[ She is still kissing him when the rise, her own hands fumbling towards his elbows (warn patches on the sleeves of his sweater) as she tries to find her feet, her neck craning to keep her mouth upon his. Though the kiss remains more or less chaste, she can feel something creeping at the very edges of it. What that something is she does not understand (his desire for her, more bodily and base than she's yet to learn), but it glimmers there like some bauble that dewly catches the lamplight and, ever intrepid, Sansa chases after it with her lips, a sigh escaping her as she finally settles at a short distance, the two of their bodies held apart from one another like teenagers in some awkward dance, even though their mouths remain joined.
A noise then escapes her, curious and questioning, those hands traveling up the length of his arms to find the line of his shoulders, curling loosely over the collar of his shirt.
The children are not allowed movies nor radios nor books that remind them too readily of the outside world. (Sansa's magazines had been near to contraband, though her original had been influential and sent them nevertheless.) She has only stories to mimic, illustrations from fairy tales (Snow White, Cinderella). None have taught her how to deepen a kiss, how to make it more than simply confection and sugar sweet, but the curiosity is there. An unspoken bid of teach me, teach me as her eyes remain open and her lashes flutter and a tin-toy drumbeat hammers at her chest. ]
no subject
A noise then escapes her, curious and questioning, those hands traveling up the length of his arms to find the line of his shoulders, curling loosely over the collar of his shirt.
The children are not allowed movies nor radios nor books that remind them too readily of the outside world. (Sansa's magazines had been near to contraband, though her original had been influential and sent them nevertheless.) She has only stories to mimic, illustrations from fairy tales (Snow White, Cinderella). None have taught her how to deepen a kiss, how to make it more than simply confection and sugar sweet, but the curiosity is there. An unspoken bid of teach me, teach me as her eyes remain open and her lashes flutter and a tin-toy drumbeat hammers at her chest. ]