Re: Sonrisa: Sam A & Cris M Fuck you, and he looked at her like that was a challenge, eyebrows up, along with chin, and his smugness only increasing as she prodded at his painted belly.—It was quite the change to go from that, to stuttering kid, but he managed it in record time, and he was glad when she smiled, posy cheeks beneath the blue he'd colored her with. He was glad when she kissed him fast, when she sighed after saying she loved him. Maybe it was stupid, but it still meant a lot to Cris just then, when he felt like he was hanging on by the tipsa his fingers.
For once, whether 'causea the exhaustion that had frayed him and his mind or just 'cause he was dumb, he couldn't see where Sam was going with that caveat. She played with the paint on his abs and Cris tried to make sensea what she was saying. His expression was onea concentration when she peered at him through lashes.
"You wanna key?" He didn't know if that'd help. His fingers moved, tucked hair back behind her ear, then took to dragging down the sidea her throat, his arm still 'round her. He didn't stop, not when he leaned down to kiss her soft, once on the lips and lil lingering. The guy stayed close like that, nose almost to hers and sighed out shaky. His nerves were strung out, wrung out, out in the open like Christmas lights. "Bear with me, nena. I'm stupid today, huh? Slow. What would make you feel better 'bout bein' there?" He had to stop himself from offering her things he thought she might want—a key, the runna the place, any decorations, alla that. He made himself be patient for once.