A Linguist's Studies (Request to join; T for caution... oh and Teen)

The meister eased forwards, letting his forehead rest gently against hers. The war drums were quickening in his chest, their beat growing louder as adrenaline circulated through his system. Breathing came in small, labored bursts, warm against her lips. "I'm at a loss, admittedly. I'm not particularly good at this, so ah...how about I just give you a kiss and if you don't like it, you can give it back?"

Both brows raised in an instant, the sheer amount of 'I'm impressed' bleeding through her expression and into her spreading blush. Saying not a word, throat going dry, she merely offered a nod, out of practice and easing back into the game.

Muscles coiled to steady the growing tremble in Harrison's fingers as he tipped her chin just slightly. Silence hung in the room like a tapestry, making the inches between their lips seem like a mile. His head dipped, eyes fluttering closed as the meister carefully, gently pressed his lips to hers.

She allowed the tension in her muscle to coil and relax, falling slack and serene beneath the tender, bare touch. With a slightly audible sigh, she tilted her chin further, meeting his lips willingly as fire lit up her face and sparked her soul.

Tension unwound from the meister's muscles like a snapped cable, shoulders slacking as he leaned into the kiss. His lips moved with a tentative fervor, as though he was withholding his need to explore her lips with unrestrained intimacy.

She pressed into him, leaning towards the man as she fought to keep her hands to herself, unsure. Unsure was she of how he might react, where this might go, what he might want. But, oh, heaven willing, she'd see it as far as he'd desire, heart hammering, face flushing, familiarity and newness coursing through her with a renewing vigor meeting every breath.

Lips moved without thought as the meister fought body and mind, his restraint a dinghy battered about in a hurricane. Passion and pursuit were often-neglected topics, sheltered behind all manner of subconscious barrier within him. Romance and charm were often out of reach and so, he had resolved to simply ignore them. That was before this. Before her. In this moment, as he tasted the lingering traces of a pina colada on her lips, as he breathed in the scent of faded books that clung to her skin, he could feel himself tearing down those barriers as quickly as he was able. Tentative hands found her waist, arms curling around her to lift her onto his lap. Slowly, carefully, the walls within his soul were bowing and breaking beneath the weight of the woman before him. Slowly, carefully, he was unraveling.

The passion and boldness of her actions surprised her, the quickness of escalation. Feeling his muscles ripple beneath the surface of his skin, lifting and moving her. She found herself flushing further. Emboldened, though, she pressed closer, slowly snaking her hands up his chest, careful to avoid the bandages as she slid them over his shoulders and around his neck, fingers tangling into his hair. She felt her breath quicken, the cackle of fire the only hint of anything outside this little pocket world they created. She was scared, scared of being hurt, of where things might go... But she was a sword nonetheless, and that strength was what held her together in this moment.

Strong hands moved with uncertain intent, as though they knew what they wanted, but did not know if they could have it. Fingers calloused by hundreds of books trailed lazily across her back, dragging lightly as they descended. Eager lips danced with hers, trembling beneath the weight of release, speaking novels in ways his words never would.

Her face flushed but she let him did as he pleased, remaining hesitant, keeping herself in as much control as could be managed. All the while, she allowed him to adjust to what seemed to be things more out of his element than in. Evelyn's lips danced with his, her fingers careful in his hair. Nonetheless, she restrained.

He withdrew quietly, lips shaking as his head fell into the crease of her neck. For a moment, the meister sat motionless, inhaling the scent clinging to her skin as he gently wove his lips along her shoulder. Over and again, the moved against her, following an unspoken trail along her neck like a pattern of migration.