[Claude has to stifle a laugh in time for her to kiss him again, his hand trailing over lace, thumb ghosting over the peak of a breast, covered only by the thinness of the fabric. As often as he liked to tease her, seeing how she would react to it in this daring new garment of hers only made it more irresistable.]
I suppose a scoundrel like me and a liar like you were made for each other, then.
[He smirks against her mouth, voice low, as if they're more co-conspirators than lovers.]
no subject
I suppose a scoundrel like me and a liar like you were made for each other, then.
[He smirks against her mouth, voice low, as if they're more co-conspirators than lovers.]