Kisses, sometimes, are a way to stop talking when words don't cut it. And sometimes they're an exploration, a fascination. Sometimes they're a salve or a balm. Sometimes they're punctuation marks.
Right now, the kiss she gives him is all those things at once: all of them. The timing on it is so good, in fact, that when she's done talking he dips back in for one more, thinking one from you, one from me. That's good. That's fair.
He won't tell her she shouldn't feel guilty; that'll only make her feel worse and damn if that's not the last thing he wants her to feel. Time is precious; time with Beth is doubly so.
Pulling back, he reaches forward, running his fingertip down her nose, letting it settle on her lips. He loves her lips, always has. He likes the way they feel and the way they look and the way they taste -- especially the way they taste -- but right now, right this minute, they're kind of this direct path to her heart. And right now, right this minute, he's kind of in love not just with her but with everything he's heard her say since he shut up enough to give her a chance to talk.
Finally, he moves his finger away from her lips and takes her hands in his. "Well, fuck, Slim." When he looks back up to her face, he gives her one of those small private smiles she's told him she loves. "I adore the hell out of you." To say thanks for listening, thanks for letting me get it all out of my system seems a little bit redundant; she knows how appreciated she is.
And holding hands is all well and good, but it's not enough; he wraps his arms around her and pulls her just that much closer to him and kisses her again, because she's there and because he can and because, right now, right this minute, he's all talked out except for one thing.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2006-10-01 09:27 am (UTC)Right now, the kiss she gives him is all those things at once: all of them. The timing on it is so good, in fact, that when she's done talking he dips back in for one more, thinking one from you, one from me. That's good. That's fair.
He won't tell her she shouldn't feel guilty; that'll only make her feel worse and damn if that's not the last thing he wants her to feel. Time is precious; time with Beth is doubly so.
Pulling back, he reaches forward, running his fingertip down her nose, letting it settle on her lips. He loves her lips, always has. He likes the way they feel and the way they look and the way they taste -- especially the way they taste -- but right now, right this minute, they're kind of this direct path to her heart. And right now, right this minute, he's kind of in love not just with her but with everything he's heard her say since he shut up enough to give her a chance to talk.
Finally, he moves his finger away from her lips and takes her hands in his. "Well, fuck, Slim." When he looks back up to her face, he gives her one of those small private smiles she's told him she loves. "I adore the hell out of you." To say thanks for listening, thanks for letting me get it all out of my system seems a little bit redundant; she knows how appreciated she is.
And holding hands is all well and good, but it's not enough; he wraps his arms around her and pulls her just that much closer to him and kisses her again, because she's there and because he can and because, right now, right this minute, he's all talked out except for one thing.
"And yeah... I'm okay. I'm okay, and I love you."