“Not that drunk,” he says, and she’s rolling her eyes just as he dips his head and pressed his mouth against hers.
It’s awkward, almost chaste and she can’t help the bubble of laughter the rises for her stomach, and that proves to be a mistake because Lee takes it as an opening, slips his tongue along her bottom lip and all the humour melts out of the situation.
She's kissed people drunk before - she's kissed a lot of people, and that's why she can say with absolute certainty that it's never, ever felt like this. Lee moans a little, tilts his head and she rises up on tiptoe and kisses him harder, pushes her hips a little clumsily into his. It's messy, hot, and a cocktail of want-need-now ripples down her body.
“Lee,” she gasps, lips still pressed against his, “Lee -“
He draws back just enough to rest his forehead against hers and their breathing is hard and fast and she licks her lips and tastes him against the sharp tang of Tyrol’s rotgut.
"I," he says, and then dips his head and kisses her again and pushes her back into the alcove against the cold metal of the wall and even with four bolts pressing painfully into her back she pulls him against her tighter.
They kiss and kiss and kiss until the world feels like it’s spinning even harder than before and there are creases in his tanks from her fingers.
She pulls away, tries to catch her breath and the look on his face is hungry. Predatory.
“Good?” he asks, and she slaps at his shoulder. He laughs, leans in and nuzzles at her neck, sucking at her skin and she gathers every part of her not screaming at her to take advantage of the situation and pushes him away, just enough that his hands move from her waist to braced against the wall on either side of her.
His forehead crinkles a little and he looks confused.
“That’s enough,” she says, and the air is cold on the damp patches of her skin. “Don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”
“What about you?”
It’s the opening, the place where she can walk away but she shrugs helplessly, and after a moment he leans in and kisses her, just lightly. Then he pushes back, and wraps his arms around her back and pulls her into a hug and she rests her head against his shoulder and breathes in the sweat and alcohol and cigar smoke in the material of his tanks.
“You’re good too, you know,” he says, almost as an afterthought, and that makes her laugh.
“Thank you. That’s good to know.”
“Anytime.”
“Really? Anytime?”
“Well – “
“What about during briefings? What if I need some validation?”
“Like you ever need validation, Starbuck,” he says into her hair, and she laughs.
no subject
It’s awkward, almost chaste and she can’t help the bubble of laughter the rises for her stomach, and that proves to be a mistake because Lee takes it as an opening, slips his tongue along her bottom lip and all the humour melts out of the situation.
She's kissed people drunk before - she's kissed a lot of people, and that's why she can say with absolute certainty that it's never, ever felt like this. Lee moans a little, tilts his head and she rises up on tiptoe and kisses him harder, pushes her hips a little clumsily into his. It's messy, hot, and a cocktail of want-need-now ripples down her body.
“Lee,” she gasps, lips still pressed against his, “Lee -“
He draws back just enough to rest his forehead against hers and their breathing is hard and fast and she licks her lips and tastes him against the sharp tang of Tyrol’s rotgut.
"I," he says, and then dips his head and kisses her again and pushes her back into the alcove against the cold metal of the wall and even with four bolts pressing painfully into her back she pulls him against her tighter.
They kiss and kiss and kiss until the world feels like it’s spinning even harder than before and there are creases in his tanks from her fingers.
She pulls away, tries to catch her breath and the look on his face is hungry. Predatory.
“Good?” he asks, and she slaps at his shoulder. He laughs, leans in and nuzzles at her neck, sucking at her skin and she gathers every part of her not screaming at her to take advantage of the situation and pushes him away, just enough that his hands move from her waist to braced against the wall on either side of her.
His forehead crinkles a little and he looks confused.
“That’s enough,” she says, and the air is cold on the damp patches of her skin. “Don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”
“What about you?”
It’s the opening, the place where she can walk away but she shrugs helplessly, and after a moment he leans in and kisses her, just lightly. Then he pushes back, and wraps his arms around her back and pulls her into a hug and she rests her head against his shoulder and breathes in the sweat and alcohol and cigar smoke in the material of his tanks.
“You’re good too, you know,” he says, almost as an afterthought, and that makes her laugh.
“Thank you. That’s good to know.”
“Anytime.”
“Really? Anytime?”
“Well – “
“What about during briefings? What if I need some validation?”
“Like you ever need validation, Starbuck,” he says into her hair, and she laughs.
*