[but any stuttered explanation or apology trails off, lost to the soft kiss of her mouth and the soothing touch at his back. he doesn't know why he's this way -- painfully taut inside and raw at the touch of others, even the ones he loves and trusts most, too many nerves sparking -- but in this moment it makes him frustrated, and ashamed. he's considered it a personal victory that he's able to hug his friends, a little more often now; but the stuff with Alex is so far beyond that. he wants her touch so desperately, to smooth all his frayed wires back into the right place. that's how he feels, when she kisses him -- right, like he's never been scrambled up in the first place. just a regular person (a regular, dead, immortal, demigod person, fine, but whatever)]
[maybe he should feel weird and broken, but the way Alex carefully kisses him all over his face, the affection in that nickname that has absolutely stopped being ironic, how she smiles and tells him you're always good for me, don't let that doubt creep in. he goes as she urges, sitting down on his sleeping bag, a little hard (and, er, a little hard)]
[he breathes in a few times, and feels better that -- however intense he'd felt, the moment he's separated from her, he doesn't want to be. he wants Alex near him, always, and it was just going to be a matter of... taking things slow. he nevertheless blushes at the suggestion of what they might do, what he's ready for. his eyes rake over her long legs, the way the red fabric clings to her hips, how one side of the dress is tugged a little cute and lopsided from the press of their bodies]
...I don't think I was ready for that dress.
[it's probably a joke, to ease his own tension. probably. he holds his hand out for her to join him, eyebrows knitting in a vague anxiety not at her, but that she'll still come to him. that he hasn't scared her off, being unready, like he always is]
[ despite herself, she grins. ] I don't think anyone's ever ready for the Jessica Rabbit dress. [ she blows him a kiss, then starts to peel the dress off, changing as she goes, so that by the time it hits the floor of the tent, she's physically male up top, wearing a pair of pink satin panties. she bends to pick the dress up and set it aside, then reaches for one of his t-shirts, sliding it on over her head.
she crosses to him, then, sinking down astride his thighs-- keeping them in contact, but leaving enough distance between their torsos that magnus can take his time, can feel a little less overwhelmed.
she slides her hands over his shoulders, gently cupping the sides of his neck as she leans back in for another soft kiss. ] --Is this okay? Not too much? Should I put on pants?
[it's his true feelings, even if it's absolutely choked out -- gods, did Alex really think she was less sexy in his t-shirt and a pair of adorable, satin pink panties?]
Um, it's okay. I mean, it's not, I don't know how you think anyone would ever be ready for you like this, either?
[but the corner of his mouth is twitching; it makes a giddy feeling rise insanely in his chest, seeing her in his clothing, still. while his hands (and other parts of his body) really want to stray to satin and see how soft the material is under his fingertips (and maybe not just the material), that would probably be Too Much. yeah it would definitely be Too Much, his face is hot enough, just seeing her like this, t-shirt barely covering her lap, legs on either side of his. he settles for tucking his arms comfortably around her waist, letting his eyes linger over her bare thighs and the pink fabric peeking at the sides of her hips. his hand (still a little shaky, honestly) gently slips beneath the back of her (his) t-shirt, seeking the same smooth skin he touched before]
Gods. You're so beautiful, Alex...
[it's an almost distracted mumble, as his nerves spike and settle, with the proximity of her both teasing and comforting, like this. she could rip him apart or break his heart in an instant, and instead she's patient and loving and in her underwear, for him]
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[but any stuttered explanation or apology trails off, lost to the soft kiss of her mouth and the soothing touch at his back. he doesn't know why he's this way -- painfully taut inside and raw at the touch of others, even the ones he loves and trusts most, too many nerves sparking -- but in this moment it makes him frustrated, and ashamed. he's considered it a personal victory that he's able to hug his friends, a little more often now; but the stuff with Alex is so far beyond that. he wants her touch so desperately, to smooth all his frayed wires back into the right place. that's how he feels, when she kisses him -- right, like he's never been scrambled up in the first place. just a regular person (a regular, dead, immortal, demigod person, fine, but whatever)]
[maybe he should feel weird and broken, but the way Alex carefully kisses him all over his face, the affection in that nickname that has absolutely stopped being ironic, how she smiles and tells him you're always good for me, don't let that doubt creep in. he goes as she urges, sitting down on his sleeping bag, a little hard (and, er, a little hard)]
[he breathes in a few times, and feels better that -- however intense he'd felt, the moment he's separated from her, he doesn't want to be. he wants Alex near him, always, and it was just going to be a matter of... taking things slow. he nevertheless blushes at the suggestion of what they might do, what he's ready for. his eyes rake over her long legs, the way the red fabric clings to her hips, how one side of the dress is tugged a little cute and lopsided from the press of their bodies]
...I don't think I was ready for that dress.
[it's probably a joke, to ease his own tension. probably. he holds his hand out for her to join him, eyebrows knitting in a vague anxiety not at her, but that she'll still come to him. that he hasn't scared her off, being unready, like he always is]
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she crosses to him, then, sinking down astride his thighs-- keeping them in contact, but leaving enough distance between their torsos that magnus can take his time, can feel a little less overwhelmed.
she slides her hands over his shoulders, gently cupping the sides of his neck as she leans back in for another soft kiss. ] --Is this okay? Not too much? Should I put on pants?
no subject
[it's his true feelings, even if it's absolutely choked out -- gods, did Alex really think she was less sexy in his t-shirt and a pair of adorable, satin pink panties?]
Um, it's okay. I mean, it's not, I don't know how you think anyone would ever be ready for you like this, either?
[but the corner of his mouth is twitching; it makes a giddy feeling rise insanely in his chest, seeing her in his clothing, still. while his hands (and other parts of his body) really want to stray to satin and see how soft the material is under his fingertips (and maybe not just the material), that would probably be Too Much. yeah it would definitely be Too Much, his face is hot enough, just seeing her like this, t-shirt barely covering her lap, legs on either side of his. he settles for tucking his arms comfortably around her waist, letting his eyes linger over her bare thighs and the pink fabric peeking at the sides of her hips. his hand (still a little shaky, honestly) gently slips beneath the back of her (his) t-shirt, seeking the same smooth skin he touched before]
Gods. You're so beautiful, Alex...
[it's an almost distracted mumble, as his nerves spike and settle, with the proximity of her both teasing and comforting, like this. she could rip him apart or break his heart in an instant, and instead she's patient and loving and in her underwear, for him]