[ he has to push back against his own fight or flight instinct -- everyone else... knew the ins and outs of intimacy, of touch and connection. it came unnaturally to him, a horribly foreign thing he still felt himself grappling with. roche is experienced in all of the ways he isn't.
more than the invitation that surprises him is the sensation of his hand against his; he turns, the blues of his eyes softening, strangely vulnerable in that moment. then they curl around his, mapping out the feel of his hand, palm lines sprawling out like roads.
cloud shifts, then; hand still in his, he lifts himself up so that he's bracketing him, slowly adjusting his weight against him. he holds their hand up, fingers intertwined, and gives him the cue to do as he pleases. ]
no subject
more than the invitation that surprises him is the sensation of his hand against his; he turns, the blues of his eyes softening, strangely vulnerable in that moment. then they curl around his, mapping out the feel of his hand, palm lines sprawling out like roads.
cloud shifts, then; hand still in his, he lifts himself up so that he's bracketing him, slowly adjusting his weight against him. he holds their hand up, fingers intertwined, and gives him the cue to do as he pleases. ]
...I don't get it.
[ he lapses into silence. ]
Shame...never matters to you. How?