Rained In | Locked to ablademaiden

[twelfth_labour]

[Rain isn't a issue underground. Those who live there don't have reason to carry umbrellas or carry rain coats, the weather in its lacking course remains the same under the gray ceiling of metal and concrete. Heine doesn't have reason to go up top often and more often than not it's due to work he's up there at all. Such is the case this time, a job of Liza's that was more presence than action for some meeting he isn't certain had anything to do with the underground districts.

He went regardless and took it as an opportunity to take Naoto with him. Below ground they kept to dark corners and empty rooms for their budding relationship, the sort that has stumbles and careful wording. They've gotten closer than ever atop the shimmering feelings he kept down. He hadn't accounted for the weather however, the idea of grabbing the bike and a bottle on some semblance of a normal date.

Instead they got wet, head and shoulders at worst, making the eventful plan fall flat. He got them to a dry place, the safe house belonging to a friend of a friend of Liza's. He'd been there before, the bike isn't far from the place putting it all in a close proximity. It doesn't matter now he laments jamming the hidden key into the door to get them inside.

Once in, the door is locked back up and search for a towel is taken. It's found, two grabbed to dry his hair and to give one to her. The good intention goes awry when he comes back from the bathroom to find her in wait, dark hair limp and framing her face. Her shoulders are pulled in from chill he suspects, rain having weighed the top of her jacket. At least the rest of her isn't wet, though cold, he thinks stepping closer before handing her a towel.]

It's not what I planned, but we are getting some time together. [His tone dips into happy, a thin warm smile that's almost strange on his pale face. The fact he's staring at her face isn't hidden, not that he's trying to or wanting her to notice, but he finds appeal in the dampness of her hair.

Comments

[ablademaiden]

[ Normal, a word not often used in eithers vocabulary. To go along with him on endeavors handed out to him, there's nothing new there. Countless times they had been each others company, countless more to come in the future as well. Not set in stone, anything capable of changing, but likely.

Being inside, it's warmer. Rain having fallen from out of nowhere, kissing skin and the top of her head to the point of being wet. Better than being drenched, soaked to the bone. Just chilled for now, cheeks rosy and pink. He's in the same boat, at least, somewhat comforting to know. ]

You planned this? Here I thought this was just another one of Miss Liza's jobs.

[ Words teasing, a smile touches her lips, fingers taking the towel. Like a cloak, the towel drapes around small shoulders, wrapping her in its warmth. A shiver to her figure, fingers pull the towel around tighter.

Regardless of plans, she doesn't mind. Being here with him, despite the rain and the chill to kiss her skin, it's what matters in the end. She smiles, thinking how over time he's drifted into her thoughts on more than one occasion; life still remaining full of surprises.

A touch of her towel, she dabs at her cheek, aware of his staring, so she decides to break the bit of silence. ]

Let me guess. Pitiful?

[ Cheek rubs against the towel she pulls up, smile tugging at her lips, soft as it is. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[Plans are rare to follow the original intent. What was a day planned on a past venture went down the drain with rain, a shortcoming he didn't think of and was preferred over other circumstances. Work or conflict didn't ruin plans, the weather did, and to that it's some small blessing he supposes leaving them to enjoy things in a different way than thought.

It's still time spent together. He can't take events too hard knowing this. His head shakes fast, answering and dispensing water in one act.] Some of it. The job was real though.

[The part about taking a bike ride and grabbing a bottle are left out. It's for the best the surprise never surfaced should he try again. The towel is ruffled into his hair and eyes locked to her face picking up on the faint pink form chill and rain; a sight he wishes to memorize.

He isn't called out on it exactly, her guess off although his staring noted. Hands stop rubbing the towel against his head letting it fall around his neck, white hair drier though not dried.]

Not what I was thinking. You're less drenched today, so no, not pitiful. [His thoughts hold on cute, a word he's hesitant to use and uncertain if that's how he sees her in the lighting of damp hair and a soft smile.]

[ablademaiden]

[ Not pitiful, he says. She'll take it and with a smile. She'll also take the warmth of being inside, not drenched nor stuck in the rain. Not the first and not the last if it were so, though she prefers this entirely, especially with him.

Rendered useless for the time, her katana slings off her shoulder, dropping to the ground and put aside. Blades remain hidden within the confines of her jacket and dress, their length here being undecided, so she leaves them for now.

Brush of warmth to her skin, eyes wander back over to him and catch the towel around his shoulders. There's a feeling, one inside of her, unable to really make much sense of and yet, she finds herself reaching out towards him, both hands.

It's an act she's careful with, brief hesitation, fingers bringing his towel up and caressing at his head. Bite to her lip, a caress of fingers tucked beneath a towel to his temple, water brushed away. A desire to touch him, be near him, brush droplets of water away. ]

Then what were you thinking? [ Voice soft, gaze flickering up to him, eyes curious for more than one reason. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[Few things are more pitiful than a wet stray dog and none of them are evident on her at the moment. The wet hair is charming, it's a better word than cute he decides, and they'll soon warm up and dry off. Least she might given his lack of care to towel dry his hair.

His belt and holsters stick around, hands to his sides, and eyes diverting from hers to survey the safe house. It pays off, a few bottles set on a shelf that appear full seen from the corner of his eyes. She to is seen stepping closer and then next to him without reaction. The lift of the towel does lift his eyebrows, cloth against his cheek for a spot missed.]

How you looked. [How goes without saying. Embarrassment isn't sewing his mouth shut, uncertainty is on what to say. Action as usual is better for him, the hesitation in placing his hand about her waist is limited. They've touched before, sometimes spanning into hours, yet there's a reservation that he can't shake from the years of being afraid to touch a woman at all.]

You're hair looks good wet. [Good is a tame word, one he's fine with using and affirming by taking a another look at her bangs.] I saw some bottle, might be something here worth drinking. [The day is without the bike, but bottle and company are still present and that's more than he can ask for.]

[ablademaiden]

[ Touch gentle, it's how she always is with him. Words gentle, when he's not annoyed her. Thoughts gentle, when he's been away from her. Touch gentle, when he's right there with her. Hesitation oftentimes fleeting, not just for him but for herself as well. Moments where she wonders what she is, she hesitates over everything about herself, including with him.

His words cause her gaze to flutter from towel to his eyes, smile soft but appreciative of his compliment. He makes her feel like she's human, not some double, her own self.

The hand to her waist draws a pause. It's nothing new, she finds it comforting and fingers brush the towel down his cheek while mention of a bottle falls onto her ears. ]

That's one way to warm up, isn't it?

[ Gently, the towel ruffles against his hair, a quiet laugh falling from her lips. Her own slips off her shoulders, her jacket following next, strap of her dress falling down a shoulder. ]

At least we have shelter this time. [ Fingers pluck at the towel she let go, attempting to dry her damp hair some again. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[How they are to each other comes at a contrast to the world around them. Tender when the everything else is relentless, a fragment of innocence in a world jaded. Touches and words alike are tender at times like these when their inhuman heritage is left at the door and their need for affection take its place. He's a different person, a loose hold on smiles and softened eyes that fit right in without something normal. It's their normal, the actual normal stolen if for just a moment.

It's no attempt to improve for attitude, to Heine the Naoto in front of him is the only one. There are no copies or replacements, none to what he sees as an original of her own working. They must look ridiculous he thinks standing there in the middle of a living space smiling and patting towels against cheeks.]

Could be. [Meaning it will be. The wild layout of his hair is worsened by the continual ruffling, not that he minds or points this out. He's too enamored with watching her jacket slide off revealing her arms and shoulders, less confinement of a body he looks upon with no secret.]

Not it's intentional use, but it's safe and cozy. [The comment is dry, his shoulders rolling as he leaves her to drying her hair further. The bottle is the aim of his desertion, glasses considered and forgotten on the way back.] Didn't think we'd need glasses or ice this time.

[ablademaiden]

[ This was the best her hair would get, from the looks of it. Not that it needs to be much of anything. It's only them, no other eyes in the room. A smile, recalling the time he told her she didn't need to impress him; she's never tried to and isn't about to start now.

No glasses, no ice, no problem. They would manage. Sharing from a bottle before, not the first time, not the last. It might warm them some, not too much, but enough. At the very least, something to taste on the tongue in the form of a liquid, filling the stomach with a bit of something.

Towel forgotten, a finger pulls her strap back up her shoulder, attention turning to the bottle. She's not hungry, so the drink will do for now. ]

Safe and cozy. [ A smile at his words, endearing in a sort of way and eyes flick their gaze over to him and his tousled hair. She stops, stares, smiles then. He looks a little on the ridiculous side but also, yes, endearing. ]

You know, that hair really works for you.

[ A bit of teasing, dropping herself down onto the nearest chair, legs stretching out, waiting for the drink. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[Hair that doesn't look bad under any lighting. It's a far cry from his earlier comments on her pitiful looks when wet, but now and even then he's found the freshly wet hair look on her appealing. It softens her features further and somehow strikes her as more human than he already sees her as.

Sharing a bottle is no big step. They did well before seeing each other as more, the bottle just another thing shared. Bodies for warmth and lips in need has been to, both he's found himself drunker from than any drink.

Action more than what draws his eyes to her strap. Her voice refocuses him and the bottle is given over after she takes a seat.]

Yea, I'll bet. [The smile says otherwise, his jacket coming off leaving him in a short sleeve shirt. Even his holsters are undone and left to a table, his boots next after a bit of work. Pale fingers paw at his hair to straighten the best no mirror can and then he's sitting next to her close with a soft sigh.]

So, is this what normal people do?

[ablademaiden]

[ Her own boots follow after his. First one, then the other, dropped and pushed aside. Bottle in one hand, the other begins the slow task of removing hidden blades. They're comfortable, never in the way, but never too far from her. just how she likes them to be.

One, two, three, four drop, set aside on the nearby table. She has no need for them now and it doesn't look like she will for awhile. Instead, a twist of fingers to the bottle's cap is given, an indulgence in a sip is what she gives into. ]

You ask me like I would know.

[ Words teasing, it's not far from the truth. Normal is not what either of them or their lifestyles are. Something they've been over before, something they both agree on, something they both might never understand fully.

Bottle held out for him to take next, fingers find their way in his hair, combing through it, an attempt to help him fix it. Slowly, softly, she smiles to him while fingers tend to unruly hair, then drops her forehead against his cheek. A nuzzle, soft as it is fleeting, pulling back moments later to have that better look at him and comb fingers through his hair again. ]

But you make me feel normal.

[twelfth_labour]

[Among her talents, how she can keep blades hidden on her person that well is a high ranking one. It's not a traditional thought to have toward a crush and it isn't the only one he has either. Yet traditional is another word for normal, the very thing they aren't. Finding her rhythmic movements in battles a sight to behold isn't normal, but it's astonishing nonetheless to Heine.

She's fluid in everything by intention or not. He doesn't know if it's a purposeful act, he's noted it before he fell for her so it's nothing done just for him. With hidden weapons gone, there's no reason to not pull in closer and he does.]

It sounds like a compliment.

[He doesn't get a sip in and her hands are on him raking through his hair. Instinctively he finds himself leaning toward her hands like a dog to their master's pet. Fix is a relative point of view toward his hair which tends to run on the flattened or spike end of the spectrum.

The feel of her forehead to his cheek is missed as it leaves. She's warm despite the rain, his eyes darting over to catch hers in wonder of her actions. It's his hair, still, a soft exhaled laugh at her persistence in taming the untamed.]

Taking a liking to my hair?

[ablademaiden]

[ She smiles as he lets her play with his hair. A poor attempt to fix the unruly mess, more of a reason to touch him than to fix the mess that sits atop his head. It's easier now, little by little, to touch him in ways most women can't, most women won't. Hesitation still at times, she feels none for the time being. ]

It's different, like you. Like me.

[ Different is what they will always be, always remain, til the day they die. A morbid thought, fleeting as it is, holds truth in ways she chooses not to dwell on too much right now. It's not important, doesn't matter, so she lets it slip away from her.

Fingers untangle from strands, dropping to his cheek instead. A soft caress, the pads of her fingers memorize him for moments when they are apart, when she might lose control of herself. Gaze faraway, she comes back, fingers curling into a fist against his shoulder instead.

Gentle movements, her body turns into his, her other arm wrapping around his back. Face presses to his neck, disappearing within his warmth. ]

You make me feel safe.

[twelfth_labour]

[Ulterior motives are picked up on when her hands stick around for longer than it ought to take to fix his hair. He doesn't mind, he makes no gesture or noise to say he does either leaving her to do as pleased. She can, her touches welcome unlike any other's. Nill while precious to him doesn't have the same touch when holding his face in listening, she's of her own specialness as Naoto is to her own.]

That's not a bad thing. I like different.

[He likes her, no shortage of cheesy line he misses in saying what crops up on mind. It's never on purpose, he speaks easier around her no longer having to choose his words wisely. There are times and places it doesn't apply, but alone and basking in normality is a point he doesn't think hard on what to say to her.

A soft hum comes at the gentle pass at his cheek. His hand rest about her hip with bottle, the other rising to take hers in pressing to his cheek. He's happy here, like this, his eyes closing and breathing slowing.]

Only because you made me feel so first.

[ablademaiden]

[ A debate she doesn't bother to get into; who felt what first. Truthfully, it doesn't matter, she figures not to him either. She felt first, wonderful. He felt first, wonderful. The firsts for budding feelings doesn't matter as much as other firsts do. It's why she doesn't dwell on it or ask for specifics with when or why he felt what he felt.

She smiles, though it's hidden against his neck. Something to be said for making him feel such a way. Times when she never thought she would be capable of making him feel something such as safe. She would never blame him for not, his past as mysterious and tortured as her own. He has his reasons, as she has hers. Yet here they are, like this, together, somehow.

Fingers caress along his back briefly, listening to the rain outside, then she shifts within his warmth. Here with him, it's just them. No jobs, no tortured pasts, no fights for survival, just them. A moment that will only become a memory as many others shared between them have become.

Knowing that, fingers brush against his cheek, lips pressing against his own then for a kiss. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[A pointless debate at that, it doesn't matter who did what first in regards to their relationship. It's the present feelings are of any care and anomaly for the man who once didn't concern himself with the future. He can't say it doesn't anymore when there's a person he wants to share it with. His breakneck behavior hasn't declined in battle, at points it's worse in a misguided want to better protect her when she is very capable on her own.

Being in tranquility with her face against his neck is evidence of how safe he feels with her. The bandages and scarred tissue under them are a place of scrutiny, the marks of things wronged and lost, and home to the persistent voice that calls him master. It's quiet, retreated into whatever hole it waits when he's a good state; a safe state with no worry of losing mind.

His shoulder blades rise at the trickling of fingers down his back. No trespasses, no threat of losing control, just them. It's cherished in the present and desired in the future, a force giving him reason to continue on against what fate has pull against him.

The bottle sinks in his hand and his other falls from hers to take her shoulder. Kissing her is electrifying sending his heart into a quickened pace. Thumb first the hand to her shoulder rises cupping behind her head to press them closer, tender lips firmer in hold and taking taste.]

[ablademaiden]

[ Moments such as these prove to be easy to lose oneself in. His touch, his taste, his way with her, all of it addicting in ways she's never felt before. He cares, she can feel it, words are never needed with him. They're nice to hear, of course, but the way he is with her is more than obvious.

This moment alone, hiding from the rain, it's one to take advantage of. Few and far between these moments can be, body leaning into his more, seemingly on its own; she wants to be closer.

A shift in movement, his lap is what she desires and so she crawls her way into it, lips seeking his out still. To be swept up in everything she feels with him, it's easy. Always is and she doesn't mind. Fingers to his cheeks, she pulls him in, kiss deepening in ways that slip past tender.

The desire to touch him, to taste him, to feel him, it grows with every passing second together. A soft moan slips past her lips, brushing against his, colour touching her cheeks briefly. Slight embarrassment, a shaky laugh, fingers caressing his skin. This is all she needs; him. ]

It's a good thing you found this place. I might not be able to do any of this if you hadn't.

[twelfth_labour]

[Any other point in time he wants himself in control. Not here though, not with her. It's a safe place to let go and get lost amid the soft touches and kisses. He doesn't concern himself with losing control so much as giving it away to the moment with her. It's intoxicating, more than the bottle's contents that's slipped from his hand to the floor. The weighted bottom prevents it from falling over, nothing lost but an object once in his hand.

He's fine with losing it seeing how something better tasting is at his lips. The additional weight in his lap opens his eyes from their narrow state, both hands reaching for her shoulder blades. Heat is rising, the metaphorical sort that dwells in his chest and stomach when it's been too long since touching; a feeling that's become commonplace because it's always too long.

Then she moans, a soft release, and everything takes on a new tint. How her cheeks are flush and the weak laugh feeding the notion right along. They've been here before, emotions taking over and losing each other in the other; but it's never really gotten too far. He dismisses it and answers low from his throat.]

Then it's good it rained. Otherwise I wouldn't have gotten you like this.

[He brings his lips back with a bated breath and faded pink cheeks. Blood and thoughts are circulating at a rapid speed, ones he's unable to brush off the more she stays on him and meets his lips.]

Naoto... we're moving... fast. [It's not opposed, yet it's new to come to this point this sudden.] It's good, really good. I've missed this, missed you.

[ablademaiden]

[ Always so careful when it comes to losing themselves in each other, this comes as no surprise to either of them. Yet it is at the same time.

Her name on his lips makes her feel things she doesn't with anyone else. She likes it, how he makes her feel, how he treats her when it's just the two of them. Skin feeling warm with every touch he gives her, hair still damp, strap of her dress falling off her shoulder. She has no intention of moving from his lap, not yet, fingers exploring his skin. ]

I've missed you, too.

[ A quiet admission, lips seek his for another shared kiss. Brushing down, fingers touch at the collar around his neck, reminding her of how different he is, how difficult things can be for him, how careful she wants to be with him. She trusts him, no denying that. Yet always in the back of the mind, a need to be cautious, just in case.

The collar doesn't repulse her. She wonders, how it is for him, free from such physical shackles herself but not from emotional ones; he isn't either.

She drifts away from those thoughts, fingers guiding him closer, lips deepening their kiss again. Their pasts don't matter when they're like this, when it's just them. For the moment, it feels normal, to be here with him and enjoy him in ways normal people enjoy their other. And she does enjoy him, his company, his presence, his trust, his care. All of it. Lips brush kisses along his cheek and face, hoping to convey how much he means to her. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[Surprises are still had. This budding relationship proved a strong one, a wave of realization there was more to them than comrades and the other side of a pact.

Her name is spoken little, though not for the disfavor of how it sounds. It's the opposite, he doesn't want her name spoiled by being uttered too often. Names are proper, used when something actions can't articulate and needs to come across clear. It's a good name, it has good meaning; hardly ironic because it suits her well being the honest blade.

Hours accumulate in the distance spent apart. It becomes days and the distance greater by the different measurement of time. They aren't apart much anymore be it work or otherwise, whatever fate they are played by saw it fit to put them together in same space. Maybe it's not fate and instead a means to oppose it. He doesn't dwell on the why seeing how well things progressed and fit.

Muscles throughout his body tense and his actions hesitate. The unease last less than a second and he's back in sound mind and body. Even to her touch, his collar still proves oversensitive. He's told her it's of no fault her own when his body tenses and her acts in consoling more than cover the unintentional episode.

He breaths in better pace settling into the pattern of kisses. When she moves from his lips to his cheek, he stills himself to better opportunity for her. His hands however fall lower on her body to the dip in her back to hold.]

[ablademaiden]

[ If somehow there was a way to erase any and all pains from their past. The presence of the other and moments like this seem to be the closest thing to it. A solution by no means, temporary to make them feel normal.

Gentle touches, soft murmurs of having missed him, having him here like this is not as common as either would like. Hands at her lower back, a smile comes, brushing against his cheek. To be held is nice, though skin craves for for his touch, jealous of her dress feeling such a thing, shifting some in his lap then.

Hands slip back, taking his own in hers, guiding them up and under the back of her dress to instead rest on her lower back beneath the material. A bite to her lip, nose pressed to his cheek, she sighs at the feeling of his skin against hers. It's warm in ways she can't explain, finding herself drawn to it, missing it when he's away at times. ]

I like feeling you.

[ A murmur of words, soft to the point of shy, a nuzzle to his cheek while fingers trace over his arms. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[It's an indulgence on his part, some relief from the constant reminders of the past on his mind. She lets him forget, not in distraction, but in some prospect of the future. The possibility of one where there was not no so long ago.

Soft fabric is no replacement for skin, his fingers dipping to her back and rising bunching up her dress. He's aware of the line he's walking on. The one against his mind and the other in progressively touching her more intimately. A laugh bubbles from his chest, but dies before hitting his lips. The situations isn't funny by no means. He's happy however, very happy as shown by the staying smile.]

Is that feeling or being felt?

[Both are pleasant in any amount. Shoulders sink in following the trace of his fingers. With her face to his cheek, he leans in further kissing between her neck and dress strap. Hands sink lower to the line above her waist and drift back up starting a pattern of rubbing about her back.]

I could go for feeling of you more.

[There's little guise in his desire, it's been gnawing at him since they started.]

[ablademaiden]

[ His touch is unlike anything else. She adores it, misses it when he's away, melts into it when they're like this. She needs him, in ways she never thought she would. About as close to normal as it may get for them, she feels like she's herself and not someone else. Somehow, he makes her feel this way.

A smile at his words, a fleeting moment of embarrassment on her part. Nothing ridiculous said and yet she can't help it. Nice to hear, that he wants to feel her, regardless of scars on her skin, even those beneath it.

Hand lifting, fingers stroke along his other cheek, close to him still in his lap. ]

Then feel me.

[ Soft words, tongue swipes over her lips. This dance of theirs leading to areas they haven't yet explored together but neither seem to really be stopping.

A moment to pause, fingers turn his face toward her, lips seeking his out. A kiss then, soft and slow, an attempt to draw as much of him into her as she can, as he's willing to give her.

Dropping from his cheek, fingers take to his shirt instead, twisting within the material of it, giving a light tug. She becomes lost in their kiss, slipping into him in ways she never quite has before. Yet it doesn't scare her, doesn't concern her. She trusts him and his touch. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[Calling her touch special comes off cliche, however in his case he has reason to believe it really is. She has the ability to touch him foremost and how it spreads small fires across his skin in moments like this is wholly unique to her. No other woman is capable of doing so or slipping into his mind often as she does in thoughts of affection and desire.

He didn't think it possible to yearn for a woman. With his reactions it made him come to terms with living a life of solidarity, and yet here they are with her in his lap telling him to feel her. He wants to touch her and in turn be touched.

All this want and need make him feel human. They're human needs, nothing a monster or beast needs to survive, so only a human could have them. Fingers pick at her dress during their extended kiss, lips tender from the repeated efforts. Dizziness is an issue at times, breathing forgone for kissing and well worth the exchange.

It eventually wins, or ties, his lips bracing hers to breath and speak.]

Are you okay with this? [Concern more than timidness. They've cut close to more intimate things than kissing and touching, this however is far in and doesn't seem slowing. Both have needed to stop, their past overwhelming and partners understanding. Neither are there now, he wants to continue so long she does as well.]

[ablademaiden]

[ Broken kiss, words filter into her mind after the haze breaks apart. Somehow, he's easy to become lost in, a thought that should be scary. She can't seem to be, not anymore. Before, all of this, it was. But she doesn't shy from it now, hasn't for awhile.

Fingers play with the material between them, his shirt held hostage for now in her grasp. Skin warm, heart pounding, things she hasn't quite felt before bubble slowly to the surface. Intimacy is not something entirely new to them. But this is, where this will go, how it will end. And she's fine with that.

A nod given, a sheepish smile, gaze drops to her fingers twisted in his shirt. ]

If you're not sure- if you're worried.

[ She doesn't finish the sentence, she knows he'll understand. A touch of fingers against his cheek, she nuzzles at him, show of affection, show that she trusts him. ]

You make me feel human in ways I didn't think I could.

[ A smile, hands cup his face, slow and gentle. Dark eyes gaze into his own, brush of fingers over his forehead, lips pressing a tender kiss there after. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[Getting lost in one another is of high irony seeing how they've made oaths to return one another should one of them become lost. Amid each other getting lost isn't seen as a terrible thing. It's deliberate, part of what happens when they're around each other alone and long. Less than losing he thinks is how it's finding her and attempting to refresh the memory of what they have.

Clothing is becoming increasingly more of a hindrance. The idea it is becoming so isn't a scary one, he's come to terms that with these human wants and needs they were bound to become deeper. They have in bits and pieces when they weren't ready or uncertain how to carry on. Neither is putting a stop to them tonight, his hand tugging at her dress and ears on alert for a response.]

I'm glad I do. [Repeating the same line doesn't need passing. The feelings are the same, both in wanting to continue and being human. His forehead leans into her lips and arms pull back to set on the back of her arms.]

We might wanna- move. [Their current position doesn't give either a lot of movement, next to none for undressing. It'll be a slow process no matter where and constant curious looks to confirm this is still what is wanted.]

[ablademaiden]

[ To change locations was a good idea for what was to come. Decided on, more or less, the idea of turning back isn't a thought in her mind. She wants this, wants him, wants everything that comes with it and feeling human.

Fingers brushing down his cheeks, a smile to her lips, she nods at the suggestion to move and shifts. Unfamiliar with the place, she assumes there's a bedroom and a bed in it. That would be the ideal place for this.

There's a moment of reluctance to leave his lap. She feels cozy there, content. A moment later, she does, slipping off, dress falling around her thighs again. Hair no longer wet, still damp some. Not pitiful by any means this time around. ]

Have you ever... [ Words trail off, suddenly she's lost the nerve to ask. She wants to ask if he's ever done this before, sex. She hasn't, not with the way things are going between them. Never any time to when trying to figure out who you were and stay alive in a world that seemed to want you dead for simply existing.

As for what he has or hasn't done, she's not entirely sure, none of it truly being her business. But she still finds herself wanting to ask, curious, because she's curious about him, wanting to know more of him in various ways. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[Opportunities to stop or at the very least take a moment were there, they always have been, but he doesn't see much need for them this time. They've cut close several times and it seems like build up in hindsight, a taste for things to come when the right time rolled around. He just never though it'd of been in a safe house during a rain storm.

He supposes there's no better set up than this. They're in a safe house, a coincidence that they too feel safe with each other. The rain holds to a gentle background noise and thunder is absent. All of his senses are on higher alert to every movement or sound made as she shifts to lift off of him.

The wet hair isn't pitiful. It's endearing, though he isn't sure the same sight is shared on the matter. With her standing, he takes to moving and standing himself only to halt midway at her unfinished words. His mind completes the rest because it's really the sole thing that needs asking; has he ever done this before?]

No, this is- you are my first. [It's how it should be said. She is going to be his first, she's been his first in many regards. Had he not been of his own body and mind he'd seen their budding relationship as juvenile like a pair of love starved teenagers. It isn't, not by a long shot, they're not naive to the world in ways teenagers are. What they have is real, perhaps one of the few things he knows is real in a world of illusions.

The transition from sitting to standing it finished by wrapping arms around her waist and kissing her forehead. This took talking out he figured, uncertainty pounding at his chest against the want to do so.] This is all new for you to huh? [Has to be, she's in the same circumstances of never having time or need to do these things.]

[ablademaiden]

[ A sense of surprise comes over her at his answer. He hasn't indulged in desires of the flesh, neither has she. Uncertainty with what his answer would have been, she's unsure what she expected. It makes sense. Lives spent with tortured pasts, unanswered questions, bullets and carnage, left little time for anything else but surviving each day as it came.

The kiss to her forehead brings her back, out of her thoughts, into the present. Gaze drifting downwards, it settles on his chest. Hands lift, fingers touch at the material of his shirt, a loose hold on it.

It's the way he says she's his first that causes her to pause, to feel things she hasn't felt before; he's good at doing that to her. ]

Yeah. [ The answer is soft, simple, to the point. A slight shift, her head rests against his chest, wanting to feel his warmth around her, if even for a moment. ]

I've never wanted to before but with you... [ A soft sound, reminiscent of amusement, she smiles against his chest, fingers stroking idly at the material of his shirt.

Gaze lifts, his face being what she wants to see. A hand to his face, fingers caress his cheek, her own eyes looking to his red. A decision made then, she leans in to press her lips against his for a kiss. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[The extent of his phobia went toward women only, however he isn't fond of anyone's touch other than Nill's and present company. It's odd that the gender he's uncomfortable with contains the two people he is fine with touching on a regular basis, one of what goes beyond simple touching. Time and torture to held him back from considering the option despite offers made thinking it to take his edge off. It never was a good solution and despite the he finds himself less at ends with her.

He swallows in wait. The air has turned tense from what it was moments ago. There's more on his mind, her mind, and it's a large leap in what they've created with each other. He's ready if uncertain, but he isn't uncertain that he wants to go about this.]

Never saw the reason to. [He answers back. Living underground doesn't shed romantic light on sex. It's a business above all, so he took no care toward it bar that of saving Nill. Warmth spreads from where her head rest on his chest, his heart beating so fast he thinks she can feel it.

The state doesn't last, her face taking his in and then pulling in for another kiss. Her hands are remarkably soft for one who uses a blade, though no softer than her lips. Both hands rise higher in holding her to her lower back to pull her in further.]

We'll take things slow. [He promises pressing his lips back in and brushing his nose to hers.]

[ablademaiden]

[ Slow being a good idea, she can't argue with that. Something out of the norm for them, their lives bordering more on fast with how quickly things can change, hardly in their favor at times. Rain being used as an excuse for them to stay in, slow is more than acceptable.

His pull is becoming something she craves. She wonders if that might prove to be troublesome in the future. For now, it doesn't matter. This moment, precious as it seems to be, does. A moment she didn't think would come, always wondered, wanting it now that it's here.

A smile, gentle and sweet, the brush of his nose to hers draws a soft sound from her; a laugh. Something so simple seems to lift her heart, something she at times wonders is hers.

He makes her forget things like that. Whether or not she may be human, a double, a life not hers but merely a copy of someone elses. Things that at times have caused her to slip away from herself, disappear within her mind, struggling to piece together her identity and come back to the present. He makes her forget those thoughts, she wonders if he knows. ]

This place has a bed, right?

[ Teeth bite at her lower lip, inquiry more to break the silence between them. Reluctant, she pulls away, fingers releasing their hold on his shirt. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[Slow is a pace he's comfortable for when it came to her. They're going into unknown territory neither has an experience in. Guesses are all he has at best, the limited knowledge gathered from living about in the underground. Much of is useless once dug back up, but it's better they go in expecting nothing and learning together.

A different switch is flipped outside their moments alone. He cares, yet he doesn't let it overtake him and hurt the both of them. She's capable of handling herself and when the need comes, he'll offer his hand in helping. Pulling her to for a quick kiss isn't safe, not outside, though he's bitten his lip back from wanting to. It keeps them safe, that no public knowledge of their relationship is shared. No plans made against them by using them.

One day he hopes otherwise. It's a day on the horizon that gives him reason to consider a future, but for now it's kept in the confines of meetings and dark corners.

Her laughter is wonderful. Something that ought to come out more, be it jokes and loving gestures. It makes him forget a lot of things, makes them seem human in their time together.]

Several, but we just need on. [Releasing her is difficult, but it's for moving forward. Hands let go and she steps back from him giving him better sight of her body. Her curves are subtle from her chest to her legs, her face lit up and eyes too easy to get lost in. Going to one knee he takes the bottle and stands back up turning his head toward one of the bed rooms.]

Is that one alright? [It's a room with a bed, simple and plain, the colors all dim. It looks good, just right for them because it's only them that matters in greater scheme of things.] Shall we? [He offers his free hand and a soft smile to lead them.]

[ablademaiden]

[ Decor for the room not a priority, she nods in regards to the one he points out. Regardless of where they might be, so long as she's with him, it's fine. Fancy isn't a part of their lives as it is, no reason for it to start being so now.

The gentle smile and extend of hand to her, she smiles some after a brief pause. Upon her first meeting of him, she wasn't sure what to expect. No more than a simple brush past one another, where things are now, where they plan to go in moments, it's nothing she expected or would have thought. For him to be someone so precious to her, someone who ends up on her thoughts, it's startling at times, takes some getting use to.

Slender fingers take hold of his, intending to drift off to the bedroom with him. A striking thought, gaze drops, legs bringing her over to him. Inexperienced with all of this, she's been going with what feels right. This moment, it feels right albeit new. An edge is there, not fear of how he might be, how she could slip unexpectedly but something.

Still, they both remain cautious for their own reasons, that she knows, that she expects. ]

I feel like somehow Miss Liza would be saying this is being done about all wrong.

[ She mutters the words to fill the silence, soft and teasing almost as legs carry her towards the bed. She wonders what the old woman would think should she know of them, of such a notion of them together like this. Positive an outfit might have been suggested or tailored to have her look- better. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[The room isn't sparse, set trinkets and a dresser giving it a lived in look rather than a place of a safety. It's not much and looks eerily like his apartment for the lack of furniture pieces taking up space. He trivializes the thought having it as divided attention and resets his focus to her, theirs hands, and entering the room.

He sighs in a dull laugh at her assessment. Liza is one of the last things on his mind, not counting most of thoughts surrounding Naoto alone, so it comes to some surprise. A shake of his head indicates she's right, the older woman would have had them going at things far different if it'd been up to her. However it isn't, it's up to them, and he prefers it this way over fabricating events. What comes natural is how they've come this far, there isn't point in trying to control circumstances.]

She'd approve regardless.

[Outfits are far removed from the equation. Prettying up isn't a routine either follow. It doesn't come natural and is a pointless endeavor when they're bound to end up ruining clothing through combat or general wear and tear. She's lovely as she is, no amount of frills and lace is going to improve that.

The room is larger on the inside to his perception, Bottle to his hip and other hand in hers. Red eyes survey the room picking it apart from the simple bed and its faded pattern top to the worn dresser set against the corner, all white in some shade or another. A quick glance toward her is given to see her opinion on the room.]

Cozy enough? There are other rooms if this isn't- right.

[ablademaiden]

[ Miss Liza drifts in and out of her thoughts, silenced for good when she sees the room. She wonders if things like this are really taken into careful consideration by others. Things normal people do perhaps. His concern over the room's appearance she finds endearing some, small smile tugging at her lips as she looks around. Never entirely sure what to expect, she finds it's suitable and can't find anything wrong with it. ]

It looks fine.

[ There are no rose petals scattered, no pop of champagne, no romantic music nor moonlight pouring in through silk drapes. Nothing is romantic about the room, yet she finds it just right. Somehow, with how simple it is, it feels like them and she can't tear herself away from that feeling.

Should rose petals drift from the ceiling, she might feel uncomfortable in all honesty.

A swallow of a sigh, a glance is given to him, fingers tugging at his for a brief moment. No point in standing around when a room has been decided on, so feet carry her off towards the bed, stopping when she reaches it. ]

It's funny to say it but... you would think something like how a room looks doesn't matter as much as who it is you're with. At least it's how I'm feeling.

[ Words soft, almost shy in a way, teeth drag over her lower lip and she reaches forward to let fingers stroke along the top of the mattress; it's soft. ]

Maybe that's the human part of me talking.

[twelfth_labour]

[Romantic music and champagne would have been overdoing it given the humble manner Heine took their relationship. They didn't need rose petals or proper lighting, stealing away time from busy lives is romantic by its own right. When they can be alone without worry of gunfire or impending danger is nice, this better on account of having room and drink on top of things.

Besides, it isn't them. They aren't traditionally romantic or normal. The room isn't sterile however, there's some personality in what's occupying the room.]

No, that's just you talking.

[Calling to one's humanity shouldn't come across as complimenting and yet it does. The peculiarity of using the term in endearment isn't lost, he's sharp on the intake they're dance of tiny compliments hidden behind trivial wording is unusual. Better words are at disposal, but a lack of certainty withholds them from much use.

The gentle tug places them at the bed and mechanics aren't vivid in detail from this point to the next. It's all taking progression natural, mechanics at the back of his mind and the rest felt rather than thought.]

Should we- [The hand and bottle tip toward the bed, emotion overturning an idea and question exchanged for suggestion.] Sit back on the bed, just for a bit.

[ablademaiden]

[ Right or wrong doesn't seem to exist with this for them. Some might say otherwise, how to go about it all, but they're not here, just as well, too. So long as he is here, that he's the one with her, things will turn out as they do, regardless of what the majority might do.

A glance to him, words settling in, she complies, sitting on the edge of the bed. The thought comes to remove her boots, not much use here ont he bed, if only to get in the way. Fingers tug one of the zippers down, slowly, gaze wandering silently around the room. For as temporary as it is, it seems very them in a sense. She's not sure if that's amusing or a relief.

One boot off, the other follows shortly, dropped aside near the bed. Hands to the mattress, a push back, sliding further onto the bed and she can feel a sudden warmth come over her; she's sure it's noticeable to her skin.

A knee bent, other leg crooked, pillows lay near the headrest of the bed and she reaches out to touch one. ]

Well, at least it's comfy and not like sleeping on the floor.

[ A moment of small talk, bit of a smile to her lips, a glance to him. Little things that seem to make the moment more real to her, keep her grounded and in the present with him and not allow thoughts to drift too far off where she might end up lost. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[Emotions are a dangerous way to choice things by, yet he's inclined to follow them with they've proven better at leading than logic has. He's emotional to begin with, a more subdued type that feels before thinks when blood starts running. The faster his heart beats, the less logical he becomes is the furthest he's put thought in his inner workings and it tends to cut right there any ways.

He's fine with it, learned to deal with it, and maintain control above devolving into madness. That said she can drive him crazy by the most unintentional means. Abiding to his suggestion and slipping her boots off sets him closer, hand planted to the bed to lean him forward and take her lips.]

If you prefer that over this, I won't say no. [He chimes halfway between kidding and serious. Whatever makes her comfortable in progression because this is about her as it is for him, if not a bit more toward her sake in comfort. Bottle is set on the beside table to free his hands, purpose lost and presence a footnote in things coming.

The hand not holding him up places palm up in her lower leg sliding higher. It pauses only once dress is hit, her under thigh smooth under his finger tips and receiving a squeeze before slipping closer to her knee.] I want to touch you first. [It's planned so, the announcement a bit late given where his hand has been placed.]

[ablademaiden]

[ A joke to ease whatever tension might linger between them, she appreciates it, smile on her lips. The floor wouldn't be best for this, for now, some other time maybe but not for this. Surreal to feel everything drawing closer, including him. A time when this was next to impossible, the thought alone of him ever being so close to her. It was never one for some time. Things change, evidently, this relationship between them one of them.

His touch, it burns. Not in pain but in trembling desire. Touches like this, they're not what she's use to. Fleeting ones between them more common as of late but still something to grow use to, to be comfortable with, to know neither is about to slip up or off the deep end. Mind spinning already, somehow she's able to understand his words, piecing them together one at a time.

Because this is going to happen and it's something she never thought would. Not just with him but in general. Their lives not being open to such intimate desires and touches, yet here they are and she finds it all surreal. ]

You can touch me anywhere.

[ A swallow of words that hold nothing but the truth. She's warm, content, anxious, and eager. This moment one she has little to no experience with, jumping in head first. But he's there with her and somehow, that makes everything seem ok. Better.

He's not without attention, a hand cupping his cheek, thumb stroking against the skin, lip biting her lower one before she pulls him just that closer for another kiss. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[The floor couldn't have been any worse than sleeping on one of the church's pews, though sleep isn't what the choice pertained to. For the air to feel tense there's a use for humor in calming things to a point progressing doesn't become a trudge. Even with their emotional ways down, he takes care in what is said and more so what is done.

The usual singe wakes at the back of his neck, a dim burn from the center of the metal plate out through the scars on his neck. He's use to it, that adverse reaction to touching and being touched. It's become so dull he doesn't concern himself with it unless pain flairs higher. It hasn't yet between them, his caution strict about maintaining control in wake of everything.

Her answer places a knot in his throat and recenters his eyes in time to catch her face dipping in to kiss him. Kissing is hindering them in a funny way. Progression halting because kissing is desired, he of the same fault and cracking a smile at the realization. When breathing demands taking, he parts and presses his forehead to hers to nod.

Then he's moving, lips pressing along the top of her shoulder until they reach the string of her dress to uptake. The action is minute, a lift and fall placing the string closer to falling off her shoulder. In going to the other side he steals another kiss and draws in her lip for a tug. The other strap is moved in the same meticulous manner to loosen the dress about her body for future removal.]

[ablademaiden]

[ A moment between them to last for what feels like an eternity. Gentle, careful, caring. Every touch made to ensure safety for the other without pangs of discomfort clutching at either body. These moments, few as they have been, are often like this. For this, she's thankful, a desire to enjoy him and have him enjoy her as slowly as either will allow.

Emotions are easy to drown in, this moment being no exception to that. Regardless of self-control, of attempts to take things slow, all of that is liable to slip away at any given moment. To give into desire, slip into a hunger accompanied with dear sweet lust, neither are immune to such a thing, even if it's out of the norm for them.

Skin shivers to the touch of his fingers, aware of his curiosity to remove her dress starting with the straps. Scars of a past she can barely remember peek through the top of the dress and she wonders for a moment how he will react with being able to see it like this. This moment is different, softer, it makes her feel vulnerable and open to him in ways she's never felt with another. But there is trust, she has that for him and so she swallows thickly, teeth raking over her lower lip as straps fall down her arms.

To be fair, hands of her own reach out for his arms, wanting to touch him in ways she often can't when with the others. Their moments like this few, she wants to enjoy as much of him as he wants to enjoy her. Ghosting over his skin, finger tips trace along lines of muscles and she nuzzles at his cheek, tender kiss left behind. ]

Don't think I'll break. I'm not that fragile.

[ Words she mutters so close against his skin, conveying to him her own concerns regarding herself and how he might hesitate with her. Thoughts that even she has during this moment regarding him. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[Touching for the longest time didn't conjure of feelings of comfort and care. It took time to reshape his perception, Nill's gentle caresses at time he thought no woman could touch him. He never thought anyone to invade his daily life and be on the end of wanting to touch and returned back. It's a reassuring matter that even he can change with time.

The practiced habits of maintaining control are the same in lust and violence. He hates the implication that the two are related somehow. Only one stirs the hound at the back of his mind, the other pulls crude words instead. The need to hold control and restraint isn't as pressing here, they're giving in on their own terms so he doesn't deem it wrong when both parties are pulling for this.

The scar is missed. Rather he doesn't give it attention yet, the predominant feature painted across her chest is indeed difficult to miss. In terms of physical defects it's nothing. None of her skill or movement is hindered by the two strikes against her skin. Meaning is all that concerns him of her scars.

He halts curious of her actions, the rise of her hands and nuzzle telling that all is fine calming the bubbling persistent worry. They're words he doesn't smile or laugh to, fragility is a real worry. She is strong, but he's capable of being stronger; tender kisses pulling from drowning in said worry.]

I know. I want to be careful.

[He slips away from her shoulders to look at her eyes from his lowered position. It's but a second before he's back to running his hand up her leg in rising it higher on her body.]

[ablademaiden]

[ Measures of care he takes don't go unnoticed. Sweet, though she wouldn't use the word aloud, it calms her mind to know that he cares enough to want things slow, gentle, careful. So easy to throw caution to the wind, give in to carnal desires, allow the beast to take over in a manner of speaking. Not here, not now. Slow and tender to the point of making her feel vulnerable.

But she's safe, so she believes, with him. Should a shred of uncertainty dwell within her, this moment wouldn't be happening. Two figures with opposite mindsets for the most part, somehow, in this moment, fit together so carefully and tenderly in ways no one will ever know nor understand.

A wandering that finds its way up her leg sends shivers through her body, her own hand grasping at a bicep. Eyes fall shut, lips part, a gentle gasp spills from her lips. Touching and yet barely doing a thing at the same time. Anticipation for what's to come flooding not only her mind but her body as well. It shows with how it responds to his touches and seems to yearn for more.

Pads of fingers brush over pale skin and eyes flutter open, slowly. Body warm, mouth dry, mind slowly spinning into a haze. She wonders if he notices how he makes her react, makes her feel. He must, she thinks, he's not blind. ]

If I ever need to warm up from the rain again, just touch me, ok?

[ A gentle smile, shy almost, words softly spoken to convey how he makes her feel in this moment. ]

[twelfth_labour]

[Of the instincts embedded in him, he is divided on how natural concern is compared to his blood thirsty tendencies at arms width of breaking into. They're more natural, he's cared longer than he's wanted violence and the two are exclusive unlike other traits he sees the crossing lines between. More important than it being natural is it feeling natural that he takes great care, eyes unable to maintain locked to her body for long before glancing back to her eyes.

Every movement is enough to startle his senses and make him stop. He's put a mental bracer in place of constant pausing, reactions are bound to happen and are normal as these things went. Still the grip to his arm and gasp prove harder to power though getting a pause to look and listen.]

Long as it doesn't burn you.

[The reactions are good and unnerving. He's on edge about what he's doing making the slower pace a most over only a want. Granting a sigh his hand slips higher and picks at her dress to begin lifting it off her body, his other hand coming to the other side as he stands straighter to do so.]

Lift your arms. [It borders on asking permission to remove clothing, his intentions set to second over her words being first in what's to be done. Regardless he can't help but feel some excitement in undressing her giving way to her soft skin and subtle curves he's fallen for in falling for her as a person.]