I N B O X:

[totallytrustworthy]

"Chloe here--

seriously, I'm not, though. And you should probably stop falling for that. Leave a message."


VIDEO | VOICE | TEXT

Comments

[totallytrustworthy]

"See, that's the problem, though--" Her teeth find the high point of his thigh before he has the opportunity to protest. "Never have the equipment on hand when I need it."

Short hair, scarred-up skin, the dull lights of the edge of the city (sheet paneling and rafters for maintenance staring back at them through the glossy reflection of her windows) it's foreign. All of it.

They're more strangers in a strange place at this point in time than they've ever been between jobs back home-- or they ought to be, at least. Because Chloe doesn't see it. Doesn't feel anything but the familiar warmth of his skin or the way he breathes out low little sounds when she finds the right spots. This could be Rio, or Prague or some dingy little hotel in Nevada.

This could be anywhere and it'd still feel like home.

[alittlesweptup]

"What, you mean you haven't got a sexy dungeon or something in this place? I'm surprised - what with it being so roomy and all." Which, though it maybe goes without saying, is all chipper sarcasm despite the catch of her teeth at his skin.

There's no real introspection to it - any of it. He's sitting back on a futon while she slides down between his knees and it's difficult to be touchy feel-y about much of anything when he's got his own hands pinned to keep from chasing after her, from catching his fingers in the short scruff of her hack job haircut.