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[HE'S NOT CUTE.

Shut up.

What if he kisses her? Will that make her stop?]

[Yes.

She just goes back to resting her hands on his shoulders and will happily kiss him for as long as he wants.]

["As long as he wants" is a pretty long time, but eventually, he breaks away and re-focuses his attention on her neck.

The way he's kissing her skin is almost reverential — slow, a little cautious, and heated. If they're taking it slow today, that's fine, but she better be prepared to handle the lazy build he's planning.

And while he's doing that, his fingers find the hem of her shirt and push their way underneath, sweeping up her sides and down her back.

He doesn't spend any time lingering on her scars, but he does touch them. Unlike the last time this happened, though, there's no change in his pacing, no hint of desperation or fear in his actions.]

[She can handle anything he throws her way.

And she can enjoy, too, tilting her head with a soft, pleased sigh, giving him more access to her skin so he can keep kissing her like that. It's nice, and she can't really think of a time when anyone's treated her the way Saul does, when anyone's kissed her like he's kissing her now. Vanadi was fun, but with him she wouldn't really have stayed still long enough for moments like this, if he'd even be inclined to that sort of thing.

And Ellie was-- They were both still figuring things out, so she was always careful to keep things a little lighter, a little easier.

This is different, and it makes something in her chest ache, especially when his hands slip under her shirt.]

Saul...

[Her voice sounds a bit distance, almost a little lost, as if she's asking a question that she doesn't want to know the answer to.

Her heart's beating too fast.]

Shh.

[For all that Saul likes to talk, talk, talk and hypnotize people with the lilt and rhythm of his words, he's of the opinion that actions sometimes do speak a little louder.

Or convey more, at least. He can tell her he loves her until he's blue in the face, and she can say she knows, but he doesn't think she really understand how deep this goes for him. He's putting a lot on the line for her, for this relationship (or whatever it is) — but he wants it all so, so badly that he can't imagine not doing it.

He'd be miserable.

He traces her skin like he's trying to memorize the way she feels, his touch firm but gentle. And when his lips finally travel up to meet her ear, he pauses for a few seconds, just breathing.]

[And she shuts up.

She can talk her way through almost anything, as was evidenced yesterday when she had a hard time not talking back at any opportunity, but that doesn't feel anything like this. It feels important to stay quiet and just enjoy this, without trying to make any smart remarks or run her mouth, even if the temptation is there, because she doesn't like feeling so flustered and caught off guard.

She tries to stay still, too, though that's a little more difficult. By the time he stops to breathe, she's squirming under his touch, her breathing a little too shallow and her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt. She's expecting him to say something when he stops kissing her, so after those seconds of silence she makes a sound somewhere between a whimper and an inquiry, wondering what's doing.]

[What he's doing is —

He's not sure what he's doing. It feels a little like he's in a trance; he can't focus on anything but her and how she's breathing and how warm her skin is and how much he wants her.

It takes a little reminding that he has her, finally, but that doesn't stop the sudden ache in his chest from spreading out all over. The sigh that's drawn out of him as a result takes the shape of her name — and with that, he's finally able to pay her proper attention again, lips catching her earlobe.]

[She changes her mind about taking things slowly.

This is good, but it's also a little too much, and she almost feels like she's burning up, or maybe that she's going to melt, and it's not something she's really sure how to deal with.

The way he sighs her name really doesn't help. She wants to tell him to stop and she wants to beg him to never stop, and in the end all that happens is a desperate whine escapes her lips as a shiver runs down her spine.]

[He's not usually like this. Back home, he was a busy guy; sex was just another part of his schedule, something that fit into a time slot and was to be completed efficiently. So he's not one to take his time, really, but then again, it's been a while since he's felt this way about anyone — if he ever has, he's not sure — and actually wanted to draw things out.

And if Steph is going to keep reacting the way she is, he almost thinks he'd be content to keep this going forever.

His lips drop back to the side of her face, alternating between cheek and jaw and brow. Then he starts to tug at her shirt, gently, to let her know he'd like it off, please.]

[As soon as he tugs at her shirt, she leans back just enough that she can take it off, and she's almost grateful for the temporary reprieve from his mouth on her skin.

She needs a second to catch her breath.

She's careful not to bump her head again as she pulls her shirt over her head and drops it to the floor. If he doesn't have any other plans, she's going to try to kiss him again, instead of letting him burn her up.]

[Oh, he has plans. She can kiss him, though. He'll let that go for a little while.

And while she's busying herself with his mouth, he's going to reach behind her to undo the clasp of her bra. He's so good at it, too — almost like all it takes is a snap of his fingers.]

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