[What more can he do? Noah feels helpless, so helpless, with no way to protect and save the person who matters to him most. All he can do is impress upon her how much he loves her in the hopes that, wherever she goes after death, the memory of his love will remain with her. Selfish as his desire is, Noah wants little else.
It's that desperation that fuels him, hands drawn to every inch of unmarred skin, sliding up the sides of her thighs where her dress has ridden up. It rises like bile in his throat, the question of if she'll carry his love with her to the grave, if she'll think of him in her final moments. Selfish, selfish, selfish.
His fingers find her hip and dig into it. Is he being too rough? He hasn't noticed. Her voice cuts through his fugue, but his kisses don't slow, and neither do his touches. He acknowledges her with a hum at first but acquiesces, breaking their kiss just long enough to answer.]
[He's so stubborn... but she can but just as obstinate as he can sometimes. They have many small differences in their personalities, but this is one way they're very much the same.]
That's not fair. The same should go for you. [It's hard to stop crying when she knows he's also sad and in pain. Surely even at his most stubborn, Noah must have some idea. How is she supposed to reassure him? How can she make him feel better? All she can think of right now is how much she wants to give herself to him, every bit for him to treasure.
Noah's hands bear down on her, bruising in their love. It's rough in a way she hasn't felt from him before, but despite the surprise of it, it doesn't hurt. Her own hands slide along the waistband of his jeans, fingering the belt loops and dipping into the slight curve of his back pockets. For one particularly rough kiss, she squeezes his butt. It's so pinchable normally, so tempting to gently slap with the palm of her hand, but it would ruin a moment like this.
Nine could be home soon, or he could be out all night. She doesn't want to be inconsiderate... but she also wants this time with Noah to linger. It's an eternal conflict: She wants the immediacy, wants the now of him touching her more and more as fast as possible, but she also wants to feel every second. Mio works away from his waistband to begin untucking his shirt, nails teasing his skin the way she now knows he likes.]
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It's that desperation that fuels him, hands drawn to every inch of unmarred skin, sliding up the sides of her thighs where her dress has ridden up. It rises like bile in his throat, the question of if she'll carry his love with her to the grave, if she'll think of him in her final moments. Selfish, selfish, selfish.
His fingers find her hip and dig into it. Is he being too rough? He hasn't noticed. Her voice cuts through his fugue, but his kisses don't slow, and neither do his touches. He acknowledges her with a hum at first but acquiesces, breaking their kiss just long enough to answer.]
...You're crying too. I'll stop when you do.
[Selfish and stubborn.]
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That's not fair. The same should go for you. [It's hard to stop crying when she knows he's also sad and in pain. Surely even at his most stubborn, Noah must have some idea. How is she supposed to reassure him? How can she make him feel better? All she can think of right now is how much she wants to give herself to him, every bit for him to treasure.
Noah's hands bear down on her, bruising in their love. It's rough in a way she hasn't felt from him before, but despite the surprise of it, it doesn't hurt. Her own hands slide along the waistband of his jeans, fingering the belt loops and dipping into the slight curve of his back pockets. For one particularly rough kiss, she squeezes his butt. It's so pinchable normally, so tempting to gently slap with the palm of her hand, but it would ruin a moment like this.
Nine could be home soon, or he could be out all night. She doesn't want to be inconsiderate... but she also wants this time with Noah to linger. It's an eternal conflict: She wants the immediacy, wants the now of him touching her more and more as fast as possible, but she also wants to feel every second. Mio works away from his waistband to begin untucking his shirt, nails teasing his skin the way she now knows he likes.]