[Her breath catches in her throat, and her hips buck up to meet his hand, grinding hard against his hand. The fingers in his hair tug hard, nailed reflexively digging into his scalp while her other hand quests aimlessly across his back. She wants to do something to return the favor, up the ante... she just can't think of what. She's paralyzed by indecision; all she can do is follow his lead -- a short walk off of a long cliff.]
⊕ march 15th, late evening