[ She hates him right back, too, this arrogant asshole who reminds her too much of herself before Yancy died, cocky as hell and in need of being taken down a peg or two: pre-Knifehead, she would've only been too glad to do the honours of kicking his ass, but post-Knifehead, well.
Post-Knifehead is a different deal entirely. But they're not here to talk about ass-kicking; they're not here to talk about anything at all, save to get the lust out of their system, this thing like a punch to the gut, of desire and violence and want and need and it's awful to say that he, too, makes her feel alive. His tongue's in her mouth and she's shoving him right back, her hands tugging his shirt up because like hell he's going to take the lead when she's got seven years on him.
He survived and that's what matters, and it doesn't take a genius to see the wounds and the trauma he carries with him, the violence and the anger and the hate and a part of her wants to tame that, make it hers because she understands. Her kisses are just as fierce, and her hands roam over his back, tugging up his shirt. Her hips buck, pushing up against him in something entirely reactionary, wanting. ]
Take it off. [ She growls between kisses, greedy and hungry for more of him, for more of this. Why the fuck are you still wearing clothes, Hansen? ]
no subject
Post-Knifehead is a different deal entirely. But they're not here to talk about ass-kicking; they're not here to talk about anything at all, save to get the lust out of their system, this thing like a punch to the gut, of desire and violence and want and need and it's awful to say that he, too, makes her feel alive. His tongue's in her mouth and she's shoving him right back, her hands tugging his shirt up because like hell he's going to take the lead when she's got seven years on him.
He survived and that's what matters, and it doesn't take a genius to see the wounds and the trauma he carries with him, the violence and the anger and the hate and a part of her wants to tame that, make it hers because she understands. Her kisses are just as fierce, and her hands roam over his back, tugging up his shirt. Her hips buck, pushing up against him in something entirely reactionary, wanting. ]
Take it off. [ She growls between kisses, greedy and hungry for more of him, for more of this. Why the fuck are you still wearing clothes, Hansen? ]