And Also Just Getting Into His Actual Head This Time Around Was Fun Too - Tumblr Posts

meager will not do

Summary: A narrow glance into what the ‘first time’ would look like for Clarice and Harvey.

Pairing: Cringefail(Clarice) x Harvey

Word Count: 500 words! Just a lil’ drabble.

Warnings: Not explicit, just implicit. Nothing happens really other than a vague steamy make-out session.

a/n: yes I know I’m insane. it’s short and sweet this time around tho! if you don’t know who cringefail is, go to @clarisinne ‘s account right 🫵 now 🫵. READ HER COMIC!!!!

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Harvey isn't really sure where his mind is at. It's loitering in some place he can't grasp— he tries to, fretfully, but it ruffles in some intense wind that he can't possibly hope to redirect. He's always known he's a weak man, but he feels so frail now. In a way he never has before.

It's terrifying, and not nearly as fleeting as he'd prefer.

Where ever his mind is, Clarice is here too. She turns her head into a kiss, one of a growing many, and one of her braids whip at his shoulder. Not one article of clothes has been stripped, and yet chills rush up his spine as if he's bare, as if instead of a braid it'd been her hand.

Harvey's hands ghost at her shoulders, wanting and yet so hesitant. Kissing her so feverishly, in this moment, is easier for whatever reason— but terror freezes him still every time he steels his nerves enough to attempt touch. In this one moment, they are so perfectly similarly. Clarice's hands graze over his chest, and his adrenaline spikes as if he'd dodged a bullet. He hasn't, and he'd never dodge one if it was Clarice. He's certainly proven that much over their many hurdles.

A thought careens in him, one that breathes heavily that he simply can't handle it anymore. These hesitant, featherlight touches that only whisper instead of shout.

Gentle, he wants, he can take. Gentle, he wants to give. Faltering, hesitant, skittering presses of their hands? He no longer can take it.

It's lust running through his body, maybe, but not entirely. It's hunger, yes, but it's one that lunges straight from Harvey's very soul. Needy for vulnerability, closeness, for connection words just don't do justice for.

"Please," he murmurs into her lips, pressing a peck to Clarice's lips, "Please touch me."

Harvey feels guilty as soon as the words slip past his lips, guilty for wanting so much. He knows better than to hold onto these thoughts in hopes of fulfilling them. To speak them, request that. It should've been let go the moment he recognized it for the greed it really was. Who is he, really, to need something like this? To want?

But it's about more than greed, a voice whispers, it's about knowing he's wanted.

It's about getting proof, boldened and underlined, that she yearns in this moment as much as he does.

Clarice makes some sound as if he's pierced her heart, but presses her lips into his harder. Her hands, still cautious, touch along his chest. Quickly, the touch becomes firm enough to wrinkle his shirt. Harvey melts with relief, moans it a little into her mouth, his hands brushing her waist.

He lets his body speak finally, gripping her waist no more firm than it was gentle. Harvey loves Clarice, he's starved for her, and he's only realizing more and more how those two feelings can dance so gracefully. If he only lets them. If only he wants.