Tempted to kiss her or put his forehead to hers to throw open and share some memory the way to insert themselves into one another's pasts retroactively
...but he's too likely to get lost in her again, and they should really get out of this elevator.
They can get lost all they like in the woods or in their bed. They have that now.
The suppressed desire to kiss her is obvious but transposes itself into a slight smile. Not hiding his regret even slightly, he pushes himself upright. …But does press a hand to her shoulder to prevent her from doing the same just yet; casting around for a piece of clothing he doesn't strictly need. His sock just feels disrespectful. …His own underwear will do. Bending over her legs with total focus, care and precision like rewiring a nav, he gently wipes her clean of his… donation, using his tongue-wetted fingers where it's set enough to defy immediate removal.
…The activity and the reaction of her skin to his touch making him want to abandon everything again and kiss her again more. But wait, wait. There are more glorious places than elevators. If he wants to imagine a little longer than he can do literally nothing else for the rest of his life than make love to her.
He deliberately lowers his eyes to (much less lovingly) apply a quick, efficient swipe to any pooling on the deck. Just seems courteous. …As well as an ingrained aversion to leaving personal data where anyone could take it.
Knotting the cloth to only expose dry swaths, he finds the rest of his clothes. He'll decide on the way if it's not too offputting to stick the bundle in his pocket or just toss it. (Though see again re: leaving such rich data as genetic material. Whether anyone's looking to collect on him or not.)]
no subject
Tempted to kiss her
or put his forehead to hers to throw open and share some memory
the way to insert themselves into one another's pasts retroactively
...but he's too likely to get lost in her again, and they should really get out of this elevator.
They can get lost all they like in the woods or in their bed. They have that now.
The suppressed desire to kiss her is obvious but transposes itself into a slight smile. Not hiding his regret even slightly, he pushes himself upright. …But does press a hand to her shoulder to prevent her from doing the same just yet; casting around for a piece of clothing he doesn't strictly need. His sock just feels disrespectful. …His own underwear will do. Bending over her legs with total focus, care and precision like rewiring a nav, he gently wipes her clean of his… donation, using his tongue-wetted fingers where it's set enough to defy immediate removal.
…The activity and the reaction of her skin to his touch making him want to abandon everything again and kiss her again more. But wait, wait. There are more glorious places than elevators. If he wants to imagine a little longer than he can do literally nothing else for the rest of his life than make love to her.
He deliberately lowers his eyes to (much less lovingly) apply a quick, efficient swipe to any pooling on the deck. Just seems courteous. …As well as an ingrained aversion to leaving personal data where anyone could take it.
Knotting the cloth to only expose dry swaths, he finds the rest of his clothes. He'll decide on the way if it's not too offputting to stick the bundle in his pocket or just toss it. (Though see again re: leaving such rich data as genetic material. Whether anyone's looking to collect on him or not.)]