Date: 2010-01-13 11:02 pm (UTC)
If there was a disco ball, she would probably break it over his head. Barry White she might forgive, if only because hot damn is he a good kisser.

I'm getting spoiled, Murphy thinks, shivering at the feel of Gabriel's hand on her skin. Between him and Kincaid, I'm not going to want anyone who hasn't had at least a few hundred years' practice.

Desperate is all she needs right now. She's in that space with him, the quiet knowledge that they might never talk about this later--probably will never talk about this later--barring her from making the emotional connections this kind of contact might otherwise create. Mutual loneliness, mutual want. A moment or a few to just forget and be physical in a way that feels good, just good.

Murphy slides her hand down against his hip, wriggling her fingers into his pants and enjoying the feel of hidden skin. She'll get to his belt in a minute. Right now this is good enough.
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Gabriel, aka The Trickster

January 2014

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