[ A little danger, a little surprise has appeal — she isn't often blindsided so the novelty is something she relishes (when it doesn't involve bullets), a thrilling little shiver down her spine all the while. Although it does feel a little bit like a gunshot for how precisely he turns the tables and she bares her throat to the wandering warmth of his kisses before she even realises it, lashes fluttering like her wild pulse. ]
Oh, bloody hell.
[ Soft, more breath than voice, because he catches on a spot that honest-to-God makes her knees a little weak — she'd blame the bourbon but please, she can lie to others, not herself — and her hand on his cheek finds purchase in his hair, curling through it and holding on as if to stop him, to keep him there, to drag him back up for another urgent kiss. She's breathless with it, with waiting for a slip of tongue or the nip of his teeth, with being torn on asking for it because all that she manages on a trembling exhale is — ]
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Oh, bloody hell.
[ Soft, more breath than voice, because he catches on a spot that honest-to-God makes her knees a little weak — she'd blame the bourbon but please, she can lie to others, not herself — and her hand on his cheek finds purchase in his hair, curling through it and holding on as if to stop him, to keep him there, to drag him back up for another urgent kiss. She's breathless with it, with waiting for a slip of tongue or the nip of his teeth, with being torn on asking for it because all that she manages on a trembling exhale is — ]
Leo.