[His weight is surprisingly comfortable against her, even as her breath hitches in surprise. Ah, this eel of her's, always showing her up... In the end, she thinks he might be the one that has the reigns here, even if Oona might pretend otherwise.
Her heart pounds again and her fingers twitch against his skin. Once upon a time a younger Oona might have scoffed a little at the idea of falling for someone that didn't fit the willowy stereotype of most mermen, but then, a younger Oona wouldn't have met Adolf and simply wouldn't have known any better. Oona can forgive that ignorance now.
Her face turns a little pink regardless.] I am seeing a new side to you, Adolf. [The fact he'd apparently say things that'd make her turn red both makes her want to give up on the whole learning German thing immediately, and press on out of morbid curiosity. It's hard to imagine him saying anything terrible or lewd because, well, it's Adolf. But he's been surprising her a lot lately... Who knows.
Instead she wets her lips with the tip of her tongue and she tilts her head towards his hand (touches to her head and hair were such a weakness to her, damn it) while her own hands move against his skin.
She's seen him without a shirt on before, but it's the first time she'd had the freedom to touch, and she relishes in it. She doesn't shy from the scars, tracing their outlines and mapping his body, committing it to memory through touch alone.] I like it. [She tilts her head up, brushing her mouth to his in a teasingly chaste kiss.]
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Her heart pounds again and her fingers twitch against his skin. Once upon a time a younger Oona might have scoffed a little at the idea of falling for someone that didn't fit the willowy stereotype of most mermen, but then, a younger Oona wouldn't have met Adolf and simply wouldn't have known any better. Oona can forgive that ignorance now.
Her face turns a little pink regardless.] I am seeing a new side to you, Adolf. [The fact he'd apparently say things that'd make her turn red both makes her want to give up on the whole learning German thing immediately, and press on out of morbid curiosity. It's hard to imagine him saying anything terrible or lewd because, well, it's Adolf. But he's been surprising her a lot lately... Who knows.
Instead she wets her lips with the tip of her tongue and she tilts her head towards his hand (touches to her head and hair were such a weakness to her, damn it) while her own hands move against his skin.
She's seen him without a shirt on before, but it's the first time she'd had the freedom to touch, and she relishes in it. She doesn't shy from the scars, tracing their outlines and mapping his body, committing it to memory through touch alone.] I like it. [She tilts her head up, brushing her mouth to his in a teasingly chaste kiss.]