“Fair,” Lark concedes, a fluttery sort of laugh finally escaping them when Lily drags them down. They keep an arm and a leg under them so they aren’t crushing her, but otherwise they meet her easily, pressing their lips to hers like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
In a way, it is. Her touch warms them and numbs them at the same time, making everything around them feel impossibly distant and her impossibly close, and the longer they kiss her the more they feel the haze settle over their mind, matched only by the lava creeping back into their veins. The ticking in the back of their mind never really stops, but they stop paying attention to it, their world narrowing to soft skin and old scars and the self-imposed task of figuring out how to draw that surprised gasp-squeak out of her again. It was adorable. She’s adorable. Or, um… No. No! She deserves to be adored, dammit.
They’re startled from their quest when they feel a hand on their thigh, and realize that Lily has pulled away from them slightly. They automatically adjust their arm to prop themself a little higher, giving her room to breathe, but can only blink at her in dazed confusion for a long moment, their free hand absently raking their hair back out of their face while they wait for her to say something.
Just as they’re about to break the increasingly awkward silence, they feel the hand give a tiny squeeze, and a bolt of electricity races up their spine, their face going from lightly flushed to blazing red as they realize what she’s asking. “Wh-? Oh. Uh.”
The look they give Lily is decidedly nervous, but beneath that the currents are almost too tangled to parse, a mess of desire-fear-longing-desperation-despair that sits at odds with the reassuring smile they try to pair it with. After a long moment, they slowly shake their head, a quiet kind of regret the last to flash through their eyes before the waters settle. They place their hand on her upper arm, but it isn’t to push her hand away; it’s another point of contact and gentle pressure as they lean in for a kiss to soften the blow. The first kiss is followed by another, then another, and then, after even more consideration, they carefully trace their hand down her arm and lay it across her hip, fingers splayed. It’s as clear as they can make their own offer without risking spontaneous combustion, unfortunately, but considering how they’ve mostly limited their touch to her shoulders and face this whole time they think it’s clear enough.
She deserves so much more than Lark can give her, but they’re here now, so they’ll do what they can.
(You still have to leave eventually, says the part of their brain that never really shuts off, filling their head with visions of doors and deadlines and last goodbyes, but they don’t let themself waver. They take a breath and push it down, down, down, until it melts in the molten flow.)
(They know. They know that nothing lasts forever. That doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy it while it’s here.)
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