The words themselves are something he swore he would never hear again, after everything he has been through. Especially after he lost Cristina. A moment of holding her in his arms as she died, a reminder that everything that he cares for will perish, so long as he lives and breathes and continues on the path he has for so long.
A part of him withered that day, and he has never forgotten that.
But here, in this space, in the quiet, there is something welcoming found in just the two of them, the closeness of everything that they are. He doesn't find it often, and when he does, it tends to last for forever and never long enough.
So when Hawke speaks, his first reaction is surprise, one he does not completely know how to react to. You make me happy. He freezes, if only slightly, and suddenly she's moving and her mouth is on his and madre del dio this is where he should be kissing back but his body can't respond because he can't get over the words she's just said. It's like being stuck in a horrible point in time, knowing you should do so much more than you are, but you feel as if every part of you is numb and unable to respond when it needs to.
And just as he's able to respond decently, she pulls away, and he's worried he's offended her. But the look in her eyes only ask if that was all right for her to do, if she had chosen wisely. Inwardly, he panics, thinking he's missed it, made things worse- but no, no, he's not... he won't let it end just like this.]
Hawke...
[His eyes are gentle, a bit surprised, but kind. The gesture was not unwanted.
No, if anything, it was wanted more.
Less than a second later his hands slip out of hers and wrap right around to her back, pulling her closer, making their entire space as intimate as possible, just them and the heat that sets between them as the seconds tick by. His arms rest on her hips and he is perhaps far more forward as he kisses her back, passionate and with fire, mouth on hers like he is drowning, depending on her for air. For all he knows, he probably is.
He's a good speaker, most of the time. For many things, words come to him easily. But sometimes actions speak far better than words, and he hopes his own gesture, his own way of returning what she means to him, can be seen in how he holds her, responds and simply stays with her, right where they are.
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The words themselves are something he swore he would never hear again, after everything he has been through. Especially after he lost Cristina. A moment of holding her in his arms as she died, a reminder that everything that he cares for will perish, so long as he lives and breathes and continues on the path he has for so long.
A part of him withered that day, and he has never forgotten that.
But here, in this space, in the quiet, there is something welcoming found in just the two of them, the closeness of everything that they are. He doesn't find it often, and when he does, it tends to last for forever and never long enough.
So when Hawke speaks, his first reaction is surprise, one he does not completely know how to react to. You make me happy. He freezes, if only slightly, and suddenly she's moving and her mouth is on his and madre del dio this is where he should be kissing back but his body can't respond because he can't get over the words she's just said. It's like being stuck in a horrible point in time, knowing you should do so much more than you are, but you feel as if every part of you is numb and unable to respond when it needs to.
And just as he's able to respond decently, she pulls away, and he's worried he's offended her. But the look in her eyes only ask if that was all right for her to do, if she had chosen wisely. Inwardly, he panics, thinking he's missed it, made things worse- but no, no, he's not... he won't let it end just like this.]
Hawke...
[His eyes are gentle, a bit surprised, but kind. The gesture was not unwanted.
No, if anything, it was wanted more.
Less than a second later his hands slip out of hers and wrap right around to her back, pulling her closer, making their entire space as intimate as possible, just them and the heat that sets between them as the seconds tick by. His arms rest on her hips and he is perhaps far more forward as he kisses her back, passionate and with fire, mouth on hers like he is drowning, depending on her for air. For all he knows, he probably is.
He's a good speaker, most of the time. For many things, words come to him easily. But sometimes actions speak far better than words, and he hopes his own gesture, his own way of returning what she means to him, can be seen in how he holds her, responds and simply stays with her, right where they are.
You make me happy, far more than I can ever say.]