I am so close to the end. If only I could find it in myself to fill in all the missing scenes there are. /o\
None of them are very drunk. The port was strong and there was a big bottle of it but they only had a third each, and anyway they aren't drunk because they're doing this with more purpose and flair than drunk sex can be fairly said to entail. Emma thinks such vague thoughts, then shuts them off, because they're confusing. And because she can't think, when Jesse is dragging his mouth down her neck.
She makes this high, quavery sound, and Andrew laughs a bit. "I like that sound," he tells no one in particular. Jesse kisses her neck more insistently, and sucks at a patch of skin at the join between shoulder and neck. Emma hopes the bruises will be there tomorrow. She can't stop the sounds spilling out of her mouth. She feels hot all over, and the bottom of her stomach drops out on her when Jesse looks up and meets her eyes. He's shirtless.
She cards a hand through his curls, and says softly, "Jesse." He smiles, something in him reassured, and latches his mouth to her nipple. Emma throws her head back and groans, loud.
The couch is the worst possible place to be doing this, but Emma can't bring herself to suggest they move.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: Sunday, 28 August 2011 01:29 (UTC)None of them are very drunk. The port was strong and there was a big bottle of it but they only had a third each, and anyway they aren't drunk because they're doing this with more purpose and flair than drunk sex can be fairly said to entail. Emma thinks such vague thoughts, then shuts them off, because they're confusing. And because she can't think, when Jesse is dragging his mouth down her neck.
She makes this high, quavery sound, and Andrew laughs a bit. "I like that sound," he tells no one in particular. Jesse kisses her neck more insistently, and sucks at a patch of skin at the join between shoulder and neck. Emma hopes the bruises will be there tomorrow. She can't stop the sounds spilling out of her mouth. She feels hot all over, and the bottom of her stomach drops out on her when Jesse looks up and meets her eyes. He's shirtless.
She cards a hand through his curls, and says softly, "Jesse." He smiles, something in him reassured, and latches his mouth to her nipple. Emma throws her head back and groans, loud.
The couch is the worst possible place to be doing this, but Emma can't bring herself to suggest they move.