rosarianoath

I think I would perish.

[He never wants to hear or see himself fuck. He momentarily ducks his head against hers.]

This film is insufferable, to be honest.

[She laughs, squeezing his hand again.]

Let's turn it off. I think I've seen enough, anyway.

[He hums his agreement and pulls his hand from hers to grope for the remote, which he uses to turn the television off. The living room is plunged into darkness, and Clive just sighs, laying his head back down against hers.]

Thank you for humoring me.

[Whenever she feels like getting up, she'll make sure the DVD ends up back in its case and back in his possession. A memento it shall be.]

And for what it's worth, you don't sound like that at all.

I'm happy to.

[The latter statement just gets a little huff of amusement, fluffing the hair tucked behind her ear. He closes his eyes. He ought not fall asleep here; sleeping together without being under some foreign influence seems particularly unwise. He's not even sure if he should return his hand to her, or if the moment is broken. He settles it politely on her hip.

Still, he wishes he was touching her bare skin, and not the thin cotton of her nightgown.]

We ought to go to bed before we fall asleep like this.

What if we did?

[Sleep isn't necessarily what she had in mind, but she's happy to be in his arms.]

Then I'll wake in a mood when my shoulder is sore and my arm asleep.

[He is too big for this couch, Jill, especially sharing it.]

[That sounds like a Clive problem to her.]

Will you invite me to your bed, then?

[Clive waits a beat, and he can't say yes, but he doesn't want to say no –– he closes his eyes, and just replies, troubled:]

Jill.

... or not.

[She knows that tone, and she's immediately disappointed. And embarrassed. She moves to get up.]

Forgive me. I shouldn't have said that.

[He's reluctant to let her go, but it's not fair to stop her. He removes his hand.]

Please –– I am not scolding you. There's nothing to forgive.

Then what?

[She sits up. It's difficult to fit her ass on the sliver of couch left to her.]

[He sits up too, just enough to rest his weight on an elbow. He doesn't have a real answer for a beat.]

Are we capable of doing this without hurting ourselves?

[She shifts enough to look at him, frowning. Either way, they hurt. It's inevitable. She knows that.]

Tell me what you want.

[It wasn't just Ifrit's desire fanning the flames that night. She knows it.]

If this is that terrible for us, tell me now, and I'll never ask to share your bed again.

[She could not be sharper with a rapier in her hand. Clive peers at her through the dark, the dim streetlight bleeding through the windows highlighting the side of her face.]

I don't think that's fair.

[That's no answer. Jill sighs, but she does reach for his hand.]

Just... tell me, Clive. Tell me what you want. It doesn't have to be difficult.

[His brows furrow, but it’s pained.]

Why do you withdraw from me the moment I have any reluctance to bed you? Are my concerns really so frustrating to you?

Because... it confuses me. You hold and caress me, but do not want me in your bed. You enjoy my affections, I think, and yet do not want to be with me.

[She shakes her head.]

I ask what you want, and you don't have an answer.

You’ve already decided what you want to hear. How can I answer, knowing I cannot satisfy you?

Answer anyway.

[Just when she thinks there's a glimmer of hope for them, they get like this.]

[He’s already lost this argument before it has even really begun. It’s demoralizing. He feels exhausted. How does it always go so wrong?

He gets up, pulling his hand from hers. He feels embarrassed. Ashamed. A little angry.]

I want my company to be worth something to you even when I’m not bedding you.

[She looks openly surprised at his words, mouth hanging open for a moment. Is this what he thinks of her?]

Your company means the world to me. It's why I agreed to our living arrangement, Clive. To have you near.

[To try to salvage their friendship at the very least.]

[That means something, but he just shrugs terribly.]

Then why threaten to never ask again, just for asking a question?

Because I don't want to pressure you, Clive. If you don't wish for me to say such things, you can say so.

[They can play pretend all he likes. She just would like to know the rules of the game.]

I told you that wasn't fair.

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