It's in my blood, [ he says, trying to excuse his behavior. it's the truth, to a point. he stops breathing for a brief moment when she flexes her spine like she does. he's waiting for her to end up rolling her hips forward instead of backwards. if she wants his touch to be more definitive, he'll allow himself to press harder. just to double (triple) check that she's real. (he already knows she is, but it never hurts to check. his left eyebrow arches when she tilts her chin. he knows it's a challenge, but the question is, does he want to take it. he wants to and he doesn't at the same time, and he's not too sure how to choose this time. (yes, take it sounds like heaven right now, honestly.) would it really change their miscommunications or make them worse if he did. ]

Cambridge is actually a bitch, as much as I detest using that term against a person. [ his own fingers stop on her lower back and move to her hips before digging in. two can play her game. (if it is one.) ]

I wouldn't have you any other way. [ and he wouldn't. because she wouldn't be her.

(i care so much about you, and you shouldn't doubt that i want you.)

there's a sharp inhale on his part when she nudges at the piercing again. he needs to stop paying attention to her mouth when she does that. it causes more problems than he ever wants to admit when she does it. it's another move to their dance and dundee can't tell if it's going to be one of the final ones before they come tumbling down, too exhausted to dance any more. he forgets who leads the dance sometimes (he does, but she leads more when they're improvising.) but the fact that she tries to actually dance their complicated dance means endless things to him.

(he sometimes wonder if they're all that different. fuck me and hold me. they shouldn't be exclusive and yet. and yet.

they are. ]