close your eyes, pay the price for your paradise Who: Mercy & Daniel. What: Daniel finds something to fill the hole in his chest. Or Mercy finds...something...in Daniel's pants. Where: Elevator, then Daniel's apartment. When: Nov. 17. Warning: NC-17.
It was later than she'd hoped to be getting home; several phone calls and a sudden death did that, though, in her industry. Her manager had taken off and Mercy had been working late getting paperwork done when she'd gotten a sudden "delivery;" that is, to say, a tearful phone call, to which she reassured the person on the other line that someone would be along shortly to pick up the body. Mr. DeAngelou's daughter had long prepared for this day, but that never made it any easier. Mercy had waited the hour it took for their driver to go out and collect the former husband and father, had made sure he'd been properly put away before the family would come the next day for preparation and planning the more intricate details of the funeral.
Her heels clicked on the lobby tile as she crossed toward the elevators, ready to go upstairs and sink into bed. Sleep, she knew, would likely be elusive; nothing got her as wired as an event like this, which was strange, but it certainly didn't help that she'd been off her medication since Halloween. She didn't care what Nate might say (or would say, her mind corrected); she'd been on her meds and her fucking eyes had fallen out. One heel beat the floor impatiently as she waited for the elevator, slightly masking the sound of another person walking up. She turned, and a bright grin sliced across her face.
"Well, fancy seeing you here, stranger."
Daniel, having just come from a meeting with a prospective business partner, looked even more pressed and professional than he typically did. In black trousers, black blazer, and a dark blue button-up he cut an impressive figure; the gleam in his eye when he smiled at Mercy made clear he knew it.
"Hey, Mercy. How's it goin'?" The elevator doors slid open and he gestured toward them, giving her a small but genteel bow. "After you."
"Such a gentleman," Mercy replied, only looking away from him for a moment as she stepped into the car and thumbed the button for the fourth floor. Her eyes went back to enjoying the sight of Daniel's carefully curated form.
"I haven't seen you since you invited yourself into my apartment," she continued, leaning against one wall with her hands in her jacket pockets, purse slung over a shoulder. "Given all that's happened, I guess that's not terribly surprising. Good to see you all in one piece, and one very good looking piece, if I'm allowed to say," she said, unabashedly flirting with him despite the information he'd divulged at their first and last meeting. A good portion of her simply did not care that Daniel had told her he was spoken for.
Daniel chuckled. "You definitely are," he said. He pressed the button marked 2. Then he leaned back against the wall opposite her, content to enjoy the view for what little time he would have it. "I could say the same for you. Good to see you made it through that insane Halloween party in one piece." He reached up, scratching at his nape. "Am I totally off base, or did I see you have, like, stitches or somethin'..."
Mercy rolled her eyes, a hand traveling up to rub her nose. She smiled, trying to be polite and feeling it not at all.
"You know, I was seriously hoping all of that was just some really fucked up dream. Like, someone spiked the punch with something, shrooms, I don't know." Her mouth creased into a line, which she immediately forced to fold over. "You were damn cute in your costume, though. If anyone could pull off a skirt, it was definitely you." Her hand gestured at his lower half. "And I'm guessing the dude in the Indian getup was your...?" She arched a brow, the question finishing itself.
"Ex," he said, flatly. He forced a smile onto his face, intent upon behaving as though that admission did not bother him at all. The elevator doors opened on the second floor, but Daniel paused. "And it was a toga, thank you very much. And you looked pretty good, yourself. Button-eyes aside, I mean."
Her smile widened, rounding out her cheeks. The two little letters that started his reply had her shifting across the elevator, moving so she was perpendicular to him instead of across.
"You know, I never got to see your apartment. I think it'd be only fair? Unless you're busy. I'm feeling... Kinda wired." A hand reached out to brush his arm, hovering around his elbow. "Busy day at work. Can't ever sleep afterward, and I'd appreciate the company."
BB's words came quickly back to him. Though still unsure he truly wanted to get laid, it was enough for him to know a handful of months out of the dating game had apparently not dulled his edge. His grin widened, and this time the expression was sincere. "Yeah, that sounds fair," he said, thumbing the button to hold the doors open. He motioned her outside the car, and down the corridor beyond. "Two-oh-nine."
He followed her out, taking advantage of the view his supposed chivalry allowed him. Mercy strode forward confidently toward the doorway he'd designated as his own, well aware of where his eyes were lingering. She couched a shoulder against the doorframe while she waited for him to unlock it.
"So what do you do, Daniel, when you're not bursting into other people's apartments and wearing skirts to parties?" She teased, her voice a few octaves lower than previous as she continued to subtly steer the encounter toward her intended direction.
He chuckled, shaking his head as he pushed open the door. "For work or for play?" he asked, directing her inside. A single light was on in the little foyer, illuminating their first steps into a slightly untidy living room. Shed clothes—clearly remnants of other professional outfits tried on and discarded before he had left earlier—were draped across the back and armrest of the sofa and a doorknob in the hallway.
"I do transition assistance for former prisoners," he said. He closed the door behind them, raising a hand to his throat to flick the top buttons of his shirt open. "And off the clock, I like to get things started with a drink. So pick your poison, Mercy: beer, wine, or liquor?"
"Mm, lick me seems a little forward but I'm a fan," she joked as she followed him into the space, eyes roaming. Daniel chuckled, shaking his head. "What kind of liquor? If you've got rum lying around, I'd be happy to take it off your hands." She unhooked the strap of her purse from around her shoulder and set it on his kitchen slash dining room table. Then, following his lead, she sloughed off her jacket and put it over the back of a chair; her shirt had a low cut v-neck over a skirt that just barely passed for polite where work was concerned. Sleeveless, the shirt worked solely in a professional setting because of her jacket.
Putting a hand to one hip, Mercy cocked it as she took in his apartment. "Good to see you're not subjecting yourself to the same conditions as your parolees. I like to see a guy who enjoys treating himself."
Daniel bristled at that, though he worked hard not to show it. He held his tongue as he toed off his shoes and positioned them neatly in the foyer. From there he went into the kitchen, the sound of the freezer opening and closing marking his progress. "Straight or mixed?" he called. "I make a mean dark an' stormy."
"Ooo," Mercy said, moving away from the chair, completely clueless about the insult she'd unwittingly delivered. She followed him into the kitchen, leaning against a counter. Her arms remained at her sides, fingers hooked around the surface ledge. "I usually do straight, but let's see what kind of skills you have. Impress me, Mr. Transition Officer. Also that little twang is adorable—what is it, Georgia?"
"Damn," he said. "First guess. There goes my mysterious edge." A cocktail shaker and two glasses joined the rum; he fished a half-empty bottle of ginger beer and a lime, still in a thin grocery bag, from the depths of the fridge. As he finished gathering his components he looked back to her, a smile returned to his lips, a sharp arch to his dark brow.
"Where you from that you actually recognize it?"
Her shoulders rose and fell. "Here and there. Adopted, but I've never lived out of the state. But I've traveled quite a bit for work, and there's this great funerary pyre movement that's working its way out in Atlanta, so you definitely sound familiar." It didn't hurt that it reminded her of the little twang Nate still developed, sometimes, when he didn't realize it. Some things never completely dissipated, much to Mercy's chagrin.
Nodding, he set aside his neatly-cut lime and sucked a bit of juice from his fingertip. "Atlanta, yep. That's where I grew up. Funerary pyres, you say? That's exactly what it sounds like, isn't it." He went quiet for a moment as he shook up their drinks, ice rattling noisily inside the shaker. Then: "That's pretty fuckin' metal. What's that service like? You play a little Ghost, dance around in black robes and skull masks, or what?" An impish gleam lit his eye as he handed her the finished drink, little lime round and all. "Tell me it ends in a full-scale bonfire-lit orgy, or I'm gonna be disappointed."
Mercy grinned, taking the drink and bringing it to her lips; she spoke before she drank.
"Maybe that's what we're missing, some orgies," she said, laughing a little. "The one thing holding it back from societal acceptance." She sipped the cocktail, running her tongue over her lips as an mmm emanated from her throat.
"Mmm, yum. You know, there's very little aside from death that makes people realize that life's worth living. That it's good to take risks, try things." Her brows arched, and she took a deeper drink. "Though I guess prison can do that, too. What's the first thing your guys usually want when they get out?"
"A job," Daniel answered. He picked up the bottle of rum, still ice-cold from the freezer, and tipped his head to beckon her into the living room. "The ones I work with, they want stability. Prospects. A better life. And money makes the world go 'round." He bypassed the scattered clothes without a downward glance. Sitting down on the sofa, he patted the cushion next to him.
She followed without hesitation, sidling up next to him with one leg bent to skew her body in his direction; thigh and knee were pressed flush to his. Her drink went in hand, resting on the outside of her non-folded leg.
"I guess they've had their excitement. I gotta say, that line of work sounds a little dull for somebody like you," she replied, her free hand resting on the couch cushions behind his head, her nails on his nape without invitation. "You seem like the kinda guy who'd be more at home, I dunno, exploring places or telling other people what to do. But you get a little of that in your current job, huh?"
"More than a little." The bottle of rum now resting on the coffee table, close within reach, Daniel tucked into his own cocktail. He crunched a piece of ice as he considered. "I get to tell employers they need to give these guys a chance. And I get to tell these guys what to do if they wanna make good on that chance. And, you know, if I give 'em some tips on the side on how to keep their heads down, avoid cops, and enjoy parole as best they can…" He shrugged and took another sip.
"I get enough exploring in this goddamn building, I think. As evidenced by me falling headlong into your bathtub."
Her nails twirled up into his hairline, along his scalp as she laughed. He smiled at the unexpected appearance of her touch, and readily leaned into it. "Yeah, that was really something, wasn't it? I would've preferred something more like that for Halloween, instead of what we got." Mercy took a longer sip of her drink, the alcohol burning nicely down her throat.
"You look like you made it out better than a lot of others, though. There were ambulances, if I recall."
He nodded, his rapidly emptying glass bobbing along with the motion. "My friend was in one," he said. "BB, the one Savoy dumped out of the bag. Can't tell you how glad I am that Ares likes her as much as I do. Got her out of there in a big damn hurry." He tipped his chin toward her. "What about you? What happened? You look all right, too, unless you got scarred up somewhere I can't see…" He made a show of leaning back to study her, clearly finding absolutely nothing that appeared damaged or otherwise lacking.
Mercy grinned; she didn't feel like she'd had enough to drink to honestly be buzzed, but neither did she care about having an explanation for her next actions. "No, I came out in one piece. Unless you wanna check?" She leaned back, mirroring his movement, her free hand coming away from him to hike up her shirt just a little, baring naked brown skin. Her fingers fell away, and so did her shirt, covering her stomach once more. Hands glided forward, to his midriff and waist, plucking at his clothing.
"Maybe I should check you..."
"Maybe you should," he said.
A sharp pang cut through him, something very like guilt. But there was no reason for this, he told himself; not anymore. So he leaned up toward her, pressing her hand flat to the plane of his stomach, splaying her fingers over soft fabric and hard muscle beneath. He pressed his grinning lips to the rim of his glass once more, finishing his strongly-mixed drink in a single draught. Then he leaned away only long enough to set the empty glass aside, shifting her hand on him as he moved there and back to her.
Mercy's glass, equally empty, went to the floor, so when Daniel reappeared in front of her she was already ready to lean forward and creep fingers under his shirt. She pushed it up, feeling taut muscle beneath warm skin, her face floating closer and closer to his. Rising up on her knees, she straddled him without hesitation, hanging back by a few inches to give herself space for this so-called 'inspection.'
"Hmmm, this all looks good," she said, eyes flicking down to the tawny skin revealed. She dropped his shirt, instead going for the buttons down his middle, parting them with eager flicks. The skin revealed had a few minor scars, ones that looked years old, expanding and contracting with each movement brought about by the natural functions of life. Mercy held his shirt wide, her teeth digging greedily and happily into her bottom lip. "Well, Daniel, I hate to tell you this, but... I think I'm going to have to go lower." Her eyes met his, but her right hand wasted no time in brushing fingers over his lower stomach, his pants button, and, finally, his crotch.
His body experienced none of the hesitation his mind did. Neither his wandering gaze nor the subtle press of his arousal against her hand gave any indication of the subtle ache that still gnawed in his gut. And when his hand came up, circling loosely around one wrist, the rough pad of one thumb softly stroking her pulse point, it became somewhat easier for Daniel to ignore that small pain. Heartened by this, he grinned over at her, dark eyes heavy lidded as they rose again to meet hers.
"Go right ahead," he said, his voice a low, rumbling purr. He drew her hand closer against him, leaning in toward her as he did. "Better be thorough, right?" Then he caught her mouth with his, his tongue sliding against the seam of her rum-tinged lips. Mercy squealed slightly, falling back and catching herself only by gripping one edge of his shirt tighter. Her nails came to his chest as she pushed back, pressing him to the couch. She grinned as she pulled away.
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of being anything else," she replied, popping his fly button loose. The zipper came and went, her fingers tugging his pants down to reveal tight-fitting briefs. It wasn't long before her fingers were edging past that, the elastic waistband pressing her nails into soft, warm flesh. Her eyes dragged back up his chest, then to his face, all of which were seeming less and less like a person and more like her own personal plaything. One hand came out of Daniel's waistband and fitted to his chin, tugging it forward to her mouth. Teeth came down into his lower lip, cutting slightly, pulling that little moist piece of flesh taut as her other hand went deeper, feeling coarse hair and blood pulsing under skin.
Daniel groaned against her mouth. His hips raised, lifting himself to her touch, goading her on. Reaching out to her, he slid his hands along her stomach, fingers trailing warm lines over her dark skin. His fingers fitted to her hips to dip tentatively below her waistband. The more he touched the easier it was to ignore his niggling guilt, so he threw himself into that pleasant work, eager to silence the dissenting voice in his head.
He shifted against her, suddenly more assertive, as though attempting to regain some sense of control; Mercy moaned, her legs moving to hook around his waist. Leaning in, he pushed her back against the couch cushions, his hand between her thighs perfectly mirroring her own motions. That touch turned up the volume on Mercy's voice, which she muted slightly pulling his mouth down to hers again. She hitched up her dress, freeing both her legs and giving him more room in which to explore.
Her hand came out of his pants, both instead reaching down to push away the remaining cloth around his waist to expose him completely. Fingers wrapped around his length, stroking as her face turned back up toward his. She leaned up, reaching for his jaw, and bit; small teeth left indentations around his chin, near his cheek, the grasp attempting to pull him down without success. Daniel gave a sharp hiss of pain and quickly moved where she directed.
He kissed her deeply, his tongue thrusting over hers for an instant before pulling away. Then his teeth were on her lips, her jawline, her throat, moving steadily downward. He smiled down at the barely-there scrap of lace he found between her legs. She writhed, her head tilted back, then forward to watch him progress.
"For me?" he teased, looking up to her from beneath dark, thick lashes. She grinned wide, shaking her head only a little in a mocking chide.
He hooked his thumbs beneath the fabric. He was gentle as he guided them down, careful not to tear what looked particularly expensive. The moment her panties were free of her delicate legs—still adorned with those sharp, spiky heels of course—he tossed them aside without a second thought. Mercy gave no thought to where they fell, focused entirely on the man that had taken their place.
His palms splayed against her thighs, pushing her legs apart, guiding her dress farther up until it pooled around her waist. He hooked her left leg over the couch's back; the right he pushed to the floor. Then he settled comfortably in, his breath warm and damp between her legs, the touch of his fingers and tongue tauntingly light against her skin. Mercy wriggled delightedly, her arms bent to rest behind her head for a moment.
"Ooo, I hope your mouth can cash the huge check it's scrawlin' out right now, Danny," she drawled, her head not yet too far gone to forget just who was doing all of this to her.
He made certain she could feel his answering smile. Then all was lips and teeth and tongue, exploring a body so very different from the one he had known so recently. He buried that thought with a slide of his tongue into her, a press of his middle finger beneath that slick thrust, his gaze trailing up her body to meet her own.
Mercy's spine arched, her pelvis gyrating up and against Daniel's caress. Her brows slanted, a moan shuddering out of her mouth as she watched him work.
"God, best after work routine, if I do say so," she commented, grinning widely. He hummed a reply that reverberated through her flesh. Teeth sank into her bottom lip as one hand reached down and stroked nails over his scalp. Those same fingers wound into his hair, pulling his head forward. "Don't stop when you're just getting started."
Daniel moved where she demanded, his eyes falling shut as he went to his work. One hand slid up her body, easing beneath her dress to caress the curve of her hip, the full swell of her breast. Each touch raised her body toward his hand, her spine arching in response. As his tongue thrust into her his fingers moved beneath her bra, plucking her nipple to a hard, tight peak. Mercy squeaked, the sound undignified before melting into a moan; one hand came out from behind her head to move atop his, grasping through the cloth of her shirt. Together they squeezed hard as his teeth skimmed over her clit, and again as he pressed a second finger into her. His guilt forgotten, his length hard and insistent as it pressed against the rough couch cushions, he pushed all the harder into her, coaxing her with rough, demanding strokes toward that edge.
Between his skilled fingers and mouth and the alcohol they'd both imbibed in not long before, Mercy was quickly winding down toward orgasm. Her hips jutted toward the warm, wet feeling of Daniel's lips and teeth, his tongue, and then she was spilling over him, her spine arched fully, a pleasured moan rolling out from a wide grin on her face down her form as she contentedly collapsed back toward the couch cushions. The hand on her shirt where she'd been pressing Daniel's hand tighter to her breast moved down with its twin, fingers curling in his hair.
"C'mon, I know you've got more than that," she replied, her grin unabating as she tugged him up, wanting that bulge in his pants elsewhere.
"Damn right," he answered, and licked her taste from his lips. He kissed her as he gathered her up from the couch, pulling her close against him. As he raised her from the couch he took her hand in his, gripping her tight and all but dragging her to the bedroom. This inner sanctum was more a mess than the living room had been; it looked as if a storm of clothes had torn through the room, leaving a trail of underwear, patterned socks, and dress shirts in its wake. He ignored all this and pulled her toward the bed.
Together they fell into a heap atop rumpled sheets. His hands moved over her dress, pulling it over her head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Then his grip returned to her, clasping her waist, nails digging into her lower back as he drew her up to straddle him. The suggestion didn't take much encouragement; Mercy all but climbed up, one leg to each side of his hips. Leaning forward to grasp his lower lip in her teeth, she pulled it taut as her fingers pushed his shirt off his shoulders, then went to his pants. Her mouth left his, trailing a long wake of teeth marks down his jaw, throat, clavicle, and chest. As she moved down, at one point hopping from the bed to the floor as she tugged his pants loose the rest of the way; underwear went with the motion, and her eyes lit up as his hardened member all but sprang loose from its prison.
"Oh, well, hello there." Mercy reached forward like an eager child in a candy store, her eyes trailing back up Daniel's well-toned form to meet his eyes. "Looks like you've got both a banana and you're happy to see me." She kept that locked gaze as she leaned forward, mouth open, and pressed the flat of her tongue to the base of his cock, slowly and teasingly sliding up. One hand gripped his girth, the other going to gently palm his scrotum.
Her motions cut short his laughter at her teasing pickup line. His hand settled at her jaw, the pad of his thumb fitted to her cheek, feeling the shifts in her expression as she moved on him. He leaned back to rest his weight on his palms, his shirt sliding from his shoulders to pool around his wrists and against the small of his back. Her trail ended at his tip, where her mouth engulfed him and then, keeping the same pace, moved down, swallowing his length as she went. Mercy stopped halfway and started to extricate him, before moving down again, testing her throat for a moment before taking him as deep and as completely as she could. Her lips brushed wiry hair at the base of his cock, his length hitting the back of her mouth.
He groaned anew at that. His hips lifted to her; his hand tightened its grip, fingers sliding back into her hair. His glassy gaze rolled up toward the ceiling, staring at nothing for a moment. Then, as she had done before, he looked down to her, watching her work between his thighs. He drew his lower lip between his teeth, but the gesture did nothing to suppress his next moan. His hand shifted again, his thumb tracing the line where their bodies met, embracing the smooth softness so different from what he had so recently known.
"Now who's writin' big checks," he teased, his voice low and rough. One corner of his mouth rose in a sharp little smile.
A thin line of saliva connected Mercy's mouth to the tip of Daniel's cock as she grinned in response, once she'd unsheathed him from her throat. She leaned in, licking it away as he shuddered, her tongue drawing a line along her lips.
"I like to give as good as I get," she replied, climbing her way back up and straddling Daniel once more. Her mouth ducked in, teeth nipping at his lips. "You got condoms?" She caught his lower lip once more, pulling it back.
"Mm." He kissed her, his hands sliding up her back, unfastening her bra with a practiced motion. "Top drawer." He did not so much as glance at the nightstand, too enrapt in her taste, her smell, the feel of her newly naked body against his. He lowered his head and kissed her breast, tipping her backward until he could cover one dark, peaked nipple with his mouth. Teeth and tongue flicked over her. He sucked sharply at her skin, ever hungry for more. Mercy gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she tried to push him off.
"If you want this to keep going, we're definitely not doing it bareback," she chided, eventually wresting herself away enough to bend in the direction of the nightstand and reach precariously for the drawer. She pulled it loose, grabbed one of the many wrapped condoms on offer and sliding back into Daniel's waiting arms. Smiling, she traced it over his profile before carefully tearing it open between her teeth, sliding the latex over his throbbing member.
"Fuck," she mumbled as she aimed him toward her entrance and began to sink down slowly onto his shaft. By some miracle Daniel held himself still, letting her set the pace as his mouth found the curve of her shoulder once more. He bit at her skin, muffling his own pleasured sounds against her warm flesh.
His hands moved down to cup her backside. He pinched and squeezed as she settled over him, shuddering at the feel of her tight, wet shape around him. His tongue traced a line toward her clavicle. He marked out its edge, then followed with teeth, biting at delicate bone. Then his hips pressed upward, spreading her legs around him, and he buried himself deep in her.
Mercy shuddered, panting, pushing down as far as she could before withdrawing, tracing out a steady rhythm as his engorged member stretched her. Hands pushed at his shoulders, urging him down flat on the bed, her knees grounding her in the comforter and mattress below. "Oh, God, yes," the word following each stabbing motion of her hips, each scratch that her nails delivered to his chest. "God, you feel good, ugh, harder, yes, harder." She pressed down on him, her tempo slowly growing as the sounds of flesh on flesh filled the space.
Groaning aloud and unabashed, Daniel clutched her hips tight, short nails digging into her skin. His back arched to her sharp touch; he shuddered as she took him fully in, and again as she withdrew. He drawled out a curse, his hips rolling beneath her, and slipped a hand between her thighs to stroke her in time with her thrusts. The other remained firmly embedded in her skin, drawing crescents into her each time he pulled her down to him. The moment she slowed he bucked his hips up hard, finding once again the rhythm she had set.
A banging came from the wall, at first perhaps the headboard, but then clearly from the other side of the structure.
"Jesus christ, Daniel</i>..." A muffled voice could be heard, but Mercy and Daniel's coupled moans quickly drowned out any complaint from BB's apartment. Mercy continued to rock atop Daniel, that motion with Daniel's expertly placed touch bringing her to a crescendo of pleasure that curled her spine.
"God, fuck, yes, Nate, God yes, fuck me, fuck me please," she murmured, her eyes blissfully shut and focused on some other person who was not in the room with them. Her nails dug deeper as she lengthened her orgasm, the contractions in her muscles vibrating down into Daniel to carry him along.
"Nate?" Daniel snapped, incredulous, but another tightening of her body on his and all thought of this other name fled. He cried out loud enough to silence the last of BB's complaints. Both hands wrapped tight around Mercy's waist, pulling her down, holding her to him as he drove into her one last time. Then all was boneless, post-orgasmic shivering, and a loosening of his grip as he fell slack against the sheets.
"You got a boyfriend?" he panted, his head lolling on the comforter. A shaky laugh fell from his lips. "That fuckin' figures…"
"What?" Mercy came back down to earth enough to realize what had happened. Her stepbrother's name falling from Daniel's lips was more than enough of a wake up call. "No, I... It's complicated. Don't worry about it. This... This was fun," she said, trying to curtail that particular tangent and refocus back on the person still currently inside of her. Mercy shifted, letting Daniels softening cock loose, and stroked one hand down his chest. "I can always make it up to you, you know, if you wanna go for another round..."
Every scrap of common sense Daniel possessed told him to say no. But as his orgasm receded and loneliness took its place, he found that quiet voice easier and easier to ignore. "It's complicated," he mused, his fingertips tracing patterns up and down her back. "I'm so fuckin' tired of that answer you don't even know." He reached between them with his right hand, his left still softly stroking her, encouraging her to stay. He stripped the condom off and tossed it to the floor, as careless as he had been with all his other discarded belongings.
"So make it up to me," he said. "And this time…" He leaned up to her, biting at her lower lip. He tried for a grin; it only fell somewhat flat. "Remember to yell Daniel really, really loud."
She returned the gesture, her smile far more true; her mouth grabbed his, a lingering kiss that led her to slide down his form, intent on one particular direction. Whoever he wanted to have shut up in the other room, she was more than happy to help with—in the end, she hoped it would help him forget her gaffe and for her to pretend it had never happened at all.