[He shivers a little at the scrape of her mouth, lifting a hand to brush fingertips lightly over one of the glimmering lines on her chest, the paint close to dry and flaking under his touch.]
I can imagine... it's a pretty colour. [His eyes flit up to meet hers.] 'Cause it's yours.
[One more way that she's left him thoroughly marked after a round or two in the bedroom. Less permanent physically, but... very, very memorable.]
no subject
I can imagine... it's a pretty colour. [His eyes flit up to meet hers.] 'Cause it's yours.
[One more way that she's left him thoroughly marked after a round or two in the bedroom. Less permanent physically, but... very, very memorable.]