[If Cesare's carefully though somewhat poorly veiled life of sin and cardinal skirts has taught him anything, it is the ability to recognise when a girl is contentedly anticipating a kiss. He can recognise the blush in their cheeks and the subtle, nervous flutter of their eyes that occurs, as if their heart is telling them that it's dangerous to look at him, as if meeting his gaze might destroy them, yet they insist on doing so anyway, staring into the sun. Elizabeth's reaction is Cesare's invitation and it takes barely a breath before he is pressing their lips together, his hand slipping to the back of her neck and pulling her into him. He kisses her harder than before, when he had been deliberately gentle and playful with her, hoping to soothe her nerves. This time, though deep, is calm and relaxed, indulging in each sensation.
One day, he is sure, Elizabeth will be the one to kiss him instead. It will be her who decides exactly its nature. For now, though, it is Cesare, and when he pulls away, he can't help but pull a small, somewhat amused smile. Elizabeth may fear being close to people, but she does not seem hate it.]
no subject
One day, he is sure, Elizabeth will be the one to kiss him instead. It will be her who decides exactly its nature. For now, though, it is Cesare, and when he pulls away, he can't help but pull a small, somewhat amused smile. Elizabeth may fear being close to people, but she does not seem hate it.]
Are you afraid of me, Elizabeth?