(no subject)
Continued from here.
He doesn't want to get off of me? Hmm. I guess I shouldn't be so surprised by that, but I shouldn't be surprised by his grumbling stomach either. "Sounds like your stomach disagrees with that plan," I murmur.
I have to blink at how quickly he tries to reassure me that he's a) fine, b) doesn't really need a bandage, and c) the wound is close up more or less.
And waving it in front of my nose? Possbly not the best plan ever. I glance at him and hold onto the arm he's holding out for me. "Could get infected," I try, looking at the blood still sitting on the surface as the wound does start to clot.
I pull his wrist a little closer and sneak out my tongue to pull away any stray drops. I moan very, very softly and take another lick along the length of the tiny cut. "Should be more careful," and at the moment, I don't know if I'm talking to him or myself. I glance up at him savoring his taste on my tongue and finally forcing myself to let go of his arm.
"We should eat," I tell him, eyes still not leaving his. Normally, I might try to fight him on eating soup in bed, but I don't really feel like it with the taste of his blood still on the tip of my tongue. Shaking it off, I brush a finger over his cheek.
"I'll get a tray," I say, climbing over him and looking down at him briefly before taking myself and my apron back to the kitchen to get food. For him and for me.
He doesn't want to get off of me? Hmm. I guess I shouldn't be so surprised by that, but I shouldn't be surprised by his grumbling stomach either. "Sounds like your stomach disagrees with that plan," I murmur.
I have to blink at how quickly he tries to reassure me that he's a) fine, b) doesn't really need a bandage, and c) the wound is close up more or less.
And waving it in front of my nose? Possbly not the best plan ever. I glance at him and hold onto the arm he's holding out for me. "Could get infected," I try, looking at the blood still sitting on the surface as the wound does start to clot.
I pull his wrist a little closer and sneak out my tongue to pull away any stray drops. I moan very, very softly and take another lick along the length of the tiny cut. "Should be more careful," and at the moment, I don't know if I'm talking to him or myself. I glance up at him savoring his taste on my tongue and finally forcing myself to let go of his arm.
"We should eat," I tell him, eyes still not leaving his. Normally, I might try to fight him on eating soup in bed, but I don't really feel like it with the taste of his blood still on the tip of my tongue. Shaking it off, I brush a finger over his cheek.
"I'll get a tray," I say, climbing over him and looking down at him briefly before taking myself and my apron back to the kitchen to get food. For him and for me.