You said War would just reach out and pull his s/o into his arms when he wants to show affection? Could you do a full scenario please with lots of love and some added kisses of passion??? Pretty please with a cherry on top, oh supreme goddess of the Darksiders Ask Blogs? Then can you also just have a wonderful day yourself? Cause your the best!
This was written by the dunce who’s never been kissed :S Enjoy xoxo
War, as you well know, is virtually incapable of just asking for things. He maintains the physical embodiment of the phrase, ‘actions speak louder than words’ and honestly you aren’t sure if it’s something you’ll ever get used to.
You’d been trying to get ready for bed, sitting on top of the covers and pulling a pyjama top on when War’d shown up at your front door, looking, for lack of a better word, particularly sullen. An unusual way to describe War, of all beings but there it is.
He sits, slumped against the wall of your bedroom in total silence, following a brief explanation as to his somewhat disagreeable mood. Apparently, he’d been tracking a quarry that had managed to slip under his radar and he’d lost the trail he’d been following for weeks. Meanwhile, you pace back and forth before him, getting ready for bed. It’s on your fifth pass that War apparently grows tired of not having your full attention, so, without warning, as you step close to him once more he reaches out a large hand and curls his fist around your waist, capturing you in a steady but gentle grip.
“War? wha-woah!” You give a small cry of surprise as he lifts you effortlessly into the air and sets you in the dip of his crossed legs, angling you so that you’re facing him. You give him a teasing scowl, a smile pulling at your lip at such an open display of ‘I want you near me.’
War reaches up to dislodge his crimson hood, pulling it down and releasing those crisp white, wispy locks. You beam at the invitation. … .
The removal of War’s hood, especially when he removes it in your presence, has become something of an indication that you have the horseman’s permission to start messing with his hair. Apparently there’s something in the motion that provides War with a significant amount of contentment and is one of his now favoured ways of winding down at the end of the day.
You stretch upwards and prop your elbows on his broad chest, where you take a moment or two to rest your head in hand and gaze at him with unabashed adoration. He stares back, far less expressively but with eyes just as fierce as the day you’d met him. After a quiet minute passed in this position, you reach a hand up to the side of his head and run your fingers languidly through his long, fair strands. Alternating between just letting it flow through your hands and massaging a spot on the back of his skull with your nails.
War rumbles low in his chest and you can feel the reverberations under your hands and in your own chest that’s pressed against him. He eyes you with a tiny snarl when you laugh at the way he’s behaving, but his lips fall back over the exposed fangs when he looks down at your mouth with half-lidded eyes. Another invitation? Goodness, he’s just full of them today… ..
For War, kissing is a new and intriguing development. He wasn’t very good at it, unfortunately. At least to begin with. He was stiff and unresponsive, too proud to admit that he didn’t know how and too ashamed to try. You’d had to teach him quite a lot about kissing, an amusing concept, considering how old he is. The need to actually let you breathe was the first thing on your list of tutoring…
Now, you’d be proud to say that you’d done a good job. He’s far more explorative and even adventurous, but his previous inexperience would always linger at the back of his mind, preventing him from kissing you first. You had to be the one who initiated it.
So, smiling with anxious excitement, because the very knowledge that you’re about to kiss one of the most dangerous beings in the universe will never not be thrilling, you lean up further, past his chest to press an experimental kiss at the very corner of his mouth. War follows you all the way with his eyes, from when you kissed him to when you lean back to flash him a pleased grin. The horseman snorts, wrinkling his nose at your pitiable attempt of a kiss. Your mouth stretches open further at the expression on his face, but with a laugh and an apologetic ‘okay, okay…’ you begin to lean in again, this time aiming dead centre, straight for his own pale lips.
War rolls his eyes, discontent with how slowly you’re drawing this out, so he places a hand under your rear and gives you a gentle nudge upwards with his palm. You let out a squeak of shock when you shoot forward and crash lips with his. War laughs aloud at your reaction, simultaneously giving you unrestricted access to the inside of his mouth. His sudden bout of playfulness makes you sigh exasperatedly against him, but any disquiet is dispersed when he begins to respond to your lips.
It’s still a little clumsy, he’s still afraid to use his teeth, but its good. It’s still good. His reverence is endearing, but the look in his eyes as he gazes down at you when you kiss him borders on the divine. It’s the calmest War’s ever looked. After a while, he relaxes back against the wall with satisfaction. You chase his mouth when he pulls away, but settle for placing chaste pecks on the rest of his face. His strong chin gets its due attention, then his nose receives a soft kiss at the tip, making the horseman blink lazily. Then you ghost your lips over each of his eyelids, which he closes in turn. When you pull away slightly to realign yourself, War takes the initiative. He copies what you’d been doing, pestering your cheek with bold, decisive kisses. You squint as you pull away with a laugh, but he follows and you just know there’s no escaping him if he wants to give you this.
So, you relent, letting him cover every inch of your face he can, all the while, you’re both still sitting against your bedroom wall. In fact, you don’t even venture to your bed that night, instead falling asleep against the warm body of the Red Rider, who keeps his quiet vigil over you throughout the night.
