This was supposed to be only a hundred words, but I got carried away.
kiss me
Prompt: No way out
He whispers it against her lips, two simple, yet impossible words. He trails his breath (a warm, soft flutter) down her neck and presses the words on her shoulder. She catches a hint of teeth, the ghost of a tongue. She catches her breath, and holds it. His hands move away from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her in closer.
She shudders.
"Cress," he says her name like a prayer. He says those two words again like a request.
He's drunk, she thinks. He's drunk, he's drunk, he's drunk.
But his eyes are so clear, sharp, though very diluted. (Maybe that's her doing. Maybe. Just maybe.)
There's a slight quirk to his lips, a soft tilt upwards, a tickle of amusement. She remembers when his request had once been hers, spoken by cracked lips and a fever-addled mind. Spurred on by a heart that she was certain had been broken long before it had a chance to beat as a whole.
He asks her again, though this time it sounds more like a command than a request. He will not remember this in the morning, she thinks, or maybe she hopes. This time the request is being made by a glass of wine. Her heart twists, the breath she has been holding rushes out. She reaches out and places a hand on his chest. The fabric of his shirt if soft, warm.
Kiss me.
She counts six unsteady heartbeats before she bites her lips and stands up on tip toes. He will not remember this in the morning.
(But he does.)