[ He was planning to let her straddle his lap, the way he did in the tub. But there'll be enough opportunities for that. In many ways, this meandering, leisurely dance -- not building yet toward anything -- should be disconcerting. But the final act is always the buzzkill, where Hei shutters himself off and the doubt returns. He's in no hurry to get there. ]
[ When she makes that nonchalant admission -- something he's already guessed but never cared to confirm -- there's a tiny jolt of deja vu. Not at her words, but the abysmal naivety of them. This whole scenario is hopeless and strange but in a way that's not wholly different from how 17-year-old Hei was with Amber. The offhand secrets whispered in the dark, heads on the same roll of bedding -- words in the spirit of The only person I've done X or Y with is you. The verbal and physical fireworks that were half-display, half-contest -- You're not as tough as you think you are and I can do better. ]
[ It makes Hei uncomfortable, like he's been saddled with goods billed as too pricey for him to afford. He wants to say You'll see plenty of others but that's cruel, even if it's true. Instead with a press of his palm and a little maneuvering, he pins her flat on the mattress. Arched over her, he regards her from under half-lidded eyes. It's not a seductive gaze; it's assessing, his knees bracketing her body, hands splayed right above her shoulders before he pitches forward to kiss her. ]
[ It's not for him, the kind of things other people would say in these moments: I'll share my secrets if you share yours. Not anymore. ]
action;
[ When she makes that nonchalant admission -- something he's already guessed but never cared to confirm -- there's a tiny jolt of deja vu. Not at her words, but the abysmal naivety of them. This whole scenario is hopeless and strange but in a way that's not wholly different from how 17-year-old Hei was with Amber. The offhand secrets whispered in the dark, heads on the same roll of bedding -- words in the spirit of The only person I've done X or Y with is you. The verbal and physical fireworks that were half-display, half-contest -- You're not as tough as you think you are and I can do better. ]
[ It makes Hei uncomfortable, like he's been saddled with goods billed as too pricey for him to afford. He wants to say You'll see plenty of others but that's cruel, even if it's true. Instead with a press of his palm and a little maneuvering, he pins her flat on the mattress. Arched over her, he regards her from under half-lidded eyes. It's not a seductive gaze; it's assessing, his knees bracketing her body, hands splayed right above her shoulders before he pitches forward to kiss her. ]
[ It's not for him, the kind of things other people would say in these moments: I'll share my secrets if you share yours. Not anymore. ]