Re: Log, Ocean's Eleven, Seven Hills: Sam A & Cris M
Sam was impulsive, and she wasn't good at control, especially since she was starting to get that he wasn't going to need to be fucking prodded into things. It was fucking heady, and it wasn't like she had a public filter or anything, not about anything. She figured he did, but she wasn't thinking about that either. She just wasn't fucking thinking at all, and that was kind of a thing she did, yeah? She got kicked out of places a lot; she didn't care. She didn't care that the chess pieces clattered like cymbals in the uncomfortably quiet room. Insanity was quiet or whatever, and they sedated it when it got too loud, and the uncomfortable visitors were more than happy to pay attention to the girl on the table, crawl and kiss, because she wasn't their problem, and that made her ass all the more fucking appealing. Sam knew that, but she didn't fucking care.
She cared about the thick locks of hair under her fingers. She cared about the way he parted his lips for her. She cared about the way he took over, the way he fucking took, like maybe he'd die if he didn't get. Spit and impatience, bruises on her thighs and she laughed against his mouth when he dragged her onto his lap. And whatever gasps that drew, those were ignored too. Fuck the old men shifting in their seats, repositioning themselves and lamenting their shitty sex lives with sedate pearls.
Fuck all of it, and he set her down and kept her close, and she didn't get what he was looking around for. Not at first, and she stared as he wiped his hand over his mouth. She stretched against him, be'socked toes on the tips of his sneakers for added height, and she licked at his lips as she realized what he was looking for.
"Guest bathroom, papi?" She pointed back toward it, and the woman from earlier stood from her couch perch and stormed. They wouldn't have much time, and she stepped back and slid free of his grip. She laughed, cheeks flushed and lips kiss-bitten, and lipstick a mess around her mouth. But she looked happy, yeah? Fucking kissed, fucking young, fucking happy, and she turned and ran into the bathroom without tugging or coaxing him.
He'd follow, yeah? And that knowledge was hella sexy.
She climbed up on the back of the toilet. Back against the wall and feet on the closed bowl, thighs parted, and the door cracked.