tw: barely awake writing, probable typos, probable cringe (tags: unknown/carapacian, impied dersite, redrom, first person, ect) Your shell is warm. Crisp, smooth lines and harsh curves, but warm. An ecoskeleton layered above flesh, layered above another skeleton. All to protect your innermost organs from harm. From war. But there is no war tonight, here. My claws trace down from your neck. Sharp tips gliding along inky black, catching along each ridge. It's amazing how much texture you hold, when you appear so smooth. I'm entranced by it. Claws turn to fingertips, and fingertips turn to a hand, comforming around the manufactured curves of your body with a greed to know more of you. Your lips part. It's hard to make eye contact, or to listen to you mock my sensitivity. I'm lost in the beauty of your jaws, The way your shell parts and reveals a stretching black underneath. Your teeth look sharper than anything, wet and catching the light. I wonder for a moment if it would be a danger to kiss you. Would I risk my own tongue, own lips in such a hostile environment? Would it be work it to taste the shades of gray inside of you?.. You snap your fingers next to my head because I wasn't listening. I roll my eyes and grab you by that wrist, worming my fingers between your own with a stubbornness you understand implicitly. An apology, lackluster and insibcere leaves my mouth, and you sneer for just a moment before shaking your head and telling me to pay attention. I love the way your claws press into the back of my hand. The way the segmented plates of your palm jams into my own. The qarm heaviness of your body right close to mine. I decide I do want to kiss you.