CONTACT POST

[unweaving]

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h ec K

[failtography]

( for all his inexperience, this feels... pleasant, warm and familiar, even more so when he takes the cue readily to fit their mouths together, pressing deeper. they've done this before in their imagined memories, and prompto's lost in the strange sense of deja vu that hits him, absently smoothing one faintly trembling hand up her thigh to rest on her hip with far more surety than he would've had if he were completely in his head. )

LOOKIT HIM GO

[unweaving]

[ Knowing they haven't actually done this before doesn't do anything to stop it from feeling like safe territory, sweet and comforting when his hand coasts over her thigh. It eases her into it, makes her actions surer; a soft sigh against the warm press of his mouth, knees planted either side of his hips. That sense of familiarity is what has her pausing, eventually. The tiny tremor in his hand on her hip doesn't fit with the memories of them tangling together in need or love or just the sheer joy of being together, and it brings her present enough to pump the brakes a little. ]

You're shaking.

[ Quiet, almost whispered against the side of his mouth. ]

Do you want this?

help........... how do i het

[failtography]

( it's so easy to forget that all of this is new, but he's called out and that just adds a little more surety to prompto's own grasp, even as he pulls back and ducks a little, sheepish. ) C'mon, it's... kind of my first time. For real. ( the quiet laugh that comes on an exhale is just a little nervous, just a little shy. ) Go easy on me?

with aplomb, apparently

[unweaving]

[ The revelation is not nearly as much of a surprise to her as how it makes her feel. Back home, back in what she still sometimes thinks of as real life, that news would have launched her off the couch like a rocket. Sex isn't the big deal some people make it out to be, like it's either the best or worst thing ever and some kind of huge milestone in a life, but for someone like Prompto - sweet and insecure and almost painfully eager to please - five months ago that would have been way more responsibility than she wanted in her life. He's too tender and she's too brash. Leave that to someone who can make it clear to him how much he's worth, leave him feeling safe and loved and precious.

She doesn't know if she can be that person, but his hand settles more confidently on her hip and he laughs, and damn but it makes her want to try. ]

Yeah. Yeah, okay.

[ And for a moment she just rests her forehead against his, tips of their noses touching, and combs her fingers through his hair before shifting to kiss him again. ]

gosh

[failtography]

( if prompto still retained any semblance of rationality by this point it would've been spent pinching himself to make sure this isn't some kind of fever dream, that these months in some weird random town dealing with the most unexpected of things aren't just a figment of his undoubtedly overactive imagination - but the fact is he doesn't; all that's registering is the nudge of aranea's nose against his that calls forth the memories of their first day here, when they had been blissfully oblivious, each other's entire world. gingerly he shifts, moves to thread his free hand in silver strands and when he's wrapped up in yet another kiss it feels like coming home, the answering warmth surging in his chest 'til it feels fit to burst. )

[unweaving]

[ When his fingers tangle in her hair it reminds her just how much she's missed this. Just the closeness. The warmth of him, the reassurance that comes with that sweetness that's all his and nothing to do with whatever put them here. She hums quietly at his gentle shifting, slips a hand under the hem of his shirt to rest it against the warmth of his skin, and tips her head to lay a kiss against the line of his jaw. ]

Missed you, Shortcake.