[He watches her taking off her earrings, removing her bracelet, his eyes intent upon her, hands going to loosen and remove his own tie, because at least he can do that as he's pressing her back onto the bed. When she's lying there, flat on her back below him, he has to pause again for a moment, because she looks so delicate, so fragile, like if he makes the wrong move, if he does something wrong, somehow, she'll break apart entirely.
It's hard to know what to say in response to her, hard to know if he should be reassuring her somehow, if he should be showering her with compliments -- that wouldn't be hard to do; the way she looks right now is worthy of plenty -- or if he should be silent entirely, and just concentrate on kissing her, on touching her.
But he's never been good at staying silent.]
You're beautiful.
[Unoriginal, perhaps, but heartfelt. He leans in again, going for another kiss, and this time, one of his hands is sliding down the length of her body, tracing her curves, feeling her warmth. He'll try to remove her dress soon, and he's sure they both know it, but there's nothing wrong with going a little slowly, especially not now that he feels sure that she truly wants to be here, wants to have him close.]
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It's hard to know what to say in response to her, hard to know if he should be reassuring her somehow, if he should be showering her with compliments -- that wouldn't be hard to do; the way she looks right now is worthy of plenty -- or if he should be silent entirely, and just concentrate on kissing her, on touching her.
But he's never been good at staying silent.]
You're beautiful.
[Unoriginal, perhaps, but heartfelt. He leans in again, going for another kiss, and this time, one of his hands is sliding down the length of her body, tracing her curves, feeling her warmth. He'll try to remove her dress soon, and he's sure they both know it, but there's nothing wrong with going a little slowly, especially not now that he feels sure that she truly wants to be here, wants to have him close.]