The next thing she does is stupid, though probably not actually the stupdiest thing, because she's letting herself lean back against the wall. The stupid part is that she does it a bit roughly, her head thunking dully against the wall. It's just enough to hurt without actually doing any damage, but she feels better for it, staring up at the ceiling.]
Why can't you at least consistently be a dick about this?
[because he'll push and then not and this would be easier if she could just hate him.]
[Yeah, that was pretty stupid, but not as stupid as asking that question. Because now his line of thinking is — okay. She wants me to be a dick? I can do that. He can give her plenty of reasons to hate him, and since it sounds a lot to him like that's what she wants...
He'll give it to her.
So he closes the distance between them with a few quick, long steps, slides a hand into her loosely-tied hair, and kisses her.]
It feels like it's never going to stop, that they'll just keep circling each other and making really fucking stupid decisions that leave things terrible and awkward, that she's going to keep dwelling on this even when things are sorted out with Ellie.
So while she should push him away or tell him to fuck off or do any number of things, what she does do, after a moment of tension, is kiss him back. She tries to tell herself that she's not cheating, because her and Ellie haven't discussed what they are or what's expected of them. It doesn't make her feel any less guilty, won't make her feel any less guilty, but it doesn't stop her from kissing him, either.]
[Saul should be used to surprises by now, but he's not, because this is not... whatever he expected. A shove, her palm coming into painful contact with his cheek, her fist, her knee, anything to tell him hey, yeah, you fucked up real good this time and now it's over.
So there goes his last fuck, fluttering right out the door. He said it himself: last chance.
His fingers curl against her head, his other hand coming to rest on her hip as he presses a little closer.]
[This sure is up there on the list of really bad decisions she's made, but she's finding it really hard to care. It's fine, Ellie doesn't need to find out and Steph can just hate herself and get Helena to beat her up some more.
It's fine.
It's so fine that she's even finally settling her hands somewhere instead of holding them awkwardly at her sides, and nevermind if that somewhere happens to involve gripping Saul's shirt. Nevermind that she's still kissing him.]
[Saul thinks kissing makes things better, right? So it's totally fine. More than fine. Or will be soon, anyway, with the way he's tilting his head to give her easier access to his mouth.
But then it seems, for a second, like he's about to pull away.
And he does, except it doesn't quite count as pulling away if he's got her lower lip trapped between his teeth, does it?]
[That's less fine, if only because she just kind of whimpered and that's a little bit embarrassing, all things considered. It's enough to make her realize what the fuck she's doing, so she pulls back as well, as much as she can, when he's got her pinned against a wall (which isn't helping her self control at all).]
[Innocently mumbled against the skin of her neck, since that's where his mouth went as soon as he lost contact with her lips. What ever does she mean, this isn't what she had in mind? He's being a dick. A total dick. A total dick who is super concerned with... tenderly kissing her a lot...
[But it is when the person you're kissing doesn't want it...!
He mutters something else, but God knows what it was. There's no attempt to pull away, no effort to sound intelligible at all — he's as focused right now as he'd be in a courtroom, attentive and quick and constantly moving. He kisses a light trail across her jaw and tries for her mouth again, lips barely touching hers for a few seconds before he caves and leans back in.]
[That's really distracting; her breath hitches a little in her chest, fingers curling tighter in his shirt, and for a while she doesn't think about anything but kissing him.
Last chance, he said, so she's just - going to take that last chance, and enjoy it, and then they can be done with whatever the hell they think this is.]
[He's returning a favor — she distracted him from a panic attack, he's distracting her from what he'd call impending disaster. It's a dramatic thought, sure, but Stephanie's been treating it that way, and what can he say? He's sensitive, when it comes to her. A little too tuned in.
But right now, that's not such a bad thing. It's what has him responding as carefully as he is, matching her kiss for kiss, accommodating her at every angle, fingertips now skimming just barely underneath the damp hem of her sweater only a fraction as eagerly as he'd like.]
[Sometimes she's glad that she's made some really fucking terrible decisions in her life, so that she can look at things like this and console herself with the fact that at least it's not the stupidest thing she's ever done.
It's up there, definitely, but not as bad as accidentally starting a gang war.
Using her grip on his shirt to pull him closer - as if that was possible - is probably higher up on the list than kissing him in the first place, but she's having a hard time caring. It's a good kiss, which... isn't as surprising as she might have thought, but that just makes it harder to remember why this is a stupid decision, why she shouldn't be up on tip toes to kiss him more easily.
If she had to take a guess, she'd say this is probably in her top five bad decisions, especially when a part of her thoughts are trying to remind her they're not exactly somewhere private. She's just praying Helena doesn't leave for patrol any time soon.]
[She's thinking too much. Maybe Saul will have a moment like this later, where he laughs about the whole thing having happened at all and feels not smug satisfaction over it, but something a little deeper. So maybe this is all going to backfire. Maybe it won't solve anything; whatever. Right now, though, he's lost to concentration and something else, the combination of which has him shift the hand teasing under her shirt a little higher.
Her attempt at pulling him closer ushers a huff of breath, and next thing he knows the hand that was tangled in her hair has moved, too — down, this time, to hook a finger into the pocket of her jeans.
That's when he has the same thought: they should relocate, maybe. Just in case.
He breaks the kiss, briefly focuses his attention on her earlobe, then whispers:] We should move.
[The stupidity of her decisions aside, Steph is smart enough to realize this is a really important decision, right now. It doesn't take a genuis to figure out where this is likely to go if she goes back to his apartment.]
Saul. [Breathing is a little tricky, but she reminds herself to inhale, even if it's a bit shaky.] I shouldn't. We shouldn't.
[Not move, more just this in general, whatever the hell it is.]
[She's right. But they shouldn't have started this in the first place and they did anyway, so...
He bumps his nose against her cheek, then kisses her again. If she doesn't want to go anywhere, that's fine, but that means he's not going anywhere, either. Not until she tells him to.
And he really hopes she doesn't, because he's pretty sure he'd be content to stay like this — kissing her and touching her and not giving a damn — for a while.]
[Okay, okay fine, that's - not going anyhere, which at least isn't a step in the wrong direction. Literally. It's just kissing, and his hand under her shirt and one of her hands sliding up from his shirt to curl around the back of his neck, but that's fine, it's not the end of the world.
It'd be really nice if she could just switch her brain off.]
His other hand eventually finds its way under her shirt, palms and fingers settling against her lower back. She's warm; it's nice. He should be used to standing around in the rain by now, used to the relentless wet chill in the air, but he's been missing Albuquerque something fierce.
This would be so perfect, if they were back there. But he'll settle for almost.]
[There's a brief moment of tension when his hand settles against her back, an automatic reaction to people touching her when she's so paranoid about her scars, but she relaxes after a second.
She wonders if justifying this as getting it out of her system is actually going to make her feel less guilty. More important, she's wondering if this is even going to work at getting it out of her system, or if giving in just a little will make things even worse.
And consoling herself with the fact that at least she didn't agree to going somewhere more private isn't actually helping the fact that she's still kissing him and doesn't really want to stop.]
[He'd forgotten about the scars. Maybe because he only saw them for a second before she slid her shirt on back in the infirmary that day, but as soon as he feels the smooth, raised lines, the memory returns — and with it comes everything else all over again, so maybe that's why he's suddenly kissing her a little more deeply, holding — pressing, more like — her closer still.
It's not at all subtle, the way he's switching between what feels like wanting her and needing her. The pattern keeps changing as he tries to get the image of her in that hospital bed out of his mind: hungry, rushed kisses one second, followed by a trail of light kisses around her chin the next before he loops back around and catches her lips once more.
[It's not subtle at all, and Steph isn't sure quite what's happening anymore, if the sudden change in how he's kissing her is because of what she thinks. She's trying to keep up, really, but it's leaving her feeling dizzy, and when there's a break in the kisses, she tries to catch her breath.]
What-- [What's wrong? she wants to ask, but she's not sure if there really is anything wrong or if she's just imagining things or. something.] Are you okay?
[That's better, even if it feels odd to ask someone that while she's kissing them.]
[The question is so unexpected that he stops completely for a moment, which is just as well — he needs to catch his breath. But he still looks a little dazed, brows furrowed slightly as he considers what she just asked him. Of course he's okay. Why wouldn't he be okay?
He leans in again and trails his lips along her jaw, expression giving way to a grin as he mumbles:] Perfect.
[It sounds like an answer, but he actually just dismissed the question entirely and was commenting on something else: her.]
Hey. [She's not sure if it's just trying to get his attention or an admonishment because she thinks he's not taking the question seriously. She feels self conscious, now, considering the fact that he started kissing her more desperately after he touched her scars and there's part of her that wants to tell him to stop touching her, to move his hands away. It was different with Vanadi, when it felt like trading her secrets for his, the twisted marks left from a powerdrill for the cold metal under her fingertips.
This isn't like that at all, and there's a stupid part of her that thinks he'll be freaked out, even though he hasn't done anything to suggest he might.
She was going to say something more, even if she didn't know what, exactly, but she's gotten too caught up in her thoughts and just ends up sighing, somewhere between distressed and frustrated, before kissing him again, as if that will make things better.]
[There's little she can do to freak him out at this point unless she decides to freak out for whatever reason, so her sigh sends up a flag and makes him stop. He doesn't (can't, maybe) pull away completely — his hands stay where they are and he remains pressed against her, but he pauses the kissing and instead rests his forehead against hers.
When he speaks, his voice sounds soft and curious. A little concerned, too.]
[Somehow, this feels more intimate than the kissing, which is just - bad, things keep getting worse, more tangled up and confusing when she had hoped this might make it easier.
She's an idiot.]
I don't-- [She has no idea how to explain, or at least how to explain without sounding weird.] Doesn't matter.
[She knows he won't buy that, won't let it go, but she doesn't know what else to say.]
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controlledvariable) wrote2014-02-02 07:59 pm
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The next thing she does is stupid, though probably not actually the stupdiest thing, because she's letting herself lean back against the wall. The stupid part is that she does it a bit roughly, her head thunking dully against the wall. It's just enough to hurt without actually doing any damage, but she feels better for it, staring up at the ceiling.]
Why can't you at least consistently be a dick about this?
[because he'll push and then not and this would be easier if she could just hate him.]
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He'll give it to her.
So he closes the distance between them with a few quick, long steps, slides a hand into her loosely-tied hair, and kisses her.]
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It feels like it's never going to stop, that they'll just keep circling each other and making really fucking stupid decisions that leave things terrible and awkward, that she's going to keep dwelling on this even when things are sorted out with Ellie.
So while she should push him away or tell him to fuck off or do any number of things, what she does do, after a moment of tension, is kiss him back. She tries to tell herself that she's not cheating, because her and Ellie haven't discussed what they are or what's expected of them. It doesn't make her feel any less guilty, won't make her feel any less guilty, but it doesn't stop her from kissing him, either.]
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So there goes his last fuck, fluttering right out the door. He said it himself: last chance.
His fingers curl against her head, his other hand coming to rest on her hip as he presses a little closer.]
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It's fine.
It's so fine that she's even finally settling her hands somewhere instead of holding them awkwardly at her sides, and nevermind if that somewhere happens to involve gripping Saul's shirt. Nevermind that she's still kissing him.]
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But then it seems, for a second, like he's about to pull away.
And he does, except it doesn't quite count as pulling away if he's got her lower lip trapped between his teeth, does it?]
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Not what I had in mind.
[When she asked that question.]
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[Innocently mumbled against the skin of her neck, since that's where his mouth went as soon as he lost contact with her lips. What ever does she mean, this isn't what she had in mind? He's being a dick. A total dick. A total dick who is super concerned with... tenderly kissing her a lot...
...okay, maybe he sees her point.
But is that going to stop him? Nope.
Because he's a dick.
See?]
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Still--] Kissing someone usually isn't, you know, considered dickish behaviour.
[Just in case he wasn't aware.]
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He mutters something else, but God knows what it was. There's no attempt to pull away, no effort to sound intelligible at all — he's as focused right now as he'd be in a courtroom, attentive and quick and constantly moving. He kisses a light trail across her jaw and tries for her mouth again, lips barely touching hers for a few seconds before he caves and leans back in.]
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Last chance, he said, so she's just - going to take that last chance, and enjoy it, and then they can be done with whatever the hell they think this is.]
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But right now, that's not such a bad thing. It's what has him responding as carefully as he is, matching her kiss for kiss, accommodating her at every angle, fingertips now skimming just barely underneath the damp hem of her sweater only a fraction as eagerly as he'd like.]
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It's up there, definitely, but not as bad as accidentally starting a gang war.
Using her grip on his shirt to pull him closer - as if that was possible - is probably higher up on the list than kissing him in the first place, but she's having a hard time caring. It's a good kiss, which... isn't as surprising as she might have thought, but that just makes it harder to remember why this is a stupid decision, why she shouldn't be up on tip toes to kiss him more easily.
If she had to take a guess, she'd say this is probably in her top five bad decisions, especially when a part of her thoughts are trying to remind her they're not exactly somewhere private. She's just praying Helena doesn't leave for patrol any time soon.]
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Her attempt at pulling him closer ushers a huff of breath, and next thing he knows the hand that was tangled in her hair has moved, too — down, this time, to hook a finger into the pocket of her jeans.
That's when he has the same thought: they should relocate, maybe. Just in case.
He breaks the kiss, briefly focuses his attention on her earlobe, then whispers:] We should move.
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Saul. [Breathing is a little tricky, but she reminds herself to inhale, even if it's a bit shaky.] I shouldn't. We shouldn't.
[Not move, more just this in general, whatever the hell it is.]
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He bumps his nose against her cheek, then kisses her again. If she doesn't want to go anywhere, that's fine, but that means he's not going anywhere, either. Not until she tells him to.
And he really hopes she doesn't, because he's pretty sure he'd be content to stay like this — kissing her and touching her and not giving a damn — for a while.]
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It'd be really nice if she could just switch her brain off.]
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Not that he minds.
His other hand eventually finds its way under her shirt, palms and fingers settling against her lower back. She's warm; it's nice. He should be used to standing around in the rain by now, used to the relentless wet chill in the air, but he's been missing Albuquerque something fierce.
This would be so perfect, if they were back there. But he'll settle for almost.]
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She wonders if justifying this as getting it out of her system is actually going to make her feel less guilty. More important, she's wondering if this is even going to work at getting it out of her system, or if giving in just a little will make things even worse.
And consoling herself with the fact that at least she didn't agree to going somewhere more private isn't actually helping the fact that she's still kissing him and doesn't really want to stop.]
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It's not at all subtle, the way he's switching between what feels like wanting her and needing her. The pattern keeps changing as he tries to get the image of her in that hospital bed out of his mind: hungry, rushed kisses one second, followed by a trail of light kisses around her chin the next before he loops back around and catches her lips once more.
Saul is in so much trouble.]
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What-- [What's wrong? she wants to ask, but she's not sure if there really is anything wrong or if she's just imagining things or. something.] Are you okay?
[That's better, even if it feels odd to ask someone that while she's kissing them.]
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He leans in again and trails his lips along her jaw, expression giving way to a grin as he mumbles:] Perfect.
[It sounds like an answer, but he actually just dismissed the question entirely and was commenting on something else: her.]
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Hey. [She's not sure if it's just trying to get his attention or an admonishment because she thinks he's not taking the question seriously. She feels self conscious, now, considering the fact that he started kissing her more desperately after he touched her scars and there's part of her that wants to tell him to stop touching her, to move his hands away. It was different with Vanadi, when it felt like trading her secrets for his, the twisted marks left from a powerdrill for the cold metal under her fingertips.
This isn't like that at all, and there's a stupid part of her that thinks he'll be freaked out, even though he hasn't done anything to suggest he might.
She was going to say something more, even if she didn't know what, exactly, but she's gotten too caught up in her thoughts and just ends up sighing, somewhere between distressed and frustrated, before kissing him again, as if that will make things better.]
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When he speaks, his voice sounds soft and curious. A little concerned, too.]
What?
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She's an idiot.]
I don't-- [She has no idea how to explain, or at least how to explain without sounding weird.] Doesn't matter.
[She knows he won't buy that, won't let it go, but she doesn't know what else to say.]
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this hurts me
sorry (not counting this one in the final tally)
what was the final tally?
idk I didn't do it yet
gosh
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