And that's half the appeal isn't it? Maybe this is an urge that she, in particular, should be curbing, reaching for things that might hurt her.
But Karlach is a person, not a thing, and Camille's fingertips press to the sternum and her brain melds the hiss with the heat, and she imagines smoke sizzling off her fingers.
Yet she's not burning. Just on the precipice of it, feeling the thump through the skin, serenaded by metal and pistons. She presses down, so that the rest of her fingers share the heat. So close to searing.
no subject
And that's half the appeal isn't it? Maybe this is an urge that she, in particular, should be curbing, reaching for things that might hurt her.
But Karlach is a person, not a thing, and Camille's fingertips press to the sternum and her brain melds the hiss with the heat, and she imagines smoke sizzling off her fingers.
Yet she's not burning. Just on the precipice of it, feeling the thump through the skin, serenaded by metal and pistons. She presses down, so that the rest of her fingers share the heat. So close to searing.
Then she remembers herself and pulls away.]
It doesn't hurt you?