daemonized | RECOLLE IC CONTACT.

[she lets go of him with one hand so she can push the hair away - it's blocking her view of his eyes. this maddeningly impossible, dear man. it feels ridiculous, in hindsight, to have not opened her heart a little sooner, if this was the result.]

Say it again?

[not that she hasn't already committed the words to perfect memory, to be protected in her record of it all. simply to hear it for the joy of it being there, unprompted other than he believes it.]

Edited 2017-07-25 00:36 (UTC)

[He lets her brush that piece of hair out of his eyes, and it's almost funny how much pleasure he takes in that little fleeting touch alone.]

Say what again? That I love you? Dearly? Madly?

[He'll say it as many times as she likes. He scoots forward just a tiny bit, enough for his forehead to touch hers lightly.]

Deliriously?

[yes, exactly that, if the smile on her face is any indication.]

Now I'm the one who's wondering if I'm dreaming.

[maybe she should be saying something about how being delirious wasn't the best thing, but that would be urging caution she doesn't have. instead, she's quiet a moment, before borrowed words come to mind, like they might at any pause when her own seem insufficient. soft, said for him and him alone.]

I love thee to the level of everyday's/most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

[when the poets were right, they were right.]

[They say love is a delirium, after all. Enough to make men and women alike irrational in all things, but there's always time for more carefully considered sentiments later. He'll use words like madly and deliriously with the grandeur that they deserve in a moment like this.

The poem she recites to him sparks no recognition, even as he thinks back on the myriad of stored quotes, lines, and narratives in his own memory. And yet its meaning is not lost on him regardless. That she can recall the words with such clarity when his own focus so solely lost in the moment is impressive unto itself.]

A declaration far more eloquent than my own. To whom do those lines belong to?

Browning. A perennial favorite, the book's somewhere on the shelf.

[but as for eloquent? she's already confessed so much, it feels natural to make another.]

It's easy to borrow another's words when I have none of my own that seem to suit. When my own I know would fall clumsily down, laughable instead of getting to the point. Unless for some reason you want to hear me rambling like a dazed girl who doesn't know what to do.

Maybe you'll let me borrow it? So next time I don't remain ignorant in the face of such romanticism.

[But he seems to chuckle at the notion of her "rambling like a dazed girl". He finds it exceedingly hard to apply that kind of clumsiness with words to Grell.]

But regardless... If you think words would be so treacherous as to fail you, you can always rely on action instead.

[Amping up the flirtation to eleven? Yes, why do you ask.]

[she could make some witty comment about how she was so glad that action is no longer considered cheating, or that he really should be sure before giving her that permission. but there are things just as effective as the right comment, particularly when the receiving party isn't expecting it.

it's not hard since he's holding her to use the leverage to change their positions, rolling him on his back and giving him no time to comment before she's kissing him, and he can probably feel her smiling into it. she holds onto it, taking her time before she pulls back just long enough to whisper:]

Schatz.

[Action only qualifies as cheating when Ardyn deems it so... or, in other words, when it’s convenient for him. Hypocritical, maybe, in a harmless and playful way. But now, he’ll certainly not call it cheating; he welcomes her touch, quite eager for it, and gives no form of resistance when she rolls him on his back and kisses him. If she’s smiling into it, then so is he — two grinning fools, lost in each other for an extended moment, not caring about the world around them in any form or fashion.

But when she pulls away, whispering to him, that’s enough to do away with the playfulness, smothering it instead with something that burns bright with passionate affection. It’s almost unfair, he muses to himself, gazing up at her from where he lies. One shouldn’t be allowed to be so beautiful and utilize words of adoration in a way that could undo him right then and there.]

Mm, that’s not fair. [He voices his thoughts, smile turning lopsided.] You can’t kiss me and call me that, and simultaneously expect for me to hold onto any shred of self-control for the sake of remaining a gentleman. It’s absolutely cruel.

[it's not unfair to resort to action, when he was the one who proposed the idea in the first place. not unfair at all to go back to a word that spoke her truer feelings and to kiss him like there isn't anywhere else she'd rather be.]

Then don't be a gentleman, if it's so difficult.

[she could point out many things in this situation that made the idea of proper behavior laughable, if she wanted. but that takes more effort in thinking about things that extend beyond this moment than she wants to expend.]

[Those words are magnetic, and he looks at her, as if wondering if she realizes just how much hearing it delights him. A link in the chain of propriety and inhibition straining and breaking completely, with a bit of her permission.

He sits up, just slightly, resting his weight on his elbows. Tilting his head at her, there's everything in his gaze that was there before -- fondness, adoration, love -- but something new, too. Something that reads akin to a challenge, or at least an eagerness to take her up on her offer.]

And is that what you want?

[Grell could laugh, if she didn't know he was serious in asking. does she want that, to cast aside being proper instead of demanding the nigh impossible of self control? the answer is simple, and she gives it with a smile on her face.]

Yes.

[she loves him, she knows, gentleman or not. and he should know it's hard for her to back down from a challenge.]

[It's all the confirmation he needs.

Decorum figuratively unravels at his feet, discarded with her permission, and it doesn't take much effort on Ardyn's part to lift himself up just enough for his lips to meet hers. It's light and barely-there, not very indicative of the eagerness he had hinted at just seconds before, but this only proves to be misleading.

Because he then shifts himself up and over, ensuring that it's her back against the mattress with him hovering above. It's only then that his fervor begins to eke through in earnest, with the way one hand threads fingers through her hair, the other settled at her hip. He kisses her then, and it's a passionate thing, unlike how he's ever done before. Bolder, possessive, wanting. As if their closeness to each other still wasn't enough, as if tasting her like this wouldn't quite ever satisfy him.

She did say that this is what she wanted.]

[she should have expected that, all told, and he'll catch the smile she hasn't lost as they change places. it feels great to mentally say to hell with it, to kiss him and return everything in kind, to wrap her arms around him and keep him close to her. letting go would be a positive crime, when she needs him here and it's the simplest way to make sure.

he's not the only one who's had to manage his self control over time.]

Ardyn...

[Grell practically breathes out his name before she kisses him again, letting that be enough to convey her thoughts. rising to meet him with equal intensity, welcoming all of it, no hints of getting tied up in embarrassment or getting flustered. this is what she wants. he's what she wants. she doesn't need words to prove that.]

[Words would feel superfluous now. Ardyn would even consider them inconvenient and unnecessary in this exact moment in time. Everything that he could say, he can instead show and feel; infinitely more preferable with their bodies pressed together like this, her lips meeting his again, her eagerness reflected back without hesitation. Intensity layered upon intensity, and eventually there's a shift, and his touch becomes less about strongly showing his affection, growing instead with need and want. He's been holding steadfast to his self-control for some time now, and how easy it is just to let it all go when given equal motivation in return.

His mouth moves to her neck instead, humming with pleasure upon hearing her breathing out his name. Despite everything, she'd still be able to feel the grin that tugs at his lips, the stubble that lightly grazes against her skin.

He will absolutely lose himself in her completely, if she allows it. That much is becoming painfully obvious.]

[there's nothing important but this, and that's exactly as she prefers it. nothing to make demands on their time except each other, nothing to serve as distraction that would have unlikely success at distracting her anyway, given the situation. not so much a choice, but a privilege to discard restrain and take what's offered.

her glasses she manages to take off and set aside - they'll only get in the way - before her focus goes entirely back to Ardyn. she'd say yes a hundred times if he needs to hear it, but her actions can stand for permission as well, in the way that she's getting bolder with her touches, more demanding. yes it's fine, yes it's allowed, and she'll meet him halfway and figure out how to show that it's the case. there's more than enough time for that. not that anyone's keeping track.

(and that's when the camera pans away.)]

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