[She breathes a soft gasp over his lips at the sound of the zipper, and a purr when the crisp winter air hits her shoulders and her open back, and it only makes her press into him just a little further. And if he runs his fingers over her back, his fingertips will be met with the soft feel of lace.]
... What if I don't want to?
[They're alone, out in the woods, with this little pocket of dreamotion and each other to keep themselves warm. What is there to complain about?]
no subject
... What if I don't want to?
[They're alone, out in the woods, with this little pocket of dreamotion and each other to keep themselves warm. What is there to complain about?]