AURELIA
and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be
maybe they never will be
Her head ducked under his arm, pressed into the nook between it and his flank, as she brought him down to the sand. His muted words of protest did little to stop her, not a lick of hesitation in her actions once they'd been decided. The laughter left her lungs before they even descended, altogether impish and victorious.
Upon revealing those furrowed red brows, however, she couldn't help her grin growing even bigger. But his frown disappeared as quickly as it appeared, the act crumbling down around him before he could really even commit to it. Her toothy smile softened. She watched him wriggle about in the blankets, amused and quite pleased with herself, not even suspecting him to launch a counter-attack.
But he did, and her eyes widened with a small gasp of realization. Before she could even respond, his arms wrapped around her, clutched her against him so she could not avoid his deserved retaliation, and pulled her down into the sand beside him.
She landed with a soft, faint thud, her back pressed to the cool sands beneath them. Now it was her turn to have a frustrated smile on her face, glaring up at him as if to say 'how dare you'. "And you said you ain't a fighter," she said, very matter-of-fact, "I think you're lying."
Then, a plan formed and he might see that same look come back to her eye, the very one she'd had before she tackled him in the first place. If he did notice it, by that time, it was too late.
She brought her leg up, using the motion in it alongside the strength of her arm to roll with him back into the blankets. Having the upper hand once more, she straddled him, pressing her thighs against either of his hips. She then grabbed both his hands and, in a rush of movement, pushed them into sand above his head. Her face lingered over his, dangerously close, her labored breaths shallow against his chest.
"What will you do now?" she challenged, a soft growl in her words. A smirk pressed across her face, "Give up?" She failed to see the irony in that question.
Upon revealing those furrowed red brows, however, she couldn't help her grin growing even bigger. But his frown disappeared as quickly as it appeared, the act crumbling down around him before he could really even commit to it. Her toothy smile softened. She watched him wriggle about in the blankets, amused and quite pleased with herself, not even suspecting him to launch a counter-attack.
But he did, and her eyes widened with a small gasp of realization. Before she could even respond, his arms wrapped around her, clutched her against him so she could not avoid his deserved retaliation, and pulled her down into the sand beside him.
She landed with a soft, faint thud, her back pressed to the cool sands beneath them. Now it was her turn to have a frustrated smile on her face, glaring up at him as if to say 'how dare you'. "And you said you ain't a fighter," she said, very matter-of-fact, "I think you're lying."
Then, a plan formed and he might see that same look come back to her eye, the very one she'd had before she tackled him in the first place. If he did notice it, by that time, it was too late.
She brought her leg up, using the motion in it alongside the strength of her arm to roll with him back into the blankets. Having the upper hand once more, she straddled him, pressing her thighs against either of his hips. She then grabbed both his hands and, in a rush of movement, pushed them into sand above his head. Her face lingered over his, dangerously close, her labored breaths shallow against his chest.
"What will you do now?" she challenged, a soft growl in her words. A smirk pressed across her face, "Give up?" She failed to see the irony in that question.
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
when you're ready to sleep
