Re: Venetian penthouse: Sam & Cris
Sam survived on pure fucking will. Youth and, yeah, she'd turned to needles, but that shit could be traced back too a shrink and too many drugs, then more drugs, and then more fucking drugs. Gateways, and then the doctor had refused to keep seeing her, and here she was, scratches on her arms a nasty fucking habit that she'd never actually sought out. But, yeah, so this was a stolen moment. Whatever, and the alternative was thinking about all the shit with Joey, and she didn't want to. The sedatives would wear off eventually, and they'd leave her as raw as a fresh wound, gaping and all her feeling spilling out in gore red. Yeah, no, she'd take this while she could have it.
The sound he made when hip met cock made her look up through pale lashes, something like surprise in that slow flicker of features and a smile that was as warm as the blush from cheeks down, pale skin warmed to rouge from the water's heat. She still wasn't used to that shit, and maybe that was just time, yeah? Time, which was something that they'd been denied, because stolen minutes didn't count, and devastation didn't either. Those were moments, things yanked out of living and set on a temporary pedestal. Time was something else, yeah? It was getting to know someone, and he closed his eyes, and she laughed that hoarse laugh again, rusty from screams and disuse. "Me gusta ese sonido."
She didn't realize he was peeking at her through those impossibly long fucking lashes of his, and she looked on his smirk with hella fondness. "You acted like a protective fucking adult, yeah? Even when you were fucking me." The sedative slowed her tongue, but it didn't do shit to keep profanities from spilling past her lips as she looked up at him, cheek still on his shoulder, and her toes poking at his shin now. She smacked at him when he grabbed her ass, water in his face, and he deserved that shit, yeah? Not that she minded, but her smile was a exhausted-smug thing as her arm slid under the water and curled around his middle. "You didn't want to see me as soon as you woke up, mentiroso. You were probably hoping I was someone more like Iris, yeah? Older and calm and less messed up. Though I guess it's a compliment, yeah? That you thought you dreamed me up. Or maybe you just dream up trouble all the time, papi." The end of that statement dipped into something serious, a remainder from the Iris comment, and she sighed and shifted closer, like she needed the closeness or something to keep on with her train of thought, her knee up against his ribcage. "She came to see me while you were gone, I."