my_belfry_of_fun | Shenanigans with Dragon!

That just brought a sigh, and Trunks leaned his head against the wall again. Hard, ignoring the thump. "Morag...I'm guessing your upbringing was about as normal as mine, probably less." Softly voiced, resigned a bit too. "George isn't mistaking the tension, at least for me. But it's my problem to deal with." Another pause, and a deep breath. "I've been trying to not make you uncomfortable as well, just because I am."

"...I beg your pardon?" She slowly pushed herself off the door and fully upright, peering at him as if he had grown a third head. Had he just said what it sounded like? Or had she completely misread what he meant?

Another bang of his head against the wall, and another low groan. Usually Trunks didn't have nearly the pride issues his parents had. Apparently this was going to take away what little pride he did have.

"I'm...used to shoving aside this kind of thing. But I noticed you were uncomfortable--and I didn't want to add to it." A pause. "I honestly hadn't realized I was tensing up around you that much...Sorry."

"It was fairly noticeable."

Mòrag shut her eyes, sighing. Not at him, by any means.

"I long ago determined I was not interested in pursuing any sort of relationship, for the sole reason that it would interfere with my duties as Special Inquisitor."

If he looked carefully, he could see the rather glaring flaw in that logic. One she was starting to realize in turn.

That one glaring flaw was obvious, which is why he had picked up on a completely different thing. "I thought it might be something like that. And again, it's my issue to deal with." A deep breath in and out, not that it did much for the ropes still binding him. "I'm used to shoving it aside, and I'm sorry you noticed. I'll have to try harder, because I do like sparring with you. Assuming you're still willing to let me...I don't want you uncomfortable."

He wasn't quite babbling, honest.

She folded her arms, already regretting that she had to spell it out. Purely for the sake of her own pride, and the embarrassment this admission would cost.

"I have... not been serving as Special Inquisitor for several months now. The first time that has ever happened to me, at that. It is something I could never foresee."

Wait...what? A heartbeat or two of silence, and then he brought his head up to look at her. Blinking, honestly kind of puzzled thanks to all the conflicting emotions running through him along with that slow burn of anger still. Besides, was she really going to make him say it?

This time his head went forward, instead of against the wall. Fighting his blush hard (and failing), he could feel the heat spreading along his face and neck. "I'm used to shoving aside attraction and crushes and stuff. I get that you don't want anything like that, and I wouldn't push it on you."

There went the last of his pride; just leave him tied in the closet to rot please.

Edited 2019-12-05 02:10 (UTC)

Her fingers tightened around her arms as she stared furiously at a box down by her knee.

"This has been a very different experience for me, Trunks. One I had not ever imagined before. I am not entirely certain... what to say, or how to say it. But... I think I would regret not leaving myself open to the possibility, all things considered."

.......wait-what? Now he really was confused. Another deep breath in and out, and gathering some courage (usually that wasn't a problem), he raised his head back up to her. His mouth opened, then closed. Head tilted, then tilted the other way. Then his mouth opened again, and he closed it again.

Clearly having trouble figuring out what to say. "...You...don't..." It was a start?

All right. This was getting ridiculous.

"Would you get yourself untied? This discussion is awkward enough without you being trussed like dinner about to be cooked."

There was that blush again; it had started to fade and now it was back and rather complete. Clashed with his hair and everything. Huffing, Trunks tried to sort of shuffle as much as he could away from her.

Before, he'd been worried about being too close to her while he maneuvered. Now he was more worried he might kick her or something accidentally. Which is why he was trying for space still.

"He did not make this easy. Bastard." Trunks muttered. Second time he cursed and it was still around Morag.

Floating up closer to the ceiling, it was awkward still but there really wasn't much he could do about that. Bending forward, then lunging a bit and it was not easy, but he brought his knees up, reaching with his arms, as much as he could while bound--to get at the knot. A few tugs and unlooping, and he started pulling to get more slack. Now that he could get slack...

She stuck out a hand to grab his shoulder, the better to give him support and balance in his efforts. Right now, there was little she could contribute past that, which was fine; she had her own battle to fight, setting her pride and dignity and determination against herself.

It helped, although he was far too conscious of her hand against the skin of his shoulder.

Still, focus on that later. More slack, and another deep breath in ward, bringing his arms up too, chest expanding and arms flexed. Almost like when he powered up, but it was enough to get the necessary slack to shake the rope off and lower from around his torso. Finally.

Free enough he could get at the final knot and rope binding his ankles, which he made quick work of comparatively.

Edited 2019-12-05 02:32 (UTC)

Good. That had taken just long enough for her to, if not win the war inside her, at least claim temporary victory in a battle, seize a mental and emotional hill, and fortify it against the counterattack. As soon as he had that last rope undone and started to straighten up, she shifted her hand just enough to push him against the back wall and step closer.

Not that she had to push him far to hit the wall. Blue eyes widened though, at the voluntary invasion of his space and he was sure his face would never cool off at this rate. The rope was still a potential hazard at their feet, but at least it was no longer in the way.

She had no idea what she was doing, but that bloody well wasn't going to stop her.

Mòrag leaned in and pressed her lips to his. This was about the only way they'd ever get this resolved and they both knew it, so ONE of them had to make it happen.

He hadn't thought he could blush anymore; eyes widening for a second. It really wasn't hard, as they were the same height and she had him by surprise anyways. One second, two, and then something clicked in his stalled brain.

Tilting his head just a bit, blue eyes closed and Trunks kissed her back. Soft, slightly hesitant, but determined all the same. Clear that he would be equal partner in this, if it was what she wanted.

What was she doing? Was this the right choice? Would she regret this later? Mòrag had no idea whatsoever -- but she wouldn't live her life in fear of the unknown. She never had. Now was no time to start.

Clearly she had no idea how to kiss, but just feeling his lips on hers and his body against hers was nice. Did anything more matter than that?

Presumably she'd figure it out, and instincts would take over. She had no way of knowing, but Trunks only had slightly more knowledge than her. Knowledge, not experience--because his life had held no room or time for romance and dating or anything like it. Which didn't mean he didn't know the concepts, or what was going on, or how hormones worked and stuff.

Just he lacked experience and knowledge learned from that experience.

Right then though, it was enough. Just the gentle press of lips against lips, breathing softly. Then shyly moving to wrap his arms around her, shoulder and waist. Keeping her close against him, warm and soft and lithe.

Despite her calm and professional behavior and her general calm reserve... Mòrag was fiery. Normally that fire was controlled and channeled, like a furnace, but here and now? Heat started to slip out as she gripped him and pressed into him. Yes, this was very nice indeed -- only because Trunks was someone she did, truly, like and appreciate. He was handsome, and quite pleasant to push up against, to be sure, but more than that, he was someone she COULD feel comfortable doing this with.

That latter part would've meant the most, if she'd shared her thoughts--that she COULD be comfortable with him. He already knew that she was fiery--they'd sparred enough by now, even if he hadn't been able to recognize it under her professional persona.

She knew he could be pretty fiery himself; yet he was also...shy. This was new territory, and he was worried about doing something wrong. Mostly something that would upset her, or hurt her. How much was too much? too fast? They hadn't even really talked much but this was nice.

A soldier she might've been, in the strictest sense, but she was lithe and lean muscle over her frame, with slim curves to her hips and bust. He'd noticed before, in that first sparring match, how her Inquisitor uniform hid them. The Explorer's uniform hid them too while not as bulky.

Which meant having her in his arms, bodies close and pressed against each other in the small space was....very nice. The press of lips to lips, an occasional soft sigh of breath and warmth between them.

The uniform didn't hide them quite as well when she was pressed up against him, the rest of her body firm against him. He was remarkably solid -- a fact she'd noted before, but was particularly appreciative of at the moment.

Some time passed before she leaned back, her eyes meeting his as she opened them. "Does that make my position clear?"

Blue eyes were slightly dazed, but with her question they closed as he chuckled. Laughed, deep in his throat and chest. Pulling her just that tiny bit closer in to a hug. "I'm not that dense. Or clueless." But he sounded amused at himself.

Then, a moment later "I still want to punch George in the face though." Perhaps a bit of wickedness in his voice too.

Mòrag smiled more broadly than normal. "Considering I did get this idea from his note, are you entirely certain about that?"

"He didn't tie you up like someone's dinner, blindfold and gag you, and then put a bow on it all." Trunks retorted, with a small smirk. "Not to mention shove you in a dark closet." Even if it had worked out, really.

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