[ Lune's fingers tremble against his face and her eyes squeeze shut when his mouth mashes firmly against her own, issuing a low sound of her own from the back of her throat; less desire than it is relief. For a second she remains stock-still, but then she's sliding those fingers properly into his hair at the back of his head and fisting the messy strands as if to hold him where he is. A heavy shudder shakes her entire frame, borne out of anxiety and the slow release of it rather than the chill clinging to the night air.
She manages to snake her other arm around Gustave, clutching his shoulder hard and clinging on like a drowning sailor to a lifeline. Their bodies press together tightly and she thinks she can feel the frantic beat of his heart against her own ribcage as she returns each urgent kiss without hesitation, each point of contact between them limned with desperation to feel anything else but misery.
Part of her recognizes distantly that they're both hurting and reeling from recent events, moral considerations of doing this briefly flickering somewhere in the back of her mindโ but how wrong can it be to seek this comfort in each other if it helps them carry on?
She gasps for air once they break apart long enough to breathe, tasting him still on kiss-swollen lips while her forehead presses against his, as if pulling further back would break this wordless understanding between them. But she has to after a moment, just enough to meet his eyes again, her own hooded and dilated and almost black in the gloom, her hand drifting from his shoulder to his chest. There's hesitation in her movements there, a questionโ because kissing is one thing, but more than that, well... she's not so far gone she'll assume consent, no matter how urgent the need. ]
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Date: 2025-05-20 08:46 am (UTC)She manages to snake her other arm around Gustave, clutching his shoulder hard and clinging on like a drowning sailor to a lifeline. Their bodies press together tightly and she thinks she can feel the frantic beat of his heart against her own ribcage as she returns each urgent kiss without hesitation, each point of contact between them limned with desperation to feel anything else but misery.
Part of her recognizes distantly that they're both hurting and reeling from recent events, moral considerations of doing this briefly flickering somewhere in the back of her mindโ but how wrong can it be to seek this comfort in each other if it helps them carry on?
She gasps for air once they break apart long enough to breathe, tasting him still on kiss-swollen lips while her forehead presses against his, as if pulling further back would break this wordless understanding between them. But she has to after a moment, just enough to meet his eyes again, her own hooded and dilated and almost black in the gloom, her hand drifting from his shoulder to his chest. There's hesitation in her movements there, a questionโ because kissing is one thing, but more than that, well... she's not so far gone she'll assume consent, no matter how urgent the need. ]