Evie
tell me all of the things
that make you feel at ease
The syrup is still sweet on her lips and yet she craves the moment his eyes catch with hers. She would think it madness if it wasn't Deimos she longed for - she has already accepted she's mad for him anyway. Still pleasantly achy from sex she nevertheless finds herself shifting in her chair with the slow crawl of want in her stomach. Her fork ends up out of her hand but she couldn't say for certain whether it's on the table or the plate where it should be. Inanely, she thinks that it's a good thing she has healing magic, it's a perfect substitute for constitution or stamina. "I've imagined you in every way I can dream up," she assures, impishness curling in the corner of her smile. Steamy books had certainly provided some interesting ideas she had never envisioned before too, so she's quite happy to say she hasn't pictured him in every way possible. Not yet. It's hardly a single step, sliding from her chair into his lap, but her hands find their way to his shoulders - and one into his slightly damp hair - with well-practiced aim as she presses another slow, lingering kiss to his lips.
