05-17-2021, 10:45 PM
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He has missed Cheri for who she is. He has missed the sound of her laugh in the evening, her ability to drag him away from where he feels comfortable, the pure vibrancy that fills her and spills into his life. Since he walked into Taiga two years ago, the black-and-green girl has become a sun in his life, impossible to ignore. Her adventures in Loess made his days much dimmer, and Targaryen cannot help but pull himself closer to her brilliance.
He absorbs every inch and second that he can. His eyes study the gentle sloping planes of her face — the petite muzzle that carries healing powers, the depths of her electric green eyes, the crystalline crown across her brow, the soft curve of her lips. Targaryen feels the way her dark body bends to fit his muscled one, and he takes the time to truly feel it. Heat sparks where they touch, nerves on fire with a desire that has become much more practiced with time. She is supple where he is firm, and the winding roads of her body become a trail of electricity wherever they find themselves against him.
Targaryen isn’t sure what he expects to hear in response to his admission, and his heart beats a rapid drum to a song of anxiety. Despite his lack of expectations, the story she tells him is not what he anticipates. It even somewhat confirms his doubts about what she has been doing in their time apart. She has found someone else, and they’ve even drunk and kissed together. The tobiano forces his eyes to stay on her face, to see the torment that flashes in her green eyes, but his gaze tells of the hurt that slices through him. He hadn’t trusted his doubts, but now he finds that they are partially true. Yet he cannot help but ask, “Did he hurt you?”
Targaryen wants to close himself down, to push away the parts of him (the majority of him) that had been gentle and willing to finally admit his feelings for her. He forces himself to ignore the way her touch ignites something deep, to stop thinking about how her slender dark curves might feel under his mouth. His brown gaze is beginning to harden when she speaks again to push past her explanation and into the truth.
She missed him. She wants to kiss him. She likes him. Targaryen grabs onto her words, holding them like a lifeline, and he stops his heart from hardening. “Cheri,” he says softly, and it’s the only thing he knows to say. His head is spinning from moving so quickly from joy to doubt to desire to anger and then back to joy. The tobiano sucks in a slow, deep breath to calm his racing mind.
He decides within that breath that he will take the plunge. He has already felt the sting of hurt… Targaryen knows he would be able to live with himself a little easier if he follows through with his decision, even if it means he might be rejected. “You make me feel like I have a place in the world,” he admits. “Cheri, you’ve always been my friend, but I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship.”
Ever so gently, he reaches forward to move aside a section of her spring-green mane that has found itself in her way. His mouth brushes against her face as he does so, and he lets it linger there. Softly, hesitantly, he places a warm kiss on the smooth shape of her cheek. Targaryen feels his lips tingle, and he whispers against her skin, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
He absorbs every inch and second that he can. His eyes study the gentle sloping planes of her face — the petite muzzle that carries healing powers, the depths of her electric green eyes, the crystalline crown across her brow, the soft curve of her lips. Targaryen feels the way her dark body bends to fit his muscled one, and he takes the time to truly feel it. Heat sparks where they touch, nerves on fire with a desire that has become much more practiced with time. She is supple where he is firm, and the winding roads of her body become a trail of electricity wherever they find themselves against him.
Targaryen isn’t sure what he expects to hear in response to his admission, and his heart beats a rapid drum to a song of anxiety. Despite his lack of expectations, the story she tells him is not what he anticipates. It even somewhat confirms his doubts about what she has been doing in their time apart. She has found someone else, and they’ve even drunk and kissed together. The tobiano forces his eyes to stay on her face, to see the torment that flashes in her green eyes, but his gaze tells of the hurt that slices through him. He hadn’t trusted his doubts, but now he finds that they are partially true. Yet he cannot help but ask, “Did he hurt you?”
Targaryen wants to close himself down, to push away the parts of him (the majority of him) that had been gentle and willing to finally admit his feelings for her. He forces himself to ignore the way her touch ignites something deep, to stop thinking about how her slender dark curves might feel under his mouth. His brown gaze is beginning to harden when she speaks again to push past her explanation and into the truth.
She missed him. She wants to kiss him. She likes him. Targaryen grabs onto her words, holding them like a lifeline, and he stops his heart from hardening. “Cheri,” he says softly, and it’s the only thing he knows to say. His head is spinning from moving so quickly from joy to doubt to desire to anger and then back to joy. The tobiano sucks in a slow, deep breath to calm his racing mind.
He decides within that breath that he will take the plunge. He has already felt the sting of hurt… Targaryen knows he would be able to live with himself a little easier if he follows through with his decision, even if it means he might be rejected. “You make me feel like I have a place in the world,” he admits. “Cheri, you’ve always been my friend, but I have feelings for you that go beyond friendship.”
Ever so gently, he reaches forward to move aside a section of her spring-green mane that has found itself in her way. His mouth brushes against her face as he does so, and he lets it linger there. Softly, hesitantly, he places a warm kiss on the smooth shape of her cheek. Targaryen feels his lips tingle, and he whispers against her skin, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
@[Cheri]