from a fanfiction I will never write
She was sure she was ready to stay with Caine forever—but how exactly, she didn't understand. A crazy Artificial Intelligence with a digital world to boot, who spends his life creating adventures—what could he possibly be for her? But at the same time, they had long since crossed that line of intimacy that people often don't even have time to reach in a lifetime. Maybe she should just leave things as they were; maybe she just refuses to accept that they are different.
"Can you kiss me? Right now?" Ragatha suddenly asked.
“Why?!” Caine exclaimed in bewilderment, and Ragatha laughed. What else could he say?
“I want to understand something. For myself.” Caine looked at Ragatha uncertainly.
“Do I really can do this?”
“Absolutely,” Ragatha answered very seriously. “Treat it like a scientific experiment. And do everything very carefully.”
Caine nodded and hesitantly ran his finger down Ragatha’s cheek. She smiled encouragingly. He leaned forward slightly and touched her lips — carefully, very lightly, allowing her to change her mind and pull away. Ragatha’s lips were unexpectedly soft, and they were simultaneously tart and sweet, like an apple baked with honey.
He couldn't resist licking her upper lip, afraid to cross the line in their relationship beyond which she would feel uncomfortable staying together; cursing himself for not being able—no, not wanting—to control himself now.
Knowing that it would be very difficult for him to let her go if she decided to leave him—and she would definitely, absolutely, decide to leave, because it happened to him all the time, because why else would she kiss him like that now, desperately, as if for the last time?
And he can no longer tear himself away from her, and can only try to keep up with the surge of sensations in his memory: how she runs her warm, slightly rough tongue over his teeth, how he tries to decipher the complex combination of tastes and smells, sweet and tart, so familiar and yet new, which ultimately add up to simply Ragatha. He no longer notices how he embraces her and presses her to him; as he draws abstract patterns on her back with his fingers, and for some reason he feels not the fabric of the dress, but the fabric of the skin—Ragatha’s hot, slightly damp skin, and every touch resonates with sparks of nerve impulses.
He holds her in his arms, losing himself in her completely, not wanting to let go and not allowing her to pull away because very soon it will all be over and he will have to let her go - let her go and smile and let her go because he has no choice, he never really has a choice.
He feels Ragatha press her palm against his chest, pushing him away almost imperceptibly, and he realizes it's over—time is up, his time is up—and he releases her, kissing her forehead softly one last time. Her dress is rumpled, her hair disheveled; her eyes are closed, her lips are swollen, parted, and he can barely restrain himself from kissing her again, from tasting her, from smelling her, from dissolving into Ragatha.
"So, what was the result of your experiment?" he asked instead, turning away and feigning genuine interest in the adventure spheres on the shelf.
"Satisfactory," Ragatha smiled. "It's quite possible that one day I'll decide to repeat it. Or even improve it. Maybe not now. But definitely not ever."
Then she waved goodbye, memorizing his surprised, simultaneously worried and delighted expression, and winked as she said goodbye: "See you tomorrow, Caine! Goodnight."