Neither of them could really strip of the armours they wore, when it came down to it. Both women stared at each other, bore a vulnerable limb, gave glimpse of a soft underbelly, but they could do no more just then. They avoided key words (or perhaps only one), and humour made its way in, softening the blow of their risk. Poe had been so serious, unnaturally so for her temperament, but the mention of brow-waggling stirred the swirl of giggles and pixie-grins, just enough to flash a meagre smile that caught and snagged on the sultry touch to her breast. Below it, her heart beat wildly, as if about to break through its bone-barred cage, for that touch, for the escape it would give everything.
The dark girl couldn’t be sure if she were merely escaping the issue, or if the knots it had created were working themselves loose, and this slackened concern was a sign of change. Her body was lighting up, glowing with the ache of emotional, sexual hunger. The song that played over her chest came to its peak as the discussion climaxed, and everything began the smooth, thrilling downward swing from its heights. “Tonight,” she murmured, the last word that she would speak that cold, transformative night. Her unusually passive body came to life then, arms and legs lifting to brush the sides and back of the willowy figure, pulling their faulty figures close together again. Down, down, into a heart-crushing kiss, locked there by the stretch and push of steady-sure fingers. Tonight it would be, and tomorrow would be another story.
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