He heard his name murmured against his mouth as she broke the kiss - either for air, or for a second to take this in, or just to let that question hang there. His forehead tipped against hers, as he exhaled a long, shaky breath that surprised even him. He didn't feel any nerves over what they were doing, any of the guilt he'd expected to, and yet there was a kind of excess of emotion on his released breath that he couldn't deny. He couldn't recognize it as the fear that Claire knew it to be, and so his brow simply furrowed in bewilderment, pressed against hers, his expression almost pained.
He didn't offer a real response for a moment, letting his hand simply trace patterns against the back of her thigh where he gripped her still. The way she'd been rubbing down against him only seconds before had all engines revving below, regardless of the fact that this was Claire. Because as much as he might have called her 'kid' in the past, the curves pressed him against him were sure as hell nothing short of adult. His left hand, still clutching her against him, moved down to the hemline of her shirt, and he pressed the fabric upwards just enough for his fingers to dance along the skin there, feather-light.
"Claire," he finally managed to say, thickly, eyes flickering open again to search for hers. There was something almost pleading in her expression; he could see the need there, though he didn't know that it was for validation. He tilted his chin upwards for a moment, brushing his lips against her forehead, before meeting her gaze again.
What had she said the other day? That getting to have him, even for one night, would be something amazing to her, despite the injustice of it.
He figured she recognized that that was all he could give her, based on the way she'd said that before. It wouldn't be more than just this once.
"... No one's gotta know about Bon Jovi, right?" was what fell out of his mouth, a really miserable attempt at humor that also allowed him to avoid phrasing it for exactly what it was.
no subject
He didn't offer a real response for a moment, letting his hand simply trace patterns against the back of her thigh where he gripped her still. The way she'd been rubbing down against him only seconds before had all engines revving below, regardless of the fact that this was Claire. Because as much as he might have called her 'kid' in the past, the curves pressed him against him were sure as hell nothing short of adult. His left hand, still clutching her against him, moved down to the hemline of her shirt, and he pressed the fabric upwards just enough for his fingers to dance along the skin there, feather-light.
"Claire," he finally managed to say, thickly, eyes flickering open again to search for hers. There was something almost pleading in her expression; he could see the need there, though he didn't know that it was for validation. He tilted his chin upwards for a moment, brushing his lips against her forehead, before meeting her gaze again.
What had she said the other day? That getting to have him, even for one night, would be something amazing to her, despite the injustice of it.
He figured she recognized that that was all he could give her, based on the way she'd said that before. It wouldn't be more than just this once.
"... No one's gotta know about Bon Jovi, right?" was what fell out of his mouth, a really miserable attempt at humor that also allowed him to avoid phrasing it for exactly what it was.