In desperate need of just getting out of my own head, I set out to write some fluffy, happy times and ended up with a little Friday smutlet. TGIF!
Warmth seems to be radiating everywhere, from her fingertips into the leather of his brace and the side of her thigh practically hitched over his knee beneath the booth, to spicy drag of his rum he’s been tipping into their half empty mugs of hot chocolate. There’s a prevailing weightless feeling settling between them as they somehow find themselves in an unfamiliar unburdened moment. Henry and Violet have long left the diner on a date of the own, leaving just the her and Killian, tucked in a quiet corner where, miraculously…no one needs them for anything.
They could go home and really take advantage, but she’s terrified to jinx it. When his arm between them lifts so he can tuck her into his side, she somehow knows he must feel the same. Dipping a finger into his mug, she scoops some whipped cream from the side and almost has it in her mouth before his reflexes kick in she finds her wrist caught in his grip. Feeling playful and content she just laughs as he brings her finger to his own mouth and swipes the cream with a slightly pornographic curl of his tongue. Her belly swoops low at the heat hiding behind his mirth and she’s suddenly feeling less and less superstitious.
They should really just go home.
get a room…
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