It wouldn't fit in a comment [for washthedoggie
Mag wasn't always this off-set. She was sure of it. She had to have more control of herself, most of the time.
Not always. But most of the time.
It was when he stole her hand, or a kiss, or tucked away a hair behind her ear did she lose whatever state of sobriety or ground. It wouldn't be so bad, if he wasn't always doing that, or even more.
She blushed again, as he squeezed the hand he held entrapped in his. “What did you say?”
He laughed, “I was just asking if you had ever been to a gallery before, you seemed... a bit in aw.”
“I have, just... not one like that. My favorite was this touch-gallery in Chicago... they had these beautiful statues and...” Oh look, her feet once again became far more interesting and safe than his face, “not one like that anyway.”
A hand took her chin, and lifted it for a kiss, soft and sweet, “well, I'm glad that I got to be the one who showed you.”
It was always like that, soft, sweet, and innocent. She was always so 'tempting' as he put it, and even as the kisses became deeper, longer, and less innocent, she still blushed, and mumbled. He would take his time then, to make sure that as his kisses trailed away from her lips, to her cheek, collar bone and breast, that he would keep her off edge. For as long as she kept him in line, he didn't have to worry about losing that aspect of himself.
Terrifying as it was.
Those times then as well, when he kissed her and she him, when muffled cries and names were yelled, spoken, and whispered, and the sheets rumpled beyond an iron's memory, she was kept off balance. It kept him in balance, and both safe.
Mag didn't know what would happen if he lost that balance, and he knew too well.
Blind Mag
Repo! The Genetic Opera
326