As he drew her close, Lenore nestled comfortably into the embrace, resting her other hand on his chest and enjoying being held like this. It felt like a surprise that this was really happening. He desired her romantically, and probably physically as well. Having things that way around was new for her. Usually her sexuality was far more appealing to men than her romantic nature.
She considered the question, head tipping slightly to one side and eyes gazing unfocused into space as she thought through it. Did she have any particular hopes? Nothing that she was heretofore invested in. She hadn't speculated on the topic, because it seemed unlikely to be relevant. So she took a few moments to speculate now.
Perhaps he was uninterested in sex, and desired only the romance and companionship she could offer. Their current relationship would change very little, continuing with deeper trust and closer physical proximity, but mostly still just an exchange of words.
Perhaps he was voraciously sexual, with centuries of pent-up desire, favoring an array of kinks that humans could barely imagine. But she thought that she could trust him, even then, and that she would be a collaborator in such things rather than an object.
Her mind caught there, and she was surprised to find that it took effort to consider the question beyond the topic of sexual desire.
Perhaps he would be maudlin, lost in the sorrows of the past and the things he loved that were now centuries gone. Perhaps he would be playful, with a love of pranks and wicked jests.
She already knew him to be observant, thoughtful, respectful of her space, her body, her identity. Those things would not change. Would he be attentive and doting, showering her with little gifts, or distracted and distant, keeping their romance carefully compartmentalized away from other matters?
That. Her heart snagged there. The other possibilities she could give or take, accepting whatever she found. But she didn't think she could bear being kept at arm's length by a lover who had so many more important things to distract his mind. Still, to ask for such a thing seemed absurdly bold. All the words that came to mind made her feel grasping--I want to be the most important thing in your life. I want you to ache for me if we're apart.
Start smaller. The way she'd first thought of it: attentive and doting.
"Affection," she said at last, returning his gaze to his. "Warmth--as in a tendency toward romantic gestures, even just small ones. I think ... I would be disappointed if I found that the man beyond your guard was cool, aloof, or forgetful. Anything else that comes to my mind, I think I will be content with whatever I learn of your nature. But I suppose I do hope that you are ... sweet."
Her cheeks flushed and her eyes dropped away as she finished this little speech. If his nature was contrary to her hope, she would feel foolish--and maybe a little selfish.
no subject
She considered the question, head tipping slightly to one side and eyes gazing unfocused into space as she thought through it. Did she have any particular hopes? Nothing that she was heretofore invested in. She hadn't speculated on the topic, because it seemed unlikely to be relevant. So she took a few moments to speculate now.
Perhaps he was uninterested in sex, and desired only the romance and companionship she could offer. Their current relationship would change very little, continuing with deeper trust and closer physical proximity, but mostly still just an exchange of words.
Perhaps he was voraciously sexual, with centuries of pent-up desire, favoring an array of kinks that humans could barely imagine. But she thought that she could trust him, even then, and that she would be a collaborator in such things rather than an object.
Her mind caught there, and she was surprised to find that it took effort to consider the question beyond the topic of sexual desire.
Perhaps he would be maudlin, lost in the sorrows of the past and the things he loved that were now centuries gone. Perhaps he would be playful, with a love of pranks and wicked jests.
She already knew him to be observant, thoughtful, respectful of her space, her body, her identity. Those things would not change. Would he be attentive and doting, showering her with little gifts, or distracted and distant, keeping their romance carefully compartmentalized away from other matters?
That. Her heart snagged there. The other possibilities she could give or take, accepting whatever she found. But she didn't think she could bear being kept at arm's length by a lover who had so many more important things to distract his mind. Still, to ask for such a thing seemed absurdly bold. All the words that came to mind made her feel grasping--I want to be the most important thing in your life. I want you to ache for me if we're apart.
Start smaller. The way she'd first thought of it: attentive and doting.
"Affection," she said at last, returning his gaze to his. "Warmth--as in a tendency toward romantic gestures, even just small ones. I think ... I would be disappointed if I found that the man beyond your guard was cool, aloof, or forgetful. Anything else that comes to my mind, I think I will be content with whatever I learn of your nature. But I suppose I do hope that you are ... sweet."
Her cheeks flushed and her eyes dropped away as she finished this little speech. If his nature was contrary to her hope, she would feel foolish--and maybe a little selfish.