Okay I’m the slowest writer on the face of earth but here is a little snippet of the time-travel sachston plot bunny that won’t leave my brain.
Emily’s mind is deliciously blank the next morning.
An intoxicating warmth seems to press into her from all directions, causing any lingering thoughts of Miranda and Runway to flutter away.
She couldn’t open her eyes if she wanted to. Sleep pulls at her and she relaxes willingly into its mystifying spell.
That is until the warmth surrounding her moves—tightening around her in a way no insentient object should be able to.
No longer able to surrender to the comfort of whatever it is she is currently experiencing, she keeps herself completely still and opens her eyes as a soft groan rumbles near her ear.
Quickly taking stock of her current predicament, she realizes that she is all but on top of whoever is behind her, their limbs entangled in a way she has never experienced before. Her eyes dart around the room, and she quickly realizes she is not in her apartment. A crack in the curtains allow a soft beam to light the room, and she takes in the high ceilings, dark wood floors, and how ordered the space is—which she begrudgingly appreciates. The place is beautiful, but where the fuck is she? And how did she get there? And who the bloody hell is nuzzling and softly kissing the back of her neck?
