Jesper has always been important to her nearly as long as she’s known him, but she never looked at it much deeper than that. She hadn’t needed to until recently. Maybe it was always there, and she’d simply needed the right thing to spark it.
There is a strange line that she knows must be difficult for him to balance on- somewhere between ”I am not made of glass, do not touch me like you might shatter me,” and keeping every ounce of her agency in her own hands. For a boy with such eager hands and hungry eyes, it can’t be easy, but he respects her maybe even more than he loves her. And that, in turn, makes her love him even more.
There is that soft hesitancy in him, tentative and chaste, and a little unclear of where the new line is meant to be drawn. It’s okay, she can help him learn the new limits he’s apparently just been allowed to have.
She deepens the kiss, draping across him and pushing it over the edge of tentative to eager to explore. But not without pausing to look at him, her forehead pressed against his, happily crowding into his space like this. “I am not made of porcelain, I’ll let you know if I need you to stop or slow down.”
Not that she’s expecting much more beyond a few kisses, but it’s a new territory for them, which is both exciting and terrifying, and she wants to quell any worry she can. “I trust you, Jesper,” she mumbles it against his lips, his name lost somewhere in his mouth as she kisses him again.
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There is a strange line that she knows must be difficult for him to balance on- somewhere between ”I am not made of glass, do not touch me like you might shatter me,” and keeping every ounce of her agency in her own hands. For a boy with such eager hands and hungry eyes, it can’t be easy, but he respects her maybe even more than he loves her. And that, in turn, makes her love him even more.
There is that soft hesitancy in him, tentative and chaste, and a little unclear of where the new line is meant to be drawn. It’s okay, she can help him learn the new limits he’s apparently just been allowed to have.
She deepens the kiss, draping across him and pushing it over the edge of tentative to eager to explore. But not without pausing to look at him, her forehead pressed against his, happily crowding into his space like this. “I am not made of porcelain, I’ll let you know if I need you to stop or slow down.”
Not that she’s expecting much more beyond a few kisses, but it’s a new territory for them, which is both exciting and terrifying, and she wants to quell any worry she can. “I trust you, Jesper,” she mumbles it against his lips, his name lost somewhere in his mouth as she kisses him again.