The hesitant touch of Fenrir’s hands was almost like pain. She didn’t try to deepen the kiss, or push it any farther, or anything at all. Summer drew back enough to look at those dark eyes, letting her breath out slowly. Her free hand covered his.
She’d shut up the fears and dared herself to touch him, and he’d allowed it. He seemed to be welcoming it, but it was right here, in this kind of situation, that she always began to doubt herself. Everything about herself. She didn’t dare rely on her empathy, didn’t dare let that guide her for fear she’d trick herself, push too hard.
“Fenrir?” Summer asked, low.
His brows came down over his eyes just slightly as his eyes searched her, almost as if he were looking for answers. As if he were trying to look into her thoughts; somehow develop a similar power as her own. Be able to know what was going through her mind. Why she suddenly seemed so withdrawn. So shy and hesitant. He wished to know. He longed to just understand.
“Yes Summer?” He echoed in a tone matching hers, thumb idly brushing over the smooth skin of her cheek—gently, almost as un-touching as an idle breeze. The ghost of an action. “What is it?” He urged, wishing in that moment above all else that she would simply know that she was safe here. All of her was. Her words, her actions, her thoughts, all of it.
The whirling in her brain wouldn’t settle down to a single thought. So Summer went with instinct. This time, she kissed Fenrir with intent, fitting her mouth to his precisely and letting the kiss and her projection tell him what she couldn’t find the right words to say.
Taking chances was terrifying.
In his mind he stumbled again at the odd feeling of being able to so completely know what was going on in Summer’s head, though he righted himself as quickly as he could. He doubted it would be an easy thing to get used to; her thoughts entering where only his own had previously dwelled. But aside from that he minded it little.
Fenrir’s hand wandered from Summer’s face toward her hair, fingers weaving between the soft strands before resting just behind her ear near the back of her skull. His lips moved against hers as well as with them, allowing something else to take over and move him as it willed. The feeling of having another being so close was indescribable for Fenrir. This moment with Summer, in all of its glory, was simply and truly perfect.
Nothing made a sweet kiss sweeter than knowing the other person enjoyed it as much. Summer breathed in the bliss of Fenrir’s happiness, pouring it back over him for a long moment before she broke the kiss. One finger traced over his cheekbone as she smiled slowly. “Thank you.”
He smiled in return, eyes wandering about her face—flickering from her lips to her eyes and all around. His thumb smoothed over the softness of her cheek and he leaned in to gently place another kiss upon her nose. “You needn’t thank me for anything.” If anyone was to be doing the thanking, it would be Fenrir.
A teasing light shone in her green eyes. “Not for not devouring me on the spot?” She cupped her hand over his, then turned her head to kiss his palm quickly. “Are you still hungry?” Summer murmured. “Or has this satisfies your desire to dine out in Midgard?”