[ And now Shaw’s in front of him, all coiled strength and dark hair, her eyes watchful and focused. He’s always liked that about her, Carver thinks, but he never let it drift further than that. Sometimes he let his gaze linger for a moment but never any longer. Professionalism matters. Those lines, drawn ever so carefully in the metaphorical sand, matter. You have to know what you are. What your role demands and denies in turn.
But it’s been a long time since he’s let himself touch anyone like this, longer than he’d care to admit even if asked, and it feels good to reach for Shaw in turn. To know that Root’s gaze is on both of them now too, catlike and satisfied. He hadn’t realized he’d like that.
He watches Root’s hands on Shaw, holding her close, and thinks, all right. He hums and leans in to kiss Shaw briefly, testing the waters more than not, and then he leans back to shrug out of his jacket and then his shirt. Letting both fall. ]
[Maybe he's aiming for a brief kiss. When he starts to pull back, Shaw chases after him, stealing a few more kisses as he works his way out of his jacket and shirt. She's not particularly soft or gentle about it - her fingertips press into his skin, her mouth is hot and insistent against his - but she goes slow, savoring the experience. And once his chest is bare, she presses her palms flat against it, giving him a little push to tilt him back.
[ Root has never seen a line she didn't want to joyously, callously smudge into oblivion. Why do people keep limiting themselves? They only live once, and they're putting boundaries on it. It's a waste of time.
Being dead, Root can't stand to waste time, now more than ever. ]
Uh-uh, [ she whispers. ] Whatever you do to him, I'm going to do to you.
[ Maybe not in a perfect symmetry, but close enough. Root starts pushing her hands up, aiming to peel Shaw's shirt off of her, toss it to the side carelessly and set her teeth at her neck in tantalizing warning and promise. The tall line of her body curves over her like a vulture waiting for a chance.
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But it’s been a long time since he’s let himself touch anyone like this, longer than he’d care to admit even if asked, and it feels good to reach for Shaw in turn. To know that Root’s gaze is on both of them now too, catlike and satisfied. He hadn’t realized he’d like that.
He watches Root’s hands on Shaw, holding her close, and thinks, all right. He hums and leans in to kiss Shaw briefly, testing the waters more than not, and then he leans back to shrug out of his jacket and then his shirt. Letting both fall. ]
no subject
If he goes, she'll come along for the ride.]
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Being dead, Root can't stand to waste time, now more than ever. ]
Uh-uh, [ she whispers. ] Whatever you do to him, I'm going to do to you.
[ Maybe not in a perfect symmetry, but close enough. Root starts pushing her hands up, aiming to peel Shaw's shirt off of her, toss it to the side carelessly and set her teeth at her neck in tantalizing warning and promise. The tall line of her body curves over her like a vulture waiting for a chance.
Perfect symmetry is boring, after all. ]