milliways_bar | (no subject)

"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.

"No," she agrees softly, and her lips and mouth feel dry, a little, but everything else feels warm, "we--no. And oh, I love you too."

And a distant part of her hopes, absently, that none of her family is in the bar at the moment.

He licks his lips, briefly, suddenly nervous, and runs his hand down the curve of her cheek.

"Come back to the House with me?" he asks, softly, and his eyes are steady on hers.

"Yes," holding his gaze.

She's scared.

And it's okay.

Because some things are worth being scared for.

He nods, and looks as though he wants to say something else, but instead only leans in to kiss her very gently, his hand warm and gentle at her cheek, before he pushes his chair back and stands, holding his hand out to her.

And he thinks, looking at her, that as lovely as he had thought her before, she has never looked more beautiful.

She stands, and takes the offered hand, and squeezes it.

"I love you," Lucy says again, because sometimes the fact that you do and you can say that is reason enough to do so.

Caspian smiles at her, and thinks, this is what I sought.

And he thinks it is very sweet.

"I love you, too," he says, and lets their fingers lace together. He doesn't think he can ever say it enough times.

"More and more every day." He draws her close, the warmth of her addicting.

"My queen," he says, softly.

"My king," resting her head on his shoulder. "My love." Which is better, and after a moment she tugs him towards the painting for the House, gently.

He follows her, willingly, and doesn't let go of her hand once, not when they reach the painting and step through, not when they are in the great empty hall, and he hardly even think about hos this is the first time he is back in the House in a week, or more.

She doesn't let go either, and doesn't plan to.

"To your room?"

"Yes."

He goes to the painting which leads to his room in the wing he shares with the Pevensies, and instead of saying goodbye as usual, they step through together.

Everything is as he left it, a week ago; the sword on a table by the window, the bed neatly made.

He takes a breath and turns, to look at her, with a slight question in his eyes.

She opens her mouth and then laughs, quietly, a little startled by herself. "I have no idea what to do now," she admits, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Caspian laughs, too, and walks over to join her, sitting down and enjoying how comfortable it is to be with Lucy, alone and loving her with every particle of himself.

"There aren't any rules, Lu," he says, and reaches out to brush her hair off her neck. "It just depends on what you want."

"You," looking at him. "That's what I want."

"You have me forever," he says, softly, leaning over to kiss her.