After that shared confection is gone, there’s a perfect halcyon moment that stretches between them, a peace and contentment that wraps around them, soft and comforting and comfortable. Hermes can’t help but wish it could last forever. They are seated so close now, heads leaning together at one corner of the table, and all he need do for one of his knees to bump hers is to shift in his chair ever so slightly.
It’s a temptation that he can’t resist, despite the flicker of guilt mingled with excitement that the very idea precipitates, and he doesn’t quite manage to be either casual or subtle about the way his knee nudges against hers. He can feel heat in his cheeks, and he watches for her reaction in his peripheral vision rather than doing so directly. Even so, he easily notes her blink of surprise when he makes contact, as well as the initial resistance his knee meets as it presses against hers--which then suddenly, abruptly falls away as she relaxes her legs, allowing his to slide between hers. It is in no way truly indecent, as they aren’t seated nearly close enough for his leg to press up against anything too terribly interesting; in truth, he’s only just past the bony part of her leg, his knee resting in the gentle curve directly before the soft flesh of her sleekly lush thighs begins. Even so, it’s clearly permission, of a sort, and judging by the dark wash of sudden color staining her face, paired with a shy smile and her own inability to make eye contact with him...she is not at all unreceptive to any potential advances he might make.
They linger thus for what feels like both an eternity and only a few brief moments, just long enough for Hermes to wonder if he could get away with shifting his leg a bit higher, or perhaps reaching for one of her hands-
Before he can do either, she’s moving away, pushing the chair back to stand up even as she leans in to gather up the pan and both the spoons they’d used. Her expression is flustered, but other than a slight wobble at the start, her words stay calm, composed and companionable.
“I-I should clean up. If I let it sit for too long, it becomes a real mess--and not the sort that’s fun to deal with either.”
He notes the way she turns her back on him fully as she crosses the room, returning to her workstation--a level of trust that flatters him, even as it sends a concerningly dark thrill through him...for she does not truly know him, and cannot know if he is really deserving of that trust. Not after only one short day spent together, no matter how soul-bearing and intimate their talks might have been.
Something about the vulnerable sight of her back, or perhaps the bared nape of her neck that’s visible over the collar of her shirt, has him on his feet and striding after her across the room, for once not allowing himself to think and overthink everything even as he moves towards her with a very definite sort of intent.
She must hear the scuff of the sole of one of his shoes against the flagstones beneath their feet, because she manages to half-turn before he reaches her, her eyes going wide and startled as he leans down, his arms coming up and reaching out to cage her in, his hands grasping at the workstation at her back, the one holding the empty birdcage.
It would be simplicity itself to lean in further and cover those lips with his own. She is gazing up at him, her face tipped up towards him invitingly, and she does not protest her current situation, nor does she attempt any kind of escape from that slight fragment of space between his arms and the workstation behind her. Instead, she blinks slowly, one hand coming up to lightly rest on his arm--and yet, Hermes is suddenly awash with doubt.
After everything that she has already done for him--the reassuring embrace earlier, that tender kiss to the top of his head, this fantastically sweet repast, giving him hope for the first time in ages by showing her understanding and acceptance of him in the first place--is he truly going to be so ungrateful and insatiate as to try to get something more out of her?
His gaze is steady on her mouth, and he ducks his head even further, until he can feel the feather-light sensation of the quick, excited heat of her breath against his face...and yet, still he freezes, lingering perhaps half a handspan away. What he wants, wants so deeply that it burns, is at war with how he knows he should behave--honored guests of Elpis are not to be treated thus, much less familiars, particularly those that belong to a member of the Convocation of Fourteen. He truly is an aberration after all, he must be, far more wanton and shameless than even he himself had realized. What right does he have-
That dark, intensely self-loathing thought stutters to a halt then fades away like mist before the morning sun as she unexpectedly (or perhaps not) makes the next move, her lips light and lingering as they brush against one of his cheekbones. Hermes releases an audibly-shaking breath as she repeats the action on the other side of his face, then dips her head to press her lips against his jawbone. He draws in a breath every bit as unsteady as the one he’d just let out when he feels a brief scrape of teeth against his neck, followed by an equally quick flicker of a warm, wet tongue dragging over the pulse in his throat. Writing such things off as his overactive imagination wouldn’t be difficult, would likely be for the best; but next, she presses her lips to the corner of his mouth--and the Chief Overseer of Elpis abruptly finds his nerve again, pulling away just enough to turn his head, facing her straight-on as he leans in to kiss her properly.
Prompt #25: Free Prompt - Halcyon | ✧ Hermes -> f(Miqo'te)!WoL ✧ | Endwalker Spoilers
It’s a temptation that he can’t resist, despite the flicker of guilt mingled with excitement that the very idea precipitates, and he doesn’t quite manage to be either casual or subtle about the way his knee nudges against hers. He can feel heat in his cheeks, and he watches for her reaction in his peripheral vision rather than doing so directly. Even so, he easily notes her blink of surprise when he makes contact, as well as the initial resistance his knee meets as it presses against hers--which then suddenly, abruptly falls away as she relaxes her legs, allowing his to slide between hers. It is in no way truly indecent, as they aren’t seated nearly close enough for his leg to press up against anything too terribly interesting; in truth, he’s only just past the bony part of her leg, his knee resting in the gentle curve directly before the soft flesh of her sleekly lush thighs begins. Even so, it’s clearly permission, of a sort, and judging by the dark wash of sudden color staining her face, paired with a shy smile and her own inability to make eye contact with him...she is not at all unreceptive to any potential advances he might make.
They linger thus for what feels like both an eternity and only a few brief moments, just long enough for Hermes to wonder if he could get away with shifting his leg a bit higher, or perhaps reaching for one of her hands-
Before he can do either, she’s moving away, pushing the chair back to stand up even as she leans in to gather up the pan and both the spoons they’d used. Her expression is flustered, but other than a slight wobble at the start, her words stay calm, composed and companionable.
“I-I should clean up. If I let it sit for too long, it becomes a real mess--and not the sort that’s fun to deal with either.”
He notes the way she turns her back on him fully as she crosses the room, returning to her workstation--a level of trust that flatters him, even as it sends a concerningly dark thrill through him...for she does not truly know him, and cannot know if he is really deserving of that trust. Not after only one short day spent together, no matter how soul-bearing and intimate their talks might have been.
Something about the vulnerable sight of her back, or perhaps the bared nape of her neck that’s visible over the collar of her shirt, has him on his feet and striding after her across the room, for once not allowing himself to think and overthink everything even as he moves towards her with a very definite sort of intent.
She must hear the scuff of the sole of one of his shoes against the flagstones beneath their feet, because she manages to half-turn before he reaches her, her eyes going wide and startled as he leans down, his arms coming up and reaching out to cage her in, his hands grasping at the workstation at her back, the one holding the empty birdcage.
It would be simplicity itself to lean in further and cover those lips with his own. She is gazing up at him, her face tipped up towards him invitingly, and she does not protest her current situation, nor does she attempt any kind of escape from that slight fragment of space between his arms and the workstation behind her. Instead, she blinks slowly, one hand coming up to lightly rest on his arm--and yet, Hermes is suddenly awash with doubt.
After everything that she has already done for him--the reassuring embrace earlier, that tender kiss to the top of his head, this fantastically sweet repast, giving him hope for the first time in ages by showing her understanding and acceptance of him in the first place--is he truly going to be so ungrateful and insatiate as to try to get something more out of her?
His gaze is steady on her mouth, and he ducks his head even further, until he can feel the feather-light sensation of the quick, excited heat of her breath against his face...and yet, still he freezes, lingering perhaps half a handspan away. What he wants, wants so deeply that it burns, is at war with how he knows he should behave--honored guests of Elpis are not to be treated thus, much less familiars, particularly those that belong to a member of the Convocation of Fourteen. He truly is an aberration after all, he must be, far more wanton and shameless than even he himself had realized. What right does he have-
That dark, intensely self-loathing thought stutters to a halt then fades away like mist before the morning sun as she unexpectedly (or perhaps not) makes the next move, her lips light and lingering as they brush against one of his cheekbones. Hermes releases an audibly-shaking breath as she repeats the action on the other side of his face, then dips her head to press her lips against his jawbone. He draws in a breath every bit as unsteady as the one he’d just let out when he feels a brief scrape of teeth against his neck, followed by an equally quick flicker of a warm, wet tongue dragging over the pulse in his throat. Writing such things off as his overactive imagination wouldn’t be difficult, would likely be for the best; but next, she presses her lips to the corner of his mouth--and the Chief Overseer of Elpis abruptly finds his nerve again, pulling away just enough to turn his head, facing her straight-on as he leans in to kiss her properly.