[A soft, pleased noise warbles out of his throat when, once again, Meridiana takes charge of their direction. It's a surprise and a delight every time, because normally he's the one, starved for touch, to rub his nose in her hair, to insinuate himself into her space like a needy cat, to ask wordlessly to play with her hand.

He's like that because Meridiana likes it, because she likes to know she's loved, revels in the freedom to touch, and it amazes him to be able to give her that, to convey feeling towards her with fingers or lips. And he knows she's the same, that she's touchy, too, but more polite about it; this, right here, has nothing to do with polite.

And Dave fucking adores it. Her. He laughs breathlessly, forgetting his earlier discomfort with their subject of conversation as she peppers his face with kisses, and lets his hands slip up to rest on her back, neither pushing nor pulling. He closes his eyes for real, face tilted towards her, a heliotrope.]

Uh-huh. Yeah. That, me too.

[He's so utterly lost for her. Good thing she'll always know how to find him. He lifts one hand to brush along the edge of her curls, to let a lock of hair glide between his fingers.]

Definitely more okay than before. Warming up to further okayness. Hey, am I always this easy to persuade. It's okay, you can tell me. Happy to own it.