Empty Bottle

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

"Give up," the words found their way into the small distance between them for a third time. Although they sounded more like a request, this time. Her lower body shifted as he pushed back against her but, she made no notion of flinching back. She could feel his warmth beneath her, could feel the intricacies of his body as she dared to lean further into him - 'til only their clothes provided a pathetic barrier.

His smirk is returned, reflected back down at him across her own supple, yearning lips. She felt especially provoked when the skin of his nose brushed by hers but, for a moment, she resisted temptation - strong as it was. Even if he allowed his head to fall back against the blanket beneath him, she would lean in to keep their noses touching.

She felt his arms shift and her own hands eased off then. Steady, gentle fingers began to make their descent as they edged along the warm muscles in his wrists, consequentially freeing him. She didn't answer his question. At least, not verbally. She tilted her nose to the side so that it brushed past his, her lips and her hips intending to melt into his with the movement. Her smile still pushed against her mouth and he could probably feel it against his own.

If he gave up, that is. She certainly had, no question about it.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep