[It's funny how cat-like Cecelia can be...and how he's managed to find ways to work around those somewhat fussy behaviors. How she can push to be pampered but how she can never seem to truly relax during those times. It's like watching a perpetual tug-of-war between her wants, her needs, and her senses.]
[When she moves to climb out of the bath despite Darin wanting to soak with her for a little longer, he catches her by the hand and pulls her back into the tub; back against him. And it doesn't take much more than an appropriately deep kiss to stifle any protests.]
[The care she gives him is returned in kind. Both in tune with their desires, not just for each other, but to ease the pain and weariness of the other. They've forgotten entire lives and they both know that forgetting this pain would only cause it to resurface again later. Forgetting isn't healing. And while she pays close attention to his scars, he spares the same level of care and consideration to any scale or freckle on her body. Soft kisses and even softer touches with calloused hands wash the grime and exhaustion away while careful ministrations make sure her mind stays irrevocably on the here and now. Pain can't be forgotten but it can be deluded, overwritten. A thousand 'little deaths' constructed carefully to distract from the singular, contemptible one.]
[Bed is a sorely missed luxury and one that, after such a long bath feels almost dream-like. Of course, the care doesn't stop once they leave the tub. Careful drying with soft towels, followed by long embraces to lock in the warmth of the bath. He doesn't know how long it's been; how long they've been entangled in each other...]
[With his head on her chest, he drowns out everything else with the sound of her heart beat. A sensation he never realized he'd miss until it had been taken from him. So, it takes him a moment to return to this plane once her words finally register.]
no subject
[When she moves to climb out of the bath despite Darin wanting to soak with her for a little longer, he catches her by the hand and pulls her back into the tub; back against him. And it doesn't take much more than an appropriately deep kiss to stifle any protests.]
[The care she gives him is returned in kind. Both in tune with their desires, not just for each other, but to ease the pain and weariness of the other. They've forgotten entire lives and they both know that forgetting this pain would only cause it to resurface again later. Forgetting isn't healing. And while she pays close attention to his scars, he spares the same level of care and consideration to any scale or freckle on her body. Soft kisses and even softer touches with calloused hands wash the grime and exhaustion away while careful ministrations make sure her mind stays irrevocably on the here and now. Pain can't be forgotten but it can be deluded, overwritten. A thousand 'little deaths' constructed carefully to distract from the singular, contemptible one.]
[Bed is a sorely missed luxury and one that, after such a long bath feels almost dream-like. Of course, the care doesn't stop once they leave the tub. Careful drying with soft towels, followed by long embraces to lock in the warmth of the bath. He doesn't know how long it's been; how long they've been entangled in each other...]
[With his head on her chest, he drowns out everything else with the sound of her heart beat. A sensation he never realized he'd miss until it had been taken from him. So, it takes him a moment to return to this plane once her words finally register.]
...Yeah. How about you...?