[ the scent still lingers, but rey's gotten used to it now; she barely notices it anymore. instead, her senses are overwhelmed by the shining metal, the almost too-clean surfaces, and then without warning, the scent of him leaning over, that familiar leather and grease and spice all mingling over her shoulder, heady and strong as she breathes it in.
there's an instinct to turn, so she does. she follows that instinct all the way around until her hands find purchase against his arms, sliding up until she can loop her own arms around his neck in a tight hug. it's half rey herself, half gratitude at finding him here (at not being alone) and half the warm, comforting sensation that comes from the embrace, that unexpected encouragement to seek out this kind of touch and linger in it. sweetness and reassurance build as she clings to him, a feedback loop of scent and proximity, until the other instinct in her head finally nudges her forward.
bright pear, the spice of cinnamon and cloves, finally separated out from the scent of poe himself, intoxicating and impulsive — it lingers underneath the sweetness, encourages her to shift from one embrace to the next, her face tipping back up to his with a casualness that would have otherwise taken weeks if not months to fully master. ]
I don't mind interesting.
[ in her right mind, rey might second-guess herself, or question the seemingly impossible-to-resist urges that pull her closer to him. but they feel so natural, playing on emotions and desires that may have already been under the surface, she doesn't even think to question them. she simply submits to the tidal wave of urgency, and follows it out.
but even still, she should hesitate here. she should ask, or even simply wait to see, but rey has always been reckless and the perfume only makes her worse; instead of common sense, she only moves by instinct now, pushing herself up on tiptoes to match his height as she leans into him that much more, mouth catching his own without care for should.
he hasn't pushed her away, either, so she's not stopping until he does. ]
no subject
there's an instinct to turn, so she does. she follows that instinct all the way around until her hands find purchase against his arms, sliding up until she can loop her own arms around his neck in a tight hug. it's half rey herself, half gratitude at finding him here (at not being alone) and half the warm, comforting sensation that comes from the embrace, that unexpected encouragement to seek out this kind of touch and linger in it. sweetness and reassurance build as she clings to him, a feedback loop of scent and proximity, until the other instinct in her head finally nudges her forward.
bright pear, the spice of cinnamon and cloves, finally separated out from the scent of poe himself, intoxicating and impulsive — it lingers underneath the sweetness, encourages her to shift from one embrace to the next, her face tipping back up to his with a casualness that would have otherwise taken weeks if not months to fully master. ]
I don't mind interesting.
[ in her right mind, rey might second-guess herself, or question the seemingly impossible-to-resist urges that pull her closer to him. but they feel so natural, playing on emotions and desires that may have already been under the surface, she doesn't even think to question them. she simply submits to the tidal wave of urgency, and follows it out.
but even still, she should hesitate here. she should ask, or even simply wait to see, but rey has always been reckless and the perfume only makes her worse; instead of common sense, she only moves by instinct now, pushing herself up on tiptoes to match his height as she leans into him that much more, mouth catching his own without care for should.
he hasn't pushed her away, either, so she's not stopping until he does. ]