[He has an urge to quip back (Mr. Punchline), but then he's kissing her and it really doesn't matter anymore.
He's done this before, obviously. "This" being the mechanics of it, of tilting his head at just the precise angle, of flicking through the last of the buttons on her (his) shirt, of pressing past fabric and skimming his hands over her ribs. Nothing about this process is remotely complicated. (Got boring.)
Except not, because this is all the same and all different. It's hazy, tugs at him, makes it difficult to detach and focus on the data.
(Motivation. His, hers. More complicated a game than he realized. Brava, Ms. Adler.)]
no subject
He's done this before, obviously. "This" being the mechanics of it, of tilting his head at just the precise angle, of flicking through the last of the buttons on her (his) shirt, of pressing past fabric and skimming his hands over her ribs. Nothing about this process is remotely complicated. (Got boring.)
Except not, because this is all the same and all different. It's hazy, tugs at him, makes it difficult to detach and focus on the data.
(Motivation. His, hers. More complicated a game than he realized. Brava, Ms. Adler.)]