“If you keep touching my waist like that, I’m going to lose my mind.” (From Billie obvs)
hands.
Then lose it.
You're in good company.
He's all hands and teeth, as close as he can get and he still wants closer, who lights a fire that leaves no scorches, no marks, what's the point? And when did his penthouse become communal, who are all these fucking people in the place he rests his weary head, this party was out of his control, a living, breathing organism, he'd left and came back three or four times, business to attend to, and every time he came back he'd thought it would've been done, the house would be empty, he's been gone too long, surely it'll be over now.
One thing about Jimmy; he doesn't dance, as a rule. Another thing about Jimmy, he breaks rules over his knee; this moving, breathing party, it saw him, and it swallowed him, and now he's apart of it. All these people in his living room, it's like a club. Maybe the ground will cave in. Maybe this party will have a body count.
"Let's fuck out on the balcony," a glance to the glass panes, "where everyone can see."
