She's not fighting it, and she's not even laughing. Root loves being playful and she tries to live to her fullest enjoyment; she doesn't see sense in tormenting herself or denying herself things she likes.
But as Shaw deepens the kiss, an acute desperation shades in at the edge of her aura, little spikes of black there and gone. Unmitigated devotion. She'd thought she'd lost this forever, lost not just the chance for it but the mere existence of Shaw -- she'd thought that for so many long, long months, vacillating between rage and denial and sorrow.
Even after all of that, their reunion and their second reunion here, Root still wouldn't assume. She makes her interest clear but she's always been patient. Sex is fun, but it's not everything. Shaw has always been enough for her without it.
Maybe it's the implied emotional intimacy that makes her scrabble back, hungry. There's no thought to who's taking charge, nothing coherent or measured in her response. Root just wants.
no subject
But as Shaw deepens the kiss, an acute desperation shades in at the edge of her aura, little spikes of black there and gone. Unmitigated devotion. She'd thought she'd lost this forever, lost not just the chance for it but the mere existence of Shaw -- she'd thought that for so many long, long months, vacillating between rage and denial and sorrow.
Even after all of that, their reunion and their second reunion here, Root still wouldn't assume. She makes her interest clear but she's always been patient. Sex is fun, but it's not everything. Shaw has always been enough for her without it.
Maybe it's the implied emotional intimacy that makes her scrabble back, hungry. There's no thought to who's taking charge, nothing coherent or measured in her response. Root just wants.