( he doesn't need to say it. the 'for once' tells the story for him — yet another soul in which sleep hardly favored. she'd noticed it the first night she'd had him beneath the dewy light of her kitchen, when his gaze had set adamantly across the room, the lack of rest that bundled beneath them, that left a set of startlingly attractive features, in a way, hollow. but it's more what kept the sleep at bay than the lack of sleep itself, wasn't it? it's one thing to be restless, but another to tend the harrowing company that wards it away. )
Better than I have in... awhile.
( she, too, will let that speak for itself, hold its own tongue.
her own tone is still sticky with sleep, lingering in the weight of her bones, every bit unwilling to leave that bed with him inside of it — the only possible temptation tugging at the recesses of her mind is the idea of a shower, the piping pellets of water soothing over worked, pleased muscles. karen's pressing up onto her elbow, breasts hugged beneath her arms, the outer of his as she leans in, plants a kiss at the edge of his mouth, next, the heart of his throat where teeth give a gentle nip. a sigh is left there. )
Mmh—you save me the investment. ( teasing; mostly. he does — burn to the touch, but she finds it soothing more than anything else, what with every attempt to skirt a too-high electric bill and windows left slightly agape, she could afford the extra warmth with the indecisive skies of spring in the city. she realizes then, nuzzled in to his pulse point, how easily she could get wrapped up in this again — him, a neediness she's hardly used to catering no bit shy to present itself. only she tucks it down, for now. )
I'm going to shower. ( as much as she wants to believe he'd be one to say something before he slipped out of that apartment, sometimes the quieter route was easiest. she wouldn't hold it against him. mouth finds his, a grateful kiss there between her words. )
There's coffee. ( another, almost as if she's chasing them as she starts to withdraw from the limbs of those sheets, a grin fracturing her kisses a bit. ) Help yourself.
no subject
Better than I have in... awhile.
( she, too, will let that speak for itself, hold its own tongue.
her own tone is still sticky with sleep, lingering in the weight of her bones, every bit unwilling to leave that bed with him inside of it — the only possible temptation tugging at the recesses of her mind is the idea of a shower, the piping pellets of water soothing over worked, pleased muscles. karen's pressing up onto her elbow, breasts hugged beneath her arms, the outer of his as she leans in, plants a kiss at the edge of his mouth, next, the heart of his throat where teeth give a gentle nip. a sigh is left there. )
Mmh—you save me the investment. ( teasing; mostly. he does — burn to the touch, but she finds it soothing more than anything else, what with every attempt to skirt a too-high electric bill and windows left slightly agape, she could afford the extra warmth with the indecisive skies of spring in the city. she realizes then, nuzzled in to his pulse point, how easily she could get wrapped up in this again — him, a neediness she's hardly used to catering no bit shy to present itself. only she tucks it down, for now. )
I'm going to shower. ( as much as she wants to believe he'd be one to say something before he slipped out of that apartment, sometimes the quieter route was easiest. she wouldn't hold it against him. mouth finds his, a grateful kiss there between her words. )
There's coffee. ( another, almost as if she's chasing them as she starts to withdraw from the limbs of those sheets, a grin fracturing her kisses a bit. ) Help yourself.