[ as soon as he agrees fully, she turns her head away from him, absently playing with her hair in his hesitation. it's the hand on her shoulder that freezes her where she stands, like a remote hitting pause. her whole body tenses, and a shiver runs down her spine. she wonders if he could feel it, the way his touch makes her nervous as only a touch can. clarisse has nerves of steel when it comes to battle and engaging the enemy — but here? so far away from anything worth fighting, so far from her comfort zone, that courage that makes her a feared warrior of ares dissolves with one touch.
as the zipper begins to come down, clarisse moves one of her hands instinctively to hold the dress up in the front. by the time he has the zipper all the way undone, it will be so loose it would simply fall down if she doesn't keep it from doing so. she isn't ready to bare that much to luke, though she still isn't sure where their boundaries are. there must be a line in the sand somewhere, they just haven't found it yet — or, maybe, it just hasn't been drawn yet.
she bites her lip self-consciously when he places his hand on her side, knowing full well that he's almost done with the zipper, yet part of her doesn't want him to be. part of her — a part she never shows to anyone (not since chris, not since silena) — wants to reach around with the hand in her hair and keep his hand there, right there on her side, wants to say something stupid like don't stop, wants him to do more than just unzip her dress. but the rational part of her, the part that keeps reminding her that this is luke castellan, will do no such thing.
so she stands there, his knuckle dragging down her spine along with the zipper, and she curses the gods, curses the fates, curses anyone she can think of. most of all, she curses luke castellan and she curses herself. ]
no subject
as the zipper begins to come down, clarisse moves one of her hands instinctively to hold the dress up in the front. by the time he has the zipper all the way undone, it will be so loose it would simply fall down if she doesn't keep it from doing so. she isn't ready to bare that much to luke, though she still isn't sure where their boundaries are. there must be a line in the sand somewhere, they just haven't found it yet — or, maybe, it just hasn't been drawn yet.
she bites her lip self-consciously when he places his hand on her side, knowing full well that he's almost done with the zipper, yet part of her doesn't want him to be. part of her — a part she never shows to anyone (not since chris, not since silena) — wants to reach around with the hand in her hair and keep his hand there, right there on her side, wants to say something stupid like don't stop, wants him to do more than just unzip her dress. but the rational part of her, the part that keeps reminding her that this is luke castellan, will do no such thing.
so she stands there, his knuckle dragging down her spine along with the zipper, and she curses the gods, curses the fates, curses anyone she can think of. most of all, she curses luke castellan and she curses herself. ]