Armin swallows hard when Angel turns around to slide onto his laugh. Her question almost makes him laugh. Is this okay, she asks, as if having Angel on his lap, having her thighs press against his own, is something he could ever mind; as if it isn't something he's dreamt of for ages.
He doesn't laugh though. His throat is far too dry for it, even as he swallows to wet it. His face feels like it is on fire, and he's certain that by now, the flush on it extends all the way to the tip of his ears and the top of his collar bones.
"Y-yeah." It's a little different, having to just slightly tilt his head upwards to look at Angel, but it is far from unpleasant. His hands find her hips again, resting there, one of his thumbs stroking in idle, absent strokes against her shirt.
And he knows this sort of position is incredibly dangerous, at least in terms of his body --well, a certain part of it, at the very least-- soon betraying him and turning this whole thing into a big embarrassment, but he also doesn't want it to end, his entire body feeling like it is buzzing with an excess of energy.
So instead he does the only sensible thing to do; stretching up, he kisses Angel, his tongue teasing rather bottom lip in a way that is very far from chaste. At least that part of something they have some level of experience in.
It's exhilarating, being the taller one for once. There's something oddly pleasing about the way Armin has to be the one to lean up. She does him the courtesy of meeting him part of the way there, but not by much. A smile coils over her lips, brief and mirthful, before they part beneath his tongue.
One hand slips around his side, spanning over his back. She finds the curve of his spine and traces it downward, finger pressed in just enough to feel the ridges of vertebrae beneath the fabric. She reaches the hem of his shirt and allows the hand to dip below. He feels warm beneath her. Alive.
Her hand drags upward, bringing the shirt with.
The other hand, meanwhile, remains pressed against his chest. Like this, she can feel the steady thunking of his heart. If she's reading it right, he's enjoying himself.
When she touches her hand to the bare skin of his back, he shudders, breaking the kiss for a moment the breathe out a soft little 'ah'. Of course, he's felt the touch of Angel's hand plenty -- against his arms, her fingers wrapped around his, occasionally on his face, but the touch of her fingers against the spine sends an electric jolt down his spine. He wants to feel more of her touch, but he can already feel the fabric of his shirt pull taut against his belly as Angel drags it upwards, their position limiting in how high it can go.
"Would I-- you--" He's tripping over his words, feeling heated in a way that has nothing to do with the electric fire. "Should I take it off?"
The question stops her movements. There's something about it, simple as it is, that drives home just how much things have accelerated in the last few minutes. Even as she tries to convince her brain that she's seen him shirtless plenty of times before, embarrassment threatens to overwhelm and cripple her.
She swallows, leaning back to study Armin's face. He seems just as embarrassed as she does, at least.
"I... think I would like that." Her hand slips down to the hem of her own shirt, toying with the hem of it shyly. "We both could. Together."
Armin's brain all but stops in its tracks at the idea of Angel without her shirt, the idea of seeing the wide expanses of pale skin down her back and chest, the slope of her collar bones down to-- ah.
He shifts a little underneath her, redistributing her weight so she resting more on the tops of his thighs and not... not anywhere it might lead to a very embarrassing situation.
"Yeah," his throat feels desert dry, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "I'd like that. A lot."
Maybe she should count them down. But if she thinks about it too hard, builds up any amount of anticipation, the humiliation is bound to get the better of her. Instead, she grips the edge of her shirt and folds her arms upward. The chill of the air on her skin draws a shiver out of her, but at least it keeps the warmth in her stomach from growing any more molten.
The shirt is set carefully aside and... Abruptly she finds she isn't sure what to do with her hands. She folds them in her lap eventually, fidgeting as she does her best to avoid hiding herself. Even with a bra on, she feels incredibly bare.
Armin fully intends to lift his shirt along with Angel, but presented with the sight of her lifting her shirt, exposing inch after inch of her pale stomach marked only by the swirling lines of her Siren mark, he freezes unable to do anything but stare. When her shirt is high enough to reveal her bra, he swallows. Hard.
He's seen those before! Angel's bras, that is. But he's only seen them in a very different context -- in their laundry basket or in a drawer. He's never seen one while it is actually on her, the fabric curving and cupping delicate soft flesh that he's only been able to dream of until now.
Abruptly he realises that Angel has set her shirt fully aside, fidgeting slightly while he is still sitting here with his on and an utterly dumbfounded expression on his face.
"S-sorry. I totally meant to take off my shirt too but--" He's flushing. He wasn't lying or tricking Angel or anything, it's just-- "You are really beautiful, Angel. I just ended up thinking that I forgot about everything else."
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brokencode) wrote2016-08-22 05:17 am
no subject
He doesn't laugh though. His throat is far too dry for it, even as he swallows to wet it. His face feels like it is on fire, and he's certain that by now, the flush on it extends all the way to the tip of his ears and the top of his collar bones.
"Y-yeah." It's a little different, having to just slightly tilt his head upwards to look at Angel, but it is far from unpleasant. His hands find her hips again, resting there, one of his thumbs stroking in idle, absent strokes against her shirt.
And he knows this sort of position is incredibly dangerous, at least in terms of his body --well, a certain part of it, at the very least-- soon betraying him and turning this whole thing into a big embarrassment, but he also doesn't want it to end, his entire body feeling like it is buzzing with an excess of energy.
So instead he does the only sensible thing to do; stretching up, he kisses Angel, his tongue teasing rather bottom lip in a way that is very far from chaste. At least that part of something they have some level of experience in.
no subject
One hand slips around his side, spanning over his back. She finds the curve of his spine and traces it downward, finger pressed in just enough to feel the ridges of vertebrae beneath the fabric. She reaches the hem of his shirt and allows the hand to dip below. He feels warm beneath her. Alive.
Her hand drags upward, bringing the shirt with.
The other hand, meanwhile, remains pressed against his chest. Like this, she can feel the steady thunking of his heart. If she's reading it right, he's enjoying himself.
She hopes he knows she feels the same way.
no subject
When she touches her hand to the bare skin of his back, he shudders, breaking the kiss for a moment the breathe out a soft little 'ah'. Of course, he's felt the touch of Angel's hand plenty -- against his arms, her fingers wrapped around his, occasionally on his face, but the touch of her fingers against the spine sends an electric jolt down his spine. He wants to feel more of her touch, but he can already feel the fabric of his shirt pull taut against his belly as Angel drags it upwards, their position limiting in how high it can go.
"Would I-- you--" He's tripping over his words, feeling heated in a way that has nothing to do with the electric fire. "Should I take it off?"
no subject
She swallows, leaning back to study Armin's face. He seems just as embarrassed as she does, at least.
"I... think I would like that." Her hand slips down to the hem of her own shirt, toying with the hem of it shyly. "We both could. Together."
no subject
He shifts a little underneath her, redistributing her weight so she resting more on the tops of his thighs and not... not anywhere it might lead to a very embarrassing situation.
"Yeah," his throat feels desert dry, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. "I'd like that. A lot."
no subject
Maybe she should count them down. But if she thinks about it too hard, builds up any amount of anticipation, the humiliation is bound to get the better of her. Instead, she grips the edge of her shirt and folds her arms upward. The chill of the air on her skin draws a shiver out of her, but at least it keeps the warmth in her stomach from growing any more molten.
The shirt is set carefully aside and... Abruptly she finds she isn't sure what to do with her hands. She folds them in her lap eventually, fidgeting as she does her best to avoid hiding herself. Even with a bra on, she feels incredibly bare.
no subject
He's seen those before! Angel's bras, that is. But he's only seen them in a very different context -- in their laundry basket or in a drawer. He's never seen one while it is actually on her, the fabric curving and cupping delicate soft flesh that he's only been able to dream of until now.
Abruptly he realises that Angel has set her shirt fully aside, fidgeting slightly while he is still sitting here with his on and an utterly dumbfounded expression on his face.
"S-sorry. I totally meant to take off my shirt too but--" He's flushing. He wasn't lying or tricking Angel or anything, it's just-- "You are really beautiful, Angel. I just ended up thinking that I forgot about everything else."