[ He moves in close in turn and she can feel his breath tickle her throat. The warmth excites goose prickles along her skin, and her smile sharpens in extension - pleased as a cat, with a smirk to match. He’s holding on, despite her attempts. Mary’s fine with it. He’s still the big bad wolf from stories, whether his eyes are brown or gold. He plays the role of Sheriff, wears the badge like a cloak of change, but she doesn’t believe it. Tonight— or however long it takes, really— she will get him to face his bloodlust head on, be who he really is. ]
You’re asking the questions here, is that it?
[ It’s a jibe, a play on words, teasing out something she’s heard in every cop procedural drama she’s ever watched, “I’m asking the questions here.”
Even with her pinned by her shoulders, she still has some movement of her arms. One hand shifts, sliding around his waist to find a spot on his back— aha. Right there.
Her fingers press into the scar left by her silver bullet, so many months ago. ]
no subject
You’re asking the questions here, is that it?
[ It’s a jibe, a play on words, teasing out something she’s heard in every cop procedural drama she’s ever watched, “I’m asking the questions here.”
Even with her pinned by her shoulders, she still has some movement of her arms. One hand shifts, sliding around his waist to find a spot on his back— aha. Right there.
Her fingers press into the scar left by her silver bullet, so many months ago. ]
Remember this?