"I'm not sure standing's got much to do with it, really." One hand at her cheek, his other settles at her hip - the top of her thigh. He's grinning a little, settled back into the cushion of the futon. He taps his forefinger against the point of her cheekbone - lets his hand skim down, thumb tracing the line of her neck.
He hooks his thumb into the neck of her shirt, drawing it down a few degrees. Charlie grins up at her, wider then.
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"I'm not sure standing's got much to do with it, really." One hand at her cheek, his other settles at her hip - the top of her thigh. He's grinning a little, settled back into the cushion of the futon. He taps his forefinger against the point of her cheekbone - lets his hand skim down, thumb tracing the line of her neck.
He hooks his thumb into the neck of her shirt, drawing it down a few degrees. Charlie grins up at her, wider then.