She lifted his hands to her mouth and kissed his fingertips, locking their fingers to attend to each of his fingertips individually. “You have beautiful hands,” she murmured, kissing his palms and then his wrists. “Strong. Powerful.”
He watched her as she began looking over his hands, blushing slightly at her compliment. “Well then they are just like the person who holds them,” he says softly, smiling down at her.
“Oh no,” Summer said, against his skin. She shook her head. “I’m not strong or powerful. I’m just a girl, trying to find a place of safety in the world.” Bolder, she kissed a fingertip again, and licked lightly at it, tracing a pointless pattern down the flesh.
Feeling his upwelling of nerves, Summer put her hands over his after he took the chain mail off. “This is — you don’t have to — ” She looked up, trying to hold his gaze. “Mordred.” God, his eyes were so beautiful. Very steadily, holding tightly to her own fears so they didn’t show, she said, “Please don’t do anything you don’t want to do. I just wanted you to take off the chain mail.”
Mordred nodded, removing his hands, his shirt half open but he didn’t mind. “I don’t mind,” he tells her honestly, looking back up at her as he allowed his fingers to intertwine themselves with her own. “But as you wish,” Mordred says with a smile.
She lifted his hands to her mouth and kissed his fingertips, locking their fingers to attend to each of his fingertips individually. “You have beautiful hands,” she murmured, kissing his palms and then his wrists. “Strong. Powerful.”
She had to let him go to breathe, though she kept her face pressed to his. She ran one hand over his shoulder, and pushed a little. “Off,” she whispered. “I want — I need to touch you, Mordred, please.”
Mordred’s heart skipped a beat, the lump in his throat expanding as he began to remove his cloak and belt, sliding his chain mail over his head, placing it all on the table as he began working on the buttons of his undershirt.
Feeling his upwelling of nerves, Summer put her hands over his after he took the chain mail off. “This is — you don’t have to — ” She looked up, trying to hold his gaze. “Mordred.” God, his eyes were so beautiful. Very steadily, holding tightly to her own fears so they didn’t show, she said, “Please don’t do anything you don’t want to do. I just wanted you to take off the chain mail.”
The way he tangled his hand in her hair, that was nice. Summer tried to wriggle closer and was stymied by his armour. Instead she settled for deepening the kiss, nipping at his lip.
A soft gasp escaped him as she bit down on his lip, his fingers pulling at her hair. He was caught up between wanting to stop and knowing his boundaries and continuing the whole thing. Instead he ignored everything and continued to kiss her, pushing back all the things his father had told him exactly not to do.
She had to let him go to breathe, though she kept her face pressed to his. She ran one hand over his shoulder, and pushed a little. “Off,” she whispered. “I want — I need to touch you, Mordred, please.”
She nodded, biting at her lower lip. “I like the way you feel. I like to touch.” She touched his mouth again before leaning in to kiss him.
He smiled against her lips, his cheeks reddening at the gesture as his hand moved it’s way up her back, his fingers intertwining in her hair.
The way he tangled his hand in her hair, that was nice. Summer tried to wriggle closer and was stymied by his armour. Instead she settled for deepening the kiss, nipping at his lip.
“What? No!” She was so confused now, so tangled in all the different places her emotions had been pulled to. She lowered her forehead to his shoulder, oblivious to the possibility of her hair catching in the chain mail. “I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
”Well that would make the two of us,” he murmurs, resting his head against her own, being careful so he wouldn’t hurt her.
“Can we just,” she began, fingers curling over his bicep, “can we just go somewhere quiet and alone and maybe trust each other a little bit?”
Mordred nodded. “I’m sorry Summer, I didn’t mean to be so rude.”
“What? No!” She was so confused now, so tangled in all the different places her emotions had been pulled to. She lowered her forehead to his shoulder, oblivious to the possibility of her hair catching in the chain mail. “I don’t understand what’s going on here.”
