Re: At the Spooky House: Muerte / Eddie
The dark look in his eyes, that stillness, wasn't what she was used to, and in the back of her own mind, she knew that it meant that there were much larger things going on. Things that this interlude wouldn't (and couldn't) fix on its own. But she also knew that she didn't want to be treated as something delicate. Scars and all, she knew that she could be pushed. And she knew that she didn't need the 24/7 charm from Eddie. She loved it when it was there, as part of him, but the fact that he'd come to the house, to be there with her even without the thought of doing anything more than talking, that was what was important to her. He'd trusted her enough to at least com. That wasn't something she was going to throw away.
The air in the small room was cool, and bumps raised along her skin by the time he took off her shirt and left her bare to the waist, nothing else underneath that thin knit cotton. Whether he expected it or not, she was dressed for comfort, thin things, old things, things well-loved. It was a stark contrast to his buttoned-up tailoring, and something about that pinged another interest in the back of her mind. With the way she was pressed along his side as they kissed, she leaned forward for a moment, drowning in that hard kiss, before she pulled back, shoulders moving with a deeper breath, and looked at him, her own eyes dark and more than a little hard to read.
"I'm going to take the rest of my clothes off now." Quiet, like a secret for the two of them. Her hand slid up the side of his neck and scratched fingernails through the hair at the back of his head. "If you want to just watch me, you can. If you want to join me, this is your invitation..." Yes, there was a flutter of nerves at the bottom of her stomach as she said that, worried if this was the right thing, a little nervous about it, but it wasn't betrayed in her expression.
And then she was leaning away, hands at the button of her jeans, popping it free and then easing down the zipper. A little wriggle, and her hands were skimming over her hips, pushing fabric as they went, lifting knees to chest to pull everything else off, from panties to socks, leaving her naked on the loveseat and her clothing in a pile on the floor. And then she looked at him, milk-pale skin on display, and waited.