I'm not drunk. [ in the stubborn, petulant way of a young girl who is absolutely, definitely tipsy. ] I'm not.
[ but she is looking, even if she's having a hard time focusing on just one part of him. no, her gaze drifts, drags; his eyes, his mouth, the slope of his jaw where his beard has begun to thicken a bit, the curve of his neck where it meets his shoulder. she takes in a breath (to steady herself, to calm her racing thoughts) only to catch his scent, only to take in another, deeper, just to savor on it.
he smells so good. her brain knows on instinct that he'll taste so much better now, rich and deep and smoky from the bourbon, her favorite things all blended together. and she's so hungry, so hungry, and he's right there... ]
no subject
[ but she is looking, even if she's having a hard time focusing on just one part of him. no, her gaze drifts, drags; his eyes, his mouth, the slope of his jaw where his beard has begun to thicken a bit, the curve of his neck where it meets his shoulder. she takes in a breath (to steady herself, to calm her racing thoughts) only to catch his scent, only to take in another, deeper, just to savor on it.
he smells so good. her brain knows on instinct that he'll taste so much better now, rich and deep and smoky from the bourbon, her favorite things all blended together. and she's so hungry, so hungry, and he's right there... ]
I'm just hungry.
[ pathetic. ]