milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Charlie enters through the front door, backpack on his back. He sits at the bar, drops the backpack at his feet, and says quietly, "Guinness please."

For someone who's just had a week's vacation from normal life, he does not look particularly relaxed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Five months, give or take."

She runs her fingers through his hair, looking worried. "You alright, love?"

"Five months . . . Could you really stand being away from us that long?" His hands rest lightly on her hips.

"It was nice, actually. Island in the middle of nowhere, no people around...no shortage of food...no polar bears," she says, with a wink and a grin. "It was...peaceful. But I missed the place, so. Here I am."

"I would find the polar bears a very particular draw.

"I've been in N'awlins." His imitation of a New Orleans accent is . . . dreadful.

"Really? Was it fun? I've never been."

Her hands, it should be noted, are still in his hair.

"It's fun. It was hot and humid but the kids were fun and I like the city. Had a lot of time to think."

Too much, his face says.

Thinking is not always good.

Faith knows this quite well, really.

Which is probably why she kisses him again, long and slow and sweet, because kisses like that don't leave much room for thought.

Charlie inhales the warm, spicy scent of woman-skin and pulls her closer, between his knees. His hands slide to the small of her back.

Her hands leave his hair and slide down his sides, resting on his thighs as she tilts her head, just so, just the perfect angle for a kiss that's gone far past friendly.

He worries for a moment about his beard scratching her face but she tastes too rich and forbidden for him to think about much else for long.

She doesn't care about the beard. Five months is a long time, and she's been wondering about Charlie for quite a while.

One of her hands turns slightly, cupping the inside of his thigh, and squeezes, gently.

He exhales sharply and finally breaks the kiss. "Whew--Faith--that's enough. Come on."

He's shaking a little.

"Alright."

Faith pulls back, taking her hands away.

"...but I'm not sorry."

"I'm not sorry either," he says quickly. "That's not what I mean."

"Good."

She smiles at him, slightly, brushing the backs of her knuckles over his cheek.

"Love you."

"I love you too," he says, watching her with some confusion.

"Good," she says again, and brushes her thumb over his lips, lightly. "Do you still want me?"

Faith loses at subtle.

His eyes never leave hers and his tongue lightly touches her thumb.

Her eyes darken, and the hand not touching his face drops down to take his.

"I don't have a bed."

"I do."

"Mind putting a girl up for the night?"

"I think I find a spot for you."

"I hoped you might," she says, and pulls him to his feet. "Lead the way."

He pauses to pick up his backpack and take out the key to his room. He keeps an arm around Faith's waist.

She puts an arm around his waist, and her fingers slip into the waistband of his jeans, seeking - and finding- bare skin.