❅ Only thing moving were her eyes, feeling cornered with his arms around her,warm form pressed against her own, heating her back and legs, hers somehow entangled with his, yet unable to realize the sitation entirely. His answer didn’t help, muttered seemingly sleepily, answering her question to his reason, the reason to lie into her bed. It had been an internal struggle to let him sleep over, not used to having someone male stay over, not anyone but her childhood friend, going against the rules her father had so strictly burned into her. Yet she had done it, allowed him to sleep on the futon replacing her couch, in one corner of her living room, covered with pillows and blankets, bought years ago as it occupied less space in the room turned into a dancing gym.
No way she had expected him to move, sneaking into her room, using her like a human-shaped stuffed toy, cuddling her as if it were most natural. She was used to his touchings,after years of dancing together, but this was new, a different level of intimacy, sharing a bed,something she had never done with anyone but the two boys she had grown up with, one of them being her own broter. Thus it took her a while, not daring to move, feeling weird in this position, unsure about what to do now. It was against her habits, letting a man stay over,sharing her bed, having no space inbetween them in this private place of hers. “You…” Her voice broke, not sure about how to approach this, how to handle this, staying silent for one more moment. “It can’t be cold… There’ floor heating”, she mumbled, gazing into the dark,trying to make out a shape, trying to get a hunch why exactly he had crept into her bed. “I…Sharing a bed…”
It was partly because of being tired, not being able to form a proper phrasing, stuttering around, thinking even it might only be a dream. This was new to her, no one ever had told her people might sneak into her bed, none of the people she knew having lived just some minutes away, not close enough to any of her friends to have experienced this yet, thus also not sure whether it was actually normal or not.
Generally, Zacharie had two modes when ever he was drunk; eruptively violent or, and this was less common, soft and needy - very much like a puppy. Unfortunately for both him and his manly pride, this night seemed to be one of the latter. Finding his way into her bedroom in the middle of the night, he had comfortably slipped himself under her blankets. Arms, slender but toned, wrapped their way around her waist and pulled the woman in closer to him; she smelled sweet and, indeed, it was a lot warmer. Zacharie didn’t like sleeping in the living room - it was cold and lonely, all things that seemed to plague him the most at night.
“You’re warmer,” he mumbled, face buried into her hair, “Votre parfum est si doux. Si doux, si chaud.” French slipped over his tongue a lot better than Korean, especially know that there was some alcohol in his system. Though it may have been difficulty understanding him, the sensuality of the foreign language and the way his breath danced past her ears in a hushed whisper was difficult to mistaken. Arms tightening around her waist, Zacharie’s fingers slipped just under the hem of her shirt, running along her skin. She was lovely.
He had always had a thing for teasing the little dancer, sometimes wondering whether she really was so innocent that his innuendoes seemed to go right over her head, or if it was all an act just to make him want her a little more. “Pourquoi es-tu si innocent?” Zacharie whispered, his lips just briefly pressing against her bared neck, “Vous essayez de me séduire?”
