Re: Near the Entrance
His head canted to her lips as she spoke, a thoughtless motion born as much from necessity as the burgeoning familiarity the moment seemed to rouse. A smug smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth, and he nodded back to her, feeling the feather-light brush of her lips on his skin as he moved. He shifted, then, closer still, moved more by the rhythm the two of them set than by anything in the club itself. It was difficult to say which of them set that fluid cadence; their bodies responded easily to one another, fitting together and sliding apart as smoothly as they had done in that vibrant, recent dream. The thought of that vision, impossibly clear as it had been, made his hand tighten at the small of her back, his thumb brushing soft at her skin. He leaned down to her, still moving with her, pulling her toward him.
"Samuel," he whispered, his lips pressed to her ear. His teeth skimmed her lobe as he grinned, though the look had faded somewhat by the time he straightened up.