✿ Pairing → Piers•Claire
✿ Word Count → 589
✿ Summary → She pushes him against the wall and into another heated kiss. He moans out in surprise, the delicious vibration of his voice tickling her lips.
【Logic Later】
Lips move with fevered abandon, exploring, tasting, claiming.
Her breaths are moist against his cheek and her heart is a twittering metronome in her chest. Things are happening so fast, but her mind is focused on only one thing—the way his hands are moving over her body. His fingertips tease her chest as he unbuttons her shirt, hasty, impatient. Needy. She pulls his face to hers, kissing him hard.
Her veins are on fire.
He breaks the kiss to breathe, but she doesn't stop. Her lips are moving down his throat, along his collar bone, and whispering over his shoulder. She feels him shudder and their eyes lock. He opens his mouth, about to say something, but she stops him with an index finger. He stares at her, his hazel eyes uncertain.
No. Not right now…
She pushes him against the wall and into another heated kiss. He moans out in surprise, the delicious vibration of his voice tickling her lips.
How this began, she doesn't know. She doesn't care. They are here, now, and this is what she wants—needs.
The hallway around them is empty aside from the overhead lights—hazy, yellow. She tugs at his shirt as his hands wander along her chest, leaving a trail of hot flesh. Shivers make her body tingle and she buries her face into his neck, her teeth seeking the sensitive skin there. He grips her closer, his body taut and his arms ravenous.
"Wait," Piers stutters, stopping suddenly, his cheeks blossoming red.
What?
Her arms go slack around him and he backs away from her. She frowns. Why did he…? After a moment she realizes that he's digging for his apartment keys. Oh… She grins sheepishly at the realization of how they must appear, disheveled, hungry, and completely uncaring of prying eyes.
He opens the door quickly and waits for her to walk in first. Gentleman. She smiles. However, she doesn't allow the silence a moment and is on him again, almost knocking him over something—a couch? Had he even closed the door, she thinks offhandedly.
Don't care.
Breathing in his kiss, she pulls aggressively at his hair. He groans her name, deep and throaty, as his arms circle around her. They are stumbling backwards, blindly aiming for a bed that neither of them cared to find.
Claire's hair is brushing her shoulders. He must have pulled out my hairband. Cloudy thoughts, hungry hands. She inhales his name as those hands grip firmly at her ass, making her skin come alive with fire.
Really shouldn't do thi—Don't care!
Ripping his shirt over his head, she's pushing him back and they are falling. His scent rushes up to her as they lose themselves in cotton sheets. Reckless and desperate lips moving over fevered skin and clothes vanishing, discarded aimlessly on a shadowed bedroom floor.
Just kiss me. Just take me!
He nips at her throat, coaxing, and she hisses at him, impatient. Damn tease! He smirks against her jaw, but she's already rolling him over, pinning him to the bed, and, with her tongue, painting wet heat along his chest and stomach. You got nice muscles, kid. She grins and nibbles along his hips. He growls her name and it makes her heart tremble.
I don't care about tomorrow.
No, she'd disappear into this moment, however foolish, because right now, she just doesn't give a damn.