sapphirescales.
` mm. okay. ‘
she’s pliant, loose-limbed. she doesn’t believe angel, but it seems … important to angel that she does. so, she gives in.
and then. angel’s face so close to her own. her mouth, soft, at the corner of raven’s.
her breath catches in her throat, eyes wide, and honey clear. she can’t look away.
` —- okay. ‘
angel’s hand shouldn’t hold her cheek like this, shouldn’t be warm against the soft curl of her ear. and it’s hard to not, to suddenly devastatingly not --- but, she does. because she doesn’t want raven’s disappointment, doesn’t want her regret. doesn’t want them to avoid each other.
she clears her throat, her throat that bobs and swallows.
fuck it, she thinks. fuck this feeling; the heart, the chest, the punishing pit of the stomach. she won’t be subtle, she won’t tiptoe. she doesn’t want to be soft and quiet, the two of them water in the palm of the other’s hand.
cradling raven, it’s easy to push her up so she’s sitting and off her lap. she stands and pulls raven by her hand, grip warm, so the fuck it sentiment isn’t harsh anywhere but inside her own head.
“Let’s go and get something to eat.”
at the doorway, a false spring in her step, she lets go of raven’s hand and turns to her, holding the doorframe, hiding her body.
“And -- if you don’t want me to kiss you, you gotta stop looking at me like you do, blue.”









