( she's rummaging through one of her drawers before she slips from the room, and even once he's out of sight she can still feel the weight of him in that apartment — it's not something she's accustomed to, having another there with her, lingering while she ran the water, testing her fingers beneath it while the pipes slowly worked over their chill. karen's used to her own company, an unspoken knowing that the rest of those rooms were empty, waiting for her to color them again; instead, another keeps them warm. when she steps beneath the water, she can't help but to sigh as it passes over her, draws valleys between her breasts, hugs to every inch of her as streams divert and join.
and it's almost as if those hands, his hands of his are smoothing down along her again. the piping temperature of the water soothes over the marks he's left behind, the faded impression of his palm at her bottom, the purplish hue he'd left at her throat, where teeth had marred and tongue suckled. she swallows, and it only dawns on her just how damned she is when even here, alone beneath that pattering water, all she can feel is him.
it's a dazed set of motions, lathering fingers through her hair, tracing the soap along the round of her shoulder, sapping out every bit of heat from the building til the water turns tepid. opaque glass slides open, and for a beat, she wishes she had something a bit more enticing to change into. yet as she makes her way back towards her room, there's a simple t-shirt covering her upper half, peaks of her breasts apparent as the dew of the shower still clings to her collars, leaves a reddened sheen at her cheeks. lounge shorts hug her hips, and the sight of him — half tangled in those sheets, cradling a coffee and a book, it captures her. entirely. a tugging at her heart, and she lingers in the doorway a moment, waist jutting against the frame, golden strands a bit paler, heavy with shower water.
she's chewing at her brims, and as eyes find his that smile festers at her lips, almost as if in waiting. )
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and it's almost as if those hands, his hands of his are smoothing down along her again. the piping temperature of the water soothes over the marks he's left behind, the faded impression of his palm at her bottom, the purplish hue he'd left at her throat, where teeth had marred and tongue suckled. she swallows, and it only dawns on her just how damned she is when even here, alone beneath that pattering water, all she can feel is him.
it's a dazed set of motions, lathering fingers through her hair, tracing the soap along the round of her shoulder, sapping out every bit of heat from the building til the water turns tepid. opaque glass slides open, and for a beat, she wishes she had something a bit more enticing to change into. yet as she makes her way back towards her room, there's a simple t-shirt covering her upper half, peaks of her breasts apparent as the dew of the shower still clings to her collars, leaves a reddened sheen at her cheeks. lounge shorts hug her hips, and the sight of him — half tangled in those sheets, cradling a coffee and a book, it captures her. entirely. a tugging at her heart, and she lingers in the doorway a moment, waist jutting against the frame, golden strands a bit paler, heavy with shower water.
she's chewing at her brims, and as eyes find his that smile festers at her lips, almost as if in waiting. )
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