[His fingers close carefully over her hand, skin as surprisingly warm as it has always been. With little effort, he could probably just squeeze and crack quite a few bones, but he treats the hold so tenderly, like it's fragile. Like he knows how easy it is for him to hurt other people.
He draws her closer to his front, so he doesn't have to awkwardly reach too far to place his other hand around the back of her shoulder under her arm. A pause extends between them; it seems like he is allowing her to prepare, but really he is trying to make sure he can subdue the hot, heady rise of something darker in the back of his throat. The effort it takes to ignore the smooth voice whispering somewhere behind his eyes in his head, or maybe it's lower, in his chest.
Then he finally begins, easy and unhurried, like a slow waltz. Not knowing any of the steps doesn't matter. He's the leader, and everything in his hands and the way he shifts his legs tells her exactly where to go, moves her along. They don't go very far out, simply a looped figure eight.]
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He draws her closer to his front, so he doesn't have to awkwardly reach too far to place his other hand around the back of her shoulder under her arm. A pause extends between them; it seems like he is allowing her to prepare, but really he is trying to make sure he can subdue the hot, heady rise of something darker in the back of his throat. The effort it takes to ignore the smooth voice whispering somewhere behind his eyes in his head, or maybe it's lower, in his chest.
Then he finally begins, easy and unhurried, like a slow waltz. Not knowing any of the steps doesn't matter. He's the leader, and everything in his hands and the way he shifts his legs tells her exactly where to go, moves her along. They don't go very far out, simply a looped figure eight.]