milliways_bar | (no subject)

He looks rather ridiculously relieved.

"That is excellent news." And he grins back.

"Not that it wouldn't be a pleasure, but really I'd rather have some time with just you before there are any dragons thrown into the mix. Volatile creatures, you know, dragons. Cause no end of trouble."

Lucy deadpans, "As thrilled as I am with the prospect of an infant fire-breathing, clothing-eating lizard with a jealousy streak, I think I'd like to have as much time with just you as possible first as well."

"Thank the Lion," Caspian says, and doesn't even try to hide his relief, collapsing back into his chair with a laugh.

"Well, that's sorted, then."

A moment of consideration.

"Unfortunate that you hadn't one in Narnia. It might have been even more effective than throwing water at overzealous suitors."

She's looks more than a bit amused, though the last comment gets gets him a tongue stuck out in his direction. "It was only the one!"

"Yes?"

He only lifts an eyebrow.

"You never did anything to any of the others, did you?"

"Contrary to how I act at times, I am capable of being as proper and civilized as Susan, you know." That said, "...I didn't throw water at them?"

"I know you are. The question is how often you decide to be that way or not."

He eyes her.

"...yes?"

She looks sad. Sad, Lucy, sad!

Except she does it about as well as she looks innocent when she's not at all.

"Well, I did like some of them well enough, you know, first. I didn't want to marry them, but they weren't all that bad. It was just--the determined or oafish ones who sometimes," vaguely, "needed a bit more convincing that their proposal had been rejected than simple words gave."

He considers her, for a moment.

"I'm terribly glad you don't think I require such convincing," he says, finally, and sincerely.

"And I think I probably shan't ask what happened to them," grinning.

"It wasn't anything horrid," she insists, and then her eyes soften a bit as she leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Not ever."

He catches her around the waist as she leans over, and pulls her closer.

"Oh, I'm sure it was nothing too terrible," he smiles back, "only firm."

And she's right there, so he leans down to press kisses at the crook of neck and shoulder, very lightly brushing golden hair away from skin.

"A queen needs to be at times," Lucy murmurs, bending her head nearer his to kiss a line along his neck. "And they never doubted me after that."

"It would have been passing foolish of them if they had," he says, and his arm around her tightens at her kisses, and he takes a shaky sort of breath.

His free hand slides up to her the side of her neck, fingers threading through her hair, while he kisses just below her ear.

"I would have had to find a skunk again," as her arms go around him and her eyes close a little with a sigh. "And--and really, once of that was enough," she finishes, kissing again, up to his jaw.

"People generally do not enjoy searching for skunks," Caspian agrees absently, tipping his head slightly to the side while his eyes fall half-closed, and his fingers trail over her neck, to her shoulder, and back.

"It was very--very original of you."

The hand at her waist presses at her hip, firmly, fingers warm.

That requires a response, Lucy's certain, but all she can really do is breathe an, "Oh," and move her mouth to his, arms tightening. And she has no idea how he can taste so good all by himself, but she's not sure she cares how.

It's possible Caspian has completely forgotten that they are sitting in the middle of the bar, in plain view of everyone, because all he seems to want to do is touch her, his hand warm at her neck and at her waist, and there's an intensity in the kiss that suggests he won't be pulling back as he normally does.

So this kiss deepens, and his eyes are closed, fascinated by the warmth of her breath, the taste of tea on her lips and the taste of her and his heart starts thudding crazily in his chest.

It's hard enough to think please don't stop even, and thinking about where they are is not a priority for Lucy at the moment.

She doesn't think she's ever kissed someone like this before, and she's half marvelling at how good it can feel to just show someone how much they mean to you as one of her hands finds its way to his cheek.

There's the smallest of sounds, deep in his throat, at her touch, half a sigh, half a groan, and his hand tightens at the back of her head.

He still has enough presence of mind to not lift her up from her chair and onto his lap, but it's rather a hard temptation to resist, and when he does pull back just far enough to take a breath--and it's partly her breath, and partly his--everything is very foggy, except for her face, her eyes, her mouth.

"Sweet," he whispers.

"So very," she whispers back, forehead pressing against his. Better, she thinks, than anything else.

She thinks she's forgotten how to breathe, a little, as her hand lowers to his throat and her thumb rubs against it gently.

She can probably feel his pulse flutter wildly in his throat, and how he swallows and takes a deep breath before bending his head and kissing her again.

He thinks that the taste of her is more intoxicating than wine, and moves his mouth from hers, after a moment, to kiss a line down her neck, concentrating on the soft skin underneath her ear, and his arm around her waist tightens further.

"Oh, please," she whispers, head tilting back a bit.

She can feel his pulse, and when her hand lowers to his chest she can feel his heart, too. And she can't decide if his own or hers is beating faster, now.

He kisses up the stretch of white throat, and takes a shaky breath before kissing her mouth again, and again.

"Lucy," he says, and his voice is low and ragged around the edges, and then seems to forget what else he was going to say, and just kisses her, deeply.

Lucy never, ever, ever wants him to pull away. And she wants to hear his voice like that again, too, and doesn't care if she can't logically have both.

And in the end she's the on who pulls back, a fraction, to breathe, and all she can do is look at him.

"We can't stay here," low, after a moment of trying to steady his breath, and then he looks at her and he says, "Lucy, I love you," all in a rush, because that's how she's making him feel--like he wants to say everything and he doesn't want to say anything, because if he's saying things he can't kiss her.