meme #004 | slow-dancing ( think outside the boxstep )

[the]

slow dancing ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ a meme → COMMENT WITH YOUR CHARACTER'S NAME, FANDOM, AND PREFERENCE. → PICK A CHARACTER YOU WANT TO TAG AND GO FOR IT. → PLAY NICE; NO WANK, FLAMES, OR GENERAL HUMBUGGERY. ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ the deal FORMAL OR INFORMAL, WITH MUSIC OR WITHOUT, YOU COULD BE AT A GLAMOUROUS GALA WHILE A SINGER CROONS SOFTLY OR IN THE SILENCE OF YOUR OWN LIVING ROOM. WHEREVER YOU ARE, YOU HAVE THE URGE TO DANCE. DID YOU ASK YOUR PARTNER OR DID THEY ASK YOU? HAVE YOU GOT TWO LEFT FEET OR IS THE VIENNESE WALTZ YOUR JAM? IT COULD BE AWKWARD, IT COULD BE ROMANTIC. EITHER WAY IT'S CUTE AS HELL.

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matching caskets

[inheritings]

[ he chuckles. it would be an easy thing, to press her against the counter, to lift her up to sit on it and kiss the words out of her mouth. sometimes robb thinks they'll manage sex on every surface of the apartment, which is probably a cruel thing come to think of it, but appealing in its way. ]

Perhaps you shouldn't kiss me like that, Greyjoy, and then I might not hold you so tightly.

[ tightly enough to press bruises into her skin, like the ones he once sucked onto her collarbone in a foolish, foolish moment. marks were just this side of possessive, something robb told himself he wasn't, so he barred himself from leaving marks all over her skin, as if that were proof of his unattachment. ]

white lillies and little lace pillows in them!

[coxswain]

Maybe I like kissing you.

[ ...no, no wrong. she cursed herself but her mouth was already moving, and the words tumbled over her lips with little disregard to the demands firing from her brain. ]

And maybe I like being held tightly.

[ they were stupid words, stupid and childish and girly. there was not the appropriate hint of sexual sarcasm in her tone to imply she had a rough sex kink. it was a little too true, a little too intimate with her mouth against his jaw and words escaping to tickle his skin. there's the slightest sense of dread in her stomach, reflecting inward and asha swore to herself again. pale green eyes open and she squirms halfheartedly, only trying so hard to disengage herself and dance away from him. ]

so cute

[inheritings]

[ he knows better than to read into that. he knows there's nothing there but banter, and so instead he does hold her tighter, back her against the counter, trap her there with his body and his arms circling her. the music plays endlessly on in the background as his hand finds the small of her back, flattening against the fabric of her t-shirt. ]

Do you?

[ it's robb giving her a do over. a chance to be flippant and irreverant. the words meant something, sent a flush rising up his neck. it was an uncomfortably sincere thing, and robb wasn't sure how she wanted him to respond. so he sidesteps, another turn in this little dance, robb saying, do you want to try that again? ]

our funerals are gonna be boss

[coxswain]

[ listen here, wolf boy, you should know better than anyone that no one likes to be caged. the playful quote about baby and corners could be quite appropriate here, but asha doesn't watch quite enough television for that to immediately come to mind. ]

[ she looks at him for a time, no jabs, no puns, and she fidgets. there has to be a smooth come back in here somewhere. if she were to be a queen of anything other than blisters and shouted orders, it would be of wit; of snappy retorts and teasing responses. ]

Only sometimes.

[ but they're not working right now, coming out a bit more defensive than she would have liked, even as she leans away from his hand, successfully pressing their bodies together and leaving very little wiggle room for defenses. ]

you bet

[inheritings]

[ his expression is serious. she's given him something genuine, and he doesn't know what to do with it. sometimes. sometimes is more than he'd have answered, if he'd been asked this morning when he woke up.

words fail him, as they so often do. one wonders what sort of politician robb might make, when he is all action and hardly any talk at all. in so many ways, he is better suited to hocky, to sports, things that don't require public speaking skills.

but the important thing is that robb can't think of what to say in response, so he leans in and kisses her. it's softer and sweeter and more tender than it has any right to be. and later, later robb will remember this when she's gone away. once robb stark pinned asha greyjoy against his kitchen counter and kissed her so very sweetly whie a saxaphone played in the background.

this was a moment that had weight, even if in the morning they both might decide to pretend otherwise. ]

better than our joint weddings ngl

[coxswain]

[ shit. ]

[ shit fuck, dammit. ]

[ he was kissing her then, and it's intimate and sweet and nice, and dammit she likes it. somewhere just underneath her lungs is curling in a way she prefers lower in her belly, in a tight and warm way that she would have much rather preferred to manifest while they were fucking - not...not kissing. ]

[ for a moment or two, she kissed him back, but her jaw was slack and her actions lacked the surety that marked all her other actions. then she forces a laugh, turns her face so his lips might drag across her cheek but the kiss is broken, and sighs. ]

It's late.

[inheritings]

[ robb doesn't lean back. the soft progress of his lips continues for a moment, up along the line of her jaw. for a moment there's the press of lips at the high point of her throat, then the nip of teeth at her earlobe, before he leans back just enough to look at her face and gauge her expression.

his actions speak too loudly, but if they didn't speak of it, then nothing need come of it. it's all testing, seeing what these new waters held. ]

I know. Are you finally tired?

[coxswain]

[ hush, hush, let's not speak of anything. ]

If I'm not, are you going to fuck me again?

[ and she wriggles, but it lacks any real dedication or intention. she is finally tired, and it's more a stretch than a purposeful slip of her leg between his, more a yawn than a purposeful push of her breasts against his chest. ]

[ ...yeah she's tired. ]

[inheritings]

[ his hands skim down her sides once more, come to rest on her hips. robb's no expert (it's hard to be fluent in asha greyjoy, especially when she changes the rules every other moment) but he knows the difference, knows how she moves. ]

Come to bed with me.

[ it's not the tone he uses when he means let's have sex, asha. it's something else, something softer around the edges. come to bed and sleep with me, as if this were something other than what it was. ]

[coxswain]

[ and that's a perfect cue for her to shrug again, to concede and let the arms around his neck shift, like she's going to unlace them. but she stalls, hand on his neck and fingers toying with the hair at the nap of his neck before threading up to tug on the curls. ]

Hmmmm... [ she hums after a time - an appropriate thinking time, though there was really no need to thin; there's just one answer - and disentangles her hand from his hair. arms from shoulders, too, and lets her palms rest on his forearms. ]

Alright.

[inheritings]

[ she does that, makes a show of considering him. and robb lets her, because it lends something like normalcy to this. as if they hadn't just had a moment of tenderness and affection, too honest for even his tastes.

and when she says yes he steps back, lets her away from the counter as his hands come up to twine through hers. ]

I'll even let you have the pillow.

[ and robb would steal theons, huzzah. ]

[coxswain]

Oh, how nobel of you. [ she practically coos. but it's almost entirely mocking. ]

[ still, asha lets him hold her hands for a moment, lets him squeeze her fingers and even squeezes back before shaking her hand from his. she turns to deposite the spoon in the sink, but doesn't bother to put the ice cream back in the ice box. ]

[ and it's not as if she needs any guide to his room - as infrequently as they spend time in the flat, it was not amaze - and she was comfortable enough to start making her way toward his room ahead of him. ]