[ Hilda's protest or start of one is ignored as he continues on but not without lightly squeezing her fingers in his first. A closeness he still marvels at after all this time, and the same for touch and that she's here. The skin he moves across with each spot chosen deliberately for each kiss left behind is all that he'd mapped on nights light this long ago and revisited and relearned every night since.
Each would have once served to substitute for those all important words as if they could ever be a proper stand in though he'd convinced himself it could be the same. That every bit of affection could replace the deeper meaning behind it all or that it'd somehow translate into something she would know without it needing to be voiced. A silly hope for which he can't entirely blame his past self but something to which Claude knows he won't return to again - though the words have been said, there's far too much else to add. To pretend it all away would be a task even he wouldn't set himself to.
Absorbed in his task of quiet adoration as he is, her visual embarrassment is mostly lost on him despite that flash of it after he'd demolished the great pillow divide. But - her continued insistence there should've been some sort of warning gets laughter pressed into and against her skin when it finally breaks his concentration enough to not continue on. ]
Uh huh. [ One last kiss to the top of her chest before he's sitting up again, albeit a little reluctantly for having not continued his advance any lower in the name of taking his time, and enough to look down at her with a smile and no shortage of amusement. ] And tell me, how exactly does one warn for that sort of thing?
[ Claude releases her hands, shifting to lean his weight on his elbows then arches an eyebrow as though he's actually waiting for an answer as he runs his fingers through some of her hair scattered across the pillow. ]
no subject
Each would have once served to substitute for those all important words as if they could ever be a proper stand in though he'd convinced himself it could be the same. That every bit of affection could replace the deeper meaning behind it all or that it'd somehow translate into something she would know without it needing to be voiced. A silly hope for which he can't entirely blame his past self but something to which Claude knows he won't return to again - though the words have been said, there's far too much else to add. To pretend it all away would be a task even he wouldn't set himself to.
Absorbed in his task of quiet adoration as he is, her visual embarrassment is mostly lost on him despite that flash of it after he'd demolished the great pillow divide. But - her continued insistence there should've been some sort of warning gets laughter pressed into and against her skin when it finally breaks his concentration enough to not continue on. ]
Uh huh. [ One last kiss to the top of her chest before he's sitting up again, albeit a little reluctantly for having not continued his advance any lower in the name of taking his time, and enough to look down at her with a smile and no shortage of amusement. ] And tell me, how exactly does one warn for that sort of thing?
[ Claude releases her hands, shifting to lean his weight on his elbows then arches an eyebrow as though he's actually waiting for an answer as he runs his fingers through some of her hair scattered across the pillow. ]