Originally, her grabbing his face was a good thing, showing him how much she wanted to kiss him. How much she wanted him. This time, though, parts of him have slightly more complicated feelings about it. 

The hand on her ass moves off of it, pausing between there and his face, as he dithers about what to do. (He should.... ask, first. That's the right thing to do.) (She wants him to be in control! It will be fine!) 

Inquiring noise?

(AaaaaaAAAAAaaaah. He's torn in so many directions! What to do!?)

"Want... to grab..." he says between kisses, and then grabs a wrist gently to demonstrate, despite the desire to pull the arm away and then grab her hair so he's in control of the kisses. (Like he should be.)

(Or at least like parts of him think he should be.)

Enthusiastic noise!

He grabs her wrist more tightly and moves it away, under them, out of the way of controlling him (he's the one who should be doing the controlling) and kisses her fiercely to take charge of the kisses. (He doesn't grab her hair, though, he didn't actually ask about that. Yet.) He really wants to touch himself right now (or have her do it, or suck it, or, or something), but he wants to touch her more, and so he does, groping and squeezing as she responds to his touch, moving his kisses down from mouth to neck with a hungry sound in his throat. 

💖💖💖

—okay actually though—

"I have a notion," she says, with great difficulty, because what she wants to be doing is melting under his touch. "The notion is: bedroom."

What he wants is to hold her down and kiss her some more and, and....

Fuck. 

He pulls back from her, letting her go, curling up a little. "Fuck," he says out loud. "Shit, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." Her mom is upstairs but this was dangerous (and hot) and stupid. And moving too fast. "I'm sorry, I... Fuck."

What, no, he wasn't supposed to stop. She makes a mournful sound and then sits up and hugs him.

"My notion was not an objection, beloved."

Not an objection? Right, she wants them to go there and keep doing more things. He knew that, mostly. 

"I... I get that I just feel really dumb for doing so much with you on the couch in the living room?" he says. "It really wasn't very smart. Your mom is home! And your dad and sisters could have..." he imagines and shudders. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"It would have been fine. Mildly embarrassing, I'll admit, but fine. I just, considering the way things were going, didn't want to bet on what we'd be getting up to in ten minutes still being fine."

He blanches. "It probably wouldn't have been, would it." He shrinks. "I'm sorry, I'm supposed to be more careful than this. I will be more careful than this from now on." He will, he's very certain of it. This was stupid.

"...nothing bad happened?? I think we were a reasonable amount of careful with reasonable results?"

"...you were a reasonable amount of careful. I... had apparently forgotten a basic sense of propriety. Um, thank you, for being careful." He's still berating himself inwardly. He shouldn't have let this happen! 

"John. Please come to my bedroom and make out with me. We can even bring the math, aspirationally."

"I..." 

What if he makes more mistakes and then they have sex? Does he want to have sex? More importantly, does she want to have sex? (Yes. Yes she does.) Part of him wants to stay out here as a barrier against more foolish decisions (because that worked so well last time). But the rest (the cute girl wants you to go to her bedroom with you!)... she's asking him to do things. You're supposed to do what your girlfriend asks. 

"Okay," he says, after several moments. "Okay, okay. Let me grab my bag. Okay." 

She kisses him on the cheek and gives him a quick hug before she gets up.

(Hugs are good.)

He grabs the bag, and gets up to follow her. 

To her bedroom!

Her bed, it turns out, is a whole situation, a canopied four-poster with multiple layers of curtains: the innermost has a pastel gradient going on that seems to be intended to queer the rainbow/sunset binary, with the next two layers being sheer and lacy and invoking the concept of clouds. The sky theme continues onto the walls, which are painted sky blue with a white cloud motif and an ethereal rainbow arching over the huge bay window at one end of the room. (Its curtains, currently closed, match the ones on the bed.) Even her furniture is getting in on the theme: most of it is white or light blue with colourful accents.

John pauses in his self-recriminations to take in the room. It's very.... sky. Which is unexpected, though not entirely surprising. It's pretty in ways that he really hadn't expected, but still fits very much with the way she is. (He still expected more pink, though. Perhaps he should stop making that assumption.) "Pretty!" is all he manages to say, though (and then internally wince and wish he'd said something a little bit more clever.)

"I'm very proud of it!" She closes the door and bounces over to sit on her bed. And grin at him.

She wants him to set next to her, right? She totally does. "You did a good job decorating," he tells her, sitting down next to her. (Should he touch her? How should he touch her? Things that were obvious and simple five minutes ago seem impossibly confusing and complex now.)

How about she solves this problem by kissing him, how about that.

That helps! There's some confused sputtering for half a moment, and then he's kissing her back. Cautiously, at the moment, not wanting to make mistakes again, but her kisses are good. 

She may have had other, more aggressive ideas in mind at some point, but she has to admit, sitting next to each other on the edge of her bed and kissing is really cozy.

It is! Cozy kissing is very very nice, and also much less scary than other things. (Parts of him might want more, but for right now, he's being extra special double careful, and pays them no heed.)