Her hands were in his hair, holding him there, and the desperation still wasn’t subsiding. He had expected it to ebb eventually in the comfort of her contact, fall away like a breaking wave - but if it were a wave it had been building up in him for years and somehow the end of all this still wasn’t in sight. So it was something like a flood, and something like a wildfire, and the ache for her was brimming up from the base of his gut and his heart was racing and he didn’t know how to stop it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.
“Elsie...” he breathed, having broken off a kiss only in rolling over and finding himself more securely on top of her (...which, absurdly, felt something like a quidditch move) and now he was definitely counting on her to be the sensible one here. Really, what were they doing? This was absolutely a bad idea, whether or not there was no chance of them getting caught tonight, whether or not they could forget the world for a minute... A bad idea that already felt incredibly good.
(On a practical level of what were they doing, Tybalt wasn’t convinced he was a great deal more sure of himself than she was in this area, although he could probably credit himself with being better-versed in the theory here than he ever had been in a school subject. If he had not ever wanted less to spark a conversation about school, though, it was now, so he deftly refrained from cracking a joke about it.)
He had wanted to give Elsie a chance to call things off (at every hurdle, a new chance); and he was certain she would any second now and it would be ended, the spell would be broken and the moment would probably never come again; but whatever he had been going to say, Tyb found his head was not nearly clear enough for it, and he didn’t trust himself to voice it. So, holding himself there, he gave her a lingering look, waiting for her to say or do something before - slower, and more intently - he leaned down again.
“Elsie...” he breathed, having broken off a kiss only in rolling over and finding himself more securely on top of her (...which, absurdly, felt something like a quidditch move) and now he was definitely counting on her to be the sensible one here. Really, what were they doing? This was absolutely a bad idea, whether or not there was no chance of them getting caught tonight, whether or not they could forget the world for a minute... A bad idea that already felt incredibly good.
(On a practical level of what were they doing, Tybalt wasn’t convinced he was a great deal more sure of himself than she was in this area, although he could probably credit himself with being better-versed in the theory here than he ever had been in a school subject. If he had not ever wanted less to spark a conversation about school, though, it was now, so he deftly refrained from cracking a joke about it.)
He had wanted to give Elsie a chance to call things off (at every hurdle, a new chance); and he was certain she would any second now and it would be ended, the spell would be broken and the moment would probably never come again; but whatever he had been going to say, Tyb found his head was not nearly clear enough for it, and he didn’t trust himself to voice it. So, holding himself there, he gave her a lingering look, waiting for her to say or do something before - slower, and more intently - he leaned down again.
