[ it's not unlike what happened the previous week -- early hours on a thursday, then -- when he'd pressed her down into the sofa. there's enjoyment found in the jockeying: in holding him against the wall, using its stability as a means to kiss him harder. and there's also a spark of enjoyment in how her shoulders hit the same wall.
the impact -- negligible though it is -- makes her draw a breath that's sudden enough to interrupt their kiss. and that breath seems to falter and catch at its height, the closest she's yet come tonight to a sound. and as if to staunch another, she strains her neck upward to chase what's already been started. when she breathes her body rises against his. her hand drops from his neck to instead fist in his top.
she's so glad she's sober. nothing more than the barely-there tickle of whiskey warmth in her belly, leaving her with a clear mind capable of considering every detail in sharper relief. maybe there is something to be missed in the desperate inebriated fumble, but nothing she misses right now. not when her fingers bite into the line of his bicep, learning the lean muscle below his shirtsleeve.
when her lungs burn again, peggy's head tilts back against the wall. even now, it's the infrastructure she trusts with keeping herself upright -- because she feels a little weak in the knees. hot under the skin. ]
That's much better -- [ she says in a hushed and strained tone ] -- without the rum.
no subject
the impact -- negligible though it is -- makes her draw a breath that's sudden enough to interrupt their kiss. and that breath seems to falter and catch at its height, the closest she's yet come tonight to a sound. and as if to staunch another, she strains her neck upward to chase what's already been started. when she breathes her body rises against his. her hand drops from his neck to instead fist in his top.
she's so glad she's sober. nothing more than the barely-there tickle of whiskey warmth in her belly, leaving her with a clear mind capable of considering every detail in sharper relief. maybe there is something to be missed in the desperate inebriated fumble, but nothing she misses right now. not when her fingers bite into the line of his bicep, learning the lean muscle below his shirtsleeve.
when her lungs burn again, peggy's head tilts back against the wall. even now, it's the infrastructure she trusts with keeping herself upright -- because she feels a little weak in the knees. hot under the skin. ]
That's much better -- [ she says in a hushed and strained tone ] -- without the rum.