[ And the words returned between kisses are ‘love you.’ And ‘Sweetness.’ And ‘Sunshine.’ And finally ‘Starlight,’ at the click of the door.
What Ginger loves most when their kisses become words become more kisses are the sweet sounds - the soft pop, almost wet click of them releasing and coming together again. The soundless catch in their breathing, often followed by some desperate little noise.
(He swears Mika’s heart beats; he swears his chest rises and falls.)
And what Ginger listens for the most - the slight humming noises Mika can’t help but make right into his mouth, against his lips, dissolving like sugar on his tongue. A song describing what’s happening between the two of them with unmistakable clarity in intimate alto and soprano.
He hums a little laugh now, pulling back enough to smile down at Mika - to memorize his expression - before what’s next. He wants to commit every moment from this point on to memory. ]
I love you more than anything, Mika. And I am so in love with you that I don’t know where I would begin without you - and where I would end if not with you. You’re my everything, Mikaela.
[ This next distracting kiss is just endlessly sweet. His hand slides down the small of Mika’s back, to brace him for the swing of the door, away and in. And out and around, the sudden scent of flowers - roses predominantly, but more than that. Every single petal means love and they are spread and scattered, a floral carpet leading to a couch that started it all. He walks Mika backwards into the room, keeping their lips locked in a smiling kiss. ]
( Oh, that just isn't fair - all of Ginger, always, but especially this. If he had a heartbeat it'd be in crescendo, and he feels like might just have one in the rhythm of this head-over-heels sort of affection— the kiss, the declaration. His face blooms flush; his eyes widen, then soften. He feels spoiled to the core.
If it beats, it's because there's Ginger here; like a kiss, it's not something he could do alone. Ginger is the sound - the gentle thump - with his well of love, and Mika is the absence, the space between beats, that makes space for sound again. That's how he'd think of it, anyway. )
No fair.
( Surprising him like that. He feels he ought return it, but he's tongue-tied (literally and metaphorically)!! He walks back with Ginger and kisses deep, the scent of roses heavy, and yet, fully secondary to the sight and sound and scent and feel of Ginger, keeping his arms wrapped tight for a bit of extra stability as they move - but he'd gladly freefall into Ginger's arms without a second thought.
But like Ginger's declaration, the petals and flowers are bold on the senses, and he's broken from his enchantment long enough to speak into the kiss in turn, realizing dumbly Ginger clearly has some mischief of his own prepared. )
... There's no Mika without Ginger. So it sounds like we're in the same boat.
( Not as poetic, but straight to the point - a lot like him. )
... I never thought I'd have something like this— you; you, and me. So... now that I have it, I don't exactly want it to end. I think we can keep going— you and me.
( And he pulls back to look at him, nose brushing against nose as he does, to take him in - take in the room and the scenery framing Ginger, the world surely, in this moment, just an accessory for this person he holds dear. )
[ His smile only grows, though his eyebrows draw down ruefully. His arms implore Mika to keep moving closer to the couch, closer to where the bouquet lies. This way, where we began - where we were first close. ]
I don’t know if I can be fair when it comes to you. I’m so greedy for you, my love.
[ His heart.
No one has ever been selfish about Mika before, he thinks, and he wants to be the first. He wants to be the only one. Is that fair to Mika? ]
... You and me.
[ That’s it; the way their thoughts meet in the middle. The way i cursives into u into us. If he could whisper the rest against Mika’s lips, he would. Maybe that should have been the plan all along - but he had said he would like this: sinking down on one knee, as he takes the bouquet and presents it up to Mika. ]
You and me - us. That’s my proposal.
[ The bouquet itself is arranged clumsily in romantic hues: reds, pinks, yellow and white sprinkled between. In its center, the golden glint of a tube - lipstick - and off-center where the cap seals itself to the base is a rose wreathed by its petals. ]
Us, together forever. Promise. And... I promise... [ Slowly, feeling the weight of each promise: ] ... that I’ll love you more and more - every single day. I’m crazy enough for you to count them.
[ Greed has never had a limit. In this, it’s his strength. ]
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no subject
What Ginger loves most when their kisses become words become more kisses are the sweet sounds - the soft pop, almost wet click of them releasing and coming together again. The soundless catch in their breathing, often followed by some desperate little noise.
(He swears Mika’s heart beats; he swears his chest rises and falls.)
And what Ginger listens for the most - the slight humming noises Mika can’t help but make right into his mouth, against his lips, dissolving like sugar on his tongue. A song describing what’s happening between the two of them with unmistakable clarity in intimate alto and soprano.
He hums a little laugh now, pulling back enough to smile down at Mika - to memorize his expression - before what’s next. He wants to commit every moment from this point on to memory. ]
I love you more than anything, Mika. And I am so in love with you that I don’t know where I would begin without you - and where I would end if not with you. You’re my everything, Mikaela.
[ This next distracting kiss is just endlessly sweet. His hand slides down the small of Mika’s back, to brace him for the swing of the door, away and in. And out and around, the sudden scent of flowers - roses predominantly, but more than that. Every single petal means love and they are spread and scattered, a floral carpet leading to a couch that started it all. He walks Mika backwards into the room, keeping their lips locked in a smiling kiss. ]
no subject
If it beats, it's because there's Ginger here; like a kiss, it's not something he could do alone. Ginger is the sound - the gentle thump - with his well of love, and Mika is the absence, the space between beats, that makes space for sound again. That's how he'd think of it, anyway. )
No fair.
( Surprising him like that. He feels he ought return it, but he's tongue-tied (literally and metaphorically)!! He walks back with Ginger and kisses deep, the scent of roses heavy, and yet, fully secondary to the sight and sound and scent and feel of Ginger, keeping his arms wrapped tight for a bit of extra stability as they move - but he'd gladly freefall into Ginger's arms without a second thought.
But like Ginger's declaration, the petals and flowers are bold on the senses, and he's broken from his enchantment long enough to speak into the kiss in turn, realizing dumbly Ginger clearly has some mischief of his own prepared. )
... There's no Mika without Ginger. So it sounds like we're in the same boat.
( Not as poetic, but straight to the point - a lot like him. )
... I never thought I'd have something like this— you; you, and me. So... now that I have it, I don't exactly want it to end. I think we can keep going— you and me.
( And he pulls back to look at him, nose brushing against nose as he does, to take him in - take in the room and the scenery framing Ginger, the world surely, in this moment, just an accessory for this person he holds dear. )
no subject
I don’t know if I can be fair when it comes to you. I’m so greedy for you, my love.
[ His heart.
No one has ever been selfish about Mika before, he thinks, and he wants to be the first. He wants to be the only one. Is that fair to Mika? ]
... You and me.
[ That’s it; the way their thoughts meet in the middle. The way i cursives into u into us. If he could whisper the rest against Mika’s lips, he would. Maybe that should have been the plan all along - but he had said he would like this: sinking down on one knee, as he takes the bouquet and presents it up to Mika. ]
You and me - us. That’s my proposal.
[ The bouquet itself is arranged clumsily in romantic hues: reds, pinks, yellow and white sprinkled between. In its center, the golden glint of a tube - lipstick - and off-center where the cap seals itself to the base is a rose wreathed by its petals. ]
Us, together forever. Promise. And... I promise... [ Slowly, feeling the weight of each promise: ] ... that I’ll love you more and more - every single day. I’m crazy enough for you to count them.
[ Greed has never had a limit. In this, it’s his strength. ]