[Eyes lidded, they peek open as his lips push roughly against her own, skin breaking to intermingle blood together. The fusion of his against her own is intoxicating, much like the heavy scent in the air. Her body is weak, breaking apart whatever resistance she might have had. Softly she gasps against him as his hips buck up against her own. The friction of fabric grinding against her, arousal hardly hidden behind his pants draws a moan. She can feel him- the desire unmasked and bold, only separated by their clothes.
Maybe she should shy away. But all she wants is more. Her body is so acutely aware of him. The touch of his hand upon her thigh and waist burns like fire through the thin material of her skirt. But it's his hips as he pushes forward to rock against her own that leaves her body trembling with arousal. Unwilling to let the blissful contact disappear, she grinds up against the erection that strains against his pants, pushing against her as their bodies draw near.
A hand slips down, and without a lot of thought tugs at his shirt. It's not her intention, but the first buttons break loose, baring his chest to her perusal and gaze. She can't help herself, then. His body is sculpted, toned and firmed in the only way that a man used to battle could be. He's always been fit, but it's such a contrast to the Zero of a year ago. Bloodied or not, she pulls back, simply to lower herself upon his chest. His skin burned beneath her fingers, but it was like fire- a memorizing portrait that one can't help but look at. She can't help but taste him; the salt of his skin like a drug as her tongue drags across his chest. With slow, open mouthed kisses she presses her lips against him, claiming his body for her own as her hands lower to drag nails down his side. They shift to fiddle with the last of his buttons. He doesn't need to keep a torn shirt on anyway....]