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OK - so I don;t think this meets th spirit of your request, so I'll try and write you something pornalicious later, but this is what I got : Performance - verse - an argument that leads to a kiss
****** ****** *****
The raised voices and the flaming of his cheeks he was used too. Embarrassment, fear, and a sort of sick self loathing were getting to be almost comfortable in their familiarity in the long weeks since he'd left his father's house, convinced that nothing could be worse than staying. The sharp slap to his face, though, that was shockingly new.
His eyes flew open and his arm was in motion before his nerves had even processed the sting and burn of the contact. It was the slap that was making his cheeks burn and his eyes water, he was sure, and not the sharp fingers digging into the bones of his wrist nor the fact that it was Karin who was holding him so easily, the look on her face impenetrable but the disdain and anger shaking in her voice.
"Don’t you dare, boy. Don't you dare give me a reason to have send you away. Don't you let him down, and break your heart and his."
The silence was heavy, like full formal dress at midsummer, stretching between them and if his breathing sounded a little like half-hidden sobs then at least she didn't call him out for it. He couldn't hold those dark sharp eyes though, and dropped his head and his arms, a gesture somewhere between giving in and giving up. She didn't let go. His humiliation flared and even that was weak and futile.
"You will go out there head high and heart proud."
This time her voice was so sure it could have been a prediction as much as an instruction. He nodded, his throat closed with shock and tears.
"Go to him, lad, and let him know why it is you screw your courage to the nail every day. You've time yet before we're expected and you're dressed and ready."
Her fingers were sure and firm on his face, pressing the wet heat away along his cheekbones, cool and gentle fluttering over his burning eyelids and her lips were dry, pressed once against his forehead in benediction.
****** ****** *****
The raised voices and the flaming of his cheeks he was used too. Embarrassment, fear, and a sort of sick self loathing were getting to be almost comfortable in their familiarity in the long weeks since he'd left his father's house, convinced that nothing could be worse than staying. The sharp slap to his face, though, that was shockingly new.
His eyes flew open and his arm was in motion before his nerves had even processed the sting and burn of the contact. It was the slap that was making his cheeks burn and his eyes water, he was sure, and not the sharp fingers digging into the bones of his wrist nor the fact that it was Karin who was holding him so easily, the look on her face impenetrable but the disdain and anger shaking in her voice.
"Don’t you dare, boy. Don't you dare give me a reason to have send you away. Don't you let him down, and break your heart and his."
The silence was heavy, like full formal dress at midsummer, stretching between them and if his breathing sounded a little like half-hidden sobs then at least she didn't call him out for it. He couldn't hold those dark sharp eyes though, and dropped his head and his arms, a gesture somewhere between giving in and giving up. She didn't let go. His humiliation flared and even that was weak and futile.
"You will go out there head high and heart proud."
This time her voice was so sure it could have been a prediction as much as an instruction. He nodded, his throat closed with shock and tears.
"Go to him, lad, and let him know why it is you screw your courage to the nail every day. You've time yet before we're expected and you're dressed and ready."
Her fingers were sure and firm on his face, pressing the wet heat away along his cheekbones, cool and gentle fluttering over his burning eyelids and her lips were dry, pressed once against his forehead in benediction.
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