it is a rare moment of quiet.
she is nested in the seat of his lap, not unlike the bird she is. it makes her seem even smaller by comparison. any attempt made to leave this space, is met with a quick correction, leaving her no choice but to sit back down. wuya feels no fear at present, only a subtle frustration at this pressure to stay in one place.
she concedes for now- and lets her back hit his chest. " a bird should be allowed to fly free whenever she wishes. " her brow furrows. scheming quietly, as he settles.
after a moment however... wuya moves again. only to crane her head upward, leaning with it. to press a small kiss to his cheek. an affectionate gesture, given in part with genuine want. but also as a means to slip free - whether it works or not is a gamble she is more than happy to take. / a kiss ?? u want a kiss ??? there u go. greedy ...
𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 indeed. his thick, corded legs serve as trunks for her roost, a space occupied by none until she. his spine curves over her so the hollow she resides in tightens and secures. he doesn't question how this came to be or why his appetites stay and shift between duels. he only indulges in the movements of her form as she breathes and the silken quality of her dark fall as it drips between his fingers with each pass. the minuscule strain of her throat when his hand catches in the resulting loops.
he doesn't give reply immediately, only continues to rend the flow of the inky river in his palm.
wuya's movement sparks him. it could mean anything, another spar, chastisement, displeasure, attention- or it could mean naught at all. he finds himself unsure of the more sumptuous course. strange. unfamiliar-
his musings crumble under the sensation of her lips pressed to his skin. skin that has never been adorned with such. not even as a child. his features compress, cleaving thick furrows on the arch of his nose and between his brows.
" 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. " disconcerting, the jolt surging upwards in his chest. the thickness in his throat. his body betrays his words, his elbow tightening to clamp her against him. too tight, he knows, by the way his arm sinks into her belly, by the way the hem of her clothing rises as fabric converges into the trench of his hold.
"𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 ," yet his harmless passes through her strands have stayed, becoming a clutch that pulls at her scalp and arches her neck towards his face ." 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 , 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐰𝐮𝐲𝐚. "
