champagne, cocaine, gasoline; and most things in between
Scoffing into his tea, Mateo can't help the musical laughter that rings around the interior of his ship. "Everest Hart," he scolds. "I was thinking more that she could snuggle up to your side while you walked through the Celestine, or that you could offer her your coat, or warm up her hands. But sure, we can go straight to fucking her so hard she catches fire."
Taking a more earnest drink of tea now that it's cool enough, he hums a note of near bliss and sinks back against the wall, comfortable and at peace at the world now, apparently, that both his friend and his house are back in his life. "Honestly, I just want my bed," he says, meaning every word. "If you and Isla want to come back here and fuck on my couch, by all means. Just stay out of my bedroom."
Taking a more earnest drink of tea now that it's cool enough, he hums a note of near bliss and sinks back against the wall, comfortable and at peace at the world now, apparently, that both his friend and his house are back in his life. "Honestly, I just want my bed," he says, meaning every word. "If you and Isla want to come back here and fuck on my couch, by all means. Just stay out of my bedroom."
