Slade's movement is fast enough to make me blink, the air blurring around him until he is still again, his hand light and delicate on my skin. A trifle too light, a trifle too delicate, but heat pricks my blood as his fingers stroke from my sternum to my breast. I know Slade can hear the way my breathing goes uneven for a moment, the fact that my heart speeds up, and the look on his face as he reaches back for Wintergreen is something beautiful.
My hand on his face, petting the curve of his jaw, stroking over his throat to his collarbone, and it is one more easy thing to smile at him. I do not know quite what is showing on my face. I do not, at the moment, entirely care.
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Date: 2008-06-27 01:32 am (UTC)My hand on his face, petting the curve of his jaw, stroking over his throat to his collarbone, and it is one more easy thing to smile at him. I do not know quite what is showing on my face. I do not, at the moment, entirely care.