new drabble!!
- Joined
- May 21, 2023
- Messages
- 258
- Reaction score
- 531
- Pronouns
- He/Him
- It/Its
- Thread starter
- #41
I managed to eek in one more in the midst of the holidays duhsuhd
Hands
The sky was colored a deep indigo hue as the moon came out to play. As it did, it reflected the silvery moonlight right into the window leading into Whitney's apartment. The two were just sitting on the couch, the TV since having been randomly playing something that wasn't either of the two's focus right now, as they were, yet again, totally engrossed in one another. They giggled almost incoherently, making a quick small comment and then laughing, or just rubbing their cheeks against one another as if they were mere Pachirisu.
Bugsy, almost using his shorter height as an advantage, let his head rest squarely on Whitney's shoulders and the nape of her neck. He closed his eyes and she couldn't help but to laugh joyfully, moving her head down to kiss his temple and bring her hands to rub across his arms, until their hands met. They began to fingerlock with one another, and Bugsy moved his head to look into Whitney's eyes again.
"Your hands..." His thumb pressed into her palms. They were soft and silky, and only now did it really hit Bugsy just how feminine they felt. Her skin felt perfectly moisterized, and they mesmerized him. Whitney couldn't help but giggle; in most instances like this, she's so flattered she'd bring her hands up to her face, but her loving boyfriend is a little busy with those right now.
"They've always been this soft! Do you only notice now, bugaboo?" Whitney chimed in, smiling brightly as Bugsy continued to massage her hand. Feeling his index finger press against her knuckles felt oddly warming. Whitney's fingers were just as soft as her palms, with long, but not too thin fingers either. It seemed she barely had to use her hands to work much; and truth be told, other than some oddjobs at the Moo Moo Farm, she really didn't.
"I... Well. This is my first time REALLY inspecting them." Bugsy replied with a chuckle, realizing how odd it is. "I've felt your hands on me before, but I've never felt your hands like... like this. You don't mind, right?"
"Me? Mind you, of all people, touching my hands? C'mon silly, 'course I don't!" Whitney stuck her tongue out playfully. Bugsy couldn't help but to blush just a tiny bit, but Whitney reversed the situation.
"Now let me see." Whitney began to grab at Bugsy's hands, inspecting them herself. The Walking Bug Encyclopedia flinched, but let her do as she pleased. He wasn't used to being examined, in spite of being the kind of guy to stare at things with a magnifying glass.
Bugsy's hands were not as soft as Whitney's. In fact, his palms and fingers were a little rough with tougher skin and calluses. As a child, Bugsy went out and played in the forest a lot, and as he got older, he would constantly swing his catcher's net down as he hunted Caterpie, Weedle, and the ilk. That constant friction between wood and skin over time meant his hands got a little bit rough. That and all the tree climbing he does, too.
Whitney continued to rub her fingertips across them. The slightly paler, slightly coarser patches on his hands. Bugsy began to feel a little bit sad. Was she inspecting his hands because she was disappointed? Crestfallen by how rough his hands were?
"...Does it bother you?" He asks, looking back at her, although her eyes were still transfixed on his hands. Without looking back at him, Whitney raises his hands so they could cup at her cheeks. Callouses and all. She then looked back at him with a warm smile.
"Bugsy. As long as these are your hands, I'll always want 'em touching me."
Hands
The sky was colored a deep indigo hue as the moon came out to play. As it did, it reflected the silvery moonlight right into the window leading into Whitney's apartment. The two were just sitting on the couch, the TV since having been randomly playing something that wasn't either of the two's focus right now, as they were, yet again, totally engrossed in one another. They giggled almost incoherently, making a quick small comment and then laughing, or just rubbing their cheeks against one another as if they were mere Pachirisu.
Bugsy, almost using his shorter height as an advantage, let his head rest squarely on Whitney's shoulders and the nape of her neck. He closed his eyes and she couldn't help but to laugh joyfully, moving her head down to kiss his temple and bring her hands to rub across his arms, until their hands met. They began to fingerlock with one another, and Bugsy moved his head to look into Whitney's eyes again.
"Your hands..." His thumb pressed into her palms. They were soft and silky, and only now did it really hit Bugsy just how feminine they felt. Her skin felt perfectly moisterized, and they mesmerized him. Whitney couldn't help but giggle; in most instances like this, she's so flattered she'd bring her hands up to her face, but her loving boyfriend is a little busy with those right now.
"They've always been this soft! Do you only notice now, bugaboo?" Whitney chimed in, smiling brightly as Bugsy continued to massage her hand. Feeling his index finger press against her knuckles felt oddly warming. Whitney's fingers were just as soft as her palms, with long, but not too thin fingers either. It seemed she barely had to use her hands to work much; and truth be told, other than some oddjobs at the Moo Moo Farm, she really didn't.
"I... Well. This is my first time REALLY inspecting them." Bugsy replied with a chuckle, realizing how odd it is. "I've felt your hands on me before, but I've never felt your hands like... like this. You don't mind, right?"
"Me? Mind you, of all people, touching my hands? C'mon silly, 'course I don't!" Whitney stuck her tongue out playfully. Bugsy couldn't help but to blush just a tiny bit, but Whitney reversed the situation.
"Now let me see." Whitney began to grab at Bugsy's hands, inspecting them herself. The Walking Bug Encyclopedia flinched, but let her do as she pleased. He wasn't used to being examined, in spite of being the kind of guy to stare at things with a magnifying glass.
Bugsy's hands were not as soft as Whitney's. In fact, his palms and fingers were a little rough with tougher skin and calluses. As a child, Bugsy went out and played in the forest a lot, and as he got older, he would constantly swing his catcher's net down as he hunted Caterpie, Weedle, and the ilk. That constant friction between wood and skin over time meant his hands got a little bit rough. That and all the tree climbing he does, too.
Whitney continued to rub her fingertips across them. The slightly paler, slightly coarser patches on his hands. Bugsy began to feel a little bit sad. Was she inspecting his hands because she was disappointed? Crestfallen by how rough his hands were?
"...Does it bother you?" He asks, looking back at her, although her eyes were still transfixed on his hands. Without looking back at him, Whitney raises his hands so they could cup at her cheeks. Callouses and all. She then looked back at him with a warm smile.
"Bugsy. As long as these are your hands, I'll always want 'em touching me."