[ She answers his words with a kiss, her face turning so that her mouth presses to his temple. ]
Yes.
[ Her breath ghosts along his skin as she speaks, lips still so near that they brush against his cheekbone. When she feels his head move, her grip loosens in his hair, and instead her fingertips drag down the back of his neck, tracing the his spine until they dip between his shoulder blades. Her nails are cut as bluntly as they always are, but even so, with the way she curls her fingertips they press against him through the fabric of his shirt, touch tracing a long, slow pattern to his waist and back.
The brush of his stubble against her skin is familiar, too. It's a feeling her thoughts can only associate with Kiritsugu, and it makes her skin prickle, her chest arching up into the touch of his hands. She doesn't feel the least bit of shame in the way her eyes fall closed and her head tilts to the side, her breath quickening into short, airy gasps against the fabric of the futon below her. ]
no subject
Yes.
[ Her breath ghosts along his skin as she speaks, lips still so near that they brush against his cheekbone. When she feels his head move, her grip loosens in his hair, and instead her fingertips drag down the back of his neck, tracing the his spine until they dip between his shoulder blades. Her nails are cut as bluntly as they always are, but even so, with the way she curls her fingertips they press against him through the fabric of his shirt, touch tracing a long, slow pattern to his waist and back.
The brush of his stubble against her skin is familiar, too. It's a feeling her thoughts can only associate with Kiritsugu, and it makes her skin prickle, her chest arching up into the touch of his hands. She doesn't feel the least bit of shame in the way her eyes fall closed and her head tilts to the side, her breath quickening into short, airy gasps against the fabric of the futon below her. ]