milliways_bar | (no subject)

It is, and there's so much of it, too, over firm muscle that she's watching move with something like joy.

"So kind of you," is her only answer to that before resting her forehead on his shoulder and breathing slowly.

He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close, letting his head drop back and his eyes slip closed.

After the heat and the need and the wanting, it's nice to be still for a moment, feeling her breathe, all twined together in a tangle of legs and arms and golden hair.

"Still scared?" she asks softly, tilting her head to look at him and brushing her thumb across his eyelids, gently.

"A little," he admits, and lets out a breath at her touch.

"Of pushing you too far. Or making a mistake." A breath. It's hard to admit, because he knows it's a foolish thing to worry about, really.

And yet it's there, a bit.

"I don't want to lose you again."

Her hand goes to his cheek and cradles it, carefully.

"For a man who lived so very long, you're still very foolish, Caspian," she says finally, with a smile. "I want this. I want you. I'm not going anywhere. Not ever again, unless you come with me."

"I know," he admits.

"And I don't doubt it. But it's been nothing more than a dream for fifty years. It's--hard for me, still to believe it, sometimes."

He turns his head to place a kiss in her palm.

"I suppose I can't help being a fool about some things."

His lips curve into a smile.

"And you? How are you feeling, about all this?"

"I wouldn't know," honestly, apologetically, "I can't imagine that long yet." And Lucy takes a shaky breath as she thinks before answering, "Everything I ever dreamed of feeling I think I feel right now. And I'm still scared, and still worried I'll make a mistake, but...but you taste so good," softly, "and it's hard to worry when I'm thinking about that, too."

That is worth another kiss, soft and sincere.

"Then we should both just stop worrying," he tells her. "For it'll do us no good." He shrugs, lightly.

"Mistakes happen, I suppose. It's part of learning about each other."

A pause.

"And it's hard to worry when all I want to do is touch you."

"Then touch me," smiling a small smile, "all you want." As for Lucy, she's content to kiss his shoulder again for the moment, and let her hand drift down to his hip and rest there, fingers brushing against skin.

So he does, his hand drifting over her back, over her shoulders, sliding over smooth hips and wrapping around her waist.

And it's nice to lie here like this, he thinks, content and warm and learning what to do.

It's very nice, to lie there, and to learn which touch causes which reaction.

"Love you," she says finally, mostly a whisper, against his neck, and she's still amazed, a little, that it's okay to even say that.

"Love you," he says softly back, and dips his head to kiss her hair.

It's always amazing.

He grins.

"Even though you want to inflict a dragon on me."

"I'm starting to think a dragon's a brilliant idea," she replies with a smile, "if it means you don't have any clothing to wear, really. Besides, I'll protect you."

He laughs, at that.

"There are better ways to get that, you know. Without actively destroying all of my clothes."

Leaning forward, he runs a hand along the back of her neck and down the dip of her spine.

"And that is very comforting."

"But it would be funny if a dragon did, still," grinning before she sighs and arches her head back, the second statement getting only a very absent, "Mmhmm."

He takes the oppurtunity to flip them over, slowly, and kisses her, with his hand at her waist.

"Funny for you, maybe," he murmurs, with a smile against her lips.

"Well, yes," she admits, smiling back up at him.

"But there aren't any dragons yet," she points out, then, and kisses him briefly before taking a deep breath.

"Thankfully," he agrees.

She's smooth and warm and lovely and the smile gets kissed rather a few times because it is so irresistable.

It fades, though, at the kissing, because it's hard to maintain it and kiss him back.

"Like just you and me for now," she breathes.

"So do I," he says, a little shakily, because his breath is a little shaky, and so is the rest of his body.

No older brothers, no crew, no Mouse giving him sympathetic looks, no bar patrons.

It's all pretty perfect, really.

Lucy very carefully brushes her fingers along the waistband of his underwear as she tilts her head to kiss his neck and asks, softly, "Is this all right?"

He drops his forehead to her shoulder, eyes closing, and nods.

"It's all right," he says, when he thinks he can talk again, his own hand trailing over her hip and the smooth soft cloth there.

She rests her head against his for a moment, kissing his hair, before asking, "Can I--can I take it off you?" Blushing a little, but not as much as she would have thought she would have.

There's a point past blushing, when you know that, exposing as it may be, and nervous as it may make you, there are things you want. Need. And there isn't any turning back. So Caspian nods again, without blushing, and when he looks up at her his eyes are soft but serious, and places his hand over hers to help push the material down and off.

There's a moment when she snickers, realizing she can't reach to push them any further, and pushes him onto his back, gently, sitting up to pull them off his legs and feet before studying him, all of him, intently, mouth dry and eyes dark as she brushes her hand over his hip before leaning down to kiss him again.