"You can't just have reading and magic! And perhaps you'll find a made workaholic such as yourself to wed." He tugs on one of her strands of hair. "I've decided: we're going to Parrais. We'll find someone for you yet. I don't think they have clubs, but I could always start one."
"I certainly can. Books and magic are very important, you know." She grins, reaching to tug at his hair in return, a gentle movement before her fingers card through it. "I don't need a club, either! Honestly, Dorian, I'm more than happy just as I am. I have you and my friends, my family, my work... I'm fine."
"It wouldn't be to make a point." For everything that he has become, for all that he is—there is a purity in this. A candour of meaning, an earnest expression. A strange variation on the boy she once knew.
"It is pleasurable, kissing. Fun. I want you to have fun. If you won't look outside your friends, I would hardly be put-upon to give you that pleasure myself."
Her eyes flicker over his face, careful and unsure, her hands reaching for his before she hesitates. He makes it sound so easy, like kissing is just what people do - so different from the man that had taken a few months to be comfortable calling her by name.
"It - um. I have kissed people before. It might have been a few years ago but that doesn't mean I don't remember. I know that it's nice to kiss people, but... I mean, I, um. I don't think that's what you want from me, really. Is it?"
She's unsure. Dorian is her friend and she does love him, but kissing? That's another matter entirely.
Dorian huffs out a breath of air, exasperated. It's like she hasn't been listening. "I don't want it from you, Hermione. I want it for you. You can't deny yourself the world forever, Hermione."
"I'm not denying the world! Just..." She hesitates. Hermione doesn't really know what she's doing; she just thinks it would be easier to be alone, to focus on work and protecting people rather than... Everything else. Her fingers flex a little as she breathes out, her eyes closing. "I don't know."
"It isn't like there aren't already rumours," he says, shrugging. "We can head out to a nice bench out in Parrais, make a real art show of it. The Lioness of the Citadel devours another!"
... He does have a point. The freedom with which she allows him into her room - well, it had sparked a few talks, here and there. She ignores the rather apt use of the term 'devour' and shakes her head, lifting her hand to touch his cheek.
Hermione pauses, her eyes flickering, before she leans in. It's quick, a very chaste peck against his lips, but then she is leaning back and grinning, as if she's won somehow.
She makes a soft noise, a barely there protest, because it is a bit of a shock, but even she can admit that it's... Nice. It's a little awkward, considering, but her hand moves and touches his cheek, careful, as she tilts and leans into the kiss, letting herself have this one moment. If she's only going to have a few sparse flickers of romance here in this world (which seems likely, given her track record) she may as well make the most of it.
When she does lean back she rests her forehead against his, not wanting him to see just how pink and embarrassed she suddenly is.
"See?" And as if it were just as before, he tilts his head up so he can press a kiss to her forehead, chaste as anything. "Wasn't that fun? You need more intimacy in your life."
"You are terrible, I hope you know that, going around sticking your tongue down people's throats." For all that she's pink-cheeked and teasing, though, she is smiling. "I'm not just going to kiss anyone, you know. I would like to love them - or at least like them."
He laughs, even as he pulls back to dodge the hit. "If those were my qualifications, I would virtually only ever kiss my friends. And I don't have enough of those to make that feasible in the slightest. I don't even like half of the people I've slept with."
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Even so, he isn't deterred. "You didn't list 'fun' in that, so I'm not satisfied with it."
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"Being with my friends and family is fun."
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Her eyebrow raises and she gives Dorian a look, careful.
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Her hands drop, cheeks pink, her expression shocked and embarrassed.
"You - I really don't think that's entirely necessary, at all. You don't have to kiss me just to make a point."
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"It is pleasurable, kissing. Fun. I want you to have fun. If you won't look outside your friends, I would hardly be put-upon to give you that pleasure myself."
What's a little making out between friends?
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"It - um. I have kissed people before. It might have been a few years ago but that doesn't mean I don't remember. I know that it's nice to kiss people, but... I mean, I, um. I don't think that's what you want from me, really. Is it?"
She's unsure. Dorian is her friend and she does love him, but kissing? That's another matter entirely.
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"And your version of me getting out more is offering to kiss me?"
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"Look at me a moment?"
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"There."
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"That wasn't a kiss!"
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Honestly.
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But Dorian Gray's definition of a kiss involves more than just lips touching.
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When she does lean back she rests her forehead against his, not wanting him to see just how pink and embarrassed she suddenly is.
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"You are terrible, I hope you know that, going around sticking your tongue down people's throats." For all that she's pink-cheeked and teasing, though, she is smiling. "I'm not just going to kiss anyone, you know. I would like to love them - or at least like them."
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