So if you disappear on me, I'll know I fucked up. [ Voice warm and husky, paired with a playful little grin. No. Sharon knows Kalmiya would never just vanish on her—not unless she did something wildly out of line or strangely aggressive. Still, with what she understands now, the idea makes a certain kind of sense.
Kalmiya moves through affection freely, easy with both her body and her love, because she has an exit. If something turns bad, or even just uncomfortable, she can leave. The thought is faintly amusing, but more than that, it's oddly reassuring. Kalmiya can always get away.
Sharon continues tracing along the lines of Kalmiya's hand before finally threading their fingers neatly together. ] Some other time, then. [ She echoes softly. Her other hand lifts, brushing gently along the older woman's cheek. Her gaze drops from Kalmiya's eyes to the bridge of her nose, then lingers for a moment on the familiar, mischievous curl of her lips.
A small smile forms, her heart skipping in quiet anticipation. Then she leans in and presses a soft kiss to those waiting lips. ]
[Sharon's quip draws a breath of fond laughter, a cadence that persists faintly even as she leans forward to press her lips to Kalmiya's. The thrill is immediate, the gentle spectacle of sparklers at night lighting beneath Kalmiya's skin. She is soft, receptive, but she doesn't hesitate. The slight tilt of her head is natural and comfortable, a motion that lets her lips dovetail more closely with Sharon's, the part of them welcoming but not insistent.
It isn't nervousness that shakes the tether from Kalmiya's end; it is closer to anticipation, a tentative eagerness awoken from a slumber that had perhaps been induced for her friend's comfort. She was never unhappy with the bounds of their easy affection or the physical closeness she was allowed. But it would be a lie to say, while the warmth of Sharon's body stretched flush across her back on quiet nights, that she never entertained the notion of a little more.
So there are many reasons to be excited about this development. Her hand gives a squeeze where their fingers are laced in her friend's lap, the corners of her mouth pulling up into the shape of a smile. For a moment, she pulls back just enough to impress something important into the scant air between them, lips still faintly brushing Sharon's and that fond huff of laughter returning underneath.] I won't disappear.
[Not on you, she doesn't say, but which the tether does, pulsing with a quiet but sure loyalty.]
[ A bright, eager hum stirs along the tether, and Sharon smiles into the kiss, the feeling echoing between them—her anticipation rising to meet Kalmiya's without hesitation. Desire has never been something that sits at the center of Sharon's world, not in any relationship she's had; more often than not, it's something she simply doesn't dwell on. Still, there have been moments with Kalmiya—fleeting, half-formed thoughts slipping in between quiet touches and shared warmth—where she's let herself wonder.
She's always known Kalmiya would welcome that kind of closeness. It's something she leans into with ease, something alive and natural to her—a language Sharon has never quite spoken, and one Alessa never wanted to learn. But Jinx had nudged the door open just enough, given Sharon the space to step forward on her own terms, to realize how different it feels when it's built on trust, on care, on love.
It was never something she felt was missing, not the way she once longed for companionship or affection. And yet, now that she's standing at its edge, she finds herself wanting—curious, willing to explore a little further.
When Kalmiya pulls back just enough to murmur against her lips, laughter soft and warm in her breath, Sharon answers with a quiet chuckle, letting their noses brush together. ] I know. [ She murmurs, certainty threading through her voice as blue meets soft silver. She would never let herself fall into something fragile, something fleeting. She trusts Kalmiya completely. Knows her, in all the ways that matter. Has seen the shape of her heart, the truth of her. ]
It wouldn't be happening if you would. [ She admits, before closing the space again. The kiss returns, unhurried, gentle at first, then slowly deepening as her hand slips free to cradle Kalmiya's head, fingers weaving through soft waves. There's no urgency to it, no sharp edge of need—only a steady, attentive warmth that builds between them, low and resonant, like the hum of a well-tuned guitar.
Sharon moves with quiet intention, exploring rather than chasing an end, as though each small discovery matters more than any destination. To her, this isn't a departure so much as a continuation—an extension of what they've always shared, drifting naturally from familiar closeness into something deeper, something warmer, something just beginning to unfold. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Kalmiya moves through affection freely, easy with both her body and her love, because she has an exit. If something turns bad, or even just uncomfortable, she can leave. The thought is faintly amusing, but more than that, it's oddly reassuring. Kalmiya can always get away.
Sharon continues tracing along the lines of Kalmiya's hand before finally threading their fingers neatly together. ] Some other time, then. [ She echoes softly. Her other hand lifts, brushing gently along the older woman's cheek. Her gaze drops from Kalmiya's eyes to the bridge of her nose, then lingers for a moment on the familiar, mischievous curl of her lips.
A small smile forms, her heart skipping in quiet anticipation. Then she leans in and presses a soft kiss to those waiting lips. ]
no subject
It isn't nervousness that shakes the tether from Kalmiya's end; it is closer to anticipation, a tentative eagerness awoken from a slumber that had perhaps been induced for her friend's comfort. She was never unhappy with the bounds of their easy affection or the physical closeness she was allowed. But it would be a lie to say, while the warmth of Sharon's body stretched flush across her back on quiet nights, that she never entertained the notion of a little more.
So there are many reasons to be excited about this development. Her hand gives a squeeze where their fingers are laced in her friend's lap, the corners of her mouth pulling up into the shape of a smile. For a moment, she pulls back just enough to impress something important into the scant air between them, lips still faintly brushing Sharon's and that fond huff of laughter returning underneath.] I won't disappear.
[Not on you, she doesn't say, but which the tether does, pulsing with a quiet but sure loyalty.]
no subject
She's always known Kalmiya would welcome that kind of closeness. It's something she leans into with ease, something alive and natural to her—a language Sharon has never quite spoken, and one Alessa never wanted to learn. But Jinx had nudged the door open just enough, given Sharon the space to step forward on her own terms, to realize how different it feels when it's built on trust, on care, on love.
It was never something she felt was missing, not the way she once longed for companionship or affection. And yet, now that she's standing at its edge, she finds herself wanting—curious, willing to explore a little further.
When Kalmiya pulls back just enough to murmur against her lips, laughter soft and warm in her breath, Sharon answers with a quiet chuckle, letting their noses brush together. ] I know. [ She murmurs, certainty threading through her voice as blue meets soft silver. She would never let herself fall into something fragile, something fleeting. She trusts Kalmiya completely. Knows her, in all the ways that matter. Has seen the shape of her heart, the truth of her. ]
It wouldn't be happening if you would. [ She admits, before closing the space again. The kiss returns, unhurried, gentle at first, then slowly deepening as her hand slips free to cradle Kalmiya's head, fingers weaving through soft waves. There's no urgency to it, no sharp edge of need—only a steady, attentive warmth that builds between them, low and resonant, like the hum of a well-tuned guitar.
Sharon moves with quiet intention, exploring rather than chasing an end, as though each small discovery matters more than any destination. To her, this isn't a departure so much as a continuation—an extension of what they've always shared, drifting naturally from familiar closeness into something deeper, something warmer, something just beginning to unfold. ]