[ it's not a shout, not a command, not some booming call of her name. it's quiet, despite his commitment to ensuring she can hear the two syllables of her name, the deep warning of his voice. he knows he can shout it at her, scream it at her, and she won't listen to him, ignoring him to her heart's content as she sets her mind on the one thing he'd drawn her attention to. ]
[ he still tries, though, as if he expects she'll have mercy for him, or even feel a slip of empathy. he doesn't have it in him to distract her, or to even roll them again so her head's lost spinning from the shift of his weight from where he presses against her. ]
[ but it's hard to really focus on trying to sabotage any of her attempts to tickle him when she laughs. he rests his weight on one arm, lying that on his bed near her, and lifts his other hand to brush his fingers against her cheeks, letting his thumb trace the upward curve of her bottom lip. ]
no subject
[ it's not a shout, not a command, not some booming call of her name. it's quiet, despite his commitment to ensuring she can hear the two syllables of her name, the deep warning of his voice. he knows he can shout it at her, scream it at her, and she won't listen to him, ignoring him to her heart's content as she sets her mind on the one thing he'd drawn her attention to. ]
[ he still tries, though, as if he expects she'll have mercy for him, or even feel a slip of empathy. he doesn't have it in him to distract her, or to even roll them again so her head's lost spinning from the shift of his weight from where he presses against her. ]
[ but it's hard to really focus on trying to sabotage any of her attempts to tickle him when she laughs. he rests his weight on one arm, lying that on his bed near her, and lifts his other hand to brush his fingers against her cheeks, letting his thumb trace the upward curve of her bottom lip. ]