charlie west, also known as 'cactus the angry elf' (littledeadly) wrote in immune_ic,
The staring made her a little self-conscious, though she covered for it with a cocky smirk. She knew she wasn't a polished princess, she never had been and never would be, and that little voice in the back of her head that so often berated her about her brother was only too happy to remind her of the types of girls he usually went after. Charlie was a soldier, a fighter down to her very physique, and, with the exception of the bite on her shoulder, she wore battle scars like other women wore jewelry. They were a source of pride, a mark that said 'I survived'. The feeling quickly passed as she studied his face-- nobody had ever looked at her with such an intensity, and the anxiety faded into a giddy headrush that had her grinning.
His hands, his words, his lips-- her heart was pounding in her ears, her blood humming in her veins, and Charlie was sure he was some sort of drug. Each touch elicited a slightly different response; a catch in her breathing, a small shiver up her spine, a little gasp, even a giggle at particularly ticklish points as her back arched and she tilted her neck to give him easier access to more of her skin. Her hands slid under his shirt, nails of one hand scratching slowly upwards as the other tugged impatiently at the fabric. "Got me at a bit of a fuckin' disadvantage here, babe," she growled, hooking one foot around his legs to rub teasingly up and down his calf. "C'mon, sweetheart, babe... Show me what you got."