in his belly, warmth blooming up the back of his neck and into his cheeks despite all efforts to keep his composure. ]
...Good morning.
[ Abby's words make him squirm, making him feel, of all things, a little shy.
Objectively, Romance knows he's beautiful. That's why he's here in the first place and not long dead and buried topside. But there's something about waking up tangled and unkempt, knowing he looks like a disaster because he hasn't had an opportunity to put himself together and still being called beautiful...it does something to him. He doesn't know how to define it, and he thinks maybe that's something he should lock back up and just...not address.
His fingertips come to lightly rest on Abby's shoulders, followed by his palms, smoothing over warm skin, touch featherlight and hesitant, expression vaguely wary. ]
no subject
[ Abby's name is sighed, drawn out in an annoyed groan as Romanceโs hand slips from the back of Abbyโs head down to his neck when he moves over him. It's just posturing, though - Romance would have swatted him away if he didnโt like it, but etiquette and what little remains of his dignity insist he at least pretend to be irritated.
His free hand drifts up to brush the tender mark on his throat, brushing over his sensitive skin with a soft wince. It stings because of course it does, but the ache of it settles low in his belly, warmth blooming up the back of his neck and into his cheeks despite all efforts to keep his composure. ]
...Good morning.
[ Abby's words make him squirm, making him feel, of all things, a little shy.
Objectively, Romance knows he's beautiful. That's why he's here in the first place and not long dead and buried topside. But there's something about waking up tangled and unkempt, knowing he looks like a disaster because he hasn't had an opportunity to put himself together and still being called beautiful...it does something to him. He doesn't know how to define it, and he thinks maybe that's something he should lock back up and just...not address.
His fingertips come to lightly rest on Abby's shoulders, followed by his palms, smoothing over warm skin, touch featherlight and hesitant, expression vaguely wary. ]
I didn't expect you to still be here.