[ no fresh blood, no invisible wisps of GSR clinging to him like steam to coffee. he's got gunpowder in his skin. she can always smell it in the sweat but he only ever tastes like flesh and smears of her whiskey. it severs the link between two close senses and the dissonance is rattling. she likes it. no solid ground underneath them, despite the little sacrifices of isolation they've made. isn't it true that the earth could rip open at any moment? happened in europe. and there was the sky, here, before that. robots, aliens, whatever the fuck she is.
this shit, right here: biting the inside of her lip as her-slash-his dog morosely does as told and frank welcomes himself into her space.
another freak disaster.
jess doesn't flinch, only taking her eyes off him as she lifts her tank top over head and discards it on the floor. as strands of hair settle in front of her face, she relents to a small, enthused smirk, bottom lip still between her teeth -- until she closes the distance with a hop and her hands on his shoulders, doubtless he'll catch her legs around his hips. ]
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this shit, right here: biting the inside of her lip as her-slash-his dog morosely does as told and frank welcomes himself into her space.
another freak disaster.
jess doesn't flinch, only taking her eyes off him as she lifts her tank top over head and discards it on the floor. as strands of hair settle in front of her face, she relents to a small, enthused smirk, bottom lip still between her teeth -- until she closes the distance with a hop and her hands on his shoulders, doubtless he'll catch her legs around his hips. ]