When she doesn't push him away in disgust or anger, he can't help but pull her closer. He can feel her power sing through him, and it is like that first breath of air taken by a sailor that has nearly drowned at sea. It is almost painful, the way his being responds to their proximity.
It frightens him, the need he has to be close to her, the immense power she has over him. Any order she gives, he knows he will obey. Wherever she goes, he knows he will follow. He has no choice, but even more terrifying than that is the fact that if he were asked his choice right now, he knows that he would choose to follow her. Even She who made him never held that power over him.
It isn't simple lust that compels him to untuck her shirt enough to slide his hands underneath; it is the need for more skin-on-skin contact. He doesn't press his advantage once the bliss of that contact is established. He doesn't let his hands wander over her back or slide down past the waist of her pants. He could, but he doesn't, because the need is more than sexual, and he doesn't want the two confused any more.
no subject
It frightens him, the need he has to be close to her, the immense power she has over him. Any order she gives, he knows he will obey. Wherever she goes, he knows he will follow. He has no choice, but even more terrifying than that is the fact that if he were asked his choice right now, he knows that he would choose to follow her. Even She who made him never held that power over him.
It isn't simple lust that compels him to untuck her shirt enough to slide his hands underneath; it is the need for more skin-on-skin contact. He doesn't press his advantage once the bliss of that contact is established. He doesn't let his hands wander over her back or slide down past the waist of her pants. He could, but he doesn't, because the need is more than sexual, and he doesn't want the two confused any more.