temple_of_doom | Rained In | Locked to ablademaiden

Rained In | Locked to ablademaiden

[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.

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[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.

[ 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.

[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.

[ 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. ]

[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.]

[ 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. ]

[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.]

[ 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. ]

[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.]

[ 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. ]

[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.]

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Rained In | Locked to ablademaiden

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