the next best thing will do

i can make the badguys good for a weekend

Charlie meets him without hesitation, hands sliding up and locking around his neck the instant his mouth claims hers, fingers curling there with delighted purpose. Her kiss is quick and clever, tongue confident and practiced as it dances against his, a teasing promise rather than a demand, heat sparking between them with every breath she steals. Her mind, if he brushes it now, is a kaleidoscope; colour and warmth and possibility, centuries of knowing exactly what she enjoys and none of the burden of expectation, only the certainty that whatever comes next will be worth savouring.

Charlie moves easily against him as he guides her back, body pliant and responsive, fitting herself to his shape with instinctive ease. Petite she may be, there is nothing scarce about the curves his hands find, nothing lacking in the way she presses close, fire whispering along her skin as if encouraging him on. When he lifts her onto the counter, she laughs softly into the kiss, a breathy sound of approval, legs swinging around his waist at once as she pushes her skirt up to her mid-thighs with an unashamed roll of her hips.

Her fingers, already familiar with the state of his belt, move lower without ceremony, beginning to work deftly at the buttons of his trousers even as she keeps her mouth busy, tongue tracing slow, deliberate lines that feel very much like a preview of intentions she has no interest in keeping subtle.

.