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He knew not how long he lay with her on the bed, stroking her back and running his fingers through her hair. He had initially gone for the couch, but the short furniture proved to be more difficult to accommodate them both since she refused to let go of his form.
Not that he had an issue with that.
She sniffled against his chest as her cries abated. To him, it was ironic that he was comforting her, especially while they were still in costume. An angel in the arms of a demon…
The world had a sense of humor he didn't understand, even after all this time.
He sighed, his chest expanding a little and then settling down again. His fingers continued their soothing motion through her hair, admiring the soft locks that he missed feeling.
"I think…" she half croaked out after being left to her thoughts for a while, "that you were right."
His hand paused in her hair.
She loosened an arm from around him in order to touch his hair. His silky locks felt cool and for a while, she was content to occupy herself with his hair. Her fingers moved over to the medallion that had slipped out from beneath his costume.
She idly made circles with her forefinger against the medal.
"…She said I was the worst," she whispered, a sound so faint.
His eyes narrowed at the slight shame he heard in her voice. "Do you regret not going through with the maneuver?"
He felt her breathe out a long, tired breath.
"If I had won," she started in a low voice, "especially with Yuri as my partner and Layla there to give the trophy, it would have been a repeat of Layla's win three years ago. It wouldn't feel like I personally won."
"Thinking back, Layla had been the one to call Yuri to look for me in France." She blankly stared at his silver hair over his shoulder as it draped over his dark costume. "Even so," she murmured, "a part of me is insistent that she hadn't meant to make me a copy of herself."
Her head shifted in order to look directly at his face. "Maybe she just thought I needed to go through what she did, or some part of her is still reluctant to completely let go of the Kaleido Stage." She half shrugged. "I don't know what, but I still don't think she had ill intentions to begin with."
He was silent; she didn't mind the lack of response.
Just when she started to move her head back under his chin to rest, felt his hand lightly grip her chin up to him.
"You see now," he murmured.
After that, he stayed silent, his eyes and the slight smile on his face told her many things not necessarily relating to Layla or the festival. She wasn't certain if she was seeing the things he wanted her to see, but the entering warmth in his eyes made her feel that hidden affection she locked up during the chaos of the trials.
Here I was looking for the good in people around me when it's in him.
How could he be an icon of fear, but also caring was certainly a mind twister; however, his embrace at the moment meant more to her than the title. His hand brushed the few tears that leaked out. A little embarrassed, she brought the tissue he gave her earlier to wipe her face.
She laughed a little. "I must be a mess."
"Yes," he said with a half smirk.
She pinched his side, making him flinch. She let loose a small smile as he nipped her cheek, her jaw, her chin and then her underjaw.
The smile faded as her lashes fluttered upon feeling his lips on her neck.
They shifted a little on the bed, no longer facing each other on their sides. She was on her back as he leaned over her, kissing her cheeks and barely brushing her lips.
Her eyes half closed as his teeth bit his way up to her ear.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, "if you don't want me to continue."
Her lips stayed closed; he waited a few seconds more and then his hand drifted over her exposed leg of the costume, relishing in the shaky breath she let out. The hand ran along her side and over her stomach, fingers teasing the hem of her top.
His fingers trailed along the area where her ribs were, gauging her reaction.
She stayed quiet, except for her breathing.
His head bowed down and peppered her midriff with wet kisses. Her hands tugged at his cloak still on; he paused in kissing her skin in order to shrug it off. When he resumed his path along her stomach, her hands came back and ran along his shoulders. His eyes lidded as she touched him, but he was pulled out of the feeling when her hands rested along his face.
He went on his side and grasped her hand.
He spotted the short fingerless gloves on her hand and hooking a finger under the band near the inside of her wrist, he slowly peeled it off.
"Are you aware," he rumbled as he peeled the other glove off while keeping eye contact with her, "of what will occur?"
She stared up at him, faintly shivering as his thumb ran along her palm.
In response, she tugged at the gloves on his hands and forearms. Her fingers trailed over the sinews of muscle as she slipped the long glove off of his right arm. He shuddered at her touch and the swirling emotion in her eyes.
"You can continue," she murmured.
Her fingers threaded through his and she leaned backwards against the bed, their connected hands bringing him with her. Her legs parted to allow him to settle over her. He, having been warning her since he surely yearned for her with a strong flame but not letting it cloud his mind, finally let it consume him as she invited him to stay.
Her legs wrapped around him as he connected their mouths, reveling in her mewl as she tangled her tongue with his.
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