abyssdressing | (no subject)

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characters: bloodymelodic

(no subject)

*humming happily the hum of the innocent, hair looped up and pinned with decorative chopsticks as she cooks something, hips swaying to the beat in her head* Mm... shit, this smells good.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[doesn't hug back right at first, just kind of leaning his chin on her shoulder]

... *kisses his shoulder*

[starts, but doesn't pull away]

*closes her eyes*

... [shifts again, carefully brushing his lips over hers]

*shakes her head* It's okay.

[shifts again, lightly pressing his lips to her jaw, then just going back to clinging]

... *hugs tightly*

[plays with her hair a little, clinging with his other arm]

*snuggles a bit*

[he stills again at that, just for a second, then kisses her temple and lets her do as she likes]

*HORRIBLE THOUGHT NOW OCCURRING* ...

[LUKE IS NOT PSYCHIC, SO NO HORRIBLE THOUGHTS HERE.]

*shaking slightly, hands going back to her mouth*

[well the shaking tips him off that something is wrong, and he shifts away]

You're freaking out with me touching you. Fuck, what if...

[doesn't quite get it. but there is definitely something clicking dully in the back of his head]

... *closes her eyes tightly*

[well now it's his turn to look sick. and he's going to shift away as quickly as he can manage without smacking her in his efforts, reeling when he gets to his feet and nearly falling over backwards. coordination!]

If she did that to hide the fact she...

[remember how you had your hands at your mouth, Ana darling? Luke is kind of mimicking that pose now, except he's coughing.]

*looks at him*

[because somehow coughing equates trying not to vomit. after a minute or two he just looks at her, shakes his head, and takes a few steps backward. if you plan to stop him from running the hell away, Ana, you might want to do something.]

Luke... *reaches out to him*

[he wants to reach back, he really does. but the overwhelming urge to expel the contents of his stomach and the reason for said urge is keeping him glued in place, shaking and with one hand twisted around the fabric of his jacket]