He should’ve expected it. Kuon was nothing if not direct in her gentleness. But still, the question knocked softly at the walls he had built, and he wasn’t sure how they were supposed to hold anymore.
His gaze lingered on her mouth—not with desire, but with a strange, analytical fondness. Then, slowly, as if realising he was doing it, he looked down at the place her hands met at his back. One of his own moved, shifting slightly from her wrist to cradle the side of her waist instead—fingers curling against the fabric of her clothes with careful reverence.
He was blushing. Not just in his cheeks, but to the tips of his ears.
And yet—he nodded.
His thumb lingered on her forearm again, drawing soft, unconscious circles like he was memorising her presence one inch at a time.
Then, quietly—soft but with the smallest upward lilt in his voice, like a smile that hadn't quite reached his lips yet—he murmured:
"...If I start getting greedy with how nice that feels, you’re allowed to scold me."
A flicker of something warm passed through his eyes. Embarrassed, yes—but not hiding anymore.
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His gaze lingered on her mouth—not with desire, but with a strange, analytical fondness. Then, slowly, as if realising he was doing it, he looked down at the place her hands met at his back. One of his own moved, shifting slightly from her wrist to cradle the side of her waist instead—fingers curling against the fabric of her clothes with careful reverence.
He was blushing. Not just in his cheeks, but to the tips of his ears.
And yet—he nodded.
His thumb lingered on her forearm again, drawing soft, unconscious circles like he was memorising her presence one inch at a time.
Then, quietly—soft but with the smallest upward lilt in his voice, like a smile that hadn't quite reached his lips yet—he murmured:
"...If I start getting greedy with how nice that feels, you’re allowed to scold me."
A flicker of something warm passed through his eyes. Embarrassed, yes—but not hiding anymore.