"A few," he agrees, his attention having strayed from her face to her hand, his callused fingers sliding easily between hers and pressing into her palm. It's the least justifiable thing he's done so far - nothing needs care after all the soap she'd used on him - but Percy's drawn there all the same. For all the raw power in her arms (and he could feel it as he'd moved along her biceps, where she's trim but strong in the way all good archers must be), her hands are slender and her fingers, deft. Even blurry, he finds them lovely -
And he's crossing into a kind of self-indulgence he really can't justify, to himself or to her, and especially not after the care she showed him. He makes himself move on, trying not to feel the strange ache in his chest as he does; it's loneliness, he already knows that, and the more space he allows it, the more pathetic and puppyish he's going to look.
Her belly, then, smooth and flat, and her sides. Up to her breasts and skimming past them, warm hands at her collarbone - and then moving back down her chest, his focus settled. Percy starts beneath them, fingers at her ribcage, and then turns his hands to cup each breast, stroking their undersides. Like the rest of her, they're slick from the water, made more so by his soapy hands as he teases one nipple to a peak and (perhaps inevitably) noting silently what her body responded best to, so he can recreate the process more effectively with her other breast. There's a sort of studied concentration in his gaze when he glances up, meeting her eyes.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-02-16 05:10 pm (UTC)And he's crossing into a kind of self-indulgence he really can't justify, to himself or to her, and especially not after the care she showed him. He makes himself move on, trying not to feel the strange ache in his chest as he does; it's loneliness, he already knows that, and the more space he allows it, the more pathetic and puppyish he's going to look.
Her belly, then, smooth and flat, and her sides. Up to her breasts and skimming past them, warm hands at her collarbone - and then moving back down her chest, his focus settled. Percy starts beneath them, fingers at her ribcage, and then turns his hands to cup each breast, stroking their undersides. Like the rest of her, they're slick from the water, made more so by his soapy hands as he teases one nipple to a peak and (perhaps inevitably) noting silently what her body responded best to, so he can recreate the process more effectively with her other breast. There's a sort of studied concentration in his gaze when he glances up, meeting her eyes.