[ He knows that he could've stopped this. Easily. A turn of his jaw, or a hand over soft lips. The usual, level-headed discouragement: 'what have I told you about kissing'. It means too much to him that he didn't, a paradoxical guilt and acceptance that eats at him. Oona is corrosive; he'd like her to settle in his bones, if she could.
Being passive is his second loophole, a secondary backup plan to assuage his stinging heart. It's the escape route he should take but foolishly decides to ignore, ruins with a curl of his fingers around the back of Oona's neck to gently draw her in closer. He takes care not to bump her cheek with the cold metal of his jaw implants, nudges her chin up just another millimeter so he can pry her lips open with his and taste her breathing.
When he pulls back, he keeps his eyes closed. Mostly so he can remember to breathe; one human function at a time. ]
Yeah. This is all pretty strange.
[ And when he exhales, it's something that borders on a laugh. A real, genuine one. He opens his mouth again after that, but it's only to speak in German: ]
no subject
Being passive is his second loophole, a secondary backup plan to assuage his stinging heart. It's the escape route he should take but foolishly decides to ignore, ruins with a curl of his fingers around the back of Oona's neck to gently draw her in closer. He takes care not to bump her cheek with the cold metal of his jaw implants, nudges her chin up just another millimeter so he can pry her lips open with his and taste her breathing.
When he pulls back, he keeps his eyes closed. Mostly so he can remember to breathe; one human function at a time. ]
Yeah. This is all pretty strange.
[ And when he exhales, it's something that borders on a laugh. A real, genuine one. He opens his mouth again after that, but it's only to speak in German: ]
You'll be the death of me.