(Untitled)

[song_tra_bong]

At first glance, room M16 looks like a well-furnished hotel room, but not terribly personalized. Sharp eyes, however, might spot the postcard wedged in the frame of the mirror, or the rifle under the bed.

"Here we are," she says. "Home sweet home."

Comments

[latino_menace]

He sees the postcard and doesn't bother to investigate; he's pretty single-minded when it comes to women. He casts his eyes over the place for about three seconds, then turns with a smile and closes in on her, sliding his hands onto her waist.

'You live here?'

[song_tra_bong]

"Sometimes," she says, resting her hands on his upper arms.

"Can't bear to part with the place; keeps coming in handy."

[latino_menace]

'I'll take your word for it.'

His interest in the place can wait, he's more interested in kissing her right now. Which he does.

He's not as careful as when he's older; more insistent, rougher. The shape of things to come, perhaps.

[song_tra_bong]

Mary Anne is just fine with insistence and need.

She kisses him back in kind, one hand creeping higher to cradle his jaw with just the suggestion of nails scraping skin.