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ic; i knew you when our common goal was waiting for the world to end
( GET IN THE CAR LOSER WE'RE DOING THIS MEME )
( GET IN THE CAR LOSER WE'RE DOING THIS MEME )
( GET IN THE CAR LOSER WE'RE DOING THIS MEME )
( GET IN THE CAR LOSER WE'RE DOING THIS MEME )
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Ange likes risks, sure, but these risks - the once that play with her heart rather than her body - are always the ones she's been the most afraid of taking. She could become happy, but the thought of getting even more unhappy threatens to seize her heart for a moment, tells her to get away from this situation now.
But she looks at his face, at how genuinely he's saying all of this, and.. well. She just knows she can't. She can't do that to him.
(She doesn't want to do it, anyway.) ]
.. are you sure you can handle that?
[ Considering how easily embarrassed he gets, she means - not like she isn't the same, anyway, so it's sort of a hypocritical tease.
But it's not a rejection. It's more of an acceptance, a "yes" than anything else. If it was a rejection, she'd be more direct about it, blunt as ever. ]
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Of course I can handle it! I'm used to usual stiff-faces like you-- It ain't a challenge.
[...But that's not the entire truth, is it. Dealing with a stone wall, yes, but romancing it instead, especially when it's not so stone-like when he's actually doing the romancing? No, not really, and he's not a liar that's going to claim he can.
(especially when he gets embarrassed that easily.)
There's more to this, so he's not going to end it there. Maybe she was teasing, but he'll get it entirely clear.]
And so what if you're some kinda "witch"? You've- You've never done anything stupid or tried to curse me with magic powers. I'm not going to start believe that you're evil because of some fairy-tale shit.
["I trust you. Completely."]
...Tch. I'm not some stupid prince, but I'll stick by you, even if [when] things get goddamn terrible.
[It's probably stupid, telling the girl with unfathomable powers (to him) that he'll protect her or anything lame like that, but... he wouldn't be content hanging in the background when push came to shove either.
(he'd make a pretty lame prince anyway)]
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She likes the idea of it. Not being alone when things get shitty. Having someone to rely on, even if she's already decided in her heart that she'll have to protect him when things do get that way. Not like she's all-powerful, but magic powers at least got to have something over a guy whose best talent is biking and making sure the neighbours from 3 blocks over can hear him.
But none of that matters - her cheeks are burning up, and she finally manages to calm her heart enough to speak. ]
Stop saying all those embarrassing things.
[ Don't stop, she means -- but for now, she's decided to take matters into her own hands. Since the easiest way to shut up him instead of letting him ramble on about all those embarrassing things is to trap his lips in a kiss once more. ]
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[He is, he is absolutely embarrassing in how transparent all the aggressiveness in his words clearly is to what he actually means and feels. For once, Arakita's tired is stopped, and by something so simple (and pleasing, he realizes) as being kissed.
Funny how kissing a teenage boy who is quite eager to do so to stop saying stupid shit suddenly directs his attention away from his stupid rambling and his stupid, embarrassing feelings. He's getting better at this- or more realistically, braver, since focusing on enjoying it rather than running through the 15 scenarios about how she hates it and how he should get the fuck out of here you idiot, you have no idea what you're doing. Her shoulders seemed to be a good place for his hands to be last time, so they return there with more certainty than before, and he's not hesitant in tilting his head and pressing back with firm pressure behind it. He knows it probably isn't good, but it does feel better. More like how he's told a kiss should feel.
Still, there's a bit of a problem in paradise and it's enough for him to reluctantly pull away for a moment, cheeks flushed and eyes immediately diverting.]
...Oi, these are in the way. [His hand plants itself on the arm rests in between their two chairs. They've been bumping into his stomach as he's been leaning over to kiss her, not to mention putting up sort of a barrier between them. You know what-- fuck barriers, it's his practical motto to overcome them. His eyes flick over (rather obviously) to the couch across the room.]
Your roommates ain't home, are they?
[It'll be harder to explain away sitting very close together on a couch instead of on separate chairs if they were to, say, be walked in on after frantically trying to make it look like they weren't just kissing as soon as they heard someone open the door, he means.
This explanation is probably not the intent imagined behind that question and that gesture towards the couch by anyone else seeing it.
Easy there, boy. Down. Stay. You're still pretty lame, don't forget it.]
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(Despite it being one of the most obvious things here, but that's just how Ange works - she always glances over the things that should be obvious.)
And so she glances from him to the space around them for a moment, looking a lot less cynical and more innocent in her expression with the way she's caught off guard by him breaking off the contact between their lips. It takes a moment for her brain to catch up to the rest of her. ]
Uh.. they're not. I think. [ Most of them are present enough to notice, anyway. You don't easily miss someone with enough blonde hair to practically be a male Rapunzel or a wolf walking around, right.. ]
Why..?
no subject
...Did she really like it that much as it was, to not think about it? Is he doing something right?]
You know, cause- You really want someone walking in right now?
[Goddamnit, that innocent look is really distracting. Damn you, Ange. Damn you, because you're making it harder to consider moving/stopping.]
...Couch. You wanna move? [To make things confusing (he has to, you know), he plants another quick kiss on her.] 's less of a pain. [And another.]
[Aaaaand another.]
[For someone who supposedly wants to move, his hands have nicely (and unconsciously on his part, he's finally relaxed enough to not think so much about some things) on her upper waist.
...Ok, it is a little uncomfortable, doing that across two arm rests.]]
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But it's so hard to move when he keeps kissing her, and she wants to keep reprociating, when she doesn't want it to suddenly stop like that, when she can feel his hands on her (something that isn't going over her head, even if he might not realise it just yet), and it's so nice and warm and comforting and--
No, no. If he won't snap out of it, then she'll have to be the one to do so, even though she's leaning pretty heavily into that last kiss he's giving her.
When she pulls away, a little out of breath, her hands drop so she can place them on top of where he's put them, gently coercing him to follow up on his words. ]
At least give me a moment to answer..
[ Not like she's complaining about the kisses. Not at all. But they make it awfully hard to think, and she's not sure whether he's aware of just how light-headed it makes her feel, grasping at words. ]
Let's move-- let's move.
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What if I don't wanna?
[Give her a moment, that is, and he's proving it by pressing another kiss on her. It lingers just a second too long and too firmly to be considered as brief as the others. It's a kiss that would fit better on the couch, when they're much closer and not trying to pause in order to move elsewhere.
...Still, given that he's the one who asked to move first, though, and all
tsundereobligatory stubbornness aside he probably should give her that moment. As soon as his hands slip off her (already feeling the lack of warmth quickly), he's once again back to square one when it comes to Doing This Right.Looking from her, to the couch, to her again, he considers- should he just stand up and beeline over there as quickly as possible, wait for her, or what?
...
He's suddenly facing away again, hand awkwardly and tentatively placing itself on the arm rests between them, and waiting for her to move before he does.]
...C'mon.
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That's actually really, really hot. And Ange consciously realises the fact that this thought is shooting through her mind the moment he speaks up, his words challenging, forward - Ange's usually the one who's forward as all hell in every single friendship or other bond she's had in her life, so to have someone say something like that to her is different.
But in a good way. The kind of way that makes her freeze for a moment, that makes her heart beat just a little faster. Like hell she'll admit to the fact that she likes not always being the one taking actions, but it flashes across her face for a moment anyway with the way she stares at him.
Of course it means she can't just leave it at that though. It feels too much like letting him (and somewhere deep down she can't help but wonder how this somehow became a competition, one way or another).
Ange stands up, and even though her heart is practically pounding itself out of her chest at the thought (what if she doesn't do it right, what if her behaviour for the situation is weird, she's too inexperienced with this stuff), she grabs his collar when she's standing there. Her face moves a little closer to his own, although she doesn't kiss him the way he had just now. ]
Don't think you get to decide.
[ God. She manages to say it fairly convincingly, but her heart is pounding so hard that it makes her legs shake a little. Ange doesn't know what it is - usually she has zero trouble with this kind of behaviour, but somehow it feels much harder when she likes him.
Love is hard. Social relationships are the worst.
Tugging on the fabric of the collar, she drags him into the direction of the couch. ]
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She's nervous, her heart's probably beating about as fast as his is (he's always had a good sense for smelling out when people's nervousness is because of him), and for a moment he was reconsidering everything because of the look on her face- wide-eyed and frozen like that.
Bu then she's grabbing him by the shirt as he stands up and holding her face close-- very close, but far enough so that when Arakita jerks his head forward to kiss her again, he doesn't quite reach. She's pushing back, meeting where he stands and even challenging him, and he likes it. He likes being dragged around by his collar because it means that she's willing to play the push-and-pull games he always sets up for any interactions he has with people.
The look on her face, flushed as it may be, is one that inspires an actual grin to slide across his own face as he gets pulled to the couch... it being just as red, but. details.]
Ah? Who said you're callin' all the shots here?
[The way he falls on the couch is anything but graceful, his gaze and grin are far too eager to be anything but. He still hasn't shaken the nervous energy, rapid heart rate and full-body blush, but is he ever actually excited for this without thoughts of "I'm going to totally fuck this up" completely weighing him down. They're still there, but dammit, they're not completely.
Still, for all his bluster, loudness and belligerence, he can't bring himself to be necessarily rough with her. That doesn't mean he wastes any time placing his hands and lips where they were before they got off the couch as soon as she sits down (did you want to get a word in? too bad) and nor are they any less firmly placed for the time lost. However, the change in scenery and the sudden and deep appreciation for how much closer she is, plus the thought of "shit, can I actually try this now?" crossing his mind, means that he's willing to be even braver. With little warning besides his hands clenching slightly around her waist, he drags his lips across her face and down her neck in a series of quick and stumbling kisses.
Given how quickly he pulls his face back up to return to proper kissing it was clearly experimental. At least he finally isn't going to knock himself for trying. He's gotten that comfortable.]
no subject
Right now all she can think about is him, especially when his kisses move lower before going across her neck. It's nothing she's ever experienced before, and it's not really anything she's heard of before, considering how little experience she has with these things or with most information from outside of her own little isolated world.
But it feels good. It feels so terribly good that her breath hitches for a moment when his lips travel over her skin until they return to her own lips, and she practically hungrily starts to kiss him back.
Maybe she's a little too eager, and there's a small voice in the back of her mind that whispers that she should hold back, but she's opting to ignore it for the moment.
Kissing him in return, Ange's hand travels up into his hair - as her fingers intertwine with the strands, she manages to clench down so she's holding onto a sizable chunk of it. Not tightly enough to hurt, but it's almost looming like some sort of threat, like a sign that she isn't going to just accept this passively (because it hurts some vaguely prideful part of her, and because this feels much more exciting when it's like a competition, like a near-battle) and has all the power literally in her hand right now to make him suffer if she'd want to.
Not that she's going to, not while it's like this. This feels way too good, enough to make her feel slightly dizzy. ]
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But she liked it, even if it wasn't smooth or graceful. She actually likes this- all of this. He's doing this right on both counts, because this, the kissing and that hand in his hair, feels really good- really, really good. So this is kissing, this is being actually close to the person you like, feeling them under your hands and making out with them until you're senseless without giving a damn about who could be seeing you right now.
It's not the full floodgates that are opening now, but Arakita definitely lets his gut instinct back into it's rightful place of dictating what he does here. He doesn't hold back a quiet, pleased murmur in between kisses when he feels fingers pushing apart his hair... nor is the catch in his breath hidden in the slightest when that same hand tightens its grip around the strands.
...Shit, does this feeling have him thinking weird shit, his gut telling him to push forward into those impulsive thoughts. She's digging fingers into his hair with the intent to pull and he realizes that he doesn't mind the idea of it at all, as the thought of it crosses his racing mind briefly. It's both a leash for those impulsive desires and a signal for him to make his move in this embarrassed competition they have going here. Contradictory, but he'll roll with it. He likes it that way; it's true to his nature.
Hands just resting around her waist suddenly aren't enough now. Instead, they wrap around her body to pull her close to him- the distance between their chests is reduced from inches to more or less pressing together. Without missing a beat while fully being aware that maybe taking two steps ahead is pushing it, he tilts his head and opens his mouth into the kiss to deepen it in what he's heard (and, well, seen, a lot of what he's doing is from what he's seen) feels even better than keeping their kiss on the surface.
...It immediately works for him, at least.]
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Ange doesn't know a lot about this, but even so, she tries to match. She moves right along, parting her own lips as well. The small sounds that keep escaping her now directly flow into his mouth.
It's a little embarrassing, she thinks, she she doesn't relinquish her hold on him in the slightest. Even if it means there's no way they can pretend anything but what they're doing right now was going on if someone does walk in to see this. ]
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Moreover, given how he's made of hard angle and bony muscle, it somewhat surprises him in his foggy state of mind that the feeling of her chest against his isn't as uncomfortable as it could be were she like him in that regard. Instead, it's very soft and warm, because-- oh. Oh.
Hopefully they're not close enough for Ange to feel Arakita's heartbeat spike up to about 30 more beats per minute (unlikely).
He's eager and willing without reservations at this point, yes, but that doesn't translate to being skilled or practiced. So for as much as the feeling of her lips (open lips), chest pressed up against him and those very pleasing noises coming from in between their lips are distracting him (and they are very, very distracting, mind you, his blood can't decide if it needs to rush to his brain, heart or elsewhere), the need for air outweighs all of it. Breathing from his nose is not a technique he's mastered just yet.
Disconnecting their lips reluctantly, he immediately finds himself staring at her with what's probably a very anticipatory stare in addition to remaining that lovely tomato color he's been sporting since the first kiss between them. Before speaking he swallows hard.]
How much do-
[What was clearly going to be a question is cut off suddenly and he averts his stare while furrowing his eyebrows. Whatever it was is transformed into a mumble under his breath, and to "seal" the issue, he diverts the use of his mouth to back on her neck and kisses it with much more firmness than the last, teeth occasionally skating over her skin and "threatening" to press in.
...Then again, if he really to avoid talking, he should have kissed her in such a way where she couldn't talk.]
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But he did begin with it and then cut himself off and.. well, of course it annoys her. She wants to know what he's saying, and the fact that his lips are back against the skin of her neck doesn't help. It's a momentary distraction, but rather than fully distract her it just delays the inevitable as a soft sound escapes her mouth. There's something about that feeling of teeth scraping against her skin lightly that feels so good, and for a moment she's tempted to drop the matter.
But that wouldn't be like her. She's stubborn, she's curious, even in this situation. So after a few moments of him planting his lips on her throat, her free hand grabs onto his collar, tugging a little on there to grab his attention. ]
How much.. what? [ She can't sound very threatening though, as out of breath as she is, but she sure is trying. ] At least finish your sentence, moron..
[ The only people who would call the person making out with them an idiot, really. ]
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It's not so much speaking into her ear as quietly speaking right next to it when he does talk, having finally been tugged around enough by her to stop his firm, eager kisses into the skin of her neck. Not that he exactly minds, discomfort around bringing up the topic again notwithstanding, because she's still standing up to him even while all of this is going on between them. In theory, the move probably sounds smooth. In actuality, the delivery (his voice) is grumbled, shaky and breathless.]
...You don't get it? How much-- Tch, how far do you wanna, you know, go?
[How awkward that question was, in both content and execution on his part (especially when she's being forward on all fronts by continuing to tug him around like this despite being just as mentally occupied as him), only hits him a moment after he's gone back to kissing- and at this point lightly pressing his teeth into her skin every other kiss with just enough pressure before it starts leaving a mark. He physically recoils from the "shit, I fucked saying that up" that crosses his mind, his teeth pressing in just a little as a result.
But he said it, so he's going to commit; no backing down from the guy who's life philosophy is to move forward into unknown territory. Even with his complete lack of experience and resulting reliance on hormones and bravery to continue on, he knows they're moving very, very fast here- not that he minds in the slightest or regrets any of it; the desire to continue onward would outweigh any hesitancy in the end. But even in this hazed and addled state he remembers her outburst from before to the suggestion of any of this and the last thing he wants is to have her reacting like that again (even if the circumstances are much different now). Better ask, before his hands, say, snake lower or further up.
Easy, boy.]