There are worse things than being defenseless when love is offered. Not everything needs to be defended against. And would he really have been able to stop her? Love and romance aren't strictly her responsibility, but anyone who thinks there isn't a little parade nuptiale in the springtime, well... they haven't been paying attention.
It'll be a terribly vicious cycle of their ending up close and comfortable. And it's not just the touching and the wrapping each other in arms. There's the looks and smiles and kisses to contend with, too. Dreadful, really. How he suffers for her. Whatever kind of soap he uses, she likes the way he smells, and that only makes her want to make him suffer her closeness all the more.
He isn't the only one remembering that night and hoping for an encore.
The innuendo makes her eyes flash with anticipation, but she tempers it to give him a whole cloth innocent look. "Darts makes people thirsty? I must have been playing wrong."
Oh, that's a sad thought, that he has to let go of her right when she was getting comfortable. He'll have to make it up to her later. But she can wait, patient as anything, perched on the stool with her legs crossed and one foot swinging idly to a tune maybe only she hears. Each brush brings it against leg, whisper-soft and likely to be entirely denied if he says anything about it.
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Date: 2016-07-08 01:30 am (UTC)It'll be a terribly vicious cycle of their ending up close and comfortable. And it's not just the touching and the wrapping each other in arms. There's the looks and smiles and kisses to contend with, too. Dreadful, really. How he suffers for her. Whatever kind of soap he uses, she likes the way he smells, and that only makes her want to make him suffer her closeness all the more.
He isn't the only one remembering that night and hoping for an encore.
The innuendo makes her eyes flash with anticipation, but she tempers it to give him a whole cloth innocent look. "Darts makes people thirsty? I must have been playing wrong."
Oh, that's a sad thought, that he has to let go of her right when she was getting comfortable. He'll have to make it up to her later. But she can wait, patient as anything, perched on the stool with her legs crossed and one foot swinging idly to a tune maybe only she hears. Each brush brings it against leg, whisper-soft and likely to be entirely denied if he says anything about it.